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heauxvibez · 1 day

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Act Right

warning: implied smut (18+)

"I thought I told you to check that attitude at the door," Roman's gaze grew more intense as he watched her small frame move gracefully down the aisle. The lines on his face deepened into a frown, highlighting his frustration at the audacity of the dark-skinned woman. He leaned over the shopping cart, his arms crossed over the handle as he slowly pushed it through the familiar aisles of their local Krogers. His posture was relaxed but on the inside, his irritation was simmering.

"I thought I told you to leave me the hell alone," She shot back, turning her head sharply to look at him over her shoulder. Her side-eye was so intense that she could feel the strain in her eyeballs. The stubborn woman crossed her arms tightly over her chest, rolling her eyes with extreme annoyance and pouting like a child who wasn't getting her way.

They had been roaming the grocery store, bickering over the smallest things. Their arguments ranged from things such as her thinking Roman was glancing another woman's way to trivial matters like deciding which seasoning to use for tonight's dinner. Every aisle seemed to bring a new disagreement, turning their shopping trip into a battlefield.

Roman had managed to keep his cool, but Bryden was unleashing the worst of herself. She fired off provocative comments, some of which Roman brushed off, while others brought what was simmering in him to a boil.

But these outbursts just didn't happen all of a sudden. It had been building up over the past few days.

On Monday, she treated him as invisible, walking past him without a glance. Despite his unavoidable 6'3" build, she seemed to effortlessly overlook him.

Tuesday saw Bryden in a frenzy, slamming and shoving everything in her path. Pots and pans crashed onto the kitchen counter, cabinet doors slammed shut, and even Roman, over 200 pounds, was pushed aside a few times.

By Wednesday, her eye rolls had become a habit. It seemed her eyes were doing acrobatics, rolling so far back that Roman wondered how she could still see straight. Every utterance from him, whether a chuckle, smirk or even a cough, was met with shady looks and comments from her.

Thursday had arrived, and with it came Bryden's relentless barrage of snappy remarks aimed at the WWE star. Curses, teeth-sucking, groans — she pulled out all the stops, showing out completely. Roman was teetering on the edge of his patience.

As he drummed his thumbs lightly against the grocery basket handle, Roman shook his head, forcing a fake smile onto his handsome face amongst strangers while Bryden continued to let snide remarks slip from her lips.

"Bryden Renee Wilson," Roman warned, his face flushing a dark shade of crimson that barely appeared on his tanned skin, his grip on the basket handle turning his knuckles pale.

When Roman resorted to using her full name, Bryden knew he meant business. She noticed the seriousness in his tone, but her own anger overshadowed any effect it might have had.

Roman was use to Bryden's unpredictable mood swings. Usually, he remained calm, using his soothing voice and words to ease her mind. His mastery of language often made it hard for her to hold onto her anger. But this time, his smooth talk fell flat. There was no getting through to her.

In a moment of frustration, Roman abandoned the basket without a thought. He reached out and pulled her body against his towering frame. The sound of her gasping filled the aisle, but not enough to draw the attention of nearby shoppers, but even if it did, Roman paid them no mind. His focus was solely on her, she had finally pushed him to his limit.

"Now, you listen to me. I'm tired of your shit," his voice reverberated through the shelves, his usually warm chocolate brown eyes now darkened with anger. His grip on her body lacked its usual gentleness, now replaced with a grip that left her trembling.

"I've been patient with you for too long, but your attitude is getting out of hand," he continued, echoing against the colorful backdrop of exotic spices and foreign delicacies shelved behind her. Her mean mug softened as she realized how upset she'd made him; Roman wasn't playing games.

His gaze lingered on her, brows knitting together in a puzzled frown as he tried to figure out what could have provoked her behavior.

Her heart was racing, her bottom lip trembling as she fell victim to his penetrating gaze.

Roman's lower body pressed against her abdomen, the bustling aisle around them fading into the background. His growing arousal was clear amongst the fragrant aromas and bustling shoppers, but it didn’t deter him from trying to get his message across.

Bryden swallowed any, if not all, whimpers that tried to escape. She was melting in the moment, the warmth of his body pressed against hers, his bulge growing against her stomach, she was ready to submit to him without question. She had missed this—missed him. His constant travel for work had left her starved for affection, feeling untouched and deprived. Even when he was home, his focus remained on his work, leaving little time for her. The only time she truly got his attention was when she acted out, her rebellious behavior was a desperate plea for the intimacy she craved so bad.

His jaw clenched as he spoke again, his words full of authority, "The disrespectful shit you've been saying and doing is unacceptable. I'm not finna tolerate it any longer. Act right, or I'll make sure you do, understand?"

As his hand tightened its grip on her bottom, each word emphasized with a squeeze, Bryden couldn't help but moan in discomfort. She pushed against his chest, turning her head away and shaking it 'no', her tight coils brushing against his chest and the shelves as she did so.

He cursed silently at her stubbornness, his body burning with fiery tendrils of irritation. With an exhale, he loosened his grip on her bottom, his hand withdrawing before delivering a sharp smack.

Her startled yelp cut through the air, the surprise and pain evident in the small, whimpering sound that followed. His rough hand moved to massage the tender spot, his touch now sought to soothe the sting he had caused.

"Keep trying me, Bryden. You better find you somethin' safe to do, sweetheart," he warned affectionately. She shivered as he placed a tender kiss on her temple, the softness of his lips and the rough texture of his beard sent delicate cascades of goosebumps across her skin. Each bristle brushed lightly against her, the same way they did to her thighs when his head was between them. She inwardly moaned at the thought.

He pushed a small curl from her pretty face before gently nudging her away, causing her to sway slightly on her feet.

His face formed a small, satisfied smirk, his eyes smoldering as he observed his girlfriend's response. Her flushed cheeks betrayed her anger, the sharpness of her expression giving way to a softening of her features. He couldn't help but notice the change in her body language—how her full bottom lip found its way between her teeth, a telltale sign of her horniness. Her legs were crossed, one thick thigh resting atop the other as if trying to keep her juices from dripping.

He walked back to the basket as if nothing had happened, pushing it through the aisle with his usual calm demeanor and a soft whistle. She stood rooted to the spot, still processing the interaction. As he continued walking, he noticed the absence of her footsteps behind him. He paused and glanced back, with a raise of his brow his eyes locked onto her, silently urging her to catch up.

"Come on, baby," he called softly, his voice gentle but still holding command. Without hesitation, she followed him, continuing their grocery run. The noise of the store faded as they walked side by side, picking up items from the shelves.

Usually, she'd murmur a few things under her breath if she was still irritated, but this time, she remained silent. For once, Bryden held her tongue. It was music to Roman's ears.

During their moment, when Roman was searching for her soul through her eyes, he truly understood why she was so frustrated—she always behaved like this when he returned from road trips, acting out like a spoiled brat. Maybe not to this degree, but she still displayed these behaviors nonetheless.

Her sulkiness and defiance were clear signs of sexual frustration. The way she became calm and quiet after giving her a bit of tough love confirmed his suspicion. Despite this, he knew it was unacceptable, and she needed to learn there were consequences for disrespecting him.

Oh, he was definitely going to discipline her once they got home. His mind raced with thoughts of how he would handle her, ensuring she understood the boundaries and the repercussions of crossing them. Maybe have her pick a popsicle stick from their punishment jar.

He was going to make sure she received some act right tonight..

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Whew, it's been a minute. Hope ya'll enjoyed!

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dira333 · 3 days

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Current Friend, Future Husband? - Tenma Udai/Little Giant x Reader

whoops, my finger slipped... Words: 5k

Enjoy this reluctant Friends to Lovers/He falls first with the Little Giant from Karasuno.

created as a fanfic gift exchange for @lees-chaotic-brain

tagging: @mariaace @snail-squasher @yamaguchiwestad @respitable

- 6 -

“Tenma’s here,” your mom calls up from the kitchen.

The announcement is unnecessary because Tenma has yet to learn how to walk quietly, stomping up the stairs to your room.

His face is set in a scowl too, dark curls and dark eyes giving him quite an evil aura.

But you’ve known him long enough not to care about that.

“Grab a scarf,” you tell him as soon as he steps through the door, “I’m playing wedding.”

“Not again,” he groans, though does as he is told. The pink scarf he picks has hundreds of little coins sown to it, chiming as he wraps it around his shoulders and moves through the room.

“I’m a Djinn,” he exclaims, “I will curse you.”

“Djinn’s don’t curse people! They fulfill wishes,” you correct him.

“Fine,” he huffs, “What do you wish for?”

“I want Tenma to play the husband.”

“Not again!” He groans, throwing his hands in the air.

“You have to!” You declare, “Djinn’s always have to follow their master's wishes!”

He huffs and whines and begs but it’s no use. He plays the husband to your wife.

“Can we play outside now?” He asks as soon as you kiss his cheek and declare the marriage official. “Mom brought my ball.”

“Fine,” you decide to be nice today. “But don’t kick it too hard. I don’t like that.”

- 8 -

“It’s so weird that you’ve got a boy as a best friend,” Asuka exclaims. Your small group of (girl)friends has gathered in your favorite spot, overlooking the garden and the big open space below. Tenma’s playing Ball with a group of boys and he’s easy to pick out, he’s always the smallest in any group.

“You think so?” You ask back, taking one of the strawberries Sango brought for lunch break today. “It’s not like I had a chance. Our mothers are best friends. He’s basically my annoying twin brother.”

“Do you think he’s cute?” Ryo asks, looking up from where she’s painting Tomoko’s nails.

You consider this for a moment, look down to where he’s running around, red-faced and panting. He’s not ugly, that much you can tell, but cute?

“I don’t think so,” you say, because it’s better than to admit that you don’t really know what cute really means for a guy. You think babies are cute, but that’s not the same thing, right?

“I think he’s cute,” Ryo admits easily now that she thinks she knows where you stand. “Can I ask him to be my boyfriend?”

“I mean you can ask,” you offer, feeling a little weird that she asks you in the first place, “but I don’t know what he’ll answer you. I bet he still thinks girls are gross.”

- 10 -

“I think you’re getting a little too old to be sharing a bathtub,” your mother announces after Tenma has left.

“We weren’t sharing,” you explain, drying your hair. “We were playing that he was my magical shapeshifting dog but he rolled around in a mountain of dragon poop and I had to give him a bath. He pulled me in when I was almost done washing him.”

Your mother sighs. “Aren’t you getting a little old for those stories too?”

You tense and she notices right away.

“Dear, I didn’t mean… if this is how you want to play, I’m totally fine with that. I was just wondering…”

“How else are we supposed to play?” You ask, unable to keep the agitation out of your voice. “Am I supposed to kiss him and hold hands like the other girls in my class are pretending to do? Or play Volleyball the whole day? Or just do our homework and study, study, study until we fall asleep? Or play video games that you don’t like because they make you dumb? How are we supposed to play?”

Your mother sighs again, lowers herself until she’s sitting crosslegged on the floor next to you.

“Come,” she says, opening her arms until you crawl into her like you used to do. “I’m sorry. I know, as your mother, I should say and do all the right things but that was pretty stupid of me. Can you forgive me?”

You nod and she pulls you in a little closer, kissing your damp hair. “Now tell me, what do you like to do? What’s fun?”

