#and also knee up my asshole that's why i woke lol

[tickle-bugs]

Chase the Memory of it Still

Summary: Clark is deeply, madly, head-over-heels in love with the one person he can't have. What happens when he can have him, if only for a little while? Fake dating friends to lovers superbat hehe

this one's for @fickle-tiction as payment for being a goblin in her dms LOL love ya!! the sequel to this is in progress >:) also it literally doesn't matter but vicki has a jersey shore/boston accent to me. i won't justify it.

Edit: now with a sequel, But You Were Mine

Clark has never really cared much about his paycheck—not in the grand scheme of things, anyway—but fuck he really doesn’t get paid enough. 

“Sorry, Mr…Kent, but no press is allowed at the event. You’re more than welcome to wait outside with everyone else.” One of the guards—a bald fella who looks way too excited to turn him away—crosses his arms. 

“…in the freezing rain.” Clark attempts to wipe his glasses on a dry part of his outfit. All he does is push the water around on the lenses. His suit’s about three shades darker from the storm. Why didn’t he wear his coat? 

“You all seem quite dedicated. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” The guard smiles at him and shifts his weight, looking straight ahead as if all six feet of dripping Kryptonian have just vanished. The doorman reopens the door and shows Clark his people—a swarming mob of reporters hunched behind metal barriers in windbreakers, using plastic bags to keep their livelihoods safe. 

“Thank you, gentlemen.” Clark clenches his fist until it shakes. Inhale, hold…exhale. He came all the way out to cold, rainy Gotham—wait. Gotham.

He glances past the guards and sifts through the noise of the gala until he finds the one heartbeat he knows better than anything. He smiles. 

“Oh, my mistake. I thought he hadn’t shown up. My partner is right there.” Clark points. They both turn to look—would’ve been an excellent time to subdue them if he was feeling more brash—as he waves across the floor at Bruce. 

He looks spectacular, honestly. His hair is doing that ‘I woke up this perfect’ messy thing, his shoulders are unfairly crisp under a three piece suit that’s probably worth more than Clark’s rent, and he just…glows. He’s chatting with a young woman who looks more than happy to fawn over him. Clark’s no longer staring but gazing, he feels it, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do. Maybe Bruce should stop being so…distracting. 

He sees the surprise and hears the murmured ‘Clark?’ under Bruce’s breath. He thankfully doesn’t say anything else as he approaches, just glides over with a glass of champagne. 

It’s at this moment that what he’s done, what he’s implied really sinks in, but it’s too late to turn back now. 

“Hey, I left my invite at your place and these…upstanding citizens can’t find room in their heart to let me by. That’s what I get for showing up to support my partner, huh?” He hopes his emphasis isn’t too much, but he really, really doesn’t want to stand outside after all of this effort. 

Bruce’s expression lands somewhere between pleasure and disbelief, minute and restrained as always. It’s only the uptick of his eyebrow and the slight narrowing of his eyes that gives him away. Bordering on amusement, but not quite. 

“That’s unfortunate. What seems to be the problem?” Bruce sips. The guards shift uncomfortably. Clark tries to quell his shit-eating grin. 

“I guess they think you’re outta my league.” Clark can’t help but snort a little. Bruce rolls his eyes. 

“Mr. Wayne, can we see your invitation please?” Baldy clears his throat and plays official, knowing damn well it won’t make a difference. Bruce hands it over without a second glance.  

“You look handsome.” Clark winks at him. He could smell Bruce’s cologne before he even walked over. At this proximity, he’s starting to get a little weak in the knees. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” Bruce reaches past and adjusts Clark’s tie. Nice touch. 

“Alright, Mr. Kent, you can enter.” The guards shuffle aside. Just to be an asshole, Clark shakes all the water off his form like a dog, splattering both the guards with the rainwater they tried to keep him in. Their shouts of confusion and disgust are the perfect soundtrack to his entry. 

Bruce offers an arm as if he hadn’t seen a thing and leads him over to the coat check, as if he would have a coat to check. He takes Clark’s glasses off his nose, dries them with his kerchief, and puts them back. Clark wrinkles his nose at the gesture—it’s so Bruce to just…do it himself. 

“Thank you. I’m so sorry,” Clark sighs. The lenses are terribly smudged. He plans for a headache.

“You owe me. Boyfriend? Really?” Bruce passes him a glass of champagne. 

“I know, I know. I tried to get by as press and when I saw you, I panicked. Lex is here and Lois and I have been trying to corner the bastard for weeks—“ 

“Hold my hand.” Bruce extends a palm. Clark chokes on his drink. If champagne wasn’t trying to migrate into his lungs, he would’ve taken a serious crack at x-raying and double-checking it was really his Bruce. 

“Clearly you’ve never done this before,” he murmurs, the very same palm sliding down Clark’s back. “Casual affection is key. We’re being watched.”

Bruce subtly laces their fingers together as they walk through the crowd. Clark tries to appear as put-together and boyfriendy as possible, but when he looks around, every single eye in the place is on him and Bruce. He starts to sweat and doesn't take another breath until they arrive at a little private corner on the far side of the room. 

“So, you were saying about Lex?” Bruce leans against the wall, scanning the room over the rim of his glass. His eyes catch back on Clark, warm and intense. 

“I, uh…he’s here.” Clark swallows. He’s starting to feel dizzy. This is a lot. He’s used to the grit of Batman or the gentle gruffness of Bruce. Bruce Wayne is a whole different creature. 

“Mhm. He’s looking for R&D investments again. I was told it’d be rude for me not to attend.” A wry smile crosses Bruce’s features. He breaks eye contact to scan and it gives Clark the wherewithal to finish his thought. 

“Lex is pulling his whole ‘get rid of anyone with superpowers’ shtick again. Really mad at me specifically, as usual. I’d bet you ten bucks he has a Kryptonite ray upstairs. He’s probably in the process of building more…or something worse.”

“You have a plan?” 

“I was going to go up there and, yknow—“ he mimes smashing something— “but I can hear about twenty people whispering about us and I don’t want to make you look bad. Not that you look bad, you look great! I just know your reputation is important and I put you in a weird spot and I’m sorry—“ 

Bruce shushes him. Clark blinks and splutters, because who shushes people, but suddenly Bruce is so close that he can’t think. He can see the tiny scar on Bruce’s lip, the one he lies and says was from a household accident. Clark wants to brush his thumb over it. 

He feels entirely normal about Bruce Wayne. 

“Stop overthinking. You’ll hurt yourself.” Bruce roughly pats Clark’s cheek. Clark has to actively shift his focus from the calloused warmth of Bruce’s hands to his eyes.

“Okay, ouch.” Clark rolls his eyes. “I’m just…this is your element. I’m not good at this.” 

“If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to stay.” Bruce tilts Clark’s chin down. Brushes some schmutz off his face. 

“I got us into this. It’s alright.” Clark can’t look him in the eye. He’s so painfully aware of all the ways Bruce is touching. A perfectly choreographed performance for the outside eye. An act.

For a moment, he indulges himself, allows his mind to wander to a different world where Bruce might do this for him anyway. Somewhere so gently domestic that their rituals of touch are sacred. He wonders what it might be like to have a Bruce that’d dote on him like this, even while fussing at him. 

Of course he has it now, but it’s not the same. Not when the eyes of hungry spectators cling to them from every shadow. 

“I’ll arrange for someone to pick you up.” He already has his phone out and is halfway through dialing by the time Clark can grab him. Bruce spins out of the hold and starts walking away, still dialing. 

“Bruce.” Clark yanks him back by the bicep. “I can survive mingling for a few hours. It’s no different than using a cover. What do I need to know?” Clark releases him only when it’s clear his stubborn streak is done rearing its head. Bruce works his jaw for a while and then sighs. 

“When you’re talking to these people, they’re going to try and get to the center of you. Try not to lie. The truth will always be easier to remember. Just repackage it.” Bruce adjusts the clean lines of Clark’s suit with his fingertips, procedural and routine. Clark wonders briefly how many times he’s done this. 

“Makes sense. Anything else?” Clark takes a measured breath. 

“We have to sell this. People need to see easy affection before they believe that we’re…doing okay. Now, imagine someone’s watching us—“

“Are they?” Clark tries very hard not to scan the room. He starts to sweat. 

“Shh. Someone’s watching us and you notice. They’re definitely gossiping. What do you do?” Bruce raises an eyebrow. The light of the obnoxious chandelier on the ceiling gives him a gentle glow. His eyes crinkle at the corners just slightly, even without a smile, and it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. The surge of emotion in Clark’s chest knocks him off balance. 

“Well, staring isn’t—“ 

Clark kisses him breathless. 

Bruce leans into it, one hand cupping the back of Clark’s neck. There’s a perfect sunburst of giddy adrenaline—his hands find Bruce’s hips and pull them closer. Bruce’s heart thunders in his chest yet his hands are steady as they brace against Clark’s back. Clark cups Bruce’s jaw and brushes his fingers through the gentle stubble there, lets it tickle at his fingers. 

Clark breaks them apart with a quiet, triumphant chuckle—years worth of watching, waiting, and yearning all cresting towards this one moment. He can hear their comfortable status quo shatter as he does, but it’s worth it. It has to be. 

“Wow.” Bruce smooths his hands down Clark’s chest. He can’t tell anymore if the heartbeat thundering in his ears is Bruce’s or his own but he doesn’t care to know—if it’s the former, he’ll combust. Or faint. Somewhere in there. 

“How’d I do?” Clark manages to adjust his glasses without snapping them clean in half. 

“I might have a few pointers,” Bruce clears his throat and looks away. 

“We have plenty of time.” Clark steals another kiss and thanks the universe that Lois isn’t here to talk some sense into him.

……..

“So, you and Mr. Wayne, hm?” A blonde woman with a massive fur shawl wound through her arms sidles up with a glass of champagne. Clark freezes at the snack table. 

“Hm?” He hides the multiple horderves in his hand behind his back. He’s very acutely aware that he shouldn’t be unsupervised right now, but Bruce is being flocked by investors with no hope for escape. He sneaks a pleading glance in Bruce’s direction.

They do lock eyes above the crowd, but the horde encircling him has the tenacity of seagulls on the boardwalk. Bruce apologizes with his eyes. Clark resigns himself to perish. 

“Phyllis Hough, a pleasure.” She extends her hand to him and he takes it out of practice, kissing the knuckles. Her skin is so dry and clammy that he has to bite back the urge to gag. 

“Clark Kent, Daily Planet.” He presses his lips into something like a smile. 

“Forgive me for intruding, but you’ve been the talk of the party since you arrived. How did you and Bruce meet?” She sidles too close, like they’re sharing a secret about someone else. Her demeanor reminds him too much of the foxes that used to terrorize his chicken coop growing up. 

The truth is always easier to remember. Just repackage it. 

“Well, he…needed my help. We met through work. We realized we worked well together and after that, everything sort of fell in place.” Clark shrugs. 

“That’s just darling. My husband and I met on a mission trip to Ghana.” She points to a deflated puddle of a man who’s leaned up on the bar, looking like he’d rather disappear than be here.

“A mission trip? That’s so…necessary.” Clark smiles and tries not to throw up in his mouth.

“I adore helping the less fortunate. It’s a hobby dear to my heart.” She places a hand on her chest, showing off the obnoxious diamonds on her bony fingers. Diamonds likely stolen from the same places she claims to ‘help’. 

“Ah, Mrs. Hough. Looking lovely as always. Do you mind if I steal Clark from you?” Oh thank god.

Bruce gives her a quick spin, using the move to squeeze closer to Clark’s side. He winds an arm around Bruce’s waist. Bruce rests his hand overtop Clark’s and he can’t help but grin like an idiot. He’ll never get over the little zing of his nerves every time they brush hands. 

“So soon? We were just getting to know one another.” Mrs. Hough tries to slide back into their space. Bruce stares her down, but not unkindly—just a blank, mannequin-like stare and a smile that almost looks real. 

A tense silence blooms between them. Clark’s sure if he listens just a bit harder, he’ll hear Bruce cursing this woman to high-heaven in his head. The silence stretches on.

“Forgive us. We haven’t spent much time together this week. I’ll admit I’m a little clingy. I never like to be far from him.” He cups Bruce’s cheek and gives him a quick, chaste kiss. Bruce chases his lips and lingers longer. Clark actually gets a little lost in it until a feeble cough splits them apart. 

“Well, who am I to interrupt love?” She strains the word strangely. “I best take my leave. I’ll see you around, gentlemen.” She waves over her shoulder and traipses back into the crowd. As soon as she leaves, Clark heaves a deep, weathered sigh. 

“How do you do this? I’d rather chew off my own fingers than rub elbows with these people.” Clark takes Bruce’s glass from his hand and downs it. The fizz is nice, but it might as well be water. He starts munching on his poached horderves. 

“Trust me, it’s not fun for me either.” Bruce grumbles, plucking a cracker with crab dip from Clark’s little stash. 

“Why do it then? Why pretend?” 

“It’s part of the job. You know that better than anyone.” There’s something so very tired in Bruce’s eyes. Even as he smiles, it’s empty and rueful—the light doesn’t make it to his eyes. 

“You don’t have to do that with me.” Clark squeezes his shoulder. Bruce’s gaze drops to the floor and his shoulder sag minutely, the tiniest give in his guard that Clark’s privileged enough to see. For a moment, he’s not Bruce Wayne but Bruce. 

He doesn’t lean to catch Bruce’s eye—he knows he hates that—so he just stands there and rubs circles into his shoulder. 

“I like who you are under the mask.” Clark offers him another cracker. Bruce takes it and taps it against Clark’s last ones, as if they’re holding glasses, and pops it in his mouth. Clark snickers. Only Bruce could make something so dorky look so charming. 

“Am I dreaming, or is that you, Bruce?” A feminine voice cuts through the din with ease. Clark catches the moment that Bruce’s muscles lock up and the eyeroll before he turns around. Just like that, Bruce Wayne returns. 

A woman in a long green gown slinks across the floor. Her posture sets her aside from everyone else in the room—her stance is powerful and lithe. 

“Vicki. It’s been a while.” Bruce gives her that practiced smile he’s been wearing most of the evening. His posture is so unnecessarily rigid that Clark rubs his back before he can think better of it.

“How’ve you been, Brucie? Hear you’re gettin’ into some interesting trouble. Speaking of trouble—“ 

“Vicki Vale, Gotham Gazette.” She sticks out her hand to shake. Tall, blonde, terrifying eyes—yeah, he could see how she would be Bruce’s type. Definitely an ex. 

“Clark Kent, Daily Planet.” He shakes her hand. “I thought press weren’t allowed in.” 

“I have my ways. So do you, it seems.” She winks and passes him a flute of champagne. He graciously accepts. 

“Ah, well. Perks of being around this guy I suppose.” Clark bumps Bruce’s hip a little. Bruce looks so startled by the motion that Clark can’t help but laugh a little. 

“Listen, Clark, I’ve been with Bruce before and—“ she leans in close but doesn’t whisper, like she’s giving the world’s most public secret— “He’s honestly a softie under all the suits and cars.”

“I am not a softie. I can hear you.” Bruce shoves his hands into his pockets. Even though he’s turtling, there’s a levity to it. 

“He has a thing for stubborn asses who get into trouble, ‘cause he is one. If that’s anything like you, you’ve got a good thing going here.” She smacks Clark’s chest with the back of her hand. Her honesty is…jarring, but not unfun. 

“Oh, do you now?” Clark raises an eyebrow at Bruce over the rim of his glass. 

“It’s not a thing. I don’t have a thing.” Bruce grumbles, the faintest hint of pink tinging his cheeks. 

“Kinda sounds like you have a thing, Brucie.” Clark grins. Bruce scowls. He might be pushing his luck but it’s the only fun he’s really had all night. 

“You two been together long?“ Vicki snatches a fresh glass from a passing waiter like a viper. 

“Few months. Feels like longer.” Bruce doesn’t skip a beat. Clark hopes his smile makes Bruce’s tone sound less under duress. 

“Wow, that’s pretty serious. Congrats.” She raises her glass in salute. Clark wants to cut in—that absolutely felt sarcastic—but Bruce gives his hand a squeeze. 

“Can’t imagine life without him.” Bruce gives him such an earnest look that Clark has to avert his eyes before he gets too hopeful. His stomach twists. Play the part. 

“Do you got somethin’ you like most about him?” Vicki locks onto Clark and he jumps a little. She dissects him with her gaze in that way only journalists can. He does his best not to shuffle under her scrutiny. 

“Vicki, I hope this isn’t an interview.” Clark gives her his best stern stare. 

“If it was, you botched it.” She bumps shoulders with him. “I’m kidding. Off the record. I haven’t seen Bruce glow like this, ever. Just lookin’ for your secret.“ 

That sends a sweet, traitorous flutter through his ribcage. 

“Do you want to dance?” Bruce abruptly turns on his heel and shoves his hand into Clark’s personal space. 

“Do…you want to dance?” Clark furrows his brow. Bruce looks like he might explode. 

“Come on.” Bruce pulls Clark onto the dance floor. 

“Bye, Vicki!” Clark calls over his shoulder, but Bruce is spinning him into the gentle embrace of violin song faster than he can resist. They glide far, far away from that corner of the room, losing her verdant silhouette in the crowd.

“Be honest. Did you just run from your ex?” Clark laughs, trying to keep in time with Bruce’s steps. He’s always had two left feet, but Lois had forced him to go to ballroom dancing classes with her enough times for him to pick up some semblance of rhythm.

“No.” Bruce leads just a little too fast for the music at hand. Clark drags his feet in an effort to slow them down. 

“I don’t buy it. You would’ve been happier to see Harley than Vicki.” Clark almost dips Bruce on autopilot. He course-corrects pretty quickly and pulls a tight-lipped Bruce close instead. Nearly cheek-to-cheek, Clark takes the lead as easy as breathing. 

Clark isn’t sure when he started humming, but he lets the music take them both. Bruce allows him to maintain the lead, surprisingly, and he guides them languidly around the dance floor. He even twirls Bruce, shocked he gets away with it, but he’s too wrapped up in whatever this is to question anything.

When Clark pulls back a bit to tease, Bruce is staring at him with those wide, pretty eyes. 

“What?” Clark can hear the gears in Bruce’s head turning, even when there’s nothing to say. A remarkable talent.

“I…didn’t know you could dance.” Bruce shifts his hand from Clark’s shoulder to his back. 

“I’m full of surprises.” Clark grins. Their form slowly morphs from proper ballroom to a casual, dance-in-the-kitchen kind of waltz--Clark links his fingers with Bruce’s and leads them by the hands, they somehow find a way to get closer to one another, and they end up in a slow, gentle sway. 

“We should dance more.” Clark spins Bruce again and they end up back-to-chest, arms crossed over Bruce’s torso. 

“You can’t be serious.” Bruce’s ears are adorably rosy. Clark chooses to remain alive and not comment on it. 

“It’s good for you, Bruce! Lord knows you could use the smiles.” Clark spins them again, back to proper form. Bruce’s whole face scrunches and he stops in his tracks. A tinnitus-like sound ringing gently from Bruce’s ear and into their personal space makes Clark wince a little.

Of course he’s wearing comms. 

“Diana’s got Lex cornered upstairs.” Bruce leans in and murmurs low in Clark’s ear. He fights tooth and nail against a full body shiver. 

“Diana’s here? You called for backup?” Clark adjusts his glasses.

“If anything we’re her backup.” Bruce scoffs. “We need people to see us disappear so we have an alibi. Act natural.” 

Clark walks away. Bruce yanks him back by the bicep and leans in close. 

“Flirt with me. No, no—Clark, like you mean it.” Bruce compensates for the awkwardness by messing with Clark’s tie, but it starts to look like a tic more than anything else. Clark caresses Bruce’s cheek but it looks more like he’s wiping something off his face. 

“I’m trying!” He huffs. “This isn’t exactly my skillset.” 

“You had all of…that a minute ago—“ Bruce gestures at him— “where’d it go?” 

Clark tries to summon ‘that’,  whatever that means. The best he can do is scowl uncertainly and lead them back into an awkward sway. 

“You could at least pretend like you like me,” Bruce huffs, uncharacteristically petulant. Clark almost gives himself away then and there.

“I’m not good at this.” He swallows and averts his eyes.

“Come on, American Pie. You’ve gotta be working with more than those doe eyes.” Bruce’s devilish smirk genuinely tears the breath from Clark’s lungs. He takes a ridiculous inhale to buy him time until—yep, there it is, the smirk disappears. 

“Nope. This pie is fresh outta doe…eyes…that was going to be a dough joke but I think I should let it die.” Clark lets his forehead collide with Bruce’s shoulder as they sway, relishing in the comforting pat on the back that he gets. 

“That would be merciful.” Bruce laughs. 

“Did you just laugh?” Clark perks up. 

“No.” Bruce’s jaw tightens. He can’t kill the sparkle in his eye though, no matter how hard he tries. It’s there and it's stunning, like the cosmos in its depths. 

“You actually think I’m funny. You laughed at my joke!” Clark doesn’t realize that he’s dipped Bruce until they’re nose to nose, sharing the space of a breath. He quickly pulls him back up. 

Enough dancing. Clearly he can’t handle that. 

“I think you are…moderately amusing.” Bruce rolls his eyes. Clark squints.

“I think you are super…man.” Clark drags out the pause. Bruce all-but-scoffs. 

“Seriously?” He shoves Clark’s chest. There’s a fondness to the gesture that makes his heart ache. 

“You wanna laugh. I see it in your eyes, you do this squint—“ Clark pokes Bruce’s nose, mostly because he can’t do anything about it.  