You lean into her, the familiar smell and warmth, and let yourself open up.

“When I come up with a story, Tenma always makes it bigger. Like today, when I said: Do you wanna play my dog, it was his idea that he could shapeshift. And that we’re living in a world that has dragons. And… and I was a maiden that had a tavern and there would be knights who came by to slay the dragons but the dragons are actually our friends… It’s like reading a book but you’re in it, you know? And he doesn’t ask about who I like and what I like and what I think is cute all the time. That’s so annoying.”

“You like hanging out with Tenma?”

“He’s okay,” you offer and she snorts. “If he ever gets on your nerves, you can tell me, okay? I know boys can be annoying too.”

“I can handle Tenma,” you tell her, knowing you’re right. “But can you, like, not allow me to go to Ryo’s sleepover next week? She’s so obsessed with boys and she always pranks someone during sleepover. I don’t want to wake up with my head shaved.”

- 12 -

“Do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

To say you’re surprised would be an understatement.

It’s not that you don’t get chocolates and confessions, because you do, a lot actually even though you decline every time, but never from Tenma.

For a long second neither of you does or says anything and all you see of him is the back of his neck as he bows.

But then he pops up, a weird grin on his face.

“Got you!” He declares, opening the pack of chocolates and biting into it without a moment of hesitation. “Did you think that was real?”

“No,” you say even though that’s a lie, “Why did you do it?”

He shrugs, offering you the chocolate. You take a bite as well, feeling a little smug that neither of you cares that it will be an “indirect kiss” as the girls call it.

“Everyone thinks we’re dating,” he admits finally when he pulls the chocolate back again, “just wanted to see what you think about it.”

“It’s annoying,” you declare ad you should have watched his face a little closer because something like a shadow moves over it, but it’s gone before you can catch it. “You’re like my brother.”

“Yeah,” he says, but it sounds a little weak for someone as headstrong as Tenma.

You don’t wanna think about it though, so you poke his shoulder. “Where did you get the chocolate?”

“Someone confessed to me. I said no but I kept the chocolate because they thought I was dating you and still confessed. That’s stupid.”

“Mhm,” you don’t ask for a name. “Wanna stay and play a bit before we walk home?”

“Volleyball?” He asks, ears perking up.

“Sure.”

- 14 -

Neither of you is dating anyone.

None of your girlfriends believes that you’re not into Tenma and you’ve given up on convincing them of the truth. You don’t really want to date anyone. You like solving puzzles and coming up with crazy ideas that Tenma can bend and fold into even crazier stories. You like going for a run with him in the morning because even though you hate waking up early it sets your mind at ease and you like going for a run with him in the evening because without it, you’ll be unable to sleep.

Sure, there are some good-looking boys in your class. But maybe you’ve spent too much time around Tenma, or boys in general, to find any appeal in them.

They fart and they burp and they dig their dirty fingers into their noses and they refuse to shower even though they smell awful and sweaty. The number of times you’ve had to drag Tenma into the shower, turn it on, and hold him under the spray because you couldn’t allow him in your room otherwise and he wouldn’t go on his own is too high to admit at this point.

It helps a little that Tenma thinks the same of girls.

Not that the girls from your class are as disgusting as the boys.

But they giggle too much and they always flutter their lashes at him which he thinks is a little creepy and they don’t listen to him when he talks about anything that isn’t their appearance.

“I like talking to you instead,” he admits and this is probably the highest praise he’s ever sung you, “you know what I’m talking about.”

And you know what he means because you always know what he means. It’s not that hard. Tenma likes stories, the crazier the better, and he likes volleyball. And food, but he’s picky with that, giving you his tomatoes and eating all your salmon even though you’d have wanted to eat that yourself.

All the other girls in your class are talking about boyfriends and getting married and having a family and all you want to think about is solving riddles with Tenma or telling him a story so he doesn’t make you practice receives with him.

- 16 -

“Did you get your first kiss already?” Hisoka asks and you shake your head. Nothing sounds less appealing than tasting someone else’s spit.

“Don’t you and Tenma kiss?” She asks and you stare at her as if she’d said that Alien’s are real.

“Why would we kiss?”

“You’re dating, aren’t you? Everyone says that you’re dating.”

“He’s like my brother,” you tell her. “We grew up together.”

“But you’re the manager of the Volleyball team too.”

“Yeah, because I like Volleyball.”

She huffs. “Okay, who do you like? I think Tsukishima is still single.”

Tsukishima, blond, tall, and universally liked, blushes like a strawberry. You glare at him for eavesdropping.

“I’m not interested in anyone,” you declare loudly. You hope that’s the end of it.

It isn’t.

“Hey, can you walk home without me? We’re going to prank the store owner down the street,” Tenma hands you his bag without waiting for an answer.

You walk home alone, grumbling to yourself about how you would have wanted to play along with the prank.

But it doesn’t matter.

After years of being an okay player, Karasuno’s trainer seems to have spotted something in Tenma that he didn’t even expect there himself.

Extra training. More time on the court. Recognition from others.

Soon enough you’re sidelined with Tsukishima and the others.

First-year managers are not allowed on the court during official matches.

Is there anything worse than realizing that you’ve made a mistake? Putting all your faith in one friend only to realize they can drop you without a moment’s hesitation?

“Tenma’s here,” your mother calls out from the kitchen.

You’re not fast enough at sprinting toward your door. He slips into your room before you’ve managed to close it.

“Tsukishima told me you’re leaving the team?” He sounds out of breath. Did he run here?

“I’m just a manager, it’s not like the team will notice,” you scoff, pushing him off your bed. “Besides I’m taking up Advanced English, so I’ll have more time to study.”

“What? Are you going to turn boring now?”

“You’re boring!” You scream, surprised by the anger that’s spilling from your lips. It feels as if he’d stabbed you with that question and all the words are just the blood that’s spraying out of open wounds. “All you do is play volleyball and think you’re the greatest and it sucks!”

“You suck!” He yells back. “You’re just jealous I’m finally cool!”

“You’ll never be cool!”

Tenma stomps his foot like a little kid before storming out of your room.

You can hear the front door slam shut all the way up to your room and if you crawl into your bed to cry right after that’s nobody’s business but yours.

And your mother’s, as it seems, because she appears at your doorstep just a few minutes later.

“Wanna tell me what that was all about?”

“No.”

“Hm, maybe not right now,” she offers at your tear-soaked voice, “but I expect an explanation until tomorrow evening, okay? Tenma’s family to me too. You know we can solve all fights with good communication.”

You don’t answer and she leaves you alone to wallow in your despair.

“Tenma wants to apologize,” Udai-san pushes him toward you. Your mother nudges you forward in much the same way.

“I don’t want you to be cool,” you say instead, the words prickly on your tongue. “I like you better when you’re not cool.”

Tenma’s eyes flutter around the room, arms crossed. Your mothers leave the room and you sink into the floor, annoyed and hurt and so many more things you can’t properly name.

“Do you really think I’m boring?” Your voice is much to vulnerable for your liking.

But it stills his nervous movement and he sinks onto the floor just like you, heavy and exhausted. You’ve never fought like this before.

“I think you’re trying to be,” he offers quietly, “but I want to you to keep playing Volleyball with me.”

“I’m just a manager.”

“Yeah, but it feels like you’re playing with me. And… and you’ve always been the smart one, okay? Everyone’s always said: Tenma, you should be more like her. She’s so smart. Can’t she tutor you? No one ever told you to play Volleyball like me. No one ever told anyone to try to be like me until now.”

“I’ve always wanted to be as creative as you,” you offer and even though he wrinkles his nose you can tell he’s touched by that.

It feels like you’re standing at a crossroads. Whatever you decide or do or say next will change the trajectory of this friendship. You’re not ready for that. You doubt you’ll ever be.

As long as there’s the safety of your past, you’ll always try to grasp it.

“Do you wanna play my dog?”

- 18 -

You’re not sure if it’s the awful music, the crowd around you, the smell of sweat and food and spilled soda, or just everything all at once, but you don’t think College parties are for you.

You recall a balcony or backdoor to your left so you move that way, push against the wall of bodies with everything that you’ve got, panic already bubbling in your throat.

Someone grabs your hand just as you’re gasping for air and with a well-aimed push you’re through, cool air hugging you like a loved relative at a family dinner.

“You good?” Tenma’s squinting down at you. He’s grown a little during break, though you doubt he’ll ever be as tall as the other guys on his former Volleyball team.

“Yeah, thanks.”

His hand is still around yours, now pulling you down the path into the dark garden.

“Where are we going?”

“Dunno, getting some fresh air into you. Met anyone you like?”

“Yeah, the fridge.”

He snickers. “What about that girl from your business Class?”

“She’s trying to eat the face of some guy I don’t know.”

“Tsukishima?”

“Pretended he didn’t know me.”

“Aww, I’m wounded.”

“I bet you are. What about you? Any hot girls tried to talk to you?”

“About that,” he knocks his elbow into your side, “one of them tried to kiss me.”

“A hot girl tried to kiss you?” He nudges you again at your incredulous tone.

“Don’t act so surprised. I’m famous.”

“Bet you are,” you snicker. “But what happened? Did she realize you’re not a tall girl but a small guy and run away?”

“No,” his voice sounds weird now, but you can barely see his face in the dark, “I turned her down. Didn’t want my first kiss to happen at some party.”

“How do you want your first kiss to happen?”

“Ah,” you know he’s just shaking his head from left to right as he’s thinking, you don’t have to be able to see him for that, “Like this, you know? In the garden in the dark? That’s kinda romantic.”

“Should have brought someone else over here then.”

His hand lets go of yours.

“Right,” he says, voice weirdly tight.

“Shit, did I ruin the mood?” You ask, nudging your elbow into whatever you can reach, “I can get that hot girl for you. Just tell me what she looks like.”

“Do you wanna get KFC instead?” He must have turned his back to you. You don’t know what you said to derail this conversation, but it’s clear he doesn’t want to keep it up.

“Sure,” you agree, “but you’re paying.”

- 20 -

Tenma has started growing his hair out.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t suit him.

You’d be a filthy, awful, terrible liar if you said you didn’t want to drag your hands through it all the damn time.

“You should cut your hair,” you tell him when you meet up for lunch, “You look like a homeless guy.”

“And you look like a sexy secretary,” he jokes, pulling you in and putting you in a headlock. It feels brotherly and it’s just what you need to get through this lunchdate that’s not a date.

Somewhere in between graduating Highschool and today Tenma’s gotten hot.

Or maybe you’ve just finally gone through puberty, discovered all the hormone’s healthy teenage girls were supposed to have.

Last week you even sniffed his leather jacket when he was in the bathroom and you wished you could have put in on for a few minutes, but you feared he’d notice and how would you ever live that down?

“Did you get any feedback on that story you submitted?” You ask, trying not to overthink his comment. It’s probably meant as a loving insult, after all you’re not a secretary.

“Yes, actually, they told me they’re printing it.”

“No way,” you shut the menu again, “You’re joking, right?”

He grins. “You think I’m joking?”

“Not really, but I wanna make sure you’re being honest with me before I pay for your lunch.”

“You could let me pay and we call this a date,” he says and even though you catch yourself freezing up you can see on his face that he caught it.

“I was joking,” he tells you and if you’d be able to be honest, if you’d trust yourself not to ruin this, you’d tell him that his joking is the one thing that makes you still freeze up in fear.

After all, you don’t throw away a friendship of twenty years to a joke, right?

“I know,” you tell him pointedly, clearing your throat and opening the menu again. “Which means you’re paying for yourself.”

“Come on,” he whines, but his voice comes easy now, which means you can breathe again.

The moment is gone and somehow, you’re sure, you’ll survive the next one too.

“Can’t your girlfriend sleep in your room?” You can’t place the voice for a moment even though it sounds familiar.

“Not my girlfriend.” That’s Tenma. Who are they talking about?

“Well, if you keep having a girl over make sure she has a place to sleep that is not the living room. I need my space in the morning.”

“Sure, sure.” Tenma sounds like he’s not taking this seriously.

You blink and wipe the drool from your face.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” Tenma’s face is so close now you can smell the toothpastey-freshness of his breath.

“What day is it?” You ask, feel your jaw crack as you yawn.

“Sunday,” he pulls you up with ease, “Let’s put some of my spare clothes on you before we meet up with our parents. Or did you bring something?”

You rub your eyes as you lean on him. He might have stopped playing Volleyball, but he hasn’t lost his muscles.

The memories are slowly coming back to you. Going through his newest idea, a Manga this time. Reminiscing over old footage from his Karasuno days. Sharing one, two, maybe three beers as you giggle and swat away his hands on the Couch.

You can only hope you didn’t say or do anything embarrassing last night.

But this is Tenma. He’d let you know right away if you had.

It gets easier to live with your crush.

Tenma never mentions any girl he’s seeing or points out who he thinks is cute.

He’s pretty good at keeping in contact even when he’s so lost in his creative mind that he forgets to eat.

And while your work is equally demanding, the hours there are more regular.

It’s not uncommon to find you in his kitchen after work, growing from putting ready-to-eat food onto plates to actually preparing home-cooked meals. They’re not awful and you think that’s the highest praise you can get.

Sometimes, when it’s so late you can forget about catching a train back home and Tenma’s so tired he sounds like he’s speaking a foreign language, you end up sleeping in the same bed.

If you drag your fingertips through his hair then, hear him mumbling softly under his breath as you fall asleep, that’s your secret to keep.

- 22 -

Tenma’s a full-fledged Manga Artist now.

You got your own promotion just a short month later and as he raises another glass on your good work, the question tumbles out of you before you can stop yourself.

“Do you want to move in together?”

His grip is suddenly too tight around his glass. You can tell because you’ve grown a bit too observant lately, always way too laser-focused on where he is and what he’s doing and how he’s smelling like, freshly-showered or cozily slept-in.

“You can say if it’s a stupid idea,” you ramble on, “I mean, I’m over at your place all the time anyway to make sure you’re eating enough. It would be weird though if one of us brought home a date, but like-”

“Sure,” Tenma clears his throat, “we could move in together.”

He deflects all further questions though, whether it should be closer to his work or closer to yours, how many rooms you’ll need, and if you’ll be able to get a cat, instead filling up your glass again and again.

Eventually, you walk home arm in arm, each of you trying to support the other.

It’s a hopeless case but that doesn’t mean you’ll stop trying.

“This was fun,” you say at the train station, debating if you’ll take the train home or find some excuse to stay at his place.

You turn your head, surprised to find him this close. His eyes are wide open, dark and beautiful. He’s always had the prettiest eyes.

You’re still debating their color - more of a dark brown or maybe black - when he leans further in.

You half expect him to headbutt you when instead, his lips touch yours.

The kiss is so soft, you think you’re imagining it, along with the sigh that follows it.

But you’ve always been a realist, digging your fingernails into the skin of your arm to prove yourself you’re not dreaming. It hurts.

“Tenma?” You ask, breathless and floating, “Did you mean to do that?”

His face turns pale, eyes wide like those times you’ve pushed him into a cold shower to sober him up.

“SHIT!” He pulls away so quickly that you stumble, lose your balance and fall flat onto your ass.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Tenma’s rubbing his face with his hands, up and down, up and down, and you’re left sitting there, backbone hurting, the world spinning in the wrong direction.

“Okay, shit, this…” He’s folding himself into a tiny version of himself, just across from you on the cold sidewalk, “I didn’t meant to do this, okay? I know you think of me as your brother, so we can just pretend this never happened, okay? I’m drunk. You’re drunk. We’re going to have forgotten about this tomorrow-”

“Tenma?” You interrupt him, your voice weirdly cloud-like. “Are you in love with me?”

He deflates like a balloon, there’s even a little whistling sound coming out of his mouth when he further shrinks into himself.

“Maybe?” He squeaks out. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, though-”

“I love you too.”

There. You’ve said it. You can’t take it back. Maybe you’ve misunderstood a lot of things tonight, you’ll for sure be able to blame the alcohol for it, but you don’t kiss people you don’t like, right? Especially not if you waited twenty-two years for that.

Wait, did Tenma even wait that long? Is this even his first kiss like it’s yours?

“Why didn’t you say something?”

You blink, shaken out of your musings by the petulance in his voice.

“You didn’t ask.”

- 24 -

You’re not sure what wakes you, but his side of the bed is empty and cold.

You push yourself up with a groan, hiss when your feet touch the freezing ground.

You don’t have to look long to find him, hair disheveled, eyes foggy.

“Hey,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders and rest your chin on top of his head, “I miss you.”

“Sorry,” he yawns, “I’ll be in bed in a minute.”

“You said that four hours ago,” you remind him, leaning further into him, “can you still see what you’re drawing?”

“If I lose this idea-” he starts before a loud, jaw-cracking yawn cuts through his sentence.

You unwrap yourself to dig your thumbs into his shoulders, press a well-aimed kiss underneath his left ear.

“Come to bed,” you're not surprised when he follows you without another argument.

Last week one of your coworkers mentioned off-handedly that your boyfriend looks like a delinquent, all long hair and dark shadows, the hint of a stubble and a shirt he forgot to iron.

You weren’t meant to hear it, you’re sure, but you don’t care anyway.

He curls around you now, long limbs and warm hands, head resting heavy on your chest.

You drag your fingers through his hair, up and down and up and down, tell him about all the plans you have until you fall asleep along-side him.

“Look at you,” Saeko pulls you into a hug, “You’re practically glowing.”

You snort. “Don’t tell that to my mom. She’s started asking about grandchildren.”

“Yours too?” Akiteru jokes, turning from you to Tenma. “Are your parents united on the grandchildren front or are they more like ours?”

“No, no,” Tenma shakes his head, “My mom is just as insistent that we get started. Our mom’s are best friends for a reason.”

“And they never tried to set you up?” Saeko waves at someone across the streat before dragging you onto the seat next to her, “I smell a story.”

“I’m not sure my mom really cared about it as long as we stayed friends,” you think back. “But there was that time when she asked me to stop taking baths with you.”

Tenma’s face turns pink.

“I remember that time well.” He laughs along with the others, but your hand finds his under the table, squeezes tight.

You like to think that he fell first but you fell harder, but he disagrees.

If anything, he likes to say, I love you most.

“I say,” Saeko interrupts your thoughts, slinging an arm around you, “we play it like your parents. We just have to have babies around the same time and the rest will be history.”

“Don’t get ideas,” Akiteru says but you know him, he’s just as helpless against Saeko’s charm as you are.

“Not the worst idea she’s had,” Tenma whispers into your ear.

- 26 -

“Morning Udai-San,” Akaashi greets you.

“I told you to call me by my first name,” you tell him, laughing when he blushes a soft pink. “How’s it going, anyway?”

“Good. We’re actually on schedule, but I don’t want to jinx it.”

“Hmm, I get it.” You resist the urge to tousle his hair. “Is Tenma in his office?”

“Yes, I was just going to get coffee. You want some as well?”

“No, but thanks for asking. What are you getting for Tenma?”

“Two shots of espresso and extra sugar.”

“Make it one shot and I’ll make sure you get a promotion,” you wink and he winks back, slipping out of the office.

“Baby?” You ask, slipping through the door.

Tenma’s leaning heavily onto his desk, one hand playing with his hair as he thinks.

“Hmm?” He sits up, opens his arms to welcome you. “Hey, what brings you here?”

“I left Naoki with Saeko and Mi, they were playing so nicely.”

He smiles as you plant yourself on his lap, sink into him like you’re not much bigger than your toddler and not the grown woman you are.

“You good?” Tenma asks, rubbing a hand over your back. “You seem in your head today.”

“Yeah, I am, I just…” You sigh and turn your head to kiss his cheek. “I’m glad you stayed my friend.”

“Where’s that coming from?”

“I was thinking about how I don’t have that much patience. I don’t know if I’d kept crushing on you for as long as you kept crushing on me. What if you’d have given up? We wouldn’t have gotten together.”

He hooks his head over yours, wraps his arms a little more snuggly around you.

“Listen, I didn’t stay your friend because I was hoping you’d one day see me as more. I stayed your friend because I’d rather have you as my friend than nothing at all. After all you’re the best friend I ever had.”

“Even though I made you play my husband, my dog and my dragon?”

“Especially because of that.”

“Did you have fun playing with Mi?” Tenma asks your thirteen-month-old.

The bathroom door is open and you can hear them splash around in the bathtub.

“Mi,” Naoki repeats with excitement.

“Yep, Mi. Now, can you say Dada too?”

“Mama.”

Tenma laughs, easy and carefree and you leave the dishes in the sink in favor of joining him.

After all, the dishes won’t run away, but those little moments with your family might.

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vampzity · 12 hours

Text

a distant memory | ateez

"i know you’re somewhere out there, somewhere far away." — talking to the moon, bruno mars

—✫ pairing: ateez x gn! reader

—✫ genre: angst, fluff??, ateez, one shot, ot8

—✫ synopsis: it’s been a year since the gang went their separate ways, however you can’t help but reminisce all the good times you shared. you constantly hope that one day, it’ll go back to normal again.

—✫ wc: 1.6k

[warnings]: mentions of scars, mentions of violence???, arguing, blood, accusations, yelling, cursing, name calling

—✫ a/n: i’m sorry in advance.. i seen these photos from the special and just felt a whole wave of nostalgia wash over me 🧎‍♀️

“.. and then we can all look through the photos again!”

You sighed heavily, going through the loads of videos and pictutes taken by the cam recorder. Every happy memory playing like a small scene from a movie in your head. No matter what you did, no matter how many times you watched these same videos, it never seemed to fill the empty void they once occupied in your heart.

It’s been a year since the incident, a hell of a year at that, and yet you still can’t seem to figure out where it all went wrong. Why such a tragic moment, broke the bond between you all.

“Y/n-ah! You walk so slow, let’s go!”

You smiled softly hearing Wooyoung teasing you. Even if it bugged you, you hated to admit that you missed someone bothering you every five minutes.

Seonghwa soon came into view, holding his own cam recorder toward yours. His soft laugh echoed through your ears as he made fun of you for recording him, even though he was doing it too. Jongho soon shoved Seonghwa out of the way, bringing his face up close to the camera as he sang to it jokingly.