“I don’t want to laugh. I want to punch you.” Bruce gives his best scowl. Clark’s finger on his nose cuts most of the threatening aura. 

“You’re smiling though. You are!” Clark scritches beneath Bruce’s chin as a fond gesture, something Lois often does to him. 

Bruce squeaks.

“You are beyond immature,” Bruce huffs, jerking away from the touch. Clark’s brain struggles to reconcile what he just heard with what he’s seeing, as a suddenly perfectly-stoic Bruce adjusts his suit jacket. 

Clark reaches out to do it again and Bruce latches onto both of his arms to push him away. Clark pushes back with no strain, as if the grown man clinging to his wrists weighs no more than bracelets, and repeats the gentle tickle. 

Bruce smashes his chin down to his chest as a couple of scratchy snickers force their way free. 

“No way.” Clark beams. 

“Don’t you dare. Do not. Clark—Clark.” Bruce starts to back away. Clark snakes an arm around his waist and holds him tight. 

“What? I’m flirting.” Clark presses his fingers into the curve of Bruce’s waist and it earns him a headbutt—thankfully avoiding the glasses. He finds a spot beneath Bruce’s ribs that gets a snort. 

“You’re so cute. I wish you’d smile more.” Clark worms his fingers beneath the curve of Bruce’s jaw, chasing that squeak that opened up such beautiful horizons. 

“I am not cute, you dick.” Bruce tries to bite at Clark’s fingers. 

“Mmm, I disagree.”

“I’m going to bury you in the shallowest of graves.” Bruce grits out, curling into Clark’s shoulder. A strangled squeal flies out upon contact with his ears and Clark stays there, fascinated by the degree of squirming happening in his immovable arms. 

“I’m sure you will.” He persists until finally, finally, a choked giggle emerges. It’s quiet enough to float beneath the ambient noise of the gala, but it rings loud and clear in Clark’s ear. 

“Are you coming? Otherwise, I’m taking him to Arkham myself. He’s…irritating.” Diana’s voice is a tinny pinprick in Bruce’s ear, but Clark still picks up on her message. He stills his fingers.

“On our way,” Bruce murmurs. As soon as the connection is severed, Clark steals one more squeeze at his side before they vanish to the service corridors to meet Diana. 

…

“Boys. You’re late.” Diana looks up from where she’s been braiding the Lasso of Hestia. On the other end, Lex Luthor hums an irritating tune. 

“Busy day,” Batman grouses, flexing his fingers. He makes his way over to the contraption in the corner and starts picking at the wires. 

“Whatcha got over there?”

“A highly concentrated laser stocked with a rainbow of Kryptonite strands. We were right on time.” Batman dislodges something with a mighty crack. In his hands, a glass capsule full of suspended Kryptonite crystals glitters in the light. The lenses on the cowl flick blue as he analyzes them further. 

“Well, Lex, you’ve just made me ten dollars richer.” Superman puts his hands on his hips. He can feel the faint, crawling fatigue starting to burrow into him from the proximity of the Kryptonite, but he resists it. He yanks a handful of wires free from the machine, crushes the focus, and kicks the motherboard hard enough to disintegrate it. 

“I hope your investors don’t hear about this,” he tuts, crossing his arms. “I’d hate for Wayne Enterprises to leave you in the dust for the…what, sixth year in a row?”

“We’ll see who’s laughing soon, Man of Steel. Your supposed altruism is nothing but your own selfish desire, fueled by greed—“

Superman knocks him out before he can finish.

…

“What the hell do you gel your hair with? Cement?” Bruce ruffles Clark’s hair again with a scowl. It doesn’t move. 

”Mrs. Duvet’s Quick-Dry Iron Hold gel. Otherwise it gets super obvious when I’ve been out flying.” Clark carefully starts pulling strands to the front, mimicking Bruce’s helmet hair. 

“Of course you do.” Bruce continues carefully messing with his hair. Clark shivers at the fingers on his scalp. 

“I can just wet it and shake it out real quick?” Clark grabs for the sink handle and starts sizing up how to fit his head into the basin. 

“I’d rather not leave a soaking wet bathroom for the custodians.” Bruce runs his hands beneath the tap, then holds them towards Clark. “May I?”

He nods numbly. Bruce runs his hands through Clark’s hair and he utterly melts into it. Oh, it’s a crime this won’t last.

“Looking like, uh, we had sex is a lot harder than I thought it would be.” Clark starts fiddling with his tie. He can feel his face heating up at the idea of it. 

“There is an art to it. Here, let me.” Bruce takes the ends of the tie and gives it a quick full Windsor with practiced hands. Then he loosens it just right. 

“Honestly, Bruce, no one will notice if I sneak out. I’m just some reporter they’ve never heard of.” Clark’s eyes dart to Bruce’s lips for a moment. 

“These people have nothing but time and wealth—they’re always looking for gossip. We disappear and you don’t come back? In two days, someone will find you and hunt you down for the exclusive on our ‘tumultuous relationship’.” Bruce fiddles with Clark’s shirt collar. Undoes a button. 

“So I’ll tell them we went our separate ways. Big deal.” Clark clears his throat. 

“Vicki and I broke up eight years ago. To this day, she still gets harassed by paparazzi on her way to work. Maybe that doesn’t bother you, but what are you going to do when people with cameras and time start realizing how much you disappear from the Daily Planet?” Bruce makes an exasperated hand gesture that seems to lack a target. 

“Fair enough.” Perry and Lois can only protect him so much. Bruce, regrettably, has a point. 

“We’re playing a part. After this, you won’t have to worry. I’ll give a statement that we quietly split and in a week or two, you’ll be left alone. Let’s focus on getting out of here.” Bruce returns to fiddling with Clark’s hair. 

Clark takes Bruce’s hands in his own. His breathing stutters a bit.

“Can I kiss you, Bruce?” Never has a question felt so heavy, so precarious. 

“Is there someone in here?” Bruce’s voice drops low, eyes darting to the stalls. 

“No! No, I just thought it’d be easier to…y’know…rather than faking it.” He can’t bring himself to look Bruce in the eye. He loses track of whose heartbeat is thundering in his ears. He feels like he’s back in high school and fumbling his way through practicing in the mirror. 

“What?” No going back now. 

“It would just be for a minute or two. It might be more effective than pretending. We could kiss a little. It doesn’t have to mean anything.” Clark shrugs. Yeah. Logic is good. This is strictly a business arrangement. Friends kiss sometimes. They’ve been through hell and high water together, this should be easy. 

Bruce stares at him for a long while, long enough to make him sweat, to make him sick. Years of friendship and trust suddenly hang in the balance and he’s not ready for that. He’s not ready to lose that. What the fuck has he done? 

“I—“

“Are you…reasoning your way through making out with me?” Bruce puts his hands on his hips, expression utterly unreadable. 

“Maybe?” Clark swallows. 

Silence envelops the bathroom. Clark starts running through ways to retcon the worst mistake of his life—passing it off as a joke? Yeah, that might work. He starts to fumble his way through the syllables of an apology, when—

Bruce laughs. Hand on the wall, shoulders shaking, laughs. He tips his head back as the last snickers float and echo. He looks at Clark down the length of his nose, still beaming. It’s the rarest thing he’ll ever see and he commits every detail to memory. 

“I don’t think anyone’s asked so nicely before. Is this how they do it in Kansas?” Bruce unravels Clark’s tie in seconds. He wraps both ends around his knuckles idly, hanging his wrists off of Clark’s shoulders. 

Clark grabs both sides of Bruce’s head and kisses him deeply to shut him up. Bruce tilts his head and pulls Clark roughly forward, slamming them both into the wall. He lets out a beautiful little noise as his hands slide beneath Clark’s jacket and absolutely ruin the clean press of his shirt. Clark has half a mind to hoist Bruce onto one of the sinks, but he resists. 

He’s beautiful. It’s the only clear thought that runs through Clark’s head as he starts unbuttoning the buttons of Bruce’s shirt. He tilts Bruce’s jaw up and presses tender, lingering kisses down the column of his throat. Bruce pulls at Clark’s hair, forcing his head up, and catches his lips with a growl. 

“That’s how we do it in Kansas.” Clark breathes, hovering in Bruce’s personal space. His glasses are fogged and smudged but he can still see the tantalizing tilt of Bruce’s lips. 

“Again, I have a few pointers—“

This time Clark does pick him up. Bruce’s eyes go wide. 

“Nevermind.” Bruce pulls him back in with a forearm around the neck. Clark surges forward and mouths beneath Bruce’s jaw. He can feel Bruce’s heartbeat nearby and he hunts for it, spurred on by the storm of his own want. When he finds it, he sucks slow and steady against his warm, soft skin until he’s sure it’ll bruise. Bruce lets out a keening whine that stutters into a gasp, gripping Clark’s shoulders. His thighs clench around Clark’s waist. 

Clark’s better judgment grabs him and he breaks them apart. Bruce doesn’t move away and that lights his brain up like a Christmas tree. He hovers there for far too long, fighting tooth and nail against the urge to chase the adrenaline. Bruce looks utterly sinful in his grip, flushed in a way Clark hasn’t ever seen. 

The concept of self-control comes to him in a whisper like it’s foreign. He remembers himself. 

“Are we…good?” Clark vaguely realizes he’s still holding Bruce and sets him down. He’s buzzing from head-to-toe, like he’s just taken a full day’s nap in the sunlight. He’s not entirely certain he can feel his face. He touches his own lips reverently. 

“What? Oh. Yeah, c’mon.” Bruce grabs him and leads them through the venue. 

When Bruce pulls him through the party and towards the front doors, he doesn’t even process the prying eyes and whispers. All that matters is Bruce’s hand gripping his own. 

Clark’s determined to catch this shooting star in his hand, even if it doesn’t last. Even if it burns him down the line. 

#my fics #dc #superbat #bruce wayne #ticklish!bruce wayne #clark kent #diana is here im not tagging her #SORRY I FORGOT TO ADD #ask to tag

[sauntering-down]

weird dreams this morning... in the first one i'd gone to Epcot with a family i don't know. there were parents and a younger daughter, but the only one i interacted with at length was the older daughter, who was perhaps 18 or 19. a little weird (she was wearing a fluffy, heavy knee-length white coat in Florida...) but nice. and then we went into a store that sold all kinds of stereotypically 'witchy' stuff - crystals and rocks especially, also tarot cards and little statues and bundles of herbs and so on. wandered around a bit and looked, and as i'm leaving, the older daughter comes up to me looking all downtrodden and says she's going to die in April. i was like uhhhh... why? and found out the cashier had given (for free) this girl a transparent oval rock that had a bunch of stars that looked like confetti suspended in it... and on the back she'd written a note about how this girl was foreseen to die on April 9th, it was ~in the stones~ and therefore inevitable. i said "mmkay, not to be That Guy acting like a skeptical asshole in the crystals-and-tarot-cards store, but that sounds like complete nonsense." unfortunately the girl pretty much refused to believe me and was convinced she'd drop dead on April 9th. so we all just went to a part of Epcot called 'The Land' which apparently still exists even though i haven't been there in 15 years.

second dream, i was getting ready for school and there was too much random shit in my backpack. i went outside and cleaned the random shit out, keeping only a small stack of important papers and some magazines, but as i'm doing this i realize i can't take my car to school for some reason. noticed a neighbor across the street as i'm inexplicably dumping my trash in her garbage pail - she was headed to work and i was going to ask if she would mind dropping me off on her way, but then i realized she had her toddler with her and her car had only two seats so... never mind! went back over to my house, where my dad was wheeling his bike down the driveway, asked if HE could give me a lift. he mentioned the neighbor but i explained about her kid, said he could just leave me at the traffic circle and i'd walk the rest of the way, and finally he agreed. his bike was... bizarre... it was sort of like a tandem bike except the two seats were REALLY close together - i sat on the front one and hung onto the top row of handlebars, where the ones below actually handled the brakes and steering? idk. i didn't have pedals, either. so on our way down this hill we lived on, it abruptly began pouring and i'm trying to close the snap on my hood so it'd stay in place, while telling my dad i forgot to pack a lunch OR grab any money so i wasn't eating lunch today, apparently. despite this weird uncomfortable ride, we made it down the hill and over to the traffic circle at the next hill. instead of stopping, though, my dad said he'd just take me the rest of the way since it was close - he did pause though, swiped a random dollar bill off the ground and gave it to me. so i was like "well, at least i can probably buy a drink now!" and then we passed this garden with all sorts of money littering the dirt, but there were two-dollar bills and six-dollar bills and i had a feeling this was Fake because money in my dreams is ALWAYS some weirdass denomination. my dad just gave me five bucks from his wallet instead lol, but when we got to school i compared it to the dollar bill and realized the five was way too tiny and misprinted to be real... and then i woke up late.

#dream

[evansbby]

No but honestly why am I obsessed with almost exclusively writing fics where a cevans character is the most godawful human being on the planet, the biggest fuckboy player, borderline psychotically mean, extremely manipulative, a pro gaslighter, selfish, awful, and on top of that also smokes cigarettes as I write him in the most angsty fic known to man where the reader undoubtedly gets hurt by this man WHY do I do this why am I obsessed why does it scratch an itch in my brain to write this sort of stuff WHY someone explain //

Cause it’s hot?? Like REALLY hot? Like extremely attractive when a man (a FICTIONAL man) is a manipulative son of a bitch selfish awful asshole who also smokes cigarettes and blow the smoke in reader’s face while she’s down on her knees for him?

I can’t wait for wg2 it’s gonna be so good i just know it

😂😂😂😂

No but in wicked games, idk if y’all noticed, but I’d keep going on tangents within the story… like I’d keep mentioning things that Ari did with her in the past… for example him making her suck his dick while he laughed and blew smoke in her face 😭😭🥵🥵 or when he played with her ass for hours like she fell asleep and woke up and he was still playing with her ass 😭😭

If y’all DID notice me doing that, well I did it on purpose bc it adds to the hotness of the story when you give context like that, little by little, like weave it into the story. When I was reading fics, I’d always find it hot when they’d refer to past sex scenes??? So I started consciously doing it lol IT JUST MAKES THE OVERALL STORY BETTER BC YOU FEEL LIKE YOU KNOW THE CHARACTERS MORE WHEN ACTUALLY IT WAS ONLY AN 8K FIC OF THEM FUCKING IN A LOCKER ROOM

#anon #wg ask

[blackcloudbyjuly]

HE FELL ASLEEP ON MY BED

#alexis shut up #and also knee up my asshole that's why i woke lol

[seiyasabi]

Bulls in the Bronx

(So…. long story short, I’m now a hucow simp. Thanks a lot @/biskywrites and @/dark-side-blog2 for making me this way (ﾉД`) lol, all jokes aside, I wanna suck some tiddy milk from a buff man ;)) Anyways, this is Yandere Hucow(Hubull?) Bokuto x Fem Reader ;0 This fic allows me to flex my farming knowledge lol, bc my grandparents owned ponies and dogs. 

TW: !Noncon!, !dubcon!, creampie!, he hits you twice!, somnophilia!, predator vs prey?, manipulation!, cumflation!, breeding kink!, size kink!, ur a farmhand!, lactation!, tiddie sucking!, Asshole farmer Ushi, etc.. 

Please don’t proceed if any of the above are triggering! Also, sorry if Bokuto is too OOC lol) 

“Bokuto got into the lackweed again,” You can’t suppress the laugh that explodes from your mouth. The idea of the biggest hucow (hubull??) on the ranch freaking out (again), because he’s now dripping milk is hilarious. 

“Where on Earth does he keep finding those damn weeds?” The other farmhand laughs as well, stooping down to fill two buckets with water. 

“I think those grass seeds were cross contaminated, the other hucows also started to lactate a lot more than usual. But, it’s kinda funny that our best breeder is dripping like a heifer,” Chuckling in acknowledgement, you can’t help but feel a pang of pity. Poor Bo, he’s probably really self conscious at the moment. 

“Maybe I should go check on him-” Your coworker almost drops the bucket she’s filling, looking up at you as if you just grew three heads. 

“Why would you do that? Did you forget that he’s going in rut soon?” Frowning, you glance down at the floor in mild shame. 

“Well, yes, but he isn’t supposed to start until next week! Plus, I’m not ovulating right now, so I won’t trigger him,” The other girl thinks for a moment, before nodding slowly. 

“I suppose it’d be fine. If anything, he may calm down if his favourite handler is there,” Nodding, you grab two buckets from the shelf beside you. Squatting down next to your coworker, you place a bucket underneath a faucet, turning the circular handle to the left. A gush of cool water rushes out, quickly filling the plastic pail. Quickly switching it out for the empty one, you wait a few more moments, before turning off the rushing water. Grabbing the handles of the buckets, you lift them whilst standing to your feet, using your legs instead of your back. 

Nodding towards the other girl, you bid her farewell. Turning on your heel, you tromp towards the bull pens. The large red barn is quite a far distance from the shed you were once in, causing you to break out in a light sweat. It doesn’t help that it’s mid spring, causing the farm to be quite warm. 

Setting the buckets down on the dirt ground, you wipe your brow with the back of your hand. Huffing out a deep breath, you quickly move the concrete slab keeping the barn closed away from the sliding door, before shoving it open. The sound of the cowbell on the red and white door handle on the inside clinks noisily, queuing a symphony of deep ‘moos.’ 

Picking up the buckets with bent knees, you hurry inside, relishing the feeling of the barn’s fans on your sweaty skin, “Hey guys, is the barn cool enough for you?” Grumbles and shifting of large bodies are all you get in response, causing you to laugh, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Gunning it for a certain grey haired bull’s stall, a bright smile makes its way onto your face, “Hey, Koutarou, how’re you feeling?” 

He’s currently laying on his bed of compact hay, tears sliding down his handsome face. His cute ears are droopy, his bell earring not jingling with life like normal. His tears drip between his septum piercing, and drop onto his well defined abdomen, “Not good, (Your Name).” 

With a small gasp, you set down the pails rather harshly, some of the cool liquid sloshing onto the wooden floor. Hurrying towards him, you sit on the prickly ‘mattress,’ “What’s wrong? I heard that you’re lac-” A small sob leaves his lips at your words, causing you to grab his hand reassuringly, “Are the other guys making fun of you? I can go yell at them if you’d like!” 

The buff bull-man sits up, one arm covering his chest self-consciously, “No! They’re not being mean,” He grips your hand almost to the point that it’s painful, “I-it’s just… my chest hurts, real bad.”

Nodding in understanding, you motion towards his covered pecs, “Let me see, Bubs. I’ll see what I can do.”

His face flushes bright red, “But it’s embarrassing!” You shush him sweetly, releasing his hand to coax his arm away from his chest. 

“It’s okay, I won’t make fun of you! I just wanna help you,” After a moment of hesitance, he obeys, revealing his swollen, red nipples. 

The area around his nipples is raised as well, showing just how much his milk is backed up. 

Eyes softening even more, you delicately rub both pecs, “You’re alright, Bubs. This happens to the cows sometimes when we don’t milk them as much as we need to. If you’d like, I can go find a pump!”

“No! I don’t wanna pump!” You jump slightly, and move away from him, only for his hands to trap your own to his chest. More tears gather in his eyes, as he becomes distraught, “I don’t want my milk to go to waste!” 

Taken aback, you nod, although you don’t understand his reasoning, “Kou, why’re you acting like this? You know we don’t get rid of milk, we sell your guys’ milk at the market.” 

He shakes his head, “I don’t want you to sell it. I want you to drink it,” The look of shock on your face is mistaken as disgust, causing him to cry even more, “Do you think I’m weird? Why do you look like that?” Seeing the bull act so sensitive is adorable, but you feel as though you have to comfort him.

“No, no, it’s okay! I’m not weirded out, I’m just surprised. I’ll go get a bucket-”

“No bucket!” Sighing at his weird behaviour, you cock an eyebrow at him. 

“Then how am I supposed to collect it?” A big grin crosses his teary face. 

“Drink from me! I promise I’ll be good!” Shifting in discomfort, an anxious sweat starts to form on your brow. 

“Ahaha, that’s funny, Kou. You know I can’t do that,” More tears well up in his eyes, squeezing your heart painfully, “Don’t look at me like that, Bubs. I don’t think your owner would like me getting so close-” 

“I don’t mind,” Ushijima’s voice booms throughout the barn, scaring the living daylights out of you. Whipping your head around, you make eye contact with the large male, an uncharacteristic smirk on his face, “As long as my star bull is happy, I’m happy.”

Kou releases your hands, only to grab your face, forcing you to look at him, “See! He doesn’t care! Please, (Nickname), please help me! My udders hurt so bad!” 

With Ushijima’s eyes on you, and Koutarou’s sad and pain filled face, you finally relent, “Okay, okay! Don’t freak out, Bubs, I’ll help. You just gotta let me go.” 

He releases you quickly, before shoving your head towards his chest. The jingling of his earring is heard, telling you that his ears are no longer pressed down on the top of his head. You hear heavy footsteps walk away from his stall, probably gathering the bulls to let them graze outside. 

You try to push away from where your head is being smushed, but the bull gives you no leeway, “Why aren’t you drinking?” The male practically whines, as you whack his shoulder lightly. 

“I’m being smothered in between your tiddies, Kou,” You chuckle in slight discomfort, but he finally allows you up. Moving towards his most swollen nipple (the left one), you pinch it between your thumb and forefinger, causing a small stream of milk to come streaming out. 

A small moan leaves the large man’s lips, as he shoves you once again face first into his chest, “Don’t tease, (Nickname), I feel like I’m dying!” A flash of empathy goes through your heart. 