“Does Jongho ever stop singing?!” Mingi teased.

It’s as if they’ve never left your heart. You looked onto your phone, seeing the groupchat still pinned on your messages. It was now a ghost town if a groupchat could even have one, and each member quietly made their way out of it. You however, chose to stay. So many memories, core memories, resided in that chat. From happy birthdays, to silly pictures that were sent amongst you all, to even the smallest moments of reassurance between members. You couldn’t just let all of that go, and you couldn’t let it go back then either.

However it pained you to see how easily the rest of them let it be. Were they even feeling the way that you were? How could they just up and leave after years of memories that were engraved into your heads.

The moonlight shone through your window. It was fuller today, just as it was that same time ago. You looked up at the moon, a few tears escaping your eyes.

Were they too, looking up at the same moon?

You felt crazy for thinking that any one of the boys missed not just you, but all of them as much as you did. You knew that somewhere out there, the boys were going on with their lives normally, having to carry the weight of that night with them just as you did.

Where did it all go wrong? Was it your fault? If you hadn’t stood against San like that, would you all have worked it out in the end? However, it wasn’t your fault. All you wanted was to stop the arguing, only for it to resort to violence.

You played with the cam recorder, holding it to your face as you sobbed. As much as you wanted to forget about that day, you knew you never could be able to. So many things reminded you of them, which then reminded you of that day. Scars you obtained from your fight with San still remained, even after they healed. Not even your body could forget.

“y/n-ah!”

You lifted your head, seeing the video turn to San as he waved to you. A smile stretched across his face as he grabbed the camera from you, turning it to face the both of you. You pouted at him as he kept it at a high angle, unable to take it from his hands.

“Sannie, give me that back!”

You jumped up to reach it, as all the other members sat around laughing with San. You stopped jumping and punched his arm softly, the boys chuckling around you.

“Ah, you guys suck!”

You sighed heavily, laying down on your bed as you closed your eyes. It’s as if every time you closed your eyes, that very night replayed in your head. No matter what you did to avoid thinking of it, you couldn’t get it to stop. No amount of therapy was helping for that.

“San stop!!”

Seonghwa pulled San away as you all stood there in shock. Mingi laid on the floor, hands still protecting his face. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing, only because it’s never gotten to a point like this. There was never a thought that crossed your mind over the boys arguing so bad, that they’d get physical.

Yunho helped Mingi up, his face bruised and nose dripping blood from the attack. Tears escaped Yunho’s eyes as he realized how bad the situation was getting. However it wasn’t just him, you were all unsure of how to help.

It’s been ongoing for weeks, where random members would break out into arguments and it would sometimes get physical. The more arguments that ensued, the more distant everyone became.

“This is getting out of hand! What happened to all of you?!”

You looked at all the members in horror, tears streaming down your face as they looked away from you. Hongjoong walked up to you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he tried to offer you some comfort.

“All you ever do is fight with one another, and when things get too far, you guys just resort to violence!”

Wooyoung stood up, an annoyed look on his face as he looked toward the members. Bandages covered his hands and cheeks, reminding you of the fight between him and Jongho just last week.

“She’s right. We all can’t keep going on like this.”

San scoffed, crossing his arms in disbelief as he stood on the opposite side of the room. He rolled his eyes, soon walking up to you and Hongjoong.

“So what? You never seen a group fall apart before?”

His voice rushed through you like cold water, giving you chills as you felt mini to him. No matter how afraid you were getting of the boys and their acts of violence, you refused to let it overtake you. Let alone, be obvious that you were growing afraid of them.

“Shut up.” You mumbled, your eyes straying from him.

He crossed his arms, leaning his face down to you. You felt his breath hit your cheek, making the hairs on your skin stand up.

“Suck it up. You weren’t even apart of our group in the first place.”

The room went quiet. Whenever arguments broke out, you were always the one maintaining peace between the members. Who would’ve known that was only a matter of time before you too have had enough.

“Are you just going to keep being hardheaded?!” you yelled out, pushing him harshly.

“Don’t push me, y/n.” San snarled, his voice low and raspy.

Wooyoung looked over at San, eyebrows furrowed as he wondered what was going to happen. None of the members expected this, especially not from you. When it came to you, everyone had their guard up as they weren’t going to let you be the one who got hurt from them.

“How many times do I need to get this into your head?!” You continued to pushed at San, punching his chest as you cried out.

“All of you! You’re all idiots! Can’t we just stop fighting?!”

San took every hit you gave him, growing increasingly aggravated with you. Tears steamed down your face as you continued to punch at him, wishing for the boys who once promised to never let arguing get as bad as it was now.

“God, quit it!” San pushed you harshly, making you stumble to the ground and hit your head.

He got ontop of you, holding your arms over your head as you struggled out of his grasp. His nails dug into your skin as he glared at you with a rabid look. Hongjoong grabbed onto his back, desperately trying to pull him off of you as he yelled into your face. Wooyoung grabbed onto his arm, using all his weight to pull.

“You’re the reason our group went to shit, you know that?! If you haven’t came in here being all pissy and flirting with all the members— slap!“

With the help of Jongho, he pulled your hand out of San’s grip, allowing you to slap him across the face. Everyone around you froze for a second, seeing your face red from anger and embarrassment after San’s words. San rubbed his cheek, eyes narrowed at you. He grabbed onto your hair, pulling you toward him.

“San! Let them go!! Stop!!”

Yunho rushed over to you, pushing San off of you as the other members pulled him off. It was a bit scary how much stronger San could be when he was angry. Wooyoung and Jongho pulled San off of you as he tried hard to fight back. Yunho held you in his arms, sitting in shock at how San just reacted to you.

“You fucking tramp! This is all your fault!”

Everyone froze, unsure of what to say, as did you. San has lost his mind, everyone did in their own way, though it seemed the group was far from saving at this point. There wasn’t much any of you could do.

You watched as San grabbed his things, making his way out of your home and slamming the door behind him. Silence filled the room, as you all remained speechless. Yunho continued to hold you as small tears ran down your face. What did this mean for you guys now? Was the really just the end of the people you called home?

The people your cherished and loved dearly, were no longer with you, instead living on their own terms. A year later, and you still remained without your home.

a/n: IM SO SORRY FOR THIS PLEASE DON’T KILL ME. listening to Empty Box while writing the ending of this made it even worse 💔 i love that song so much.

taglist: @skzline @rvereri @evidive @xoxkii @vrtualsins

@sanslovesblog @dvrktvnnel @scarfac3 @honeyhwaaa @sundaybossanova

@kittykat-25 @losrpark @yyaurii @hwasddeongbyeoli @aestheticjoonie @interweab

@roomsofangel @mingtinysworld @minghaoslatina @vnessalau

#—♡vampzity #—♡︎vamp’s soft hours #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez atiny #atiny #ateez angst #ateez oneshot

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kiefbowl · 2 days

Note

i made a string of really dumb financial decisions and now im in debt that might take me years to pay off, do you have any words of wisdom for me queen. like that feels bad. how do i even save up. imagine flushing a pile of money down the toilet thats what this debt it

I know how that feels, believe me. A lot of people do. I'm feeling the pain of my 9 month school loans, and credit cards I had already paid off back "on" again (one in particular is pretty high...whooooops).

Don't lose your cool, I have a couple of flexible suggestions that you take, use, and modify to your specifics:

Tithe yourself - if your job does direct deposit (which most do!), you can direct deposit your money into multiple accounts. Get it set up so your paycheck goes 90% into your checking account, 10% into your savings account so that you're not even thinking about it. You might feel the squeeze for a little bit but you'll acclimate to that "missing" 10% sooner than you think.

Ask for a raise - if you're working, ask for a raise. If you're new, or maybe not that "great", or they're penny-pinchers, or you're just nervous to ask, don't even worry about it. Ask for 3% - this is low, and most jobs will give it to you just for the convenience of getting you to stop bothering them about it (if they can't afford 3%, run run run). For context, if you make $10 an hour, a 3% raise only gives you $12.00 more each week. It's really not much, but not nothing! If you're NOT worried about asking a raise, go all in! Ask for 10%, maybe even 15%. Flex some negotiation skills. Maybe you'll walkaway with 7%, but every penny counts.

Get yourself on auto payments [at the smallest amounts you can] - if you've got credit cards, log in right now and get yourself on auto payments for the smallest amount. If you've got student loans, do the same thing. If you've got utility bills, get them on auto pay. These things take 3 minutes to set up, and there are phone numbers to call if you can't figure it out. These companies WANT you to do this, they will help you get it done.

Work off the smallest amount you owe first [aggressively] - Let's say you have a $60 parking ticket, a credit card you owe $400 on, and three student loans that are currently at $6,000 & $7,000 & $10,000. Forget the student loans right now, you've got them on autopay for the smallest amount you can get away with. First, pay off that $60 parking ticket with your next pay check before it becomes a $200 ticket and a court appearance. Now you can focus on the paying off the $400 aggressively. Your minimum payments will still go off, but every time you get a paycheck, long on and pay an additional amount to the credit card (something you can manage and will also feel good to your brain - $50 feels good when you're thinking of your debit in hundreds for example). Once you've got that paid off, now you can aggressively pay off your $6,000. Don't worry about the other two. Just focus on the smallest amount you owe. Each paycheck, payoff a chunk of your smallest debt. It'll get exciting after awhile, like yes I get paid I can make that credit card even smaller. Gamify it, whatever.

Stop worrying about how long it will all take - Only worry about the smallest amount of debt you owe and how (reasonably) fast you can get that paid off. That $400 credit card, if you can spare $100 each pay check - that's only 4 paychecks. That's not too long, right? That's the way to think of time and debt: how much can you spare each paycheck to pay off your lowest debt.

Ask for help - do not punish yourself by lying to your parents and friends. Tell your friends you can't do fancy dinners because you are paying off debt and can't afford it. Real friends will bring over a pizza to hang with you. Your parents might be willing to send you a check without you asking for it. Don't feel guilty about monetary gifts, just take it. Go to a bank and talk about their consolidation options. Bring a third party so you aren't dazzled by sales pitches. Consolidation loans aren't objectively good or bad, they can be a life saver if they have the right terms that work for you. Don't think it's over your head! Ask as many questions until you understand all your options.

Buy smart, stop suffering - this really should be like 4 different bullet points, but I'm going to be as concise as possible: you'll never get out of debt if you spend your money without purpose, and you'll never get out under the yoke of anxiety that you fucked up if you just squirrel your money away in fear. A lot of people will give you advice that you need to put yourself on a tight, punishing budget. Maybe, but I think those are doomed to fail for most people. And now you feel twice as bad. Don't do that to yourself. Learning the value of $10 is important. So it learning the value of $100, or $1,000. And the best way to learn is to practice buying and using your money - there's a cheap $1,000 and an expensive $10, and you have to learn how much value you are getting out of these amounts for these purchases. If you punish yourself all week, and then allow yourself a "little treat" on Sunday - that doesn't feel worthwhile to me. Those little treats will grow every day. Soon you're stopping at Starbucks every day for "just $10" and your Sunday treat has become a weekly blow out brunch with friends and then week to week you're scrounging to eat Top Ramen and lamenting your dreams are dying. Instead, save money by spending money on things worthwhile that make you budget for them. Go sign up for those yoga classes you want, go sign up for those guitar lessons you want, go sign up for those art lessons you want, whatever it is. Whatever brings value to your life. Your $70 a week yoga membership can now be valued against your $70 week at Starbucks, and as your pockets pinch one hopes you'll choose the yoga over the Starbucks because one hopes that the yoga is serving you better. Or maybe yoga is ass and you want to spend it on Starbucks, at least now you know. Though I recommend your local coffee shop, as Starbucks is a union busting piece of shit corporation :)

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meocities · 2 days

Text

The Lack Thereof

Mithrun/Reader - 1423 words, hurt/comfort

You're nervous. You're sad and lonely and hurting, and on top of it all, you're nervous.

Mithrun stares at you from across the bedroom. He's been doing that a lot lately — you've noticed how his eyes linger. You notice a lot more than you let on about him, but you’ve realized that he ends up knowing anyway. You can't keep anything secret from him — he'll find out that you're hiding something, at the very least, and then he'll just keep staring until you tell him.

He's doing that now. Staring. His eyes bore into your own, and when you look away for a second, glance back, look away again, he moves his staring to your hands. You're wringing your fingers in your own grasp. The edges of your cuticles are dry and picked. Your skin might have bled a few times from your nervousness, and though the blood was the only thing that could have given your anxiety away (blood that had long been cleaned), you know Mithrun sees the red-flushed divot of wounds even from the distance you're keeping.

Mithrun raises an eyebrow, and the anxiety compounds in your stomach. It burns your skin, just as much as the memories do, and you know you're strong but you think to yourself, god, I want to cry.

You're strong, and you're brave, and you've always stood up to everything that has ever been thrown at you, and you're so tired. You're so tired of the effort. You wonder if he can relate.

So you bow your head, and you know Mithrun's eyes have gone wide — as much as they can, anyway — staring at you still. He's silent, unmoving on the bed the Canaries had set him up with after the new kingdom's establishment. Of course it would be silent. Of course he would be staring. You’re the one who invaded his room in the middle of the night, after all. You know you're lucky that he doesn't care.

Yet, for now, you're still looking at the floor while the former captain of the Canaries looks at you, with your hands wringing themselves into shreds, and the hole in your stomach is eating you alive. You know he expects something of you, so you take a breath (it's shaky, and you cringe because you know your words aren't going to come out right) and deliver, ineloquently, “you don't care about most things, right?”

Mithrun's told you his story. How he became a dungeon lord — and how he lost that title in five years. How he's been recovering over time, slowly but surely, thanks to the help of Kabru and his Canaries, and the noodle shop that he lives above, and everyone who's had the smallest bit of faith in him along the way. And while Mithrun's made endless progress, you know he still has trouble desiring, sometimes.

You can't imagine asking this of anyone else.

Mithrun nods his head slowly, and you realize you've looked back up at him when his brows furrow together. “I don't,” he says.

“Can you do me a favor,” you say, expecting to stop there, but highly reluctant to even consider the thought of him rejecting you before you even get the real question out. “Can I join you?”

Mithrun looks down, gaze sweeping his bed, before turning back to you. It's a silent question, and you nod, cheeks aflame. Are your legs shaking? You feel unsteady. You aren't sure if you're breathing right — feels too shallow, as if you're afraid to even make a sound. Your hands, still fidgeting with your fingers, twist a joint in such a way that your knuckle cracks, and you wince at the sound interrupting the silence. Mithrun remains quiet, and you think that you might never have taken a deep breath in your life.

He breaks this silence a moment after. “Why are you asking this of me?”

There's lots of things you can say to this — lots of things that go through your head in response. It feels delicate to dissect, yet heavy. Emotion and cognition flit through your brain, and you think about analyzing yourself in your typical pattern of being self-aware, but it feels like too much. There's no good straw to grasp onto, but the one thing that comes to your mind is that, despite not knowing him for long, there's something about him that makes you feel as if he's the only person in the world you can go to.

I don't know wouldn't suffice as an answer. Moreover, you would feel bad about not communicating to the best of your ability. To him, you say, “I trust you,” and you don't think about how his distance is the most familiar thing you've known.

He doesn't seem convinced, but he shrugs and lifts his head to lay on the side of the pillow — moving to make room for you. Your heart thuds hard in your chest, and you're both terrified and not. You wipe your sweaty palms on the surface of your clothes, because you don't want to put that on Mithrun, not at all — there's no need for him to see that you're any more nervous than he already knows you are. While your hands are wiped off, you approach the bed, lifting your leg so you can slide over the top, knees bent as you sit by his waist. You're so close that your knees are touching the right side of his waist. The bed wasn't very big to begin with, and by the way Mithrun moves his arm out to make room for you to lay down, you know he's aware of the proximity.

Which, this action makes your chest ache. He wasn’t supposed to be caring — he wasn't supposed to make this easy. You're tempted to pull back for a moment before Mithrun raises his eyebrow at your hesitation, and you bite your tongue even as your eyes begin to moisten. You won't cry, you know this for sure — you refuse to be weak in front of someone as strong as him, and even though his eyes narrow at all the things you won't say, you give up part of the act and lay your head down on his chest, nosing your face into his neck. Your left hand comes to rest on his stomach so that you're curled into him, and you can already feel the moisture from your breath condensing on the skin of his neck. You won't cry, you remind yourself. You won't cry, and if some tears do drop on Mithrun's shoulder beneath your face then it was an accident. You didn't mean to.

Slowly, his arm comes around to cradle you into his side. Your breath hitches as his fingers trail down your spine to pull you closer, stroking along the bone of your back. You can feel yourself shaking, frozen in place — you don't want to move, but something like this is so unfamiliar. You never would have expected this from him, of all people — wasn't the point of seeking this out from him because he wouldn't be overwhelming? Wasn't the point of this to have an image of being loved?

Yet, with Mithrun’s fingers at the slope of your back, the image you had is colored and crisp. Even if he's pretending, it almost feels like he actually cares about you.

He can feel that you're shaking now — there's no doubt about it. Your breathing rattles through your chest as your fingers grip the fabric on his stomach, and you feel his abdominal muscles clench for a moment before he forces them to relax. He shifts his face above you and you feel lips on your forehead — he pressed a kiss to your skin, you realize, and your heart shatters into a million pieces. You're warm, you're burning up, and all you can do is sling your arm across his ribs, tuck a leg between his, and bury your face so far into Mithrun's neck that you don't know where you end and he begins anymore.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this — nothing this nice. You're still shaking, but you're held tightly. Why did he desire to hold you?

You vocalize this sentiment. “Why are you doing this?” You ask, and your voice is quiet. Devastated. Unsure.

Mithrun doesn't look at you. He doesn't even shift his position. Just hums a short noise in the hollow of his throat — something you feel the vibrations of tickling your nose — and says, “I trust you, too.”

#mithrun of the house of kerensil #mithrun x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #mithrun #meo writings

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flavored-soda · 21 hours

Text

i know just how much you love it

Rating: R (explicit 18+) minors DNI

Warnings: Smut, pwp

Word Count: 5.1k

Pairing: BuckTommy/Tevan/Kinley

Summary: Buck is brat. Plain and simple. So when Buck decides to play dirty when they go out to a bar, Tommy fucks him in the parking lot to remind him of his place.

read on ao3 | as always, heed the tags and warnings |

Evan being a brat was not exactly a new experience for Tommy. In fact, it was becoming a regular thing the more their relationship progressed.

It started with snippy remarks, almost complimenting Tommy’s own dry sense of humor. It quickly moved to teasing touches, working Tommy up just enough before pulling away and acting like nothing happened. Smaller things that the younger knew that Tommy loved, like wearing shorter shorts, walking around the loft or the house shirtless, even licking and biting his lips when he knew Tommy was watching him. When Tommy finally realized what exactly Evan was after, he sat him down and forced him to use his words, making the younger describe in detail what exactly he wanted and how he wanted it.

Tommy considered it his own form of teasing, watching Evan squirm while he spoke about his dirtiest fantasies and desires. Encouraging him to keep talking as Tommy listened intently, taking ideas and suggestions to save for later. The more he heard the more he found that he and Evan had quite a few things when it came to those fantasies and desires.

Though, ever since that conversation, Evan seemed to be making it his personal goal just how much bratting he could get away with.

And don’t get him wrong, Tommy loved that his boyfriend was opening up more and really getting settled into this dynamic part of the relationship. But it was moments like these that were really starting to drive him up a fucking wall.

It’s not that he was jealous. He wouldn’t call himself jealous. Or possessive. For the most part, Tommy doesn’t get jealous. He knows that Evan is it for him and he is it for Evan. The most “jealous” that Tommy has ever gotten is when Evan is trying to elicit a reaction from the older man, so Tommy gives it to him, but it’s all just acting. He’s never actually jealous. It’s all just build up for some rough and hot sex. And Tommy has never once felt that jealousy or possessiveness because Evan has never given him a reason too. The blonde always comes home to him with a smile on his face and that's all Tommy can ask for, all that he really needs.

But now? Oh, right now, Tommy is feeling more than a little bit jealous.

Now, he wants nothing more than to saunter up to his boyfriend, wrap an arm around his waist, and pull him close to his body with a shit-eating grin on his face. Now, he wants to go over there and kiss him hard, pull away with the younger’s bottom lip still between his teeth, hear him whimper like he always does when he wants more. Fuck, he wants to bend him over a table and fuck him for the whole bar to watch, laughing as he does it because he knows only he can make Evan feel that damn good.

It’s a new and terrifying thing that only seems to fester the more he watches his boyfriend. It only starts to truly burn and bubble under his skin when Evan moves the smallest bit forward.

The younger man is currently laughing, leaning into some guy’s space as he opens his mouth to speak again. Evan is putting in the work, batting his eyelashes, throwing his head back when he laughs, and giving that dorky, dopey smile when he finishes it all only to start it back up again. The guy is inviting Evan to lean in, asking him to move in closer. He moves his arms to the table next to where Evan’s are resting, caging him in but not touching him.

God, Tommy hopes he touches him.

He’s basically begging for it with the ways he’s watching the two of them. He probably looks like a madman to the bartender, hell, probably to anyone in his eye line. He feels like a predator, watching his unassuming prey play before he strikes. Only, Evan knows that he’s watching, knows that Tommy is staring, hoping, wishing, waiting for this other guy to make a move on him. And it’s driving Tommy so insane he can almost taste it.

He wants that excuse, that reason to pounce over there and stake his claim. He wants to snake his arm around his big, buff boyfriend’s waist, pull him into his side so fast and hard that he jostles, showing off his strength and force. And it wouldn’t even be a show for this guy.

It wouldn’t be a display of jealousy, of dominance, no, it would be a show he’s putting on for Evan. A little part in this game they’re playing. Because the thing is, Tommy doesn’t blame Evan. The guy he’s flirting with is handsome. He’s got longer hair, it reaches his shoulders but it’s neat and styled, and the outfit he’s wearing shows off just enough that it could leave anyone wanting to know more. Tommy sees the appeal, he really does, but Evan is prettier, more appealing.

Evan is the one he’s watching.

The one he can’t take his eyes off of.

He’s the one that’s got Tommy craving more.