Removing your hand from his nipple, you take a deep breath, and latch yourself onto him.Your chapstick covered lips are soft against his sensitive skin, causing him to keen. When you suckle, a tidal wave of milk bursts into your mouth. Luckily, it doesn’t taste very bad; his milk tastes like vanilla, causing you start to slurp it up like a babe. 

Your one hand kneads his other pec to soothe him, “Fu-fuck, you’re making me feel so good!” You don’t bother trying to say anything, instead, you just suck harder. Your unoccupied hand squeezes his tit that you’re currently nursing on, causing him to pump out more of his yummy milk. 

After a few long moments, you release his nipple. A drop of milk trickles down your chin, which the large bull laughs at. A thick finger wipes off the excess, pushing itself into your mouth. A tender look is in the grey haired man’s eyes, as he kisses your forehead. 

“Thank you, pretty girl. Can you do the other one, please?” Now that he’s no longer in a painfilled state, he’s back to his normal, boyish self. Nodding, you lick your lips, before latching on to his other nipple. He barely chokes back a moan, his hand gripping the back of your head. 

You suck as hard as you can without hurting him, pretending his nipple was a straw to a thick ass milkshake. Between your massaging and sucking, his teat no longer feels as painful as it once did. 

Pulling away, you give him a wry smile, “There, all better. Well, I should pour your water into your trough now,” Standing up with wobbly legs, you move towards the filled buckets. Picking them up one by one, you pour it in with unsteady hands. Why are you so shaky right now? “Well, I should get going now. I hope you feel better later,” You try to walk out of his stall, only to be yanked back into Bokuto’s lap. Both empty pails fall to the ground unceremoniously, clattering loudly through the empty barn. 

“Don’t leave me, Lovely, I need you,” His warm skin against yours feels nice, and you suddenly feel sleepy. 

“Kou, I’m tired. I think-I think I’m gonna take a nap,” He runs his fingers (through your hair/over your scalp), tantalising you into drifting off. 

“That’s alright, (Nickname), I’ll watch after you,” With a muffled ‘Mhm,’ you fall into a deep slumber. 

-

When you awoke, you woke to your body shaking. Brow furrowing, you blearily open your eyes, only to see a tuft of grey hair in between your bent, spread legs. 

His long tongue is currently fucking in and out of your dripping cunt, his thumb rubbing against your clit. 

“Ku-Kou? Wha-“ He looks up immediately, a look of shock on his strong features. 

“I-It’s Not what it looks like! I-I just wanted a taste!” You groggily push at his head, catching his ears slightly, causing a small jingling to sound throughout the empty barn. 

“You didn’t ask, why, why are you-“ He grabs your hand, kissing each knuckle with a slobbering kiss. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Let me make you feel good! You taste so good,” You yank your hand back, trying to kick off the hand that currently wrapped around your right thigh. 

“Get off of me! Bokuto, you-you’re doing this without my consent! I thought we were friends!” You shout, pushing at his face harshly. He grabs one of your hands, trying to kiss it, only for your other to clap him upside the face harshly, “Don’t! You’ve already done enough.” 

Kicking him away (even though he’s much larger and stronger than you, meaning he just moved away), you stand to your feet, pulling back up your halfway down jeans and panties. 

Snatching up the buckets previously discarded, you don’t even shoot the crying bull a glance, just turning on your heel, and stomping away. 

Tears of your own drip down your face, humiliation and betrayal weighing down your aching heart. 

Forcefully sliding open the barn doors, you run from it, catching the eye of a certain green haired farmer. 

It seems Bokuto fucked up. 

But that’s okay, when he goes into rut, there’ll be nothing keeping him from breeding you full of his massive calves. 

-

You avoided the bull barn like the plague for the next week. The hucows are very pleasant company. They treat you as if you’re their young, making you feel well loved. 

That is, until Hachi asked you why you’ve been avoiding Bokuto. She’d told you that he hasn’t acted the same, in fact, he’s acted depressed and withdrawn. 

Since then, you’ve stuck with aquatic life. The fish, swans, and ducks don’t give you that much trouble. 

But, when you come back from the pond and fish pools, the farm is ensued with panic. Apparently, Bokuto’s finally gone into rut. 

And, unfortunately for you, he’s on the prowl for you. 

So, when your coworker runs up to you, begging for you to calm him, you turn on your heel, and start walking back towards the pond. They can figure this out themselves, you’re not going to sacrifice yourself to someone who tried to take advantage of you. 

Sadly, that doesn’t work out. 

You’re immediately stopped by Ushijima, his broad form blocking you from advancing forward, “Where do you think you’re going?” His arms are crossed, an angry scowl on his usually handsome features. 

“I forgot something at the pond,” You lie, smoothly, “I’m going to go grab it real quick-” 

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” His strong voice booms, “What you’re going to do, is march yourself into the barn, and make my prized bull happy.” 

Your own scowl forms on your pretty face, “I will do nothing of the sort. Interspecies sex is illegal! You can fire me for all I care, I’m not going in there!” You try to move around his large form, only to be manhandled into a chokehold.

His left arm is wrapped around your neck, your back to his chest, and your face being held in a large hand, “Interspecies sex is legal when a human and hybrid are mates,” He hisses through gritted teeth, and you struggle in his hold, “If you don’t go in there, I’ll drag you in.” 

“Fuck you,” You spit, “I’ll fucking castrate you!” You kick backwards, landing a solid hit on the large man’s groin. With a loud yell, you’re let go, allowing you to run towards the farm’s parking area. Pulling your truck’s keys from your pocket, you haul ass, not bothering to look behind you. 

The barns and sheds fly past you, as you run through the open field leading to the car park. You suddenly hear loud footsteps follow after you, and you assume that it’s Ushijima, that is, until you hear them, “(Nickname)! (Nickname), where are you going? Why are you running away from me?” Bokuto’s voice rings out at top volume, hurting your ears. His voice a lot more gravely than before, and without looking at him, you know that he most likely looks crazed. 

You don’t respond, trying to pick up the pace. You click the unlock button one time, only unlocking the driver’s side door. Because you had a head start, you cleared the field in less than three seconds, allowing you to hop into your truck, and lock the doors. Shoving the key into the ignition, all whilst buckling your seatbelt, you press on the brake, and turn it, only to hear the spluttering of your failing ignition, “Come on! Don’t do this-” Bokuto slams into the driver’s side door at top speed, rocking your large vehicle harshly. His hands and face are pressed against the window, his expression looking like that of a kicked puppy. You then notice the fact that the buff male is completely naked, his impossibly large cock bobbing against his toned stomach. 

“Why are you trying to leave? I need you so badly, pretty-pretty. Why don’t you open the door, and we can figure this out? I promise I’ll make you feel good, after all, us bulls pride ourselves in taking care of our mates,” You cringe in disgust, not bothering to answer him. Instead, you continue to fiddle with your ignition, muttering expletives under your breath. His large hands start to beat on your driver-side window, trying to gain your attention, “(Nickname), come out already! Ushi already cut your fuel line, so you’re not going anywhere! Come on, I just wanna make you feel good-”

It was your turn to cut him off, “Shut up! We aren’t friends anymore, Bokuto, much less lovers! Just leave me the fuck alone! I’m sure many of the cows would love to help you through your rut, why can’t you just ask them?” Tears of frustration dot your eyelashes, as you pop open your glove box and search for your phone. Catching sight of the black cased (phone type), you snatch it from its confines with a loud ‘Aha,’ “Don’t make me call the Farmer’s Union, Bokuto. I’ll report you and Ushijima for-”

“You won’t! You love me too much!” His frantic words raise in volume, as he hit the glass even harder than before, “You wouldn’t put me down! Come on, (Nickname), why won’t you call me ‘Bubs’ anymore? I love you!” You swipe open your phone, and go to the contacts. Pulling up the Farmer’s Union phone number, you go to press ‘call,’ only for the shattering of glass to halt you. 

You scream in both fear and shock, throwing up your hands to protect your face. This, in turn, causes you to drop your phone. In this time, Bokuto is able to grab you by your arms, and drag you towards the broken window. Your seatbelt keeps you in place, causing him to pull you even harder, and making you scream in pain. 

You use your arm to whack his against the broken glass on your truck’s window area. He releases you in a moment of pain, allowing you to unbuckle yourself, and throw yourself to the passenger side. Once there, you unlock the door, and bolt towards the road. 

“(Your Name), come back here! Stop being so difficult!” You pay him no mind, a few meters away from the busy road. Noticing a car speeding towards the area you’re running to, you push yourself even harder, trying to throw yourself into the road. Unfortunately, you’re grabbed by two buff arms that encircle your waist. They use all of their strength to smash you into their chest from behind, knocking the air from your lungs, “Are you crazy? You could’ve been hurt!” You thrash and try to bite at him, causing Bokuto to backhand you across the face, “Now look what you made me do! If you’d been good, I wouldn’t have had to do that!”

To be completely honest, you’re in shock. Bokuto has never raised a hand at you, and that slap wasn’t a warning tap. No, that was him using a good majority of his strength, causing your cheek to throb painfully. 

You continue to thrash and curse after freezing for a moment, drawing the eyes of concerned coworkers, “Let go of me! What the fuck is wrong with you? Put me down!” You try to kick him in the junk, only to kick him on the inside of his thigh. In retaliation, he backhands you again, this time on the other cheek. Gasps and whispers are heard from those around you, drawing the large hucow’s eyes. 

“There’s nothing to see here, guys! Just my mate making a scene,” He shakes you a bit to shut you up, causing you to become disoriented. The farmhands and other hybrids look like they’re about to step in, only for Ushijima himself to show up. 

“What Bokuto said is correct,” His harsh gaze is on you, his hand gripping his dick, “She’s just making a scene. Let them through.”

They reluctantly go back to their business, as Koutarou guns it to the empty bull barn. Ushijima only watches as you’re dragged to the large building, as tears drip down your face in fear, and his fist at his side clenches in fury.

Stomping into the barn, Bokuto makes quick work of getting to his stall. Once inside, he tosses you on the hay mattress, and straddles your waist. With pawing hands, he rips your t-shirt and jeans off of you, leaving you in your bra and underwear, along with your boots and socks. Yanking off your boots, be tossed them out of his ‘room,’ as you try to throw punches at his muscular chest. He grunts, but doesn’t stop. 

With beefy fingers, he yanks off your bra, ripping it in two. Your tits jiggle at his harsh movements, making him lick his lips in enjoyment. He then rips off your cotton panties, exposing your cunny to his hungry eyes. 

“You’re beautiful, pretty-pretty. I can’t wait to see you stuffed with my calves,” You shake your head no rapidly, pushing his hands away from where they rest on your hips. 

“No! Stop it, Bokuto! I thought we were friends!” He tightens his grip on your pelvis, forcing your legs open. 

“That’s Not my name, (Nickname), you know that. Now, you know that I’m way more than just your friend-I’m your mate, and you know that I’ll provide for you and our calves,” With grubby fingers, he rubs at your clit, trying to draw a good reaction from you.

You squirm in response, trying to wriggle out of his one handed grip. You shove at his chest, but he remains unmoved, choosing to press down harder than before, “Stop it! Let me go!” 

He inserts his middle finger into your moist cunny, forcing it in and out. You try to kick him in the head only for him to catch your leg with the hand that previously held your hip, “If you wanted me to eat you out that bad, you should’ve just said so, pretty girl,” Before you can refuse, he throws your legs over his shoulders, and dives in. 

His long tongue fucks in and out of your hole, one of his thumbs rubbing your clit. A loud whine escapes your throat before you can stop it, making you feel a wave of disgust for yourself. Bokuto shouldn’t be making you feel good, he’s assaulting you, after all. 

But, when his tongue brushed against your g-spot, you can’t help but convulse in pleasure. Thighs quaking, you try to stop yourself from cumming. 

“St-stop! I’m, I’m gonna-“ He stops before you can cum, instead, pushing your hips down to where his cock lays against his abs. Forcing the bulbous head against your tiny hole, he pushes harshly, trying to fuck into you like an animal, “No! No! You’re too big! You’re going to tear my-“ With one powerful thrust, he forces his way inside, and you can’t help but scream. 

Tears drip down your face at the feeling, your pussy feeling like it’s been ripped open. Bokuto grabs your head, and forces it against his chest, practically making you take one of his pink nipples into your mouth. You’re immediately met with the taste of his vanilla milk, drinking it up as the hucow starts to buck into you at a lightning fast pace. 

Your teeth bite down on his nipple, but instead of being angry, he just moans in lust, “Yes! Yes, pretty girl, you’re taking me so well!” 

His hand that isn’t cradling your head goes to your tummy, feeling his huge length moving underneath your skin. He presses down a bit, causing another wanton moan to leave to both of you. With this thought in mind, he picks up the pace, practically fucking you into unconsciousness. 

Eyes rolling back, your ruined cunny gushed pathetically, coating you and the bull with your juices, “(Nickname), you’re so pretty when you cum,” He continues his breakneck pace, getting close to orgasm himself, “I’m gonna fill you up so good, that you’ll be dripping with my fun for days! Your little womb will be bloated with my fertile cum!” 

You try to speak, but you can’t, just continuing to suck his yummy milk from his teat. Walls fluttering with another orgasm, you feel yourself clamping down on his enormous cock. 

With one last mighty thrust, he seats himself fully inside of you, cumming directly against your unprotected cervix. A muffled scream erupts from your chest, as you feel your womb expand with copious amounts of beeile cum. Releasing his nipple, you throw your head back, a loud cry echoes throughout the barn, as you squirt once more around his cock. 

Now completely filled to the brim, you pass out from the trauma. Entirely exhausted, Koutarou grins down at your bloated form. He rubs your tummy like a Buddha statue, kissing it tenderly. 

“You’ll be a good Mommy, I’m sure of it,” he then trails his hand up your abdomen, groping your right tit, “You’ll look so pretty all milky and filled with my calves.” 

The sound of a throat clearing gains Bokuto’s attention, as he practically throws his naked body over yours. A loud ‘moo’ of warning escapes his chest, even when he notices that the person is just Ushijima. 

“I see that she mates with you well,” His eyes trail over your sleeping face, not straying downwards, “I hope this means that you’ll enter more shows.” 

Bo smiles, “Yes. Now I need to show off, so my mate thinks I’m an eligible male.” 

Nodding, Ushijima turns on his heal, making his way to leave the barn, “I hope your children take after you in strength. (Your Name) is a lot prettier than you are, so maybe they’ll be pleasing to the eye as well.” 

Snorting, the grey haired man’s ears twitch, jingling throughout the room, “You bet she is. She’s perfect.” 

#yandere bokuto #bokuto koutarou #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu imagines #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto imagines #bokuto haikyuu #hybrid au #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu au

[rebeccccccaaa]

🅐🅝🅣🅘-🅥🅐🅛🅔🅝🅣🅘🅝🅔

_______________________

🅝🅐🅣🅐🅢🅗🅐 🅡🅞🅜🅐🅝🅞🅕🅕 🅧 🅡🅔🅐🅓🅔🅡

🅢🅤🅜🅜🅐🅡🅨: fuck valentines day lol

🅦🅐🅡🅝🅘🅝🅖🅢: gxg, smut 18+, angst, friends with benefits (nat’s a huge giver in this)

🅐🅤🅣🅗🅞🅡'🅢 🅝🅞🅣🅔🅢 i know valentine’s day is long gone but it was also my birthday that day so i didn’t want to post anything and this idea came to me that night lmao hope this is still appropriate though :)

________________________

“Well, it’s like the wage gap. It doesn’t exist,” he taunted.

“What?” you falsely chuckled because you couldn't believe your ears.

“Oh come on. You don’t actually believe that feminist bull shit,” he said snarkily. 

“What's there to not believe; there’s literal facts, evidence, and statistics proving it’s a real thing. This isn’t like aliens where you can just form your own opinion based on the information you have. There is proof of a wage gap. Something you’ll never experience because you are a man,” you explained. 

God this man is so dense. You went on a couple dates with this guy not really that interested but gave him the benefit of the doubt. Well, that was a mistake. He’s a misogynistic asshole who thinks he can have a say in women’s benefits and lives like he has a fucking uterus. 

“I’m starting to see why you're still single,” he boasted.

“Oh as if you have women coming left and right begging for you to fuck them,” you threw back.

“You're a real bitch.”

“That’s your only comeback? Come on if you're gonna try to justify your misogynistic ways, at least be a little more clever with the comebacks.”

You stood up gathering your things and started to walk out when the big baby man called out again.

“You’re not gonna pay half?” he had the audacity to ask.

“Why don’t you pay like the ever so kind gentleman you are with your hard earned work money,” and with that you left and hailed a taxi.

There was only one place you had your mind on and you told the cab driver to drive you there as fast as possible. You quickly arrived at the avengers compound, seeing that Jarvis gave you access you went inside. 

“She’s in her room,” Steve said when he saw you.

“Thanks,” you walked straight to her room.

“I give up,” you said, opening and immediately closing her door.

“What?” she responded surprisingly. 

“I give up on men as a whole; there’s no hope for them,” you sighed flopping in her bed.

“Did you go on a date with that guy again?” she remembered you talked about him but you weren’t very fond of him.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I didn’t want to be alone today,” you said, lying on your side facing Nat.

“You could've come here sooner,” she said softly.

“Nat, we said we’d stop. We can’t do that anymore,” you said after a pause; you sat at the edge of her bed not being able to face her. 

“I know, but come on,” Nat came up behind you.

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” she whispered in your ear and you shivered.

“Nat,” you warned.

“Don't you wanna feel good tonight? Feel desired? I can do that for you, remember?” her hands wandered around your body caressing your thighs, your hips, your waist.

“Nat, we can’t keep doing this,” you try your hardest no to give in…

...but it’s just too fucking hard to resist her.

“It’s just for tonight,” she nibbled on your ear.

Her hands came and cupped your breasts as she kissed and sucked on your neck right under your ear. You just relaxed against her chest and she kissed you softly. Slowly she unzipped the dress you were wearing and peeled from your shoulders. You let her take it off and stood up quickly to discard the piece of clothing. You were simply left in a pair of panties since the dress looked better with no bra. 

As you kicked the dress off your feet, Nat sat up on her knees and kissed the skin between your shoulder blades. She pulled closer to her and kissed ear and neck ever so lightly wrapping her cold hand around your neck, tilting your head to give her more room and access. 

She stripped her shirt and pants and crawled back on the bed, resting her back against the headboard of her bed. You crawled up with her smiling softly and kissed her properly this time. Her lips are soft and plump against your own. You ultimately pressed your back against her chest. 

Her lips continued to press repeatedly against the hot skin of your neck and shoulder while her hands roamed along your body. Her fingers played with your nipples and your head fell back against her shoulder.

Her hands moved down your body and passed the lining of your underwear. You were wearing her favorite and she briefly wondered if maybe you had planned on coming to her all along. It didn’t matter when you lifted your hips so she could take them off. 

Her fingers rubbed gently around and along your folds, before grazing her fingertips on your clit. You sighed pleasantly and closed your eyes while Nat continued to knead your breasts with her other hand. 

She whispered in your ear but you couldn't understand too much because she inserted a finger passed your folds and you moaned softly. Her thumb rubbed small circles over your clit quickly bringing closer and closer to your orgasm. She inserted another finger deep inside you grazing your g-spot. You look down at her fingers moving quickly in and out of you and you moaned loudly. It was music to Nat’s ears and she smiled at the pleasure she was giving to you.

Her lips  felt so velvety on your skin and for a moment that was all you could think of. Her fingers distracted you again almost instantly though and your hips squirmed and wiggled as she pumped her fingers in and out of you. Your head fell back once again, your release approaching incredibly fast.

“Fuck, Nat. I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered.

“Come, baby. Come all over my fingers, make a mess baby.”

You felt your hips jolt and you practically gushed over her fingers. Her thumb continued small and slow circles on your clit riding out your orgasm. Your body trembled and Nat’s whispered quiet praises in your ear.

“Such a good girl, baby.”

“Angel, you did so well.”

“You looked so pretty coming all over my fingers. Can you give me one more?”

She laid you gently on your back and discarded her undergarments crawling back on the bed to you again. She moved your legs and spread them as far as they could before licking her fingers and circling her own clit; she was already soaking wet from making you come before she didn’t really need much more lubrication. 

Her leg came over one of yours and she settled her center over yours. Her hand came to your face and cupped your cheek lovingly and you saw in her eyes how dilated they were. You couldn’t dwell on the idea for long because Nat started grinding down stimulating your core again. 

Her thumb from the hand that was resting on your cheek came down and traced your lips as she continued swiftly moving against you. She leaned down and kissed you hard and passionately and you wrapped your hands around her. 

When she broke the kiss your hands came down to her hips guiding her down on you. Her head threw back and her brows furrowed as she moaned beautifully. You sat up as best as you could and she leaned down halfway to meet you. She pressed her forehead against yours; both of you panting hard as you chased each other's release. 

You moaned and closed your eyes but she couldn’t let you.

“Keep your eyes open, baby. Keep them on me,” she panted.

“I can’t fuck, it feel so good,” you whined.

“Come on, I wanna see you fall apart under me,” she forced you to look at her.

“Ugh, Nat!” you opened your eyes.

“That’s it, baby; fuck!”

She thrusted faster and soon after you both came against each other with shouts of each other’s names. She fell forward catching herself with her hands careful not to collapse on you. She moved gracefully off of you and glided towards the bathroom as you admired her glowing skin from behind.

She came back with a towel and cleaned you up, tossing the towel to the side and climbed into bed with you. You sat up however feeling out of place almost. You wanted to stay but you two had promised each other that you wouldn’t let this keep happening. 