Evan shifts to lean in further across the table. Tommy’s fingers flex around his drink. He can feel his teeth grinding together in anticipation. From here, Tommy can’t see Evan’s eyes but he swears that he flicks them down in a quick glance to the other guy’s lips. The guy leans in closer, stops for a second before angling his head to say something into Evan’s ear. But he still doesn’t touch him.

There’s that bubbling under his skin. He can feel himself twitch involuntarily. Tommy feels like he’s going to explode. He’s half tempted to go over there without any kind of signal from Evan. It’s against the rules, disrupts the plan, but he really doesn’t care right now. He’s less concerned with scripts that they had written in their heads and more concerned with how he can get his hands and mouth on his boyfriend. Against his better judgment, he stays put and starts bouncing his leg in order to help him calm down.

Evan pulls back cocking his head before letting something slip past those pretty, perfect lips. The guy smirks and one of his arms moves up, his hand lands on Evan’s bicep and Tommy is up.

He’s not sure what happens after that. One moment, he’s sitting at the bar, staring holes into his boyfriend’s head and the next he’s right behind, wrapping his arm around waist and tugging him back against him. Evan goes willingly, leaning back to rest his head against Tommy’s shoulder. The entire expanse of his neck is on display and Tommy’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, never taking his eyes off of it.

“Hi, baby.” He says.

Evan is looking at the guy through his lashes, one hand on his beer and one on the arm around his middle. He’s rocking slightly, sinking further and further into Tommy and the older man just lets him. He widens his stance ever-so-slightly, careful not to disturb the blonde as he takes more of his weight.

“Hi.” He responds, flicking his eyes up to Tommy for a moment before looking back at the guy he was flirting with.

“Who’s this?” His eyes are still on Evan, watching his boyfriend’s throat bob as he swallows.

“Myles.”

“Mason.” The guy, Mason, corrects with a scoff.

Neither Tommy or Evan are really paying attention to him. He served his purpose with them. Evan falling back in Tommy’s thrall and Tommy enjoying the process of reeling him back in.

Evan’s eyes go back to gaze into Tommy’s and Tommy drags his own eyes up his boyfriend’s body to meet him there. Once they lock onto each other, they stay there. Tommy sees Evan’s lips part and his tongue out to wet his lips from his peripheral and it takes everything in him to not take his eyes off Evan’s.

This is the second part of the game. The part where they see who breaks first. It’s usually always Tommy. He’s so worked up at this point that he has no choice but to give into his desires. Licking his way into his boyfriend’s mouth, his tongue exploring inch and crevice like it hasn’t before. He’ll swallow down Evan’s moans and whimpers before pulling away with a smirk. Evan’s eyes will still be closed, lips still parted, and he’ll pull his bottom lip in between his teeth before rolling off Tommy’s shoulder. He’ll look up to fix him, hands either on his shoulders or hips, still swaying. When he opens his eyes more, they’ll focus straight on Tommy’s lips and Tommy will push in until he’s almost eating the younger man whole. He’ll push Evan into the table, they’ll feel it rock slightly and Evan will reach his hand back to steady it and himself. When they pull away, Tommy will suggest they go home and Evan will gladly follow.

But tonight, Evan pushed in, wasting no time in licking his way into the older man’s mouth with a fever. He twists himself in Tommy’s hold, changing the angle so he’s face to face with his boyfriend. He grabs onto the lapels on Tommy’s shirt and pulls him closer. One of Tommy’s hands moves to steady himself on the table and the other goes up Evan’s back, snaking it into his hair. He digs his fingers in right above the base of the blonde’s neck before giving a sharp tug.

Evan gives a whimper as Tommy holds his head back. Tommy smirks, using his grip to maneuver Evan’s head around. The younger sinks into it, his grip on Tommy’s shirt slipping away to steady himself back on the table.

“Tommy, please.” He gasps out.

Tommy looks down at him, admiring his work.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Another rule, make Evan admit to what he wants.

He rolls the younger’s head around a few more times. His other hand has moved away from the table and onto his boyfriend’s hips. He’s holding Evan’s hips close to his, firm in making sure they stay where he wants them.

“Please, please…” Evan swallows, “Please, Daddy.”

Oh, this little shit. He thinks before pulling him into a searing kiss.

Evan can barely keep up. It ends up being more of Tommy shoving his way into Evan’s mouth, licking, biting, and sucking. He lets out little whimpers and moans that only egg the older man on. He’s swallowing them all down, careful not to miss a single one. If he focuses on them he swears he can taste them, all sweet and tart, just like his boyfriend.

Evan is pushing against him, using the table as leverage, attempting to move his hips in a circle. If Tommy looks down he’s sure he’ll see the beginning of a small wet patch forming on the blonde’s pants. The thought of just how wet his boyfriend gets driving him further into this madness he’s been fading in and out of all night.

He pulls away with Evan’s bottom lip still between his teeth. His eyes open to see Evan’s rolled back into his head. He gives a small tug, sinking his teeth further into Evan’s lip. The younger lets out another whimper before Tommy drags his teeth off with a pop. He looks down at his handy work. Evan’s eyes still rolled back, a blush high on cheek, and his bottom lip now swollen and bright red. He smirks to himself as Evan’s eyes come back to meet Tommy’s.

“Say it again, baby.” He whispers.

Evan moans again.

“Please, Daddy.” He says in a rushed and hushed voice.

Tommy smirks again.

“Please, what?” He punctuates the question with another sharp tug on Evan’s hair.

It takes the younger a second to collect himself. His eyes rolled back again when Tommy gave another tug to his hair and he ran his tongue over the inside of his bottom lip softly. Tommy wondered if he was bleeding a little bit. He wanted to know if he could taste the metallic twang of blood if he pushed in for another kiss. He wanted to lick into his mouth, gathering up the new taste of Evan and Evan’s blood. But he restrained himself, waited for Evan to answer before he gave him any kind of reward.

“Fuck me. Fuck me, please, Daddy.”

Fuck, this kid was going to be the death of him.

He pulled away, his hand slipping from Evan’s hair and the younger man whimpering in response to the loss. It trailed down to Evan’s hip, using the new found grip to move his boyfriend where he needed him. He spun him around, pushing him gently to get him to move. He watched the faces of the people they pushed past, drinking in their reaction to just how wrecked Evan was and how he was the one that was responsible. He knew Evan was reveling in all the attention. The looks on everyone’s face as Tommy staked his claim, he loved it like the attention whore he was.

“Look at them, baby. All looking at you, saving this image of you in their minds. You’re like porn on a stick.” He watched Evan’s shoulder jump as he gasped, no doubt letting out another little whimper.

They pushed their way to the doors, Tommy starting to guide him to the car before Evan pushed back hard. He turned, walking the older man back into the wall of the bar. The younger’s hands were fisted in Tommy’s shirt again. He was using the grip to keep his boyfriend caged against him and the wall. Tommy’s hands never leaving Evan’s hips. He could feel the brick of the wall starting to lift his shirt as the younger man pinned him further against the wall. He was pushing into the kiss Evan had initiated, fighting for dominance.

“Do it here.” He whispered into the kiss.

Tommy didn't have a chance to respond with kiss after kiss pushing him further into the wall. His lips being assaulted with those of his boyfriend’s. He licked into Evan’s mouth, using his tongue to pull Evan’s lip into his mouth once again. The younger eased his grip, the move never failing to turn him to jelly. Tommy took the opportunity to take back control.

His hands on Evan’s hips gripped tight and pushed back, effectively pushing himself off the wall. He gripped onto Evan’s forearm, pulling him in for one more rough kiss before starting to walk towards the truck. Evan stumbled along after him, giving up on the attempts to take over.

They parked towards the back of the parking lot in case they had to leave the truck here overnight. Tommy’s hand slipped from Evan’s forearm to his hand, interlocking their fingers as he pushed towards the vehicle.

He shoved his hand into his jean pocket, reaching in to grab his keys. He fumbled them in one hand, almost dropping them as he dragged his boyfriend along. He saw the tail lights light up and it only fueled the fire under his feet. When he felt he was close enough he turned to face the blonde, grabbing onto his biceps and slamming him against the back of the truck. Evan let out a shocked gasp and then they were kissing again.

The older man’s hands went back to their place on Evan’s hips. The hold he had on them would surely force a mold of Tommy’s hands into the skin, a permanent resting place for his hands and only his hands. A type of claim he could only dream of staking on his boyfriend.

He let his fingers pull Evan’s shirt up just enough for him to sneak his fingers underneath it. His fingertips ghosted over his lower waist and hips as he worked his thumbs under the waistband of his jeans and boxers. He rubbed a pattern into the skin, pressing harder so there was a potential there would be small bruises for the next couple of days. Evan squirmed under his touch, pushing back against Tommy. He caught the hint and pulled back, giving Evan a chance to breathe.

“Just…do it here.” The younger huffed out again before going to push in.

Tommy stopped him, finally registering what he was saying. He turned his gaze to Evan’s face, looking for any sign of hesitancy. He smirked when he found none.

He pulled Evan into him, taking one hand off of one of the younger’s hips, going to fiddle with his keys again. He heard the little click of his truck unlocking, he pushed Evan back again, sticking out the hand with his keys to catch the latch on his truck bed. He pulled it down, pushing his boyfriend with him as he maneuvered around. He pushed Evan pack into the truck once more, his grip on the blonde’s hips turning into a soft touch. He smiled down at his lover once more before turning his handle on him back to rough and pressing in for another harsh kiss. He pulled away with Evan’s lip in between his teeth again. He smirked and only let go when Evan let out a whimper.

“Yeah, baby? You want me to fuck you right here?” He leaned closer, ghosting his lips over Evan’s neck. “In the bed of my truck, where anyone who leaves that bar can see you?”

“Fuck, yes, please.”

Tommy loosened his grip just a tiny bit, pulled back just enough to glance up at his boyfriend.

“Just please, baby?”

Evan whimpered again.

“Please, Daddy. Please fuck me right here. Please, please, please…” He trailed off in a sea of begging.

Tommy smirked again. He loved having this initiate power of his lover. He loved that he could turn him into a blubbering mess with a few choice words and touches. It sent a certain kind of rush through him every time he realized just how much he had an effect on Evan. The rush would hit him again every time he realized that Evan had that same effect on him and he knew it too. All the little switches and buttons that Tommy had discovered for Evan, the younger also discovered for Tommy. The result was moments like these where Tommy was pulling out every trick in the book to keep Evan a begging slut while Evan put it on thick, using every little thing that Tommy loved about him for evil.

Tommy had pressed them together as soon as the tailgate was down. Evan was now using what leverage the truck gave him to grind into Tommy, pressing their clothed cocks together. Tommy let out a groan at the new sensation, pulling away from his assault on his boyfriend’s lips so he could look down at the sight. Sure enough, there was a wet spot on Evan’s jeans that was only growing by the minute.

“Look at you, baby. Making us feel so good.” He breathed in Evan’s ear.

He moved his former assault to Evan’s neck, careful not to leave any hickeys (at least above the collar of his shirt). He gave soft kisses and light suckles, licking long stripes up the expanse of his boyfriend’s neck before blowing on them gently and watching the younger squirm beneath the sensation.

“Tommy, please.”

“What, baby? What can Daddy do for you, huh?” He whispered again, watching a jolt go through Evan’s body at the words.

“I need you to fuck me.” His voice was quiet and hoarse as he spoke softly, if they were home Tommy would make sure it stayed that way into tomorrow.

“Speak up, sweetie.” He said a little louder than a normal volume.

“Fuck me.” Evan’s hands went to Tommy’s hips, set on his zipper.

Tommy grabbed him before he could get much further. He held both of Evan’s wrist in a tight grip in one hand and leaned to place his other on the truck bed, caging his lover in.

“Is that how we ask for things?”

Evan shook his head in response.

“No, it’s not. That’s good, love. So, do you want to try that again?”

Evan nodded.

“Good.” Tommy leaned back. “What can Daddy do for you, baby?”

“Fuck me, please, Daddy, please.”

Tommy gave him a soft smile.

He moved a hand to grope at Evan’s back pocket, smiling when he felt his wallet in there and reaching in to grab it. He opened it to find the condom and packet of lube that Evan always carried with him. He held the two between his fingers as he yanked Evan’s pants down without a second thought. Then he flipped him around, laying a hand between his shoulder blades to push him down against the truck bed. Evan whimpered and squirmed as the coldness of the vehicle came in contact with his bare skin.

Tommy used his hips to pin Evan’s to his spot, pushing his hips, and therefore his cock, further against the exterior of the vehicle. He gasped and let out a moan in response. Tommy opened the lube packet, squirting some onto his fingers before he slipped them between his boyfriend’s cheeks. He circled the rim of Evan’s entrance and watched him as he squirmed some more. Little “please, Daddy, please’s” were spilling from his lips. He was speaking at a normal volume, just loud enough for certain words to almost echo off the truck and the cars around it.

He pushed in with two fingers, immediately crooking them and exploring his boyfriend’s hole. He wasn’t too worried about the prep, Evan was always prepped for scenes like this. He was such a good little slut, Tommy would have to reward him later for the preparedness so far.

The younger was currently a writhing mess under his boyfriend, thrusting and grinding into the truck bed to get some action on his cock. As soon as Tommy saw it he grabbed one of his hips in a firm grip.

“You know the rules, Evan.” He said as he worked his fingers further into his lover.

“S-Sorry, Dadd-” He was cut off with a moan as Tommy pressed into the wonderful little bundle of nerves.

It wasn’t long before he was drilling into that spot, over and over again. Evan was a mess below him, splayed out against the truck bed begging Tommy for more. He had gotten three fingers worked into him, nice and slow, with all the focus on his prostate but never for long enough. Tommy let out an evil little chuckle when Evan whined at the loss of the fingers.

“I know, baby. I got you.”

He took the condom hold of the package with his teeth, holding it there while he rolled it on his length and applied the rest of the lube. He spread Evan’s ass open and thumbed over his hole.

“Tommy…Daddy…please…” That was all Tommy needed for him to slip in.

He opted to sink in all in one go, having fucked his slut earlier in the day and know he could take it. The reaction from Evan was something Tommy wanted to play on repeat every chance he could. He took a sharp breath in before exhaling it in shaking, breathy moans. His head was turned to the side and from this angle, Tommy could see his eyes flutter close. He found his grip on the younger’s hips again and slowly held Evan in place while he slowly pulled out. He waited for a little wiggle of the blonde’s hips before he slammed back in. He was setting the pace that Evan liked, slower and harder.

Evan’s little noises were bouncing off the truck bed and across the very few cars around them. He only got louder when Tommy would pick up his speed, drilling into his boyfriend. The older man smirked to himself. He was so lucky to have this beautiful specimen of a man as his. The way he looked and sounded while Tommy was fucking his brains was his new favorite song. He changed his hold on Evan’s hips, shifting and lifting until his boyfriend clenched down on him.

“Fuck, yeah, Evan? Does my cock feel good fucking into you?” He groaned out, letting his composure and character crack a bit.

“Uh-huh” The younger one did his best to nod with his head against the truck. Tommy swore he could see some drool escaping his mouth.

He continued to fuck into his lover at a rapid pace. He aimed for Evan’s prostate every time and was pretty damn accurate based on the noises being made. He took a second to take in the sight in front of him. Evan was splayed out on the truck bed, arms relaxed near his head, letting himself be pushed further up the bed with every thrust. He was letting little moans and gasps escape his lips, occasionally trying to form a word and losing it when Tommy would thrust back in. It was only fueling Tommy’s own desire. The thought that he could reduce this beefcake of a man down to a whimpering, moaning mess, begging him to come was like a wet dream come true.

Evan started to sloppily try to move back to meet Tommy’s thrust, the harsh grip the older man had on his hips starting to guide him into it. Tommy couldn’t wait to see those bruises tomorrow. He loved when there was evidence of his handy work. It was like he was giving himself a guide for next time, leaving little breadcrumbs to remind himself just exactly how he made his boyfriend tick.

“Close.” Evan stuttered out through moans and gasps.

Tommy took that as permission to adjust the younger’s hips again. He lifted him slightly, adjusting his own angle before pulling out only to slam back in again. The older man opted for short and quick thrusts, focusing on hitting that little bundle of nerves inside the younger. Evan had gone silent, mouth hanging open and eyes half-lidded as Tommy worked him towards an orgasm.

“Touch yourself for me, baby.” Tommy said, never letting up on his assault on Evan’s prostate.

The blonde moaned and Tommy smirked. This was his favorite part, bringing Evan right to the edge only to pull it all away until he could form enough words to ask if he could cum. It almost always ended in Tommy walking that edge with him, but he wouldn’t allow either of them to cum until Evan asked. It was another rule, another part of their little game.

Fuck, he could feel Evan clenching around him. He wasn’t going to last much longer, himself.

“Come on, love.”

Evan took the hint, squirming underneath and trying to get his lips to move. He would get about half way through his question before it would get lost in a sea of moans. Tommy could see how close he was, how hard he was trying to be a good boy and wait until he got permission. The arm that had moved off the bed so he could fuck into his fist had stopped moving and Tommy knew it was so the blonde could squeeze the base of his cock. Evan was never very good at holding off his climax on his own, and god dammit, if he wasn’t going to pack one of Evan’s cock rings next time.

“Tommy, please.”

“Use your words, Evan.” He gave a particularly harsh thrust, but ultimately slowed his pace. “Please, what?”

“Can I come?” The last word was broken off with a sharp intake of breath. “Daddy, please.”

That was all he needed. He picked his pace back up, less concerned with getting Evan to reach his release and more concerned with reaching his own. He saw Evan’s arm start to move again, the permission was all he needed to chase after his own orgasm. The result was both of them getting sloppy in their movements.

Evan came first. He gave a loud moan that was quickly cut off when Tommy gave one of the last few of his thrusts.

Tommy wasn’t far behind him, his hips stalling as he spilled into the condom.

“Fuck, Evan.” He groaned out through gritted teeth as he did.

The two stayed there for a minute, catching their breaths and coming down from their respective highs. Evan wiggled again, the silent cue that he was ready for them to move. Tommy slowly began to pull out, detaching from one another with an obscene pop. The blonde whimpered at the loss.

Tommy took one hand off the younger man’s hips, placing it on the edge of the truck bed. He used his other hand to help turn his boyfriend over. Evan helped a little by pushing himself up and into his boyfriend. He made a kissy face and the older man smiled before leaning in. This kiss being the least heated and softest of the night so far.

“Hi, baby.” He murmured against Evan’s lips.

The younger one smiled and let out a laugh.

“Hi.”

They leaned in for another and another and just one more before Tommy pulled further back and decided it was time to clean up. He took off the condom, tying it and throwing it into his truck bed to clean out later. Then he put himself back into his own underwear and jeans just before shoving a hand into his front pocket to fish out a couple of tissues and a wet wipe. He used both to clean up his boyfriend, tossing them into the truck bed when he was finished, and then helping Evan into his own pants.

Once they were situated Tommy placed both his hands on Evan’s hips for the last time. He used the leverage to pull the blonde closer to him and off the truck bed so he could shut the tailgate. Evan took the opportunity to steal a couple more kisses. Tommy smiled into every single one of them. He was so gone for this man.

He walked them backwards towards the passenger side, opening the door for the younger and helping him in. Evan, once again, using every chance he could to steal another kiss from Tommy’s lips. The older man happily obliged before letting go of the younger’s hand and shutting the door.

He heard a noise as he walked back around to the driver's side. He looked towards the bar entrance to see Myles? Michael? Whatever his name was exiting the bar in a similar fashion to Evan and Tommy earlier. He smirked to himself, letting out a chuckle before going back to his truck so he could take his boyfriend home.

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bones-aa · 2 days

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Yan!MIGUEL O'HARA (Platonic) pt 2

warnings; Yandere themes, Platonic fatherly love (not really).

genuinely, I never thought that the previous post would garner that much attention but here we are, hi yall :) this is the very anticipated (not really) second part to the first miguel post i made. the atsv has gone but my love for daddy (platonically) miguel will never leave 😔 anyways hope u enjoy it pookies <3

The dull throbbing pain in your shoulder was a reminder of what happened to you. Something that you would have never imagine, in your worst nightmares would happen to you.

Getting kidnapped? A hero? It was unheard of. As a spider person, your strength should've been unparraleled, it should have saved you.

But no. To him, Miguel, your strength was nothing compared to his. So you were here, trapped in a room that was unmarked. You had looked around and it was unrecognisable. The room was scarce, plain only the white walls to comfort you.

You tried to sit up, tried being the key word here. The paralysis barely wore off making it hard to do anything but just lie there and sit in the reality of your situation. You were kidnapped. By your delusional boss who thinks that you need his saving. His protection.

But you definitely fucking didn't. It was offensive that he would suggest that in the first place.

The doors that were across the room opened up, a low hiss signalling the entrance of your kidnapper. There stood Miguel, the man who paralysed and kidnapped you walked towards you. You couldn't move, you needed to get as far away from him as possible.

You watched as he moved to caress your face, wiping the stray tear that escaped your face as the man stared at you with the disgustingly longing look in his eyes.

"Don't cry mi hija, you'll feel better the venom will wear off, hm? I'll be here." That's exactly what you didn't want, it was impossible to hold off the tears but you didn't want to be vulnerable in front of this monster. The reality of the situation begs your reaction, this man who claimed to wanted to protect you hurt you. How else could you react?

The tears fell. You couldn't even look away, you were stuck in this state where the hands of your kidnapper continued to stay by you, giving you hushed whispers of comfort. It was disgusting.

After awhile of his creepy comforting, his watch buzzed with a message. He lifted his arm in annoyance and checked the message. He groaned and you assumed it was a mission, he looked back at you. He didn't want to go.

Miguel was broken, he is a broken man. He lost his daughter and with that his ability to care left as well. His patience often ran thin, snapping at people for messing up even the smallest things. But with you it was different. Maybe it was your carefree yet generous personality that made him snap, the way you were so willing to help others even before you had gotten bitten by the spider.

You were truly someone that was deserving of the mantle, the title of spider person. He saw you as someone to protect, he couldn't let you be hurt like he did. He couldn't let you slip into the darkness that he lived in. He had to save you.