“I should leave,” you whispered.

“Please, don’t. I don’t mind.”

“I know you don’t, that’s the problem,”

“Are you really that bothered by me? Afraid people are gonna have something to say about us?”

“Nat-”

“I’m serious; why won’t you give us a chance?”

You paused. You didnt want to tell her but she deserved an explanation; as dumb as it would've sounded.

“Can we go to sleep?” you asked.

Seeing as Nat didn’t want to push you further, she agreed and held you close as you two slept until the morning.

When you woke you hadn’t woken up with Natasha still in bed. 

You grabbed a big t-shirt she had in her drawers, most likely taken from Steve or Bucky. You stepped outside and found the hallway empty. You slowly walked towards the kitchen hearing muffled voices unsure of what they were talking about. 

You got closer but stayed behind a wall in the hallway so you could hear what they were talking about before you interrupt. You concluded that Nat was talking to the rest of the team.

“Why do you keep doing this?” it was Steve’s voice.

“You’d think I’d let it keep happening if I knew how to stop?” That was Nat’s voice.

“Leave the woman alone, she’s in love. Not many know how to control and resist. Especially from someone as beautiful as Y/n.” That sounded like Wanda’s voice. What do they mean?

“Can we stop talking about this, she's gonna be up any minute,” Nat said. 

“Nat you gotta tell her,” Steve said.

“No,” she reciprocated.

“Nat-”

“No! If I-,” she stopped and huffed before continuing, “If I tell her that I’m in love with her, she's gonna run away. I would rather have this, whatever this is, than nothing at all,” she explained.

You were taken back. She loves you, like actually.

You knew you shouldn’t have but you could stop yourself from running. You went back to her room and changed into the dress you were wearing the night before and walked out, you had to leave as soon as possible. Unfortunately you had to walk past the kitchen to go to the front door and when you did Nat called after you.

“Where are you going? Don’t you wanna maybe eat before you leave? It’s your favorite,” she said softly. 

“I should head home. Thanks uh, for letting me spend the night,” and with that you left and called a taxi to take you home.

“She fucking heard,” Nat said to the team who watched silently as you left.

“Thanks guys. Thanks for making me ruin the one good thing I had in my life,” Nat walked to her and slammed the door where she cried unsure of when she was going to see you again. If ever.

____________________

TAGLIST:

@mathletemadison

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #marvel smut #natalia romanova #natalia romanova smut #black widow #black widow smut #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow x y/n #marvel fics #black widow fic

[splendidly-secret-sick-fics]

Hi!!! Love your writing style you're so cool! I was wondering if you'd be able to write a sickfic focusing on atsumu and osamu-specifically atsumu taking care of his little brother! And maaaybe if you wanted to add some angst before it got better 👀 anyways hope you have a wonderful dayyyyy 😊

Anonymous said:

Can I get an unexpected sick atsumu that is at home from school with his brother after sleeping in. Their mother had the day off and didn’t feel like going anywhere so she allowed them to stay home. Maybe in the middle of the afternoon Atsumu starts to feel strangely sick but he hoped it would pass if he took a nap. He slept on the top bunk while Osamu plays video games on the bottom when he sudden wakes up without warning and starts to projectile spew. Caretaker Mom (cause I need some sweet momma content) and Osamu being supportive and understanding.

The Biggest Idiot of All Idiots: a Miya twins sick fic

Characters: sick Atsumu, caretakers Osamu & Mama Miya (lol)

Word Count: 3,426 (!!!)

Warnings: swearing, heat exhaustion passing out, and Miya-family shenanigans

Part 2

————————————————————

Thank you for the requests and kind words!! I combined it with one from @super-secret-sick-fics

I changed a couple details, but tried to stay mostly true to what was asked for! I hope that’s okay :)

This is gonna be a two-parter bc it got to be way too long. I’m not sure when Part 2 will be up yet.

I didn’t edit this at all (I never do, honestly) and I know I’ll hate myself for that later. But alas, I have zero patience so here it is!

Enjoy :)

————————————————————

Atsumu was rudely awakened by something annoying and probably stupid pushing up on his back.

“Tsumu, get outta bed ya lazy asshole.”

Ah yes, the annoying and definitely stupid thing was his equally annoying and stupid brother shoving the bottom of his mattress up from the bottom bunk.

“Why?” he grumbled and flipped over onto his stomach. He buried his head into his pillow and sighed. There was a subtle ache nagging at him on the left side of his head and he wanted it to go away.

“Cause Ma took the day off to do yard work and chores with us. It’s ‘sposed to be hot today so we said we’d do the yard work first thing. Remember? Or are you really that stupid?”

Osamu’s face popped up over the railing of Atsumu’s bed. His brother’s normal deadpan stare was accented by a single eyebrow raise of expectation.

Atsumu narrowed his eyes at him for a brief moment before groaning. He sat up and the pain in his head spread to encompass the rest of his head. Immediately, he was cranky.

“Fine. Just get outta my face,” Atsumu all but spit. Osamu’s face scrunched up, but he jumped down to the floor.

“What’s crawled up yer ass so early?” He mumbled, pulling on some athletic shorts. Atsumu wanted to respond with something snarky, but the pain in his head muddled his thoughts and he couldn’t think of anything clever enough.

“Screw you,” he settled on and crawled to the ladder to get out of bed. The headache would most likely go away after he ate something, so there was no need to say anything about it and risk getting teased.

Osamu eyed him, a frown on his face for a second. Then he scoffed.

“Alright assface. I’ll be downstairs. Ma made breakfast.” With that, he left the room.

Atsumu took his time getting dressed and ready for the day. He was moving slower thanks to the ache in his skull. The dumb headache also made his body feel tired and achy so he didn’t really feel the need to push things and make it worse.

“Good mornin’, Sweetheart!” His mother greeted when he finally made it to the kitchen. She was at the stove, flipping some pancakes, her salt and pepper hair pulled back in a loose braid. She was already in work clothes. Atsumu had to admit that it was going to be nice to spend some time with his mom. Their father ran a small convenience store, so she had to work full time to help supplement that income. He was excited to spend time with either of his parents when he could, even if it was doing chores.

The twins had, of course, offered to get part time jobs. However, both of their parents shut down the idea quickly, telling them to focus on volleyball and “enjoying their youth.”

“Mornin’” he yawned and sat down across from Osamu at the table. He was already half way done eating and scrolled mindlessly through his phone. Atsumu tried to do the same, but the tiny words and the blue light from his phone only exacerbated his headache, so he sighed and gave up. Instead, he put his head down on his arms and waited for his mom to tell him to come get his food. After a minute, Osamu kicked his shin under the table.

“Oi, what’re ya doin’?” he asked roughly. Atsumu rolled his eyes and exhaled, annoyed.

“‘M tired. That alright with ya?” He glared at his brother. Osamu kept steady eye contact, rising to Atsumu’s challenge. The lights burned though, and Atsumu had to blink. He clicked his tongue and turned his head away.

“Yer bein’ weirder than normal,” Osamu said with his mouth full of pancake. Atsumu’s lip curled in disgust.

“Yer disgustin’.”

“Says the pig.”

“Listen—“

“Tsumu! Come get yer breakfast!” Miya-san interrupted. Osamu smirked at him, smug about getting the last word.

Atsumu sat down at the table with a single pancake, half a spoonful of scrambled eggs and a glass of orange juice. His mother gave him an earful about not eating enough and he was sure that Samu would do the same.

Osamu eyed his plate and then eyed Atsumu and then his breakfast again. His twin pursed his lips, but didn’t say anything, shoving more food in his mouth.

While Atsumu was grateful that his brother didn’t comment on his smaller-than-usual meal, he was incredibly suspicious of the lack of insults.

The truth was, Atsumu’s stomach felt...wrong. He wasn’t sure what it was because he didn’t feel sick persay, but he didn’t feel good either. Starting off with a smaller meal and going back for seconds was more appealing to him than having a plate full of food that his brother and mom would force him to eat.

Atsumu ate his meal in silence and hoped that it would help his headache and the strange feeling in his stomach before he had to spend all afternoon doing yard work in the blazing summer heat.

***

Osamu watched his brother weeding the flower bed with a careful eye. Something was wrong. He knew it from the moment Atsumu woke up. His stupid brother wouldn’t tell him anything (if he even registered it himself, the idiot) so the only thing he could do was keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t start crying or dying.

They’d been outside for about an hour and a half now, weeding, mowing the lawn, planting new flowers, and whatever else their mom wanted and it was only getting hotter. The sun wasn’t even directly above them yet, but the heat surrounded them like a thick blanket. It felt like Osamu was moving through a pool of jell-o while he pushed the lawn mower forward.

Osamu was sweating and panting ever so slightly, but Atsumu looked like he just returned from a grueling volleyball game. He was dripping sweat and his shoulders moved visibly up and down with each breath he took. Osamu figured that his brother was probably dehydrated and too stupid to admit it or too stupid to realize it.

“Tsumu,” Osamu called. Atsumu pulled his head up from the weeds and squinted at his brother across the lawn. He was pale, and all of Osamu’s twinstincts told him Atsumu needed to go inside quickly.

“Wanna go get lunch?” He tried, because Atsumu was dumb and wouldn’t admit that something was wrong, so Osamu needed to find some excuse for them to go inside. There, his mother would realize that something was up and force his brother to rest and hydrate.

“We just ate not that long ago. You that hungry, ya pig?” Came the snappy comeback. It had less bite to it than usual. The lack of venom from this and the weak comebacks from this morning only solidified for Osamu that his brother was not alright. That, coupled with the sheer amount of sweat and his continued heavy breaths made it seem like the idiot was dying or something.

“Screw you,” Osamu sneered (because even if something was wrong with his stupid brother he was still an unbearable asshole). “It’s hot and I’m working up more of a sweat. So yeah, ‘m hungry.” Atsumu waved him off lethargically.

“Then you go in. I’m almost done here,” Atsumu all but wheezed and turned back to the flower bed. Osamu took a deep breath and tried to remember that he was attempting to be a good brother and good brothers don’t punch their dying brothers in the face.

“Just come in and get some water then,” Osamu offered, walking to stand behind his brother. Atsumu looked over his shoulder, his ugly face contorted into confusion.

“Why’re you being so nice?”

Osamu squeezed his fist by his side.

“If you get dehydrated, I’ll have to play setter tomorrow at mornin’ practice and I don’t wanna.”

Hopefully the threat of being replaced, even if temporarily, would get Atsumu to see some sense. The longer Osamu studied him the more (begrudging) concern he felt. Now that he was closer, he noticed a glaze over Atsumu’s eyes and a flush to his cheeks.

Osamu surmised from this that his stupid idiot brother caught a summer cold like a stupid idiot.

Atsumu hesitated, but eventually, nodded. He put his hands on his knees to push himself up. Osamu let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. One battle down. Next he’d have to convince him to rest up some.

His relief was short-lived. As soon as Atsumu stood up, his knees buckled underneath him and he fell back onto Osamu heavily. Startled, Osamu just barely managed to keep his balance and catch him, holding Atsumu under his arms.

“What the fu--” he started, ready to lay into Atsumu, only to be stopped by the vacant look in his brother’s eyes. It was different from the haze he noticed just a second ago. It was like Atsumu wasn’t seeing anything. His eyes stared off blankly at nothing, half-lidded and foggy. He was still panting, but it was shallower, if possible.

The next thing Osamu noticed was how cool Atsumu’s skin felt, despite the intense heat and the flush of his cheeks. Atsumu, the dumbass, was indeed not okay.

“Tsumu? Hey, can you hear me?” Osamu asked. Atsumu’s eyes slowly found Osamu’s, but it still didn’t look like he registered anything. The only response he got was a whine.

“Shit. Yer so freakin’ stupid, you dumbass,” Osamu muttered. Atsumu groaned. There was no way he could get Atsumu into the house without help. Thankfully, the flower bed was near the front door, so he wouldn’t have to take him far, but the door was shut in an attempt to keep the hot air outside, so he needed help.

“Ma!” Osamu yelled, “Ma! C’mere, quick! Tsumu’s sick!” Atsumu winced at his brother’s volume.

“Sorry, ‘Tsumu, I’m sorry. Fuck. I can’t believe you--” Osamu said frantically, despite himself. He really didn’t like his brother, but he still loved him and this was still very scary.

Their mom was at the door a second later, concern already painted on her face. Upon noticing her one son all but unconsciousness, leaning on her other son, the concern grew to panic and she was outside and beside them in no time flat.

“What in the hell happened?” she asked, brushing Atsumu’s hair back. Her eyes widened when she no doubt picked up on the abnormal cool temperature of his brother’s skin.

“He’s been actin’ weird all mornin’. Then he came out here in this heat and I just convinced him to go inside for some water when he passed out. He’s so freakin’ stupid.” Osamu explained.

“Of course, the stubborn idiot. Let’s get him inside and cool him off,” his mother said, still holding Tsumu’s face.

“Yeah. I can do it, I just need yer help with the door and getting him on my back,” Osamu replied. The longer they were in this heat the more dangerous it became so they needed to move as quickly as they could without making things worse.

Together, they managed to get Atsumu on Osamu’s back.

“Hold on, idiot,” Osamu commanded. Atsumu buried his face into his brother’s shoulders. He weakly grabbed onto his wrist to keep his arms wrapped around Osamu’s shoulder. Relief trickled in to meet Osamu’s panic when he realized that meant that Atsumu may be coming to just a little. Yeah

As soon as they were inside, their mom went to the kitchen to get some water and wet rags while Osamu took his imbecile brother to the couch. He laid him down, putting his feet up on the arm rest (all the boys on the volleyball team knew how to deal with heat exhaustion) and brought the fan closer. He sat on the floor beside Atsumu’s feet and waited for him to come back.

Miya-san came back a second later with a sports drink and several wash cloths. She placed one on Atsumu’s forehead and he sighed (Osamu was once again relieved that his brother seemed to be registering at least a little of his surroundings). The others she used to pat down his arms and legs.

The next few minutes were tense and silent as they waited for the idiot of the bunch to cool down and return to the land of the fully conscious.

“Sa-Samu?” Atsumu breathed. Osamu’s head whipped towards his brother. Atsumu was squeezing his eyes shut, a deep frown settled on his face.

“Tsumu, thank god,” Osamu exhaled heavily.

“Atsumu, baby, can you hear me? How’re ya feelin’?” Their mother asked gently, sweeping his hair back and sitting on the floor beside his head.

Atsumu’s eyes trailed lazily to meet their mother’s and he took a second longer than Osamu would have liked to respond.

“Head...head hurts,” he whined and closed his eyes again, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“Mhm, that’s to be expected when yer a dummy that got heat exhaustion. When yer ready, I need ya to sit up and drink something, okay?” She said, cupping his cheek. Her words, though seemingly harsh, were always soft. They never failed to comfort the twins whenever they were upset about something.

Atsumu visibly leaned into her touch.

“H-hot,” he murmured.

“No, shit, idiot,” Osamu responded. His mother shot him a glare. He rolled his eyes at her hypocrisy.

Another few minutes later, and they eased Atsumu into a sitting position and handed him the green sports drink (which Osamu found gross, but was his brother’s favorite). He took small sips and deep breaths.

“I’m goin’ to go get ya a little something to munch on, alright baby? Call me if ya need something,” Miya-san said. She kissed the top of his head and left the room.

Osamu watched his brother with a careful eye. He took in the flush of his cheeks, the paleness of the rest of his face, his shaking hand that rested subtly on his stomach. Sure, he just passed out and these things should be no surprise, but something deep in Osamu’s bones told him that Atsumu was hiding something; that something more was wrong.

“‘M gonna go help, Ma. Don’t do anything stupid.” Osamu stood and Atsumu nodded. The lack of a return insult, the lack of any verbal response at all from his obnoxious twin set all of Osamu’s nerves on edge.

“Ma,” he said as he entered the kitchen, “I think Tsumu is really sick.” He leaned against the counter where she was getting some crackers to put on a plate.

“He just passed out from heat exhaustion, Samu of course he’s sick.” She smiled at him softly.

“No, no. I mean… he’s been weird all mornin’ and I think somethins’ wrong,” Osamu pushed. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but his whole body told him that Atsumu was being a bigger idiot than either of them realized.

Miya-san glanced over at her son. Osamu tried to convey on his face how strongly he felt about this, how she needed to believe him. She studied him for a second before nodding and turning back to the plate.

“Okay. We’ll keep an eye on him, alright?” Osamu’s shoulders relaxed minutely.

In the living room, Atsumu was lying down again, his head pillowed against the arm rest and his legs curled into his stomach. He was still frowning.

“Tsumu, you should eat something,” Osamu tried. The frown on Atsumu’s face morphed into a grimace.

“Don’t wanna…” he replied, petulantly.

“Just a few crackers, please?” Miya-san asked, sitting by Atsumu’s feet. He looked between the two of them and sighed.

“Fine,” he relented. Too easily, for Osamu’s liking. On Osamu’s list of Things To Hate About Atsumu, stubbornness was easily in the top three.

Atsumu nibbled on a few crackers until their mother seemed satisfied and left the room. As soon as she did, Atsumu collapsed heavily back onto the couch.

Osamu paused for a second before he gave in to his baser instincts as a brother and twin and sat beside Atsumu on the couch. Almost immediately, Atsumu repositioned himself to lean on Osamu’s shoulder.

Osamu felt the tension ease out of his shoulders when his brother exhaled slowly and shakily, closing his eyes.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s really goin’ on? Or are you gonna continue to be stupid?” Osamu asked after a moment.

His ill twin tenses again and Osamu almost feels bad. Key word: almost.

(If Atsumu was going to continue being an asshole, he would not feel bad if this came and bit him in the ass.)

“...I don’t know. Just been feelin’ odd all day,” Atsumu relented and Osamu’s eyes disappeared behind his hairline.

“Must be feelin’ pretty bad if yer admittin’ it so easily,” Osamu teased. The guilt pooling in his stomach was not something he’d share with his brother easily. His pride wouldn’t let him.

That didn’t take away from the fact that it was there though. Of course it was. Osamu could tell something was off the second he looked at Atsumu’s face this morning, yet he let him go on and work in the scorching sun all morning.

“Mmm,” Atsumu hummed, easing further into his brother’s side.

“Can ya tell me what’s wrong?” Osamu rested his head on Atsumu’s.

“Head hurts. Stomach’s been feelin’ weird,” Atsumu yawned. Osamu nodded.

“Wanna go take a shower and lay in bed?”

“Can’t move even if I wanted to.”

“I’ll help ya, stupid,” Osamu scoffed.

“Why’re you bein’ so nice?” Atsumu asked again. Osamu wouldn’t acknowledge the twinge in his chest that came when Atsumu didn’t believe that Osamu could be nice to him when he needed to be.

“No one else is gonna be,” he said instead.

“Ma’s here,” came the rebuttal.

“Let’s just go upstairs. You should get some rest so I don’t have to sub for ya at practice tomorrow.”

“Hate to admit it, Samu, but I don’t think I’ll make practice tomorrow,” Atsumu grumbled.

And well. Fuck. If Atsumu was already thinking that way, if he wasn’t fighting him about practice, wasn’t convinced he’d go tomorrow, then he must be really sick. The rock in Osamu’s stomach got a little heavier.

“Let’s go,” Osamu said. Atsumu nodded.

“Ma! I’m taking Tsumu upstairs to shower and get in bed!” Osamu called to their mom.

With that, Osamu eased his brother to stand, trying to ignore the way his face paled when he was upright, and slowly they made their way upstairs.

Osamu made Atsumu take a cold shower before he allowed him to settle into bed.

(Atsumu protested and whined the whole time. Osamu kept to himself that the argument that ensued made him feel a little better about Atsumu’s overall condition.)

Atsumu fell asleep almost instantly, curled into a ball around his pillow. Osamu gave him a sweatshirt and some athletic shorts to wear because he kept complaining about being cold. Convincing him that it was just because of the shower and that he’d warm up proved completely fruitless, so in the end Osamu relented.

Looking at his brother now, Osamu could tell that the worst was yet to come. Again, it was just a gut feeling. It set him on edge and kept his shoulders tight by his ears.

When Miya-san came to check on them, Osamu apologized, and though it meant showing his concern for his idiotic brother, asked her if he could skip their chores for the rest of the day and hang out in their room to keep an eye on Atsumu.

(Their mother was the one person they couldn’t lie to; she’d see past their proud facades and break them down with her eyes until they relented and told her what was really happening. Eventually, they stopped trying to lie to her.)

She agreed easily and told him she would run out to the store to prepare for the worst case scenario (see: Atsumu being a whiny little pissant). Osamu shouldn’t have been surprised that she believed him about his weird gut feeling. Thinking back on it, the two twins always knew when something was wrong with the other.

Miya-san left and Osamu took one last look at his brother sleeping on the top bunk before settling on the floor in front of his own bed. He grabbed an X-Box remote and turned on some game he’s played a thousand times, the volume low, and waited for the other shoe to drop.

#haikyuu sickfic #sick atsumu #caretaker Osamu #miya atsumu #miya osamu #tw fainting #heat exhaustion #mamma miya

[oscar-lettjohanssonloveme]

Glide (Miss Venable x reader)

a/n: hello :3 here we have another song fanfiction whoohoo- uhm Glide (by Lxandra) don't expect too much haha.. its angsty i guess lol :7 oh and its really long-

summary: I am really bad at this holy shit.. I guess its about the “"relationship” between you and Miss Venable (relationship is a weird word-)

warnings: alcohol, talking about depression and suicide (but nobody's actually depressed), notes of sex 

google translate :’D

"So, Miss Y / L / N", Mister Langdon finally said as he stepped around the table to stand in front of you.

"After telling me about your homosexuality, I would like to know if you are currently in love?"

You narrowed your eyes at the man in front of you.

"What kind of stupid question is that? Is this the part where we braid each other's hair and talk about our high school crushes?"

"Answer. My. Question.", the Man growled.

"Okay okay," you muttered quickly. "Uhm, well let me think about it for a minute."

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

It all started when Miss Venable heard you scream one night.

You had been at Outpost 3 for a few months at this point and in all that time you hadn't spoken a lot and spent the entire time in your room except for meals.

The others didn't know much about you. They knew, you were one of the youngest residents of the Outpost and that you had left your family behind. And of course they knew your name. But that was all.

You spent a lot of time thinking about your family. Your relationship with your parents wasn't ideal, but you still missed them. And if you had known a year ago where you were today, you would have done a few things differently. Celebrating Christmas with them one last time, vacationing with them, simply spending the time peacefully with them instead of arguing.

Usually you cried quietly to yourself, with your head buried under your pillow, hoping, that everyone would forget you existed,  but crying wasn't enough tonight and after dinner you snuck into the kitchen to steal a bottle of the red wine, that you smuggled into your room afterwards.

It was now 1 a.m., the bottle was almost empty, and hours ago you had started tossing the items you had in your room. Your clothes were scattered on the floor, while you had tossed the boring books from the library against the wall. Your bed was a complete disaster and in all your anger you had torn the sheets. There were red wine stains on your pillows, which had almost slipped into the blazing fire of the fireplace after you tossed them off the bed.

And now all you could do was scream.

"Fuck you!" You shouted as you staggered in the room with the alcohol in one hand.

"Fuck you all! Fuck this apocalypse, fuck this outpost, fuck-"

"Miss Y / L / N" interrupted you a loud voice behind you and made you turn around.

Miss Venable was standing in the doorway in front of the locked door, staring at you in confusion.

"Ever heard of knocking?" You grumbled and hid the bottle behind your back.

"I knocked," Miss Venable hissed, her gaze wandering angrily over your chaos.

"And if you hadn't screamed so loud, you would probably have heard it. What the fuck do you think of making such a noise here at night? Stealing alcohol as well?"

"I uh- caught," you muttered as you put the bottle on the round table in front of you.

"Do you know what's really funny? We don't have anything to eat, but there is no end of alcohol. Whoever came up with that must be pretty stupid."

"It was my idea. I am in charge here, in case you forgot."

"Oh right," you sighed and slapped your forehead with the palm of your hand.

"Shit, well, i'm sorry, but what was your name again?"

"You forgot my name?" Asked Miss Venable sharply with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah," you muttered before collapsing onto your messy bed.

"But I know it was something weird."

Miss Venable glared at you, which of course you couldn't see because you were buried with your face in your blanket.

"Hopefully you realize this will be punished," she growled.

"Oh suck my dick", you grumbled. "You enjoy punishing others, don't you? You are a little psychopath"

You laughed softly into your blanket and noticed how you became more and more sleepy. You almost fell asleep if Miss Venable hadn't tapped her stick loudly on the floor.

"You will start cleaning up here immediately, otherwise it will be the last night you spend in this outpost."

"Oh shut up. You are totally mean to me," you moaned and pouted at the angry woman.

"Why are everyone always so mean to me? I haven't done anything wrong."

You got up on shaky legs to walk past her to the door, but you tripped and fell against Miss Venable.

"Wow," you mumbled as you stared into her brown eyes with your glassy ones and grabbed hold of her hips.

"I may not know your name, but I know,  that you are really pretty"

"What the fuck is wrong withyou ?! "

Wilhemina pushed you away from her so that you stumbled backwards and landed on the floor.

You stared out at her with hurt eyes as tears welled up in your eyes.

"I didn't do anything," you yelled at Miss Venable, who was still leaning on her stick in front of you.

"It's not my fault, that you're beautiful. Be happy, others are ugly."

"That's enough," growled Miss Venable as she took a step towards you and grabbed your arm to pull you up.

"You're going to bed now."

"I'll do nothing," you mumbled and tried to pull yourself out of her grip, but you were way too drunk to use enough strength and she could push you like a doll on the bed.

You laughed again.

"Guess what, my bed is big enough for both of us, isn't that funny?"

You looked up at her playfully, or at least you tried.

"You beautiful woman. We-"

"Your behavior is disgusting," she interrupted as she leaned over to grab your chin. Immediately you fell silent.

"And my name is Miss Venable."

She looked down at you dangerously and you saw fire in her eyes when you started laughing out loud.

"Haha Miss Venable, I told you it was something weird," you shouted before you started screaming out loud.

"Miss Venable is beautiful whohoo. Can you all hear me? Miss Venable is beautiful. She-"

"What the hell", Miss Venable cut you off again and took her hand from your jaw to put it on your mouth.

"Are you going to be quiet at last?"

"M'sorry," you hummed against her hand and Miss Venable could see from the wrinkles around your eyes, that you were grinning under her hand.

"I want you to go to sleep now and clean up the chaos here tomorrow, do you understand me?" She asked in a sharp voice. But you just glared at her and wanted to bite her hand when she repeated her question.

"Do you understand me?" She barked louder and this time you nodded quickly.

"Good," she said happily as she took her hand from your mouth and straightened up again.

"Fuck you," you mumbled quietly and watched unhappily as the woman went to the sofa across from the fireplace and sat on it.

"Can't you just go?" You moaned as she leaned her cane against the edge of the sofa.

"Oh I'll go," she replied while staring into the fire.

"When you fell asleep."

You groan in annoyance.

"Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"Oh come on," you sighed and pulled your blanket over your head so she couldn't see you.

It was actually your plan to wait for her to go away, but at some point (who knows how much time had passed) you actually fell asleep.

Living my life in a bubble

Sometimes reality's too much for me

(I trip and fall into a dream)

Your love it gets me into trouble

Sometimes your gravity's too much for me

(It gets me weak in the knees)

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

A week had passed and not much had happened. The next morning you woke up alone and with a big hangover and barely remembering what had happened the previous evening. Miss Venable had forced you to clean up the mess in your room after she had punished you for stealing the alcohol and as attractive as this woman was, she seemed genuinely angry about what had happened, even though it was actually nothing special. At least that's what you thought, but you couldn't remember either.

The world had ended and her problem was, that you had stolen a bottle of wine and ravaged your room. You wondered how fucked up her life must have been before the apocalypse, if that bothered her. And she wasn't the only one you wondered about.

The other residents of the outpost were all disgusting.

"Why do we have to eat this shit?"

"When are we getting out of here?"

"Why is life so unfair and let me be here with you idiots?"

You hate those ungrateful assholes. Everyone was dead and their only problem was, that they were still alive.

Other people deserved it so much more and the fact that mankind's only hope was in these conceited, stupid assholes seemed like a joke.

When you lay in bed that day and stared lost at the ceiling, you had lost all reference to reality. You didn't know what day it was or what month you were in. You also didn't know whether the last meal you ate was lunch or dinner, although a glance at the clock would have been enough. But you got tired of staring at the clock and watching the second hand, hoping something would happen.

Nothing changed anyway. And all you felt was that big feeling of loneliness that completely filled you. You were a very emotional person and all you wanted was someone who was normal. But everybody in this outpost was a huge disappointment. Conceited assholes, intimidated Grays and Miss Venable, who enjoyed punishing people.

Probably you would have started talking to yourself, but thank god you weren't there yet.

Sometimes you thought, it might be easier, if you opened up to others. But your body had become like a prison and you kept every thought trapped deep inside you because it did not match those of the others. Stupid assholes.

And while you continued to sink into your self-pity, you would probably have fallen asleep, if you hadn't been bothered by the sudden knock on your door.

"Fuck off," you moaned while staring angrily at the door, but the person standing in front of it only knocked one more time.

Asshole, you thought before reluctantly climbing out of bed to open your door.

"I said you should f- Oh Miss Venable," you stared at the woman in front of you.

"Are you here to punish me again for something pointless? If so, I can assure you it won't be necessary .. The wounds from last time still hurt, if you care."

Miss Venable screwed up her eyes.

"Well, Miss Y / L / N, actually I don't care, but if it still hurts, you seem to have learned your lesson," she replied coldly and you just snorted in annoyance.

"What do you want from me?"

"You are obviously depressed-" she started and you interrupted her immediately.

"What is that shit supposed to mean? I'm not depressed, I'm just sad. And since when have you been interested in how I'm doing?"

You glared at her with narrowed eyes, but her face still had the same deadly serious expression.

"You've been sad for a long time, don't you think?"

"I- uh".

You looked at her confused.

"All my friends are dead, it's only logical that I feel that way .. I find it rather questionable, that I'm the only one here, who feels that way."

"So?" Miss Venable raised an eyebrow, which made you even more insecure.

"I don't really care how you feel either. I just don't feel like wiping your blood off should you decide to kill yourself."

"Suicide isn't always bloody," you muttered.

"And because we don't have any doctors here-"

"By the way, that's the stupidest thing of all. You know, we have a hairstylist, but no doctors, you also notice that it doesn't make any sense, right?" You interrupted her and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

And again Miss Venable ignored your words and finished her sentence, which you had interrupted.

"..I thought that would help too."

Your eyes widened when you saw what she was pulling out from behind her back and immediately you started laughing.

"Are you serious? First you punish me brutally for stealing a bottle of red wine and now you come to give me one?" You laughed and stared down at the bottle she was holding out to you.

"What's worse is, that you think alcohol is replacing therapeutic treatment. That's pretty sad to be honest, Miss Venable."

Wilhemina narrowed her eyes.

"It's not sad, I just prefer red wine stains instead of stains from your blood," she growled.

"You can't possibly be serious," you mumbled and suddenly had to grin.

"You enjoyed punishing me, right? And now you're coming, because you need a reason to do it again."

"Oh come on," Miss Venable rolled her eyes.

"Take the bottle or don't take it, it's just an offer."

You were still staring at her in amazement. What was wrong with her that she thought this action would solve your problems? Another proof of how fucked up everything was and that the only person you could count on was yourself.

"Uhm, well thank you, Miss Venable," you stuttered and reached for the bottle.

"If you come over every evening and bring me a bottle, your diagnosis may work and I will have very different problems, than my sadness."

"Not funny," muttered Miss Venable, her lips pressed together.

"Well, good evening, Miss Y / N."

She turned around and started to leave and you could only stare after her in confusion. Evening?

Then you actually had dinner earlier, even though you could have sworn it was only lunch.

"Maybe you want to join me-?" You asked suddenly and were just as surprised by this question as Miss Venable, who turned to you.

"What?"

"I don't think getting drunk on my own would be fun," you added, stepping nervously from one foot to the other.

"You did it a week ago," replied Miss Venable and in the torchlight you could see the lines of confusion on her face.

"But I never said it was fun," you smiled crookedly as your grip tightened on the neck of the bottle.

"And I think it would be nicer to do that, in the presence of another person. Especially since you've already seen me drunk."

You looked at Miss Venable expectantly, although you did not know exactly what you were doing. It was probably just your desperate attempt to get someone's attention, simply because everyone, who has ever cared about you was dead. And you knew Miss Venable might not be the best choice. But while the others complained aloud about their suffering and argued about who was worse off, Miss Venable didn't show such feelings and kept her thoughts to herself. A circumstance with which you could somehow identify.

"Okay," Miss Venable finally muttered, surprising you one more time that day.

"Well, great," you said before stepping out the door frame to go back to your room. You sat on the other end of the sofa, across from where she sat a week ago. In your hand there was still the bottle of red wine and for whatever reason you were ashamed of this situation. Miss Venable brought you alcohol because she thought, you could use it to manage your sadness, or depression (as she called it). And if she had actually meant well, which was actually questionable with her, then you had to make a pretty pathetic impression on others.

"You cleaned up the mess," you heard Miss Venable's voice behind you, but it was more of a determination than an acknowledgment.

"And I just noticed that we have no glasses at all".

Your shoulders sagged at her words and for a moment you were afraid she would leave. But you heard her close the door behind her before she went to the sofa and sat down on the exact same place, that she had been sitting on a week ago.

You watched the woman confused, leaning her cane against the sofa.

Her gaze lifted to you and she stared at you as expectantly as you looked at her confused.

"What are you waiting for? Go into the kitchen and get glasses," Miss Venable uttered.

You blinked in surprise.

"I- I didn't know that was a request," you muttered before jumping up from the sofa to run from your room into the kitchen.

When you ran back to your room 5 minutes later with two wine glasses, Miss Venable was still sitting on the ugly fabric sofa just as she had done a few minutes earlier. And somehow there was something aesthetic about it.

Personally, you thought it was ridiculous, that everyone had to adapt to the Victorian style, just because she wanted to. But it was perfect for Miss Venable. As if it was made for it. Her red hair, which she always pinned up so strictly, then her almost black eyes and the lipstick. Also her pale skin and her cane. Even her strict personality perfectly matched the style of clothing.

"Do you want to stay in the door frame and stare at me, or are you finally coming now," Wilhemina hissed suddenly without moving even an inch and immediately a slight blush rose in your face.

"M'sorry," you muttered and quickly closed the door before going back to the sofa. After you sat down, you put the glasses in front of you on the table, where the wine bottle was now.

"I was just wondering," you explained as you poured the wine into your glasses.

"Why the Victorian style of all things?"

"Why not? It looks good," replied Miss Venable, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Well," you began before turning to give her her glass.

"The world is ending and you make us wear 10kg dresses, because you think it looks good?"

"Any better idea?" Miss Venable asked back, putting the glass to her lips.

"Uhm I, i don't know," you stuttered and watched Miss Venable as she drank her wine.

"Don't we have to be prepared somehow or something like that?"

You heard Miss Venable laugh quietly into her glass.

"Prepared?" She repeated with a small grin and put her glass back on the table.

"On what? For the aliens to come and get us out of here?"

You shrugged your shoulders.

"I don't know," you mumbled before you put your glass to your lips to take a sip of the bitter liquid and while you were drinking you could feel her gaze digging into your skin.

"By the way, I also find it very questionable what kind of people live in this outpost," you added, setting your Glas next to hers on the table.

Wilhemina let out a laugh. It was one of those laughs that you couldn't tell whether it was meant honestly or sarcastically.

"I'm not surprised you say that," she muttered.

"Is my dislike of the others that obvious?" you asked confused.

"I don't know if obviously this is the right word .. But what I do know, is that you always look disgusted when you see them, so I'm assuming you don't like them and to be honest, I like them neither.

Your confusion turned to laughter.

"Well," you said.

"With you it is obvious that you don't like any of them."

"These people are just as competent as they were poor. They are only here because of their money," she said disapprovingly.

You sighed thoughtfully.

"It's kind of sad, that money was the way in here. Scientists would have been so much more valuable. I'm only here because my grandfather had the money."

"What did you do before the apocalypse?" She asked you and you were surprised by this honest question.

"I went to college to study history," you replied when your gaze wandered into the fire.

"So I can  judge that the Victorian style wasn't the most practical choice."

You heard Miss Venable snort in annoyance and you couldn't help but grin.

"And what did you do before the apocalypse?" You asked, turning your gaze back to her. Miss Venable seemed as surprised by your question as you were by hers.

"It's a little tricky," she began. "Basically, I built human robots."

"Robots?"

"Robots."

For a moment you stared at her in amazement. Miss Venable had averted her gaze from you and directed it to the wine glass in front of her.

"M'sorry, but if you've built human robots, why are you letting real people, the Grays, work for us? Wouldn't robots have been revolutionary in an apocalypse?"

Unlike you, Miss Venable seemed totally unaffected by this.

You watched as the redhead reached for her wine glass and took another sip of the blood red liquid.

"You are asking too many questions for my taste, Miss Y / L / N," said Miss Venable softly, putting her glass back on the table. And even though she kept her voice low, you could hear her indirect threat.

"To be honest, I'm amazed, that I'm the only one asking questions," you replied, trying to make eye contact with the woman next to you again, but Miss Venable's gaze was tied to the blazing fire in the fireplace and you could see a dark glint in their eyes.

"You shouldn't get involved in things that are none of your business," she said suddenly in a monotonous voice. "All over the world there are survivors and it is not your job to question my system, nobody has the right to do so. You are just one stupid survivor of many, nothing more"

You and I, we just glide

Through the night

We just drive, we get by

We just glide

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

"Oh c'mon," you moaned and ran your tousled hair.

"God must hate me".

You stood on shaky legs from the library floor, that you fell on after stumbling into the room. You brushed the dirt off your skirt and realized with gritted teeth, that it was ruined.

"Seems like someone is having a bad day," you suddenly heard a voice say and immediately your mood worsened.

You straighten up again to meet Miss Venable's eyes. The woman sat on the right of the two leather sofas and with one hand clutched her cane, which was propped on the floor.

"Fuck you", you hissed before you let yourself fall on the sofa across from her.

"Oh, someone is having a very bad day," added Miss Venable, and you didn't have to look at her to see, that she was amused by your behavior,

"Yes, my day sucks and guess what, it's all your fault," you growled and glared angrily at her stick.

"When I got up this morning and wanted to leave my room, I got stuck in the door with my blouse and the whole sleeve was torn. Did you also notice, how much you sweat in these clothes? It's really hard to go at the toilet with these clothes .. I'm sorry, but what the hell was your idea, when you decided to give us a Victorian dress code? Did you have to make our life after the apocalypse even harder ? "

You pressed angrily your lips together and screwed up your eyes.

"You are the only person who complains about it," said Miss Venable and sounded not quite as amused as a minute before. You let out a dry laugh.

"The others are too scared of you, to tell you that," you said bitterly.

"Besides, what the hell are you doing here?"

You tore your gaze away from her stick to look directly into her dark eyes.

"Why shouldn't I be here?"

"Because you're never here and you didn't look like someone who'd like to hang out with Mr. Gallant or Coco."

"Well, neither Mr. Gallant nor Miss St. Pierre Vanderbilt are here right now, right? And besides, I could ask you the same thing", Miss Venable replied indifferently and somehow she was right. It was also a rarity to see you in the library as you actually spent most of the time in your room.

"I suppose my great sadness is over now .. or as you called it 'depression'. I'm more in the mood right now, that I don't care and I am angry at everything and now you are my victim. Your lipstick is smeared by the way", you sighed, although that was actually a lie, her lipstick was perfect as always. But in fact her eyes widened slightly and you couldn't help but enjoy this view.

"You're lying," hissed Miss Venable and you had to grin.

"Maybe".

You shrugged your shoulders.

"Maybe you'd better go and see, or you risk the others seeing you ruined makeup."

It was obvious that Miss Venable was a perfectionist woman and she wasn't going to let her position of power be challenged over a smeared lipstick. On the other hand, you were an extremely bad liar and Miss Venable wasn't stupid.

"You're lying," she repeated, only with her lips pressed together, giving you the sense of achievement you wanted.

"Mhh Miss Venable," you hummed as your eyes found her stick again.

"This cane .. when I saw you for the first time, I wondered if it was just a symbol of power or if you really needed it-"

"..And then you saw me walk with it," added Miss Venable with a bitter tone in her voice.

"Oh no," you quickly shook your head.

"It wasn't your walk that gave me the confirmation that you really need the stick. It could never be your walk, you walk so majestically with that stupid thing, that even people, who don't really need a cane and only use it as an accessory would look handicapped next to you."

It was probably a rather desperate attempt to put the whole thing in a compliment and Miss Venable did not answer your words either, but you could see in the glow of the fire how her pale skin turned a light red shade and that was enough for you.

"It was your grip to be honest," you continued.

Miss Venable frowned.

"My grip?"

"Yes," you nodded and started playing with the fabric of your skirt.

"Your fingers are always clenched so tightly around the handle, as if you wanted it to break through. As if you were trying to strangle it or something like that, i dont know."

The furrow on Wilhemina's forehead only got a little wider with your words.

"You seem to spend a lot of time watching what my hands are doing," she mumbled and this time it was you, who blushed.

"It was just an observation, that I made on the side," you stammered quickly when you realized, that from one moment to the next the conversation had taken a completely wrong direction. Miss Venable did not answer again and you did not have the courage to look her face again and so the next few seconds were filled with an embarrassing silence, although you could imagine that Miss Venable was enjoying your discomfort.

"May I take a look at your cane-?" You finally asked to break the silence.

"You want to take a look at my cane?" Repeated Miss Venable, surprised with raised eyebrows.

"Only if it's okay," you said quickly.

"You are the first person, who asks me that".

Miss Venable looked thoughtfully down at her cane, which was still in her hand.

"As I said, the others are too scared of you-"

"The others don't care," Miss Venable interrupted, and you didn't know if she was sad about it or if she didn't care. But we're talking about Wilhemina Venable, she probably didn't care.

The red-haired woman sighed before holding out her stick to you.

You grinned and tried to grab the staff, but before your fingers could touch the wood, Miss Venable pulled it back again.

"How can I be sure, that you won't break it up and use it to make firewood?", She asked you and you looked at her in horror.

"I would probably be the last person to do that," you said indignantly.

"On the contrary, I think you would be the only person in this outpost who would dare to."

Miss Venable held out her stick to you again and this time she let you reach for it.

You immediately noticed how light the wood was in your hand as you carefully ran your fingers over the stick.

"What kind of wood is that?" You asked quietly without looking up from her walker.

"I guess it was blackthorn".

Your fingers moved on to the handle of the stick, which was probably the most interesting thing. A metal handle in the shape of a raven skull served as a support for the hand.

"Doesn't that hurt?".

You lifted your gaze back to Miss Venable, who obviously didn't understand what to do with your question.

"Well, if I had to support myself with all my weight on this skull, it would hurt," you added and Wilhemina just shrugged her shoulders.

"Uhm, it's a beautiful cane," you muttered, handing it back to her.

"May I ask why you need it?"

"I don't know what this should have gotten to do with you," replied Miss Venable, not sounding as nice as before. If you could call it "nice".

"Okay okay, taboo subject, I got it," you said quickly, desperately searching your head for anything to keep the conversation going.

"Do you actually enjoy it? To have control over everyone here? And know that, that almost everyone is afraid of you?", You finally asked and leaned back against the sofa.

"You asked me that a few weeks ago, when you were drunk," remarked Miss Venable, looking down at her gloved fingers, which were wrapped around her cane again.

"Really?" You asked confused.

"More or less. It was more of an accusation."

"An accusation?"

Miss Venable hummed in agreement.

"I told you, that you would be punished for your behavior and you said I would enjoy it."

"I understand," you mumbled, still staring hard at her face.

"What else happened that evening?"

A smug smile danced on Wilhemina's lips and she took a moment to consider your question.

"Well, you made fun of my name," she finally began as she drummed her fingers on the skull-like handle of her stick.

"And then you said, that I was pretty and that I should be happy about it, because other people are ugly."

Your eyes froze as her words entered your brain.

Wrong turn. Wrong turn.

"Uhm .. You know, when I'm drunk I tend to perceive things a lot more intensely than they actually are and then I exaggerate occasionally," you tried desperately to get yourself out of this situation, but Miss Venable just let out a loud laugh and you realized, that you had failed miserably. You cleared your throat briefly and sat up straight again.

"You haven't answered my question yet," you said, trying to change the subject again.

"I wanted to know, if you enjoy all of this."

"Do I enjoy it if you don't obey my rules? No, I don't enjoy that, why should I?" Miss Venable said and again had that indifferent sound in her voice. Of course you knew that she had bypassed your question and that was enough to prove, that she enjoyed her monarchy in Outpost 3.

"You said earlier, that you had got over your grief. That's good to hear," said Miss Venable, and this time she was the one who changed the subject.

"I thought you didn't care what I felt".

You smiled contentedly and cocked your head. Somehow you liked this game of mutual debunking.

"I don't care either, I just wanted to be polite."

Your smile widened when you saw her fingers clench a little tighter around her stick.

"Miss Venable and polite, I don't think this is a well-working combination," you teased her and in the glow of the fire you could see her roll her eyes.

"You were a lot less tiring, when you were crying in your room all day," she muttered disapprovingly.

Why should it be such a struggle

When it means so much to you and me?

(I trip and fall into a dream)

Built like a ship in a bottle

Gotta handle you so delicately

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

I don't know what we got

But I know what I want

The silence is killing me softly

What. The. Fuck.

When you arrived at the Outpost a few months ago, you couldn't even have imagined in your deepest dreams, that you would ever end up in this situation.

You lay on your back, still staring at the ceiling with wide eyes as you tried to stabilize your breathing. Only now did you notice, that you had your arms wrapped around your chest and that your fingernails were digging painfully into the flesh of your shoulder. Your body lay rigid in her bed and you couldn't move an inch. You desperately tried to put the things that had happened in the right order.

Was it a stupid idea to go in Miss Venable's Bedroom? Yes, definitely. In retrospect, you didn't even know what exactly you wanted there. And actually you should have disappeared, after you saw that Wilhemina hadn't even been there. But no, of course your curious ass had to inspect her entire room.

And by the time Miss Venable came out of her bathroom in her pajamas, you had already started counting in your head how many punches Miss Mead was going to give you as punishment. You had definitely crossed the line.

But it turned out very differently than expected. Miss Venable had been angry anyway, very angry, but her anger was not expressed in words. The woman had pressed you against the wall and before you could do anything about it, her hand had slipped under your skirt, between your legs and Miss Venable had broken her own rule.

Of course you could have pushed her away, but it felt so right. You wanted so badly for someone to pay you attention and Miss Venable had kind of given you just that, when she pressed you against the wall and fucked you senselessly.

The whole thing was just so emotionless. You hadn't been able to look at her. You were ashamed of every sound you made, and if Miss Venable hadn't put her hand over your mouth, everyone in the Outpost would probably have heard you scream.

Which wouldn't have been so practical, because this man had come here a few days ago and you knew he was interviewing all the residents for the sanctuary and it wouldn't have been very beneficial for you if he'd caught you, breaking you down Venables rules. Regardless of the fact, that she had broken her rule herself.

Miss Venable hadn't said a single word about what had happened a few minutes ago, as if she had absolutely no need to justify herself.

She hadn't even looked at you when she took her hands off you and wiped them with a kleenex.

"You can sleep here tonight," she had muttered.

"It would be noticeable if you left my room now."

And now you lay next to her in bed and tried to understand all of this. Your dress was messy on the floor and all you had on was your underwear. After your fingers relaxed, you had pulled the blanket, that she wordlessly gave you over you and clung desperately to the fabric.

You had calmed down and could now hear her breathing next to you. The fact, that she was just lying next to you and probably sleeping was disturbing. At least, she could have apologized, right? Although, that didn't make sense either, because you obviously enjoyed what had happened.

You carefully turned your head towards her and saw, that her back was turned to you. And you wondered if she was really sleeping or just pretending. Miss Venable had become your most private contact in the outpost and you didn't really know what that actually meant.

You wanted so badly to touch her, but you didn't know if you had the right to do so. Only now did you notice the scars on her back, that shone through the light nightgown. Add to that the snake-like curve of her spine and suddenly you understood why she needed her stick.

"You have scoliosis," you said your thoughts out loud and you heard her hold her breath.

"Congratulations," she hummed miserably.

"You figured it die out."

You nervously began to chew your lower lip.

"Did I make anything wrong?" You asked quietly.

"Ask yourself how you got into this situation, then you will know."

"I- do you want me to go?", Your voice sounded sadder than you actually wanted.

When Miss Venable didn't answer, you felt tears welling up in your eyes as the feeling of fear grew inside you. You screwed it up. Probably the next evening you would end up like Stu as stew.

"No," Miss Venable suddenly whispered before turning to you. The red-haired woman had a blank expression on her face while she watched you cry.

She raised her hand as if to wipe the tears from your face, but she lowered it again and you had to do it yourself.

"M'sorry," you muttered.

"You're stupid if you apologize," Miss Venable replied bluntly.

"That was more than just unprofessional of me, I should have let you go and tomorrow you would have been punished."

You looked at her sadly.

"That's the only solution, isn't it? Punishment."

"I don't know exactly what you're getting at? It's actually quite simple. Those are my rules and whoever doesn't stick to them will be punished for it", Miss Venable looked at you unimpressed and you returned her gaze thoughtfully.

"What about Michael Langdon? Does he have to obey your rules too?" You finally asked.

"What does this mean?"

"Uhm well, I guess I've known you for 18 months now and the first time you seem scared."

Miss Venable raised her eyebrows.

"You don't know anything about me. I'm not even remotely an emotional chaos as you are."

Emotional chaos. Okay she had a point. You blinked a few times to force the tears, that were still glistening in your eyes back down.

"I don't know if emotional chaos is the right word," you muttered.

"You should think less about your stupid feelings," Miss Venable sighed, turning away from you again.

"They've only got you in trouble so far if you ask me."

You pressed your lips together and had to suppress an angry comment, that would only confirm her accusation. Your eyes stared at her back again. The red curls of her long hair had slipped behind her shoulders and were now curling on her back. You would have loved to stretch out your hand to touch it. You would have loved to curl up in her arms to feel safe for the first time in over a year. You wanted to kiss her. Or at least hold her hand. Anything. Just a little bit of their affection would have been enough and you would have been happy. It probably all sounds kind of selfish, because she fucked you a few minutes ago. The whole thing just wasn't particularly loving. You felt like a disgusting animal and now you wanted her to show you, you weren't. Miss Venable was only a few inches away from you and all you had to do was hold out your hand and you would feel her warmth. But while it was actually only a few centimeters, you realized, that there were worlds between you and this woman and that she was probably never further away from you than at this moment.

You and I, we just glide

Through the night

We just drive, we get by

We just glide

Maybe we're just fooling in foolish imagination

Got no destination in sight

You and I, we get by

We just glide

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

Wilhemina Venable had a great talent at pretending everything was fine.

As if nothing happened. Nothing had changed in the days after that night.

Since Michael Langdon was at the Outpost, she avoided private contact with you and the fact, that you had shared a bed didn't change that. In addition, she was just as disgusting to you in front of the others as always and that was nothing new either. And while Wilhemina no longer seemed to care about what had happened between you two, at the same time it almost killed you.

You actually expected, that she would want to talk to you about it again, but nothing had happened and that made you angry. Miss Venable would always deny it, but she was the only one who cared about you. And you appreciated her weird way of paying attention to you so much.

The only problem was, you couldn't even begin to imagine, what was going on in her head. While you were acting like a lovesick teenager, the only thing you saw of her was her deadly serious face.

Oh and Miss Venable was right, you were a fucking emotional mess. Since you woke up the next morning in her empty bed, you have cried a lot again and spent a lot of time in your room, but this time Miss Venable would probably not come to offer you alcohol as medication.

It was the afternoon of any day and you were sitting on the floor, leaning against your bed. In one hand you held a pair of scissors, while in the other you held the skirt of your dress. You were still not used to wearing long skirts after so many months and you still kept poking around at yourself, when walking through the outpost, so you decided to cut your skirts short. Of course you knew, that Wilhemina would probably kill you, if she saw you, breaking her sacred dress code, but fuck Wilhemina. At least you could finally walk properly again.

The triple knock on your door made you look up from your work and you got up to go to the door. You probably should have known it was Miss Venable who knocked. Who else has been interested in you, in the past few months?

"We need to talk," said the red-haired woman firmly, without looking at you.

You just nodded and stepped out of the door frame to make room for her.

For a brief moment you were afraid, that Miss Venable would get angry about the dress, that was lying shortened on the floor next to the scissors, but she just ignored it and stood across from you.

"Well, Miss Y / L / N, I'm just here to ugh- "

Miss Venable was interrupted by you when you, you stupid idiot, reached for her face to angrily press your lips against hers. The kiss only lasted a second in total, because Miss Venable immediately pushed you away from her and the next thing you felt was her hand lashing angrily against your right cheek. A horrified gasp escaped your lips and you looked at Wilhemina in horror as you rubbed your cheek.

"If you do that again, I'll kill you," the redhead growled, glaring at you angrily.

You looked at her hurt and felt tears start to sting in your eyes.

"M'sorry," you muttered.

"Oh of course you are," hissed Miss Venable.

"What the hell were you thinking of?"

"I just- I don't know," you stuttered desperately.

"I think I love you".

Miss Venable's eyes narrowed and she looked like she was going to punch you again.

"This is not love, this is despair, you stupid thing."

"Despair?" You breathed in horror.

"How else would you describe your behavior?" She spat and angrily started knocking her stick on the floor.

"I mean, look at you. You are a total mess. Either you cry in your room all day or you are angry at everything and everyone. You are the only person, who ruins her clothes. You are the one which most often breaks my rules, just because you are too unable to deal with your feelings. You know, everyone can handle what happened, except you, because you are so damn selfish. But you have to wake up.. Do you think, that was what I wanted, when you cried into my bed a few days ago? Oh no. And I know that, was my fault too. You know, everything what I want, is that you obey my rules, but that seems to be too much for your incompetent ass ", Wilhemina scolded and angrily knocked her stick on the floor.

"And now you come and say you love me."

She shook her head.

"As I said, this is not love, this is despair. And I don't know what kind of answer you were hoping for, from me, but let me be clear: In my opinion, of all the residents of the Outpost, you are the most pathetic and I hate you, I really do and you're sick if you even thought it would be different. "

You stared at her in shock. The feeling, that rose in you at that moment was indescribable. A mixture of disgust, shame and anger. But also the feeling of betrayal. And you couldn't say who these feelings were for, for you or for Wilhemina.

"Y-you hate me?" You stuttered, wiping the back of your hand over your cheek to remove your tears.

"I hate everyone in this outpost, that includes you too," hissed Miss Venable.

You shook your head in disbelief.

"I don't believe you," you whispered.

"I still believe, that you are scared and that is why you act like that."

"Mister Langdon will interview you tomorrow," said Miss Venable without responding to your comment.

"If you tell him anything about what happened a few days ago, I promise you will wish you were never born. With your condition, you probably won't be in the sanctuary anyway, but I will don't let me spoil this opportunity from you. Do you understand me? "

You shook your head.

"I don't understand what your problem is suddenly ... I asked you that evening if I should go and you said no."

"The whole thing was a mistake, nothing more", Miss Venable growled quietly and stepped past you to go to your door.

"I hate you and you hate me, that's all that's between us, you understand?"

You wanted to say something, but you decided not to, it didn't make any sense anyway.

"I understand," you said softly.

"Good," replied Miss Venable before turning and walking out of your room.

You stared after her sadly. Of course you didn't understand why she was suddenly so mad at you, but how could you? Miss Venable had wanted to end whatever was between you, so that she would not feel guilty if you were to be murdered by her in a few days. She had never meant to offend you, but she had to make it clear to herself, that she didn't love you. She just couldn't love you.

Show me freedom

'Cause love don't cost a thing

Give me freedom

Yeah don't just let me leave

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

"Miss Y / L / N", Mister Langdon barked and slapped the table with the palm of his hand. You winced and looked disturbed into the blond man's eyes.

"I asked you something".

He leaned down to you and his face was only a few inches from yours.

"Are you in love?"

You swallowed and blinked a few times, before you whispered softly:

"I am not."

The man leaned back and looked at you thoughtfully for a few seconds.

"Well, Miss Y / L / N," he finally sighed.

"You can go."

Without looking at the man again, you got up to run out of the room. You tripped and if you hadn't held onto the wall next to the door, you would have fallen. For a moment you leaned against the wall with your eyes closed and took a deep breath.

This man was disgusting and a little too intimate for your taste, no wonder, that no one liked him.

You opened your eyes again and realized, that Miss Venable was staring down at you as she leaned against the railing.

Your eyes were lost in hers, her almost black eyes in which the light of the torches is always reflected. You wanted to say something, but you were afraid, that she would leave and you didn't want that. Miss Venable had put on her indifferent expression as always and, as always, you did not know what was going on inside the woman.

Your lips formed a mute "fuck you" when you saw her turn away from you to move. And the faint tapping of her cane proved to you, that she was indeed leaving and you knew that she would not come back.

Maybe we're just fooling in foolish imagination

Got no destination in sight

You and I, we get by

We just glide

#wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable imagine #wilhemina venable #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson imagine #american horror story

[vaguely-concerned]

R-r-r-rewatch thoughts for The Mandalorian S2 Ep2

(or Chapter 10 as they seem resolved to call it)

- can I just express my joy for a moment that in one episode we get peli, the answer to my pleas for female representation in the ‘sketchy middle aged car mechanic’ niche, and a female alien designed with no consideration towards sexiness. (I mean I’m sure there’s someone. There is always someone somewhere on the Internet, is the bitter truth history has shown to us. but it’s not the intention behind the design haha)  

- they do take great pains to deliberately show you boba’s armour several times both in the recap and in the episode itself, so never despair he is very likely still on his way onto our screens once more

- this dude holding the baby hostage wanting specifically the jetpack in exchange is the one (1) break this whole episode gave din lol 

also the Patented Mando Finger Curl of Stress while he talked softly and calmly to not promp this asshole to make a sudden move... the most endearing character tic, I love my space cowboy dad so much 

- fun continuity detail: din is all out of whistling birds now, and you can see it here!

I wonder if he could still use the same mechanism with different ‘ammo’, it’s just not as effective? from the way the armorer spoke whistling birds seem quite rare and it would be an inefficient use of beskar if that’s the only thing it can be loaded with

 - I love how after the last episode, a 50 min epic with a bunch of original trilogy significance and impressive technical achievements and exciting character reveals, I was like ‘yeah okay I suppose that is quite interesting’, and this mess/comedy of inconveniences is the thing that fully makes my brain tip into the obsessive ‘BABY AND DAD SHOW!! BABY AND DAD SHOW!!!!!’ mind state lol

- ah the traditional ‘mando trudging slowly but steadily through the desert’ montage we all love to see (I hope this is going to be a Thing for the second episode of every season from now on) 

Also I assume his suit has some sort of temperature regulation built in and that’s how he didn’t, y’know. die under the blazing desert sun

-

CAT FIGHT CAT FIGHT man I love the jawa. also mando doesn’t even glance over at them, really emphasizing how he’s like. done with this entire day (and it’s all barely even getting started din! i’m sorry)

 yodito’s look in this scene tho... he’s like ‘we’ve Seen some shit lady’ (actually I think he’s staring at ‘dr mandible’ like O___o. it’s been a long day for a lil boy) 

you get to see dr mandible’s cards a few times, so I assume anyone who knows the rules of... sabacc? probably? could figure out beforehand that he was in a bad spot. (the star wars fanbase is one of those where I KNOW the rules exist somewhere, and I know people who know those rules exist too)  

- that sound the baby keeps making -- the ‘boo-a’, sometimes with a p-sound at the end -- if that’s the precursor to him saying any variation whatsoever of ‘dad’ or ‘papa’ or ‘baba’ or even ‘buir’ or anything, I will die. I will sink to the ground in a heap and never get up (the way he keeps seeking out gaze contact with the helmet and seems perfectly satisfied with it too... fasdhfaskdjhl my FEELINGS)

- it seems confirmed in this ep that the mandos who died on nevarro did so while holding off the enemy so the rest(probably especially the children) could get away; some of them appear to have escaped. which I guess is a small relief

- 

frog lady stepping out of the shadows and into our hearts

I like that her firm nod after Peli translates ‘her husband has seen them’ lets us know she understands... basic? is that the common tongue thing in star wars there’s just so many to remember across fandoms lol? perfectly well, even if she can’t speak it. 

- mando might be running low on ammo for the pulse rifle, if the fact that he hasn’t replaced the missing cartridge on his... bandolier belt thingy is any indication

ETA: actually ignore me this has been a thing since the literal first episode of the show my brain just had a hiccup lol

- so baby seems to use a little bit of the force to pull the eggs towards him -- I wonder how often he ‘taps into it’ or if it’s always ‘on’ in the background for him. if so I guess there’s no wonder he’s so hungry (but also... kid you can’t end this lady’s entire family line like that one cat who singlehandedly made extinct a whole species of bird! D:)

- din so rarely gets openly angry, he just gets passive aggressive and grumpy. and that’s probably not the healthiest way to deal with things but I love him

- frog lady reacts so strongly to when din sends the ping when nothing else woke her up, I wonder if she can hear more frequencies than a human

- 

hello darkness my old frieeennnddd

- 

proof nr 1508 that din does not starve this baby you guys, he even has his own little tray just the right size for him! as it happens the baby simply seems to prefer eating things that are... still alive in some capacity. which, uh. maybe they can invest in some form of non-sentient crickets or something for him to hunt down and.... oh dear

- 

Look how they massacred my boy

By the way I finally managed to put into words why the Razor Crest -- and particularly the way it keeps getting beaten to hell and back and patched up again --  is so symbolically important and meaningful to me in this show in this post over here! it’s always a great relief to me when I can finally understand what the hell I’ve been going on about all this time and this was one of those lol

-  honestly if it weren’t for frog lady and (more importantly) the baby I think there’s a slight chance din would’ve gone ‘well I had a good-ish run of it for a while there’ and just let the ice claim him haha   

- “Why don’t you come over here and give me a hand. Make yourself useful” This is the one time in the episode I think he crosses the line into just being a dick for a moment (but noticeably the baby isn’t just a little hurt at this reaction, he’s clearly surprised and confused, which means this really does not happen often. after the time mando’s been having recently I guess a moment’s snappishness is understandable haha. he does follow up right after with being much more responsive and attentive when the baby toddles away from him, so it feels like it’s going to be okay)

also the ‘boo-ap’ sound is there again when he’s trying to get din’s attention. just sayin’ 

when din comes over to see the footprints baby makes a declarative little meep like ‘see??? I did tell you!’ haha

- it is very funny that mando is using all his technology meant to track down dangerous bounties in the grungy depths of the criminal underworld... to find a naked lady just chillin’ in a hot spring 

- 

cue the ‘father is evil?’ memes fsadfda. actually the funniest thing about this moment (apart from the fabulous finger acting) is that din actually snatches a few eggs out of the baby’s reach more subtly right before, and that baby only whines for ALL OF ONE SECOND before he goes to sniff around for other food possibilities fkadfhjkds. from my experience with human children he’s a lot less prone to tantrums. yodito doesn’t get mad, he gets even 

- baby running towards din through the hatching spiderlings like ‘DAD I FUCKED UUUUUUP’, din’s little strangled ‘ngh’ sound as he picks the baby up and watches all the creepy crawlies come out... *chef kiss* impeccable 

(that little ‘ngh’ and the soft shocked ‘ah ah AH!’s from when he goes flying at the beginning of the episode... pedro pascal and his voice work for this character gives me so much life. in some ways din has this sort of dignity and grace and in other ways he uh extremely doesn’t. he gets to be cool but also vulnerable in ways a lot of male main characters don’t and it’s probably why I love him so much) 

btw here is that moment when din moves to hold the baby tightly against him with both hands as the big spider appears, because it gets me right in the heart... it such an instinctive thing of holding on to the dearest thing you’ve got before something bad is about to happen

fdsafhsdakjlfhsdkjlhfsdajhf oh my god the baby is clutching din’s finger with his little hand during the chase!!!! 😭😭😭

this FUCKING SHOW has just WEAPONIZED putting in small details everywhere to convey the love and tenderness and attachment felt by a little muppet doll even where only weirdos like me will frame by frame their way through the video to see it I am so MAD

- frog lady going ‘fuck this’ and bounding along is  e v e r y t h i n g 

- din is an amazing shot, though, he doesn’t seem to miss a single one in this whole scene (then again there’s something to shoot at basically everywhere one can take aim so lol)

-

baby hiding behind/half hugging din’s boot as he tries to get the doors closed hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I can’t breathhhhheeeee 

honestly every single one of the baby’s proximity seeking behaviours in this ep has me on my knees 

- it’s very unfair to play the heroic happy mando music like everything is going to be fine and then have a huge fuck-off spider drop down from the ceiling and break it off mid-tune, the mandalorian, you have trained me in certain ways and now do you betray me??? how can I trust again

- the camera work in the scene with the new republic guys gives such a good sense of the discomfort of being judged from on high by someone or something you can’t really see -- the glare of the lights blocking out everything in the shots from din’s pov makes it feel like a tense interrogation (the new republic dude who is actually dave filoni has such a look of fondness as he watches din tho it’s kind of sweet)

- ...oh no I think baby was actually considering munching on that dismembered spider leg YODITO NO JUST EAT YOUR KRAYT DRAGON BABY

- hngh this is a weird filler episode and it has my entire heart. I suspect we might get some episodes of a more stationary baby between active ones like this -- you can tell a little bit in this episode that especially having him running around fast is quite difficult to have look natural, they likely save that effort up for when it best serves the narrative  

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian meta #the mandalorian spoilers #mmmm brain empty only dad and baby show in here #(actually that's not true there's some tf/graves activity going on at all times too haha)

[bbaronpiper]

Red

Hi, to the anon who requested this, I’m sorry it took too long. I got a little busy and haven’t had the time to write it until today. Soooo.. here it is, I hope you’ll like it. 

Also, I don’t know if the translations of the lyrics are right. I just googled it. lol. thanks google! Parts in italics are either flashbacks or thoughts and paragraphs inside a parenthesis are translations. Some names here are completely made up. sorry if it happens to be your name. 

I don’t know which category will fit this story. fluff? angst? smut? definitely is smut *winks* or all of the above. 

Lastly, this one isn’t proofread yet, probably will revise later when I woke up (it’s 5 am and I haven’t slept yet. blame the coffee) if there are mistakes or rewrite the whole thing hahaha. okay enough talking. Enjoooyy! 

Hiii I saw your taking requests & I wanted to request an Arón Piper imagine. Where him & the reader are costars & he’s always had a crush on her but she was in a relationship until her boyfriend cheated on her & because of that her & Arón became closer & she eventually let’s him in for them to be more than friends. I got the idea from the song Soltera by Lunay ft Bad Bunny & Daddy Yankee (basically it just says how she’s single & that’s trendy rn & that she wants nothing to do w/ love)

Arón x reader

“Y/N, are you almost ready? the party started like an hour ago!” you heard Omar groaning in the living room. You are going to a sending off party the Elite’s casts and production team set up for Danna, Mina, Ester, Jorge and Alvaro.

You look at yourself on the mirror one last time and put on your red high heels before opening the door of your room. You wore a red sleeveless bandage dress that complement your curves and ends just before your knees, your hair tied up in a ponytail exposing your neck up to your chest. You matched your dress with a bright red lipstick. So bright enough to scare a hooker. You were never this extra, you’re more of a girl next door type of girl. But that was then.

Months ago, you believe that red symbolizes love, celebration and happiness. Funny no?  But now, you don’t believe in love or in any of those things anymore. The old you were long gone and now, red has a new meaning for you: fire, fierce, and power sometimes anger.

“Damn girl! You’re on fire!” Ester said excitedly examining you from head to toe. This was more of her style and it suits her perfectly. Me? I’m not sure, but I try so hard just to bury my old weak self. My old self that believed in happy endings.

You laughed “Thanks to you! I should do more shopping time with you!” you said to Ester. You heard Omar clearing his throat “Okay, okay, we’re going hot stuff! So impatient!” laughing even more with the girls as Omar rolled his eyes at you. “Finaaalllyyy!!!!” he said dramatically. You took his arm and went downstairs.

Once you arrived at the club, you saw paparazzi’s on the entrance blocking the way making it almost impossible to enter the club. You expected this as you are a public person now, but you never got used to it. Grown ass men calling after your name at the same time, sometimes saying nasty stuffs too while their camera flashes at your face almost blinding you. “Y/N! Y/N! I heard you and Mateo broke up? What can you say about that?” “Is it true he cheated on you?” “he’s with Elena now, he says she’s much better than you!” that last one caught you off guard that you almost stumbled. Luckily, a hand grabbed your arm, tucked you in his arms shielding you from everyone and pulled you inside the club. You didn’t freak out even though you didn’t see his face. You knew who it was by the smell of his perfume.

You looked up and saw Arón looking at you worriedly. He must’ve heard it, you thought. He was about to say something when you beat him to it. “God that was crazy! Thank you though” you said lively like it didn’t bother you. It did, for a second but you were over it. You promised yourself you wouldn’t let anyone hurt you ever again. So, you put on a smile on go on with life.

“Anytime, Y/N” Arón said as he loosen his grip on your arm, slides it down to your wrist before totally letting go. You notice him just standing there staring at you so you took his hand and led him inside the club, the others following you close behind. You didn’t mind holding his hand or any of your cast mate’s hands, you two are good friends, you see him as a brother. He was there when you’re crying over your asshole of an ex-boyfriend. He knew what he did to you. He knew about all of your drunken nights and one-night stands and you knew about his. He was just like you. He enjoys life, loves to party and likes to fuck but never commit. That’s why you two grew much closer than before.

After one to too many shots, you are now having the time of your life. You’re a hot mess dancing and grinding over Jorge on the dance floor with Danna doing the same on him on the other side. “Oh man, you know I’m gonna miss all of you!” you screamed over the loud music. “eh? You’ll be fine you still have Arón” Danna laughed devilishly and winked at you.  oh this girl is so drunk. You looked over at Arón on the other side who’s not looking drunk yet with Itzan who on the other hand is dancing like crazy. He was always like this. He needed to get drunk a little first to bring out his extrovert side.

He was already looking at you so you raised your middle finger up at him and smiled. He laughed at you knowing it’s something you got from him. You both stared for awhile and you notice something different on the way he looked at you but you can’t just point it out. Was it just the alcohol you had or is he really… “You know he’s crazy bout you right?” Jorge said close to your ear snapping you out of your eye-fucking contest with Arón.

“what?!” you heard him but you just want to make sure you heard it right. You hear Danna laughing loudly and suddenly you burst out laughing too. You don’t know why but probably it’s because you both are drunk as fuck and everything is so funny at this point. You took Danna’s hand and start jumping up and down with her, laughing about nothing. “Y/N!! Y/N!!! it’s so fucking fun in hereeeee!!!!” she slurred. "I knooowww rigghhttt!!?" You continue jumping all over the place with her until Omar and Mina joined you and eventually more people did. Your head was spinning but you didn’t care. You’re having fun. You needed this.

You felt your back, mostly your ass bumped on to something. You turned around and saw Arón smirking at you. Soft blush starting to show on his cheeks signaling he’s drunk enough. “Heeeeyyyyyy Julio Manueeell!!!! You having f-fuuunn?!!!” you laughed at his face and scratch his shaved head. “Eh, not as much fun as you’re having, Y/S/N” he said while shaking his head at you. You and Arón has this thing where you call each other by your second names. Giving you both some type of ownership on one another. Like no one can call you by it except him, and his by you. You closed the gap between the both of you. pressing your body against his and spoke close to his ear “C’mooon I’ll shooowww yyou what’ss fuunn!!” He turned his head to the side at the same time you finished talking making your face so close to him. So close your lips almost touched. Damn this alcohol.

Soltera by Lunay ft Bad Bunny & Daddy Yankee started playing and you both went crazy. “This is our jam!!!” you screamed. “Your jam!” he corrected laughing at your drunken state putting emphasis on the word your.

You are dancing closely with your back against him. Swaying your hips as his hands went to your waist. You smirked to yourself as you felt his growing bulge on your ass. You didn’t care how close you are to him or if people will see you. Again, Blame the alcohol. You just want him close. So you grab him by the back of his neck and pulled him closer. His face was now buried on the crook of your neck. The feeling of his soft lips and the warmth of his breath turned you even more. You both drunkenly singing along to the song when he suddenly tightened his grip around your waist and turning you around to face him.

He grabbed your face with both of his hands and started singing to you. “Me dijeron que te acabas de dejar, Que el bobo aquel te engañó” (They told me you just left that fool that cheated on you.)

 “Que ya no crees en el amor. Que andas suelta igual que yo. No sé, pero la noche está pa’ desquitarno” (That you don’t believe in love. That you’re on the loose like me. I don’t know but the night is made to get even) He continued looking straight into your eyes.

The look on his face confused you. You guys are just friends right? But why is looking at you with so much.. what is this? Passion? Even on your drunken state, it had you thinking if he was sending you a message. Whatever. You decided to go along with it and send him one too.

“Porque 'tar soltera está de moda. Por eso ella no se enamora” (Because being single is in style. That’s why she doesn’t fall in love.) You sang to him with as much passion as him, smirking. “'Tar soltera está de moda. Por eso no va a cambiar” (Being single is in style that’s why she’s not going to change). Now it was your turn to hold his face while singing the lyrics hoping he got your message.

You both just dance there not giving a fuck about anybody, singing the song to each other the whole time trying to send the message. You are not ready for love nor commitment. You think you’ll never be ready for it. You promised yourself never again. Besides, it’s Arón. What you have with him as friends was so beautiful that you never want to ruin it by taking it to another level.

“Si no, nos vemo', mami, en el after party. Ponte pa'l problema, ándale, déjate ver. Lo que aquí empezamo', lo matamo' en el motel” (If not, mami, we’ll see each other at the after party. Get ready, let’s go, let me see you. what we start here, we’ll end at the motel. You’re singe, I’m single) Arón finish off the lyrics, with eyes full of lust. You were sure of that by now.

“okay, mister, did you just ask me to fuck you?” you said seductively as you bit your lip.

“Si” he said simply.

----

You woke up the next morning feeling like you’re still drunk. Your head was still spinning a bit so you decided to get up and go to the kitchen to look for some medicine. You grabbed the door knob and twist it open. Hmmm that was weird? since when did I paint the door white? you thought to yourself but shrugged it off for now as you desperately needed that medicine.

You walked around the apartment absent mindedly trying to get to the kitchen when you bumped into someone. “AAHHHH!” you screamed as you were surprised that someone is in your apartment when you live all by yourself. You heard the other person screaming as well. You looked up and saw who it was. “Arón! What the fuck are you doing here?!” you said trying to cover yourself as you are only wearing your oversized shirt. No bra, no panties, just your shirt.

“Umm, I live here?” Arón said unsure also questioning himself now. Scratching the back of his head.

“wha-? What do you mean you li-..? you looked around and saw the white walls, the windows made of glass where you can see Madrid’s skyline. Panic starts to creep in now. You looked at yourself. fuck. It’s not your shirt! It was Arón’s. You looked back at him turning red as a tomato. “Did we….? You trailed off afraid of his answer.

Arón laughed his ass off as he looked up laughing so damn hard. You hit him playfully on his stomach. He returned a small “oww!” from the hit you gave him. “The fuck you laughing about, dumb ass?” growing impatient now. Desperate to know if you fucked him.

“What do you think, Y/N?” he raised his eyebrow on you. “why are you all so red now, babe?” biting his lips trying to hold his laughter.

“Dare laugh one more time and I swear I’ll beat the shit out of you Julio Manuel” you threatened him as you massage your temples. “ugh damn this headache”

“C’mon sit, I’ll get you breakfast and medicine while you rethink your life choices… specially last night” he teases.

“fuck you, Arón” you gave him the dirty finger as you proceed to his kitchen table.

“You already did, cariño” your eyes widened as he gave you a wink in return. You took a deep breath and placed your elbows on the table supporting your head. Trying to think about the events on the previous night.

You tried so hard to remember but all you get was flashes of memories. The last thing you remember at the club was when you asked him:

“okay, mister, did you just ask me to fuck you?” you said seductively as you bit your lip. “Si” he said simply.

Then you remember grabbing his face and smashing your lips onto his. “Fuuucckk!!!” you whispered to yourself but Arón heard it and chuckled. “What you remember now?” he asked playfully.

You put your pointer finger up at his direction “Shhhh!!! Not a single word from you again, Piper!” as you went back to thinking again.

Arón came back with two plates of pancakes. One for him and one for you and one Advil for your headache. “Thank you” you murmured. You looked up at him and saw he has his goofy smile plastered on his lips. You knew he was about to mess with you again so you glared up at him. He just shrugged and bit his lips in return.

“Can I?” Arón asked with his voice full of lust as his hands was already placed at the hook of your bra. As soon as you moaned yes, he wasted no time and unhook it revealing your breasts. His pupils getting larger and darker at the sight of you. He then proceeds to kiss your neck down to your collarbone. He kissed everywhere around your breast but not your nipple. Trying to tease you. he kissed you lower and lower until he reached the hem of your panties. Your hand then travelled to his bare chest down to his belt buckle and undone it. you unzipped his pants and tried to pull it down but failed. “Arrrooonnnn!!!” you pouted and whined like a ten year old that can’t reach the jar of cookies on the top shelf. Arón then laughed at you, sit up and remove his jeans by himself.

“God you are so drunk Y/N, you sure you wanna do this. I feel like I’m taking advantage of you?” you didn’t answer him. You just pulled down your panties. “ohh okkkkaayyyyyyy” Arón said under his breath feeling himself getting harder. “say red if you want me to stop, okay?”

 “Just fuck me.” And just like that. Arón grabbed both of your ankles and spread your legs wide. He started off licking your clit slowly and slid a finger inside you and curling it. earning a moan from you.

“You’re so wet, Y/N” he spoke and dive back in. licking you harder and faster than before. Grabbing the back of his head, you felt his tiny hair around your fingers, pushing him harder against you. He looked at you from in between your legs. You had your eyes closed and your mouth opened forming an O shape. Just about before cumming, he stopped.

 “Why’d you stop? Haven’t said red. have I?”

“I gotta have you. Now.” He aligned himself on your entrance. looking at you asking for your permission once again. You trailed your fingers to his chest down to his abdomen ‘til you reached his dick. You wrapped your hands around it, stroking it a little before guiding him inside you. you heard Arón groan. As you sighed in pleasure. He felt so good. He started pushing in and out of you slowly until it became faster and faster slamming on your g spot. You heard yourself screaming his name.

“Fuck Arón, you feel so good.” You moaned thrusting upwards to meet with his. Earning loud groans from him. He leaned down and kiss you. Sucking on your lower lips. You wrapped your legs around him forcing him to go deeper. The sounds of your moans filled the room and you felt yourself clench around him. And you knew you were close.

“That’s it baby. Cum for me” Arón encourage you. With that, you finally let yourself go. Arón not far behind you feeling your pussy fluttering around him. He pulled out of you, stroke himself and cum on your stomach.

“Fucking hell” you said as you instantly dropped the fork your holding and looked at Arón who was sitting opposite of you. He still had his goofy smile on him. Is he seriously happy about this? “Arón, what happened last night… we gotta, we gotta forget about it” you stuttered as you watch his face drop.

“huh? Why?” He stared at you trying to figure out what you were thinking.

 “You know damn well why, Arón” You looked down on your untouched pancakes avoiding eye contact.

He didn’t say a word for a while. “I’m not him, you know” he said under his breath poking on his pancake with his fork.

“I know that. I never said you are him” your heart’s starting to race. Unprepared of the coming conversation with your best friend. “but we’re fine like this right? You don’t want to be in a relationship, and so do I. Arón, we’re friends. We don’t wanna ruin it” trying to make up excuses but in reality you’re just scared to admit it to yourself.

“We?!” he asked clearly disappointed at the words he just heard from you. “who’s we Y/N? you meant you? Cos if you’re gonna ask me, I’m more than willing to try”

 “Arón you know I can’t. I’m happy being single. I’m done with all those fucking heartbreak! I just want to be happy!” you raised your voice a little, getting frustrated at the fact that Arón, your best friend said, he’s more than willing to be with you.

“Then we’ll be happy together! I’ll make you happy!” he said at the same tone you had. His eyebrows furrowed.

“It’s not that simple!” you completely lost your cool now. “You don’t know what it feels like! It’s hard that you’re always the one willing to take a bullet for the one you love only to discover that they’re the ones behind the trigger! I can’t go through that again!” you pointed your finger at him.  “it would kill me. You think I chose this? You think I chose to be this stone cold?” tears now forming on your eyes.

Arón’s face softened at your words. He stood up and walked over to your side pulling you close to him. You were still sitting down so your head only reached his stomach. “Shhhhh! I’m sorry Y/N, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry” he tries to soothe you as he rubbed your back. “but please just hear me out?” you nodded your head yes as you sniffed. He knelt down on your level looking at you with love in his eyes. “Y/S/C, you know I had my eyes on you the first time you walked in on set.” He caressed your cheek with his thumb. “I figured I liked you that one time when you pulled a prank on Miguel and Itzan causing the whole cast to laugh. I knew I loved you the moment I saw you crying over him outside the club and you told me what he had done. I can't believe he treated you like shit when you deserve the world. I spent my whole night with you when all I wanted was to knock him out. I mean don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed your company. But yeah, I’d rather beat the shit out of him that night” he said causing you to laugh a little. “I know I said I don’t wanna be in a relationship right now but what I really meant was, I don’t want to be in a relationship if it wasn’t you.”

“I’m scared” your voice was trembling. 

“I know baby. I know. I can’t promise you I won’t hurt you ever in anyway. That’s not how love works, right? We will probably hurt each other at some point. But I can promise you that I would never ever hurt you the same way as he did. Just let me prove it to you. Please? Don’t give up on love just yet.” He said with sincerity. You knew him. You knew he wasn’t lying.

You felt yourself melting under his gaze. You stayed silent as words fail to form on your tongue. So you just placed your hand at the back of his neck stroking it gently like he did to your cheeks and your other hand layed on his chest close to his heart. You felt his heart beating faster and so is yours every second that passes by.

You thought about it hard. You weren’t exactly sure when it happened or when it started. All you know for sure is that right here and now, you are falling hard and you are hundred percent sure he was there to catch you. it would be tragic to let something like this pass.

“Sometimes we have to stop being scared and just go for it. Either it’ll work or it won’t. That’s life, no?” you stared at him waiting for his reaction. Small smile forming on your lips.

Arón smiled widely at you and exhaled the air he was holding in for a while now while waiting for your answer. He hugged you tightly whispering “Te quiero, Y/S/N”. He pulled away and kissed you passionately. You kissed him back with as much passion as his. You felt his hand travel up your thighs but just before things got heated, you pulled away.

“Woah, lover boy, can I eat my pancake first?” you said winking at him. He just laughed, shook his head and went back to his seat, pouting like a baby. “Why do you have to be such a tease?”

You stick out your tongue and your middle finger up at him, smiling. Happy at the thought that he brought back the meaning of red you once tried to forget. 

#aron piper imagines #aron fanfiction #aron piper x reader #aron x reader #aron piper imagine #aron piper #ander #ander muñoz

[legendofzelda4life]

Cake and Tears

Hello everybody, this was meant to be for yesterday (day seven).

It’s been a whole week. I hope you guys have enjoyed and will continue to.

Anyway this is a Blue/Red fluff (obvi platonic) I haven’t read the whole Four Swords manga but I have this feeling that Blue would be protective of Red.

Let’s go.

Also TW: mentions of r*pe (ik im an asshole for this plot)

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

“I swear to Din Vio, shut the fuck up.” Blue said to the calmest of the four versions of Link.

“Why should I? You suck at this.” Vio spoke, watching Blue. “I will not hesitate to kill you, V.”

Blue was holding the knife he was using to cut, yet another, failed attempt of a cake, to Vio’s chest.

“If Vio dies, we all die.” Green said from his seat on the bench.

“Works for me, means I won’t have to see you guys everyday.” Blue looked towards the green clad hero. “And will you please... get the fuck off my bench.” He shoved Green off the bench as he spoke. “You’re an idiot-” 

Vio was cut off by Blue putting the knife back to his chest.

“Fine, kill me, but don’t come crying when you never get to see Red again.” Vio said. Blue’s eyes widened and the knife clattered to the ground. He then crossed his arms with a huff. “I wouldn’t care.” He said.

Lie.

“We know you like Red the most out of the three of us.” Vio said.

“Tch. I do not.”

Lie.

“Oh so you hate him then?” “Yes Vio, I despise him with every part of my being.” Blue laced his words with sarcasm.

“Mhm… turn around.” Vio said with a smirk, causing Blue to turn wearily, scared that Red was there. Instead, he was met with Green holding a perfectly made cake.

“Man! Fuck you for being able to cook.” Blue said with a laugh, taking the cake as it was shoved into his hands. “Yeah, yeah. Now go cheer up Red.” Green said.

“Do I have to?” He whined. If he was being completely honest, which he hated doing by the way, he’d tell them he loved making Red happy.

But that would ruin his reputation.

“YES!!!” Woah, a response from both of them.

Scary.

“Why?” He asked.

“You’re the only one that can cheer up Red when he’s like this.” Vio said, shoving a drink into Blue’s arms before pushing him out the kitchen.

Blue walked down the hall towards Red’s room, beginning to ponder. If he loves Red’s personality, is this self love? Or friendship? Blue ran out of time to think as he arrived in front of Red’s door.

“Red?” He called for the hero.

“Mmmmmmm.” Red groaned from inside the room. No, not one of those groans, you perverts. It was the ‘bitch-I-just-woke-up-fuck-you-want?’ groans.

“Can I come in?” “Yeah.” Red’s voice was hoarse. How much had he been crying?

Blue opened the door and walked in. Red was on his stomach but was facing the door.

“I brought cake?” Blue was so weary, the statement sounded more like a question. “Put it down and get out.” Red rolled over.

“Wow okay, I understand I was pulling Green’s voice but I really thought the tunic would give it away.” Blue said. Upon hearing his voice, Red sat up. “Cuddles?” He asked, reaching his arms out. Blue chuckled. It was quite adorable when Red was like this. He had always acted younger than the other three heroes but it was cute sometimes.

“Of course.”

Red excitedly moved over and patted a spot on the bed, where Blue layed with a chuckle. Red immediately cuddled into Blue, wrapping his arms around the others waist. “Wanna talk about it?” Blue asked. Red shook his head.

“I just want cuddles. Just let me stay like this for a while. Blue nodded silently before hugging Red back. They must’ve sat there for hours, even laying down at one point.

Suddenly Red shot up, looking around frantically, before pulling his knees to his chest and crying.

“Red?” Blue asked, reaching out for the other hero. He flinched slightly. “Sorry, sorry. It’s fine. I shouldn’t be crying. Go back to sleep” Red rubbed his face with one hand, removing his tears as he layed back down. What caused this? How often did it happen?

Was it every night?

Blue didn’t know. But what he did know was that, if Red putting his face into Blue’s chest and hugging him was anything to go off, he was really upset.

“What happened?” Blue himself didn’t even know what he was asking about. Was it about why Red was sad? Or was it about the dream?

“What?” Red asked. (this is where it reloaded the first time)

“What made you upset?” Blue asked, rubbing circles on the red-clad hero’s back. Red tensed up and Blue could basically feel the boy’s blood run cold. “You don’t have to tell me.” He blurted out quickly. “No, it’s okay.” Red took a deep breath in. “Remember that guy I was dating?” Blue nodded in response. He didn’t know too much about the guy, except the moment everyone layed eyes on him…

Blue and Vio did not like him.

Well, in Blue’s case, that’s underestimating it.

Blue hated - absolutely despised - the guy Red was with.

Vio thought it would have bad consequences once they go back together as Link but Blue just hated him. (i cant think of what to name him lmao)

“H-he- he…” Red’s voice became small. “He... did stuff to me Blue.” His voice rose back to it’s normal tone after this. “I didn’t want it. But afterwards, he left without a word.” Red broke down again. 

Red was…

No, Blue didn’t want to believe it…

He couldn’t believe it…

How did Blue let this happen to one of his counterparts?

Let alone his favourite?

At this point, Blue had no doubt he was radiating heat considering how much that made his blood boil. He didn’t say anything, scared he would upset Red further, and just let the other boy cry into his chest.

“You wanna talk to Green or Vio?” Blue asked. Red shook his head. “They’ll be mad at me. I knew you and Vio didn’t like him but this? This would disappoint Green too.” Red hugged Blue tighter. “How did I let this happen, Blue? It’s my fault isn���t it? I never wanted it so he just did it...” Red trailed off, eyes full of terror as he recounted whatever events may have occurred.

Seeing that look on his face caused Blue to snap.

“None of this is your fault! He was an asshole that took advantage of you and I’m about this close to beating the absolute shit out of him!” Blue roared, jumping to his feet. “Your fingers are touching…” Red said, realization dawning upon him. “Exactly.” “Blue, no.” The boy wanted to argue but if Red said no, Red means no.

And unlike someone… Blue respected that.

“Okay.” He sat back on the bed, Red sitting next to him.

“What about the dream?” Blue asked. Red became extremely quiet. Blue turned to see the boy with tears running down his face, huddling further into Blue’s side. “You don’t have to-”

“Promise you won’t ever leave, Blue. Promise me!” Blue was surprised by Red’s words. Was the dream really that bad? “I promise I won’t leave you.” He said, looking the other hero in the eyes. “Good.”

Red fell asleep soon after but Blue couldn’t even close his eyes.

Blue had a plan but wanted to wait for Red to be okay with it first

Green walked in the room slowly.

“How is he?” He signed, wanting to be quiet. Blue put his hand sideways and made an ‘eh’ motion. Green just nodded slightly before walking back out.

A few days later

“You still wanna beat the shit outta him?” Red asked. The boy’s mood had brightened little by little over the past few days. He had decided to tell Vio and Green, with Blue’s help of course.

“Yes, but I wanna be the only one.” He looked to Green and Vio who didn’t object. Was his protectiveness of Red really that obvious? Probably. Did he care? No.

Blue stormed into the guy’s house.

“Oh hey Blue, where’s your brother?” Blue had actually forgotten they introduced themselves as siblings. “Not here.” Blue snarled. “Oh what a shame, it’s so cute when he begs for me to stop. Y’know-”

Yeah, Blue just punched this guy in the face.

“Stop. Fucking. Saying. Shit. About. Red. You. Fucking. Asshole.” With each word, there was a punch. Blue was holding the boy by the collar and was relentlessly bashing his face in. He then threw the guy at a wall, a sickening crack emitting from his, already broken, nose.

Blue then got on the ground next to him and kept throwing hits.

“You fucking piece of shit! What the fuck gave you the right to do that to Red, huh?!?!” He was fired up. Given, the guy probably couldn’t respond, but Blue was venting.

He was continuously punching the guy over and over, rebreaking already broken bones from the first few hits. The guy ended up with a shattered cheekbone, the other one also broken, an unhinged jaw, a broken nose, a black eye in the first stages of forming, a few missing teeth, and, no doubt, more than two broken ribs.

Blue dropped him to the floor.

“Fuck you.” He seethed through his teeth before walking out.

Let’s just say, nobody asked why Blue was covered in blood that, obviously, wasn’t his.

END

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

This was a rollercoaster of emotions for me to write lol. I’m sorry if this triggered anyone in anyway. 

I hope you guys at least enjoyed Blue beating the shit out of the fuckboy lmao.

LEAVE REQUESTS BELOW!

REQUESTS MUST INCLUDE: PAIRING TYPE/GENRE/CATEGORY (fluff, angst, etc) PLATONIC OR NOT

I WILL WRITE ONLY ABOUT THE LINKS (including the ravio, shadow, and requested characters. Will not write about whole other fandoms though)

I CAN DO READER INSERTS IF REQUESTED (no oc’s tho)

#tw #r*pe mention #four swords #blue link #red link #vio link #green link

[irwintry]

Jean Jacket

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, drug mention

Summary: Y/N and Luke have been best friends, but they haven’t seen each other in years. Based loosely off of the song “Jean Jacket” by The Summer Set.

Word Count: 9.5k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You messaged him at 10:14 in the morning. It felt unnatural, and a knot formed in your stomach once you hit send.

You:

hey.

string bean

He didn’t reply until 6:24 that night.

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Don’t call me that.

I’m toned now.

You:

oh my bad

what’s a thicc vegetable

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

I don’t know

You:

you have cool hair

so do asparagus’

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Don’t call me asparagus.

You:

sorry

sexy stalk of corn

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

I hate you

You:

i love u squid

should i learn how to use photoshop

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Absolutely not

I don’t want to be photoshopped onto corn

What do you want?

You:

oh sorry am i bothering u

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Yes

You:

:o

rude

string bean

Message not delivered.

why aren’t my messages sending

did u block me

wtf asshole

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Hehe

You:

i'm gonna kick ur ass

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Good luck reaching it.

You:

ok getting on a plane rn

and jokes on u

i'm bringing a step ladder w me

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

I’ll pay

You:

bet?

did u just fucking venmo me

squid????

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Maybe

You:

luke

do u want me to visit u

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

I just venmo’d you

You:

wait do u rly want me to visit u

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Yeah.

You:

wait ok shit... when works best for u

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Literally whenever

You:

don’t u have tours and shit

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Not for five months

You:

oh fuck.

ok I’ll start looking

shit dude

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

I miss you.

You:

i miss u 2 squid

sorry i mean

string bean

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

JK. Can you venmo me back?

You:

no fuck u

it’s mine now

-

You weren’t in airports often.

You never grew accustomed to the atmosphere–– the hustle and bustle of business class and the lack of knives in terminal restaurants. You had no reason to be acquainted. Yet, there was still a familiar panic that gripped you as you stood shoeless and alone in the line for security. The terminals were each a maze of their own, and the heavy Jansport hanging off of your shoulder pushed down against your tight muscles.

You preferred traveling with another person. In fact, you preferred to not travel at all. The comfort of your home held Jeopardy re-runs and take-out Chinese. Whereas your terminal had startling gate announcements and overpriced froyo, and they didn’t even have toppings. The bathrooms smelled of poo no matter what time you chose to use them, and you sat on the toilet in mild discomfort, suitcase meshed between you in the broken metal stall. The same abandoned luggage announcement had played sixteen times since your arrival through security.

But you tried to think about the positive outcome of your travel. You saw yourself running up to him, hands slipping the bulky luggage to the ground as you threw your arms around him. He stood there smiling and calling you old nicknames you had been forced to read over text for six to seven years. And then he would take your hand and guide you to his car, his ever-present smile never faltering because you were there, and he was with you. It would be just like old times.

You thought about all of the places you would go and the people you would meet. Anxiety puddled your head when you thought about meeting his friends. They were untouchable, glamor and gold and all things Hollywood untold. And you were you, but Luke had changed, too.

-

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Still arriving at 6:13 in Terminal B?

You:

u bet ur (terminal B)um

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

That was one of your worst.

You:

ur right i gotta work on my comebacks on the flight

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

That wasn’t a comeback...?

You:

tHat WasN’t a CoMebAcK

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Die.

-

You fell asleep on the flight.

Economy class forced you between a professor in his mid-forties and an athletic coach whose knees nudged against yours every time he shifted. You had started the flight off with a movie, some Anna Kendrick rom-com that stimulated a headache worth three bottles of Ibuprofen. Soon enough you were hobbling over long legs, bladder aching from an unbearable pressure, and then the lavatory was occupied.

You filled the next few hours with a playlist you had made for the flight. Luke’s songs lulled you to sleep–– but you wouldn’t tell him that. You wouldn’t grant him the satisfaction, not unless the moment called for it. That moment only occurred a few times within a year. That moment occurred during the times he came to you when he thought he had no one else.

And you would never tell him how selfish you felt. You would never admit that you loved those moments because you felt important. You felt like he needed you.

You weren’t sure how long you had been asleep for after you woke. The plane was dark and quiet, and not a soul breathed a word. So, you settled down into your seat and kept the light of your phone low. The time was 5:35 in the morning.

The airplane awakened a little after six o’clock, brightness flooding in followed by a chorus of groans and moans. You toyed with the sleeves of your jacket and felt incredibly small. The nerves in your chest simmered, and you thought about the shaky steps you would soon take to reach the arms of an old friend. You didn’t know why the blistering excitement felt so bad. You wanted to sit back down and take a one-way flight all the way back home.

-

Luke was in airports all too often.

He grew accustomed to suitcases rattling against filthy marble floors. He memorized the high-pitched, buzzy tone of squeaking escalators in frequented terminals. The familiarity overwhelmed him, and he had almost convinced himself he was among the many travelers on this day.

But he stood alone, not a single ounce of hurry in his bones while he waited for the arrival of an old best friend. The rising sun outside seeped through the large glass windows, yet the warm colors touched his back and kept his chest cold. He wanted your embrace, and he wanted the heat of your smile. Because he didn’t quite remember how it made him feel. He saw your face through pictures and videos, but the comfort of your presence faded from his memories.

Strangers eyed him. He could picture them searching the depths of their brain and wondering why they knew him. At the moment, he wished he wasn’t known. He wished he was seventeen again, the year the excitement was fresh and when the world didn’t seem so small. He wished he still knew you like he had back then.

Luke was tired.

-

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

i need some fucking food

He felt nauseous and numb as he laughed at your words. It was like stage fright, like the intense, sickening nerves had hadn’t felt in years. His fingers trembled against the screen of his phone.

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

also where r u

can u meet at baggage claim

i get nervous when i have to pick up my bag

i get scared that i’m gonna miss it

is that weird

Luke’s stomach knotted, and he typed out a quick affirmation while he kept his eyes locked on the small crowd of faces. Faces that looked like they hadn’t slept in forty years. But then again, Luke felt as though he looked the same way.

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

what happens if i miss my bag

Luke:

It comes back around.

Don’t worry

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

fffuckkkkkk customs

Luke:

Lol.

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

escalators escalators escalators

Luke:

Eels.

-

Luke swallowed the bile rising to his throat. It had been years. He hadn’t seen you face-to-face in years, and he still wondered what it was about the moment that made him nervous. The anxiety caused him to shiver, and he tugged the sleeves of his sweater up and under his fingers. His eyes ached from lack of sleep, but he hoped your energy would change that. He hoped his nerves would ease the minute you opened your mouth. All he wanted was for it to feel natural.

He thought he saw you. He thought he had immediately recognized you from across the room, but the stranger was in a dress. Luke knew you would never––in your right mind––wear a dress to travel anywhere. So, he kept his eyes on the person as they walked away, and then there was a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey Squid.”

Luke glanced to his right, heart stammering in his chest at the sound of your voice. You were smiling, your eyes tired yet warm while the jean jacket you wore swallowed you whole. His jean jacket.

“You busy later?”

He cleared his throat and reached up to brush a few hairs away from his face. He didn’t know how to speak or initiate any kind of touch. He didn’t know how to talk to you anymore. “Yeah, sorry,” he mumbled with a small smile. “Got plans.”

“Ah.” You nodded. “You do?”

Luke hummed. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking. “Meeting up with this old friend,” he said. “They flew all this way t’see me, and to be honest, that was kinda dumb of them.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you replied with a laugh. “We gonna hug or just like, stand here looking like assholes?”

“The latter,” he said, and you rolled your eyes. Luke laughed as he allowed himself to push down nerves and throw his arms around you. It was a warm hug, just like he wanted it to be. “I see you still got that fuckin’ jacket.”

“Technically, it’s your jacket,” you said, pulling away. Your hair was messy, but he found it endearing. You looked like his best friend even though the years had separated the two of you. You looked soft and sweet, and he didn’t know why he wanted to keep holding you.

You nodded to yourself. “Got my suitcase,” you told him. “No thanks to you. In case you didn’t know, this isn’t baggage claim.”

“Shit,” he muttered. “’m sorry. I’m tired.”

“Oh, sorry to bother you,” you replied, smiling brightly before sending him a wink. “I’ll be going then.” You took a few steps toward the door.

Luke caught your arm. “No, no, you’re not leaving me. We’ve come this far. You’re stuck with me.”

“Oh, joy.”

“I don’t need your sarcasm, babe,” he said, and two of you made your way outside into the cool morning.

You stumbled behind him, your suitcase smacking against large chunks of concrete on the sidewalk. “Babe? Shit. I just shuttered.”

Luke chuckled. His nerves hadn’t disappeared, but he tried hard to ignore them. He felt out of place. He felt as though his head and his body did not exist on the same plane. He felt like he was caught in a dream. Or maybe it was a nightmare.

“Hey, Lu?” You yawned and curled yourself up in the passenger seat of his car.

Luke thought you looked too damn good. He wanted to tell you. “If you put your feet on my dash, I’ll kill you,” he said instead.

You mumbled something incoherent.

Luke slid his keys into the ignition. “Okay, well, that was not English,” he said, “but nice try.”

“Shut up. I’m tired.”

“I’m tired,” he mocked.

You hit his arm, and his laughter filled the small car. “I’ll kill you first. I was gonna ask you if we can get breakfast, but I changed my mind.”

Luke kept his eyes on the road ahead of him, but he ached to look over at you. He ached to take you in and memorize you like he had done over seven years ago. “We can get breakfast, babe,” he said quietly, glancing your way, and then he smiled. Your knees were pressed to your chest, and you had closed your eyes.

At the stop sign, Luke waited a moment to accelerate. The sunrise painted gold into the sky and onto your skin. He wondered if you had always looked this beautiful. He wondered if he had ever thought so before. All he could remember was the present, and every memory was drowned out by the soft scent of your perfume in his car.

The jean jacket you wore had been his once. He never saw how it looked on you. And he never imagined that the sight of you in it would one day take his breath away.

-

“Do you think I should leave it unbuttoned like this?”

“You’re really asking for my opinion on that?”

“Yes.”

You narrowed your gaze.

“Okay, you’re right,” he said, “unbuttoned it is.”

You rolled your eyes. “Love that my opinion is so valued.”

It had only been a day. Your body clock had yet to reset to the time difference, and you spent the afternoon prior knocked out on Luke’s bed with Petunia cuddled against your stomach. It hadn’t been a terrible way to nap, although your neck ached when you woke. The situation was still surreal. You still refused to believe you had traveled across the globe to visit someone you felt like you hardly knew. Except you did know him. He was Luke. He ate his gummy worms with peanut butter.

Yet, your eyes lingered on his figure on your way into his kitchen. You gazed a little too long when he talked about his plans with you. Whenever he nudged your shoulder or poked your arm, you thought about his touch for a few minutes after. It had only been a day.

And it didn’t take long for him to invite you out to a club.

You didn’t like the feeling of the leather seats against your thighs on the drive into the city. Your shorts had ridden up, and you had the sense that something about the night was off. It wasn’t the intoxicating fragrance of Luke’s cologne or the exposed bit of chest that drove you wild. It wasn’t the unbroken melody he sang loudly or the expensive boots that added an inch or two to his already-towering height. It was how expensive he looked–– how untouchable he was. You had thrift your jean shorts for $15, and Luke was missing a button off of his designer shirt. But there was something else about the night that bothered you, and you couldn’t quite place it. So, you belted along to his favorite songs and pretended as though you didn’t feel sick to your stomach.

Luke’s smile hardly faltered throughout the night. He introduced you to faces you assumed you would never see again, and then he would buy you another drink without asking. You could feel his energy, and not even the blasting bass could distract you from the weight of his laughter. He knew everyone, but it didn’t come as a shock. He had always loved people, and people had always loved him.

So, you sat quietly on the couch, feeling miles apart yet inches away at best. You twirled the tiny straw with two fingers and watched your old best friend bounce from person to person. He had a big heart, you told yourself, he loved people. But the thoughts never pushed down the sinking feeling that he had forgotten about you. It was halfway through the night, and you had been sitting alone for forty-seven minutes. Luke was nowhere to be seen.

You:

luke

You placed your phone in between your thighs. One single text had sent your heart into your throat, and you weren’t sure why. You weren’t sure why you felt so sick at the thought of his response.

You:

r u ok

where’d u go

A few strangers crowded around the couch Luke placed you at. It was his usual spot, he said. No one ever took his spot. But you sat alone, and not a soul cared to join you. They knew you didn’t belong here.

You:

string bean

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

I’m okay.

:-)

You sighed, letting your head rest against the leather cushion while you watched drunken interactions play out. A song you recognized played throughout the cramped club, and you wished you were anywhere else. You wished you were on a bench overlooking the ocean with a bag of tacos separating you and your friend. You wished you were on the bike path by your house, hand-in-hand with someone you had known all too well. You wished you hadn’t fallen witness to a life you had no part in. You wished you could be the person he wanted you to be.

You:

ok i’m just chillin

The empty glass from your drink had perspired onto the table. After a while, the heat of the room had melted the ice as well, and you were stuck wishing you could conjure up the courage to join the crowd. But you couldn’t. You felt out of place, like you didn’t quite belong. All eyes told you so. You carried on waiting, but you were no longer sure what it was you were waiting for.

You:

r u getting hungry

You stopped waiting for a response after fifteen minutes. Luke had left you for two hours in a club, in some town you had never been to before. He had left you, and you had only been with him for a day. An unsettling feeling grew in your stomach, but you wanted to reject it as much as you could. It was Luke, the boy who shot carrots out of his Nerf Guns but ended up giving himself a black eye. It had to be the same Luke.

You gathered up some strength to stand up. The battery on your phone had been roasted from too many games of Solitaire, and Luke still wasn’t answering your texts. You reached down for your sweating drink, but a pair of arms wrapped themselves around your shoulders before you could.

“Sleepy,” he said, smushing his face against your back. “Why do you smell like pancakes?”

Your body felt frozen beneath his touch. Every muscle tensed. “I don’t,” you replied. “Can we–– can we go? Is that okay?”

Luke’s arms slid off of you, and you could feel his presence now to the right of you. And for some reason, your head hurt at the thought of looking at him. Yet, you did. His curls had slicked down against his rosy, albeit shiny skin, and his eyes were red and droopy. For those few seconds, you weren’t sure why you had thought him attractive. But it quickly changed. He was looking at you, completely looking at you, and he could tell something was wrong.

“Yeah,” he said, his lips falling into a frown. “Course. You okay?”

You nodded and swallowed back the aching tears that threatened in your eyes. “Jet-lagged,” you mumbled. “That’s all.”

Luke nodded, too. “Okay. Yeah. We can go. I’ll get us an Uber.”

“What will you do about your car?”

He seemed to shrug it off, but it was hard to tell through the mass of sweaty bodies. “