"...Although I don't want to leave, I have a job to do." He starts, his attention entirely on you like it has been for the past hour. "The paralysis should be gone by the time I come back, I trust you to not act out."

His stern tone was a stark contrast to his gentle one earlier. You couldn't nod or do anything, but instead just stare ahead. He sighed and leaned down giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead. It was all so fucking disgusting.

The paralysis. You had laid there for a full hour and Miguel didn't come back, but the paralysis. It was gone. You wiggled your toes and slowly started to be able to move the rest of your limbs.

You propped yourself up on your elbows as you started to get up. You let out a small groan as you did, your body still ached but you couldn't mull over your pain. You had to get out of there, now.

You held the wall as you started to take shaky steps towards the door, it had no doorknobs. Nothing. You regained your feeling back, it meant that you regained your strength back as well. You decied to test it out.

Thump.

Your fist collided with the cool metal door. No dent, nothing. You shook your hand, the pain sent shocks up your arm. You shook your wrist and pursed your lips as you try again. You slam your fist into the metal door again. Again. Again.

Your fists started bleeding but the door didn't budge. The door slid open and Miguel stood there, you stared at him with your fists bleeding. His eyes widened and he quickly moved to hold you.

You sobbed into his shoulders as he cradled you closer into him. He tries to comfort you but all you can do is cry. Your fists hurt, but thats not what you were crying about.

“Cariño, why did you-“

He stayed quiet as he let you down, he watched as you rubbed your eyes trying to get breaths in. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, what sick fantasy you have in your head, but I don’t want any fucking part.” Your voice soft but every word dripped with hatred.

Miguel shook his head as he sat next to you.

“You will learn, you’re just shocked hm? I know you need this as much as me.” You watched in disgust as he held your hands with a painful gentleness, he looked as if it were his fists that were bleeding. As if your pain was his.

“I don’t!” You moved your hands away from his. “I don’t need this.”

“Your family has abandoned you, have they not? You have nobody.” It was like a slap in the face, but they did. After finding out who you were they treated you like a monster.

“I will be your new family, Y/n, no one else.”

Here’s the second part doneee, im not sure its good but hey at least its made right LMAO

Sorry for disappearing consider this another apology gift !!

#yandere platonic #platonic yandere #tw yandere #yandere platonic miguel ohara #platonic yandere marvel

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milquetoast27 · 17 hours

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Subtext in The Creeping Man

I find that this story of Arthur Conan Doyle's Holmes canon features some of the most complex subtext we've had aside from A Study in Scarlet. But rather than being complex early-on because of our lack of knowledge of the characters, it is rather complicated by the fact that we both know too much and too little of their relationship. This story, with astonishing subtlety, conveys the cooperative relationship between Doyle's two characters — the nuance in their limits and strains, but also the joys that they work to reach, together. It emblemises the beauty of the Canon, where it all ties back to the joy and complexity of human understanding and belonging.

This story opens in "those latter days" (1903, near to Holmes's retirement) where Watson describes their relations as "peculiar". The word certainly feels like a euphemism from the ever-polite Dr. Watson, when it is soon made clear that their relations were far from amenable. Watson has become one of Holmes's "concentrated habits", and apparently is as good as a piece of funiture, as all of Holmes's remarks would have been as "appropriately addressed to his bedstead." It's given through snapped sentences; "I was a whetstone for his mind. I stimulated him. He liked to think aloud in my presence." This "irritation" and discordance between them is extremely concentrated in the early pages of this story, but drags through it, as well. Take, for example, the "laconic" (or perhaps iconic?) message:

"COME AT ONCE IF CONVENIENT — IF INCONVENIENT COME ALL THE SAME. S.H."

Watson gives us the original of Holmes's telegram to demonstrate to his readers just how "long-suffering" he is. A true exhaustion is apparent in how he simply shows the telegram, rather than politely referring to it. Compare this with the unendingly civil telegram sent to Watson in The Boscombe Valley Mystery, and you can see the great shift that has taken place in their alliance.

"HAVE YOU A COUPLE OF DAYS TO SPARE? HAVE JUST BEEN WIRED FOR FROM THE WEST OF ENGLAND IN CONNECTION WITH BOSCOMBE VALLEY TRAGEDY. SHALL BE GLAD IF YOU WILL COME WITH ME. AIR AND SCENERY PERFECT. LEAVE PADDINGTON BY THE 11.15."

While long-term and intimate relationships will remove need for over-courtesey, there are two very different reasons for why Doyle has shown both of these telegrams at a point in time. This accumulation of Holmes's ungrateful behaviour not only imparts Watson's utter despondancy, but also, importantly, Holmes’s — and this is something that Watson's ever-perceptive and intelligent heart does not fail to miss. It is important to note that this story nears Holmes's retirement, where he acknowledges that he has been "sluggish in mind". There is no doubt, then, that the great detective is out of his prime. Hence the temperementalness, taking his Watson for granted, and a heavier reliance on those "narrow and concentrated habits."

Despite the turbulent roads of their life, we see Watson's undying devotion co-exist with it. Past all the irritation, Watson closes, "Such was my humble role in our alliance." It is more than clear that he consciously makes the decision to remain at Holmes's side, to be his ally. Such has always been Watson's role in their alliance. His "humble" service extends to his practice as doctor and soldier. His pride is in his duty to others, and to Holmes as his assistant.

There is something that shines through Holmes's unsocial behaviour when we look closely at the text.

I sank back in my chair in some disappointment. Was it for so trivial a question as this that I had been summoned from my work? Holmes glanced across at me. "The same old Watson!" said he. "You never learn that the gravest issues may depend upon the smallest things."

We know from the Canon (opening of DANC and RESI) that Watson's emotions are like an open book to Holmes. This 'sinking in some disappointment' is not missed by Holmes's 'glance'. "The same old Watson!" he says, and I feel it important to note that he compliments one of Watson's most distinguishing features; his stability and fixture — the "one fixed point in a changing age." Yet, we may miss these details, because Holmes, ever in his own insecurity, must back-hand every praise with a teasing chide. We could say that an attempt was made to cheer Watson up, though not very successful.

Developments continue, as Holmes tryingly says "I had hoped to have a longer chat with you", then parades him with compliments before their client, "Dr. Watson is the very soul of discretion". But mixed indications continue to come as he flips back to patronising language; "You will appreciate it, Watson, when"—. Doyle further cements Holmes's particular unbecoming behaviour on this day as he further also annoys their client, who speaks in a "tone of reproach" when Holmes does not listen, and is "clearly annoyed" at irrelevant interruptions — to which, Holmes only smiles in, what I believe, is pure self-importance.

Here we find a shift — a greater effort on Holmes's part, a second round of appreciation for Watson's stability, even when his opinion is faulty. "Good, Watson! You always keep us flat-footed on the ground". He's then included in his bubble; "We were gradually coming to that conclusion, were we not, Watson?", and even a sordid attempt at bringing Watson with him on the bait of the Chequers in 'Camford' where "the port used to be above mediocrity and the linen was above reproach." (Which he follows up on!)

And, despite these attempts, their connection still does not rekindle. Watson is clearly irritated still with the inconsiderate easiness with which Holmes was able to leave London, leaving only difficulty on Watson's end to join him. It's an indicator from Doyle that nothing's remedied, yet.

Here is an interesting passage for study.

"Have you the effrontery necessary to put it through?" "We can but try." "Excellent, Watson! Compound of the Busy Bee and Excelsior. We can but try — the motto of the firm."

Burstive praise from Holmes at the merest utterance of a phrase — a phrase which has only ever been used one other time in the Canon; the previous story, The Problem of Thor Bridge. This suggests it may be some small motto of Holmes's, though one not often seen in Watson's records — this makes his use of the phrase a very Holmesian approach. This participation, no doubt, is nothing but a delight for Holmes, who is trying to restring their relationship, and continues to overenthusiastically affirm Watson's sturdiness.

Yet it's made clear that superficial praises are not a true apology, as we see signs yet again of Watson's dispassion. As they sit to their meeting with Professor Presbury, Watson writes:

Mr. Holmes smiled amiably.

This sentence may seem unassuming, but be assured it is one of the coldest in the Canon. This usage of "Mr. Holmes" is entirely unique within the Canon. In other times, when Watson has used "Mr. Holmes" or "Mr. Sherlock Holmes", it has been when speaking directly to his readers, since they would be using the honourific. This moment is the only exception, where Watson has intentionally used "Mr." to create distance and convey undesire for intimacy with Holmes (rather than any professional effect). Why has Watson used the line here? Well, Holmes is 'smiling amiably' — in a way that forces a friendly manner, one that attempts to create a good impression with Professor Presbury — which also didn't work out, by the way. Considering all the superficial means up to now employed by Holmes on his companion, Watson no doubt feels cheapened and no more important than Holmes's investigative objects; as if his trust is just as easy to gain as anyone else's, with nothing but an 'amiable smile'.

We are shown time and again that Watson isn't pleased with Holmes's desultory attempts at reconciliation, until finally, a shift happens. One that is not identifiable in the text, and so is reasonable to assume happened unpenned. We find Holmes acknowledging that "Dr. Watson has his patients to attend to", when before this information seemed completely irrelevant to him. Holmes even sent Watson a "short note asking [him] to meet at the train"! The greatest change is when we finally have Watson using "my friend" and "my comrade" for the first time in this story. Now we see Watson taking real excitement in the case, in the "assurance of [his] comrade". Self-teasing also makes its way into their dialogue as Holmes cries "Oh, Watson, Watson, what a fool I have been!" The emphasised address seems to suggest an apology for something more. It's as if he cries 'Look how wrong I have been Watson, how imperfect and daft I can be!' It's adorable, really.

All semblances of reproach towards Holmes disappear as they steal together in darkness, come to the dénoument of their adventure, as Holmes philosophises on science and nature, and described admiringly as "the man of action". Our story ends in a light-hearted resolution, as always.

"There is an early train to town, Watson, but I think we shall just have time for a cup of tea at the Chequers before we catch it."

To conclude, this story presents so much so subtly in its pages; a reflection of the small, nuanced and unseen processes between human beings, but those which we must be attentive to in order to find fuller understanding between each other. Yet, there is still much uncertainty in my inferences; which also shows the uncertainty of lanugage and communication. We simply must be clear of ourselves, as we can only assume Holmes and Watson were, off-page, for them to have found that resolution, rather than fleeting smiles and compliments. Arthur Conan Doyle, with this story, further cements the triumph of bonds and connection, perhaps far more than any other of his stories.

#acd canon #sherlockian scholarship #sherlock holmes #acd holmes #classic literature #literature analysis #victorian husbands #fun fact I bummed out the LFW server with the “Mr. Holmes smiled amiably” line #was worried this was too long but I think all of this is necessary for my point #CREE is so underrated! I think it's brilliant for this reason #I don't actually care for the mystery. it's shit #the real mystery is whether Holmes and Watson actually made up while in Camford or not #ACD how are you so insanely good at subtext. you put so many treasures in the text for me to find and puzzle over. i love you #hashtag the indomitable human spirit #I could have also commented on some way more suggestive lines but they didn't feel relevant to this analysis #it doesn't actually matter if they're fucking or not sorry guys

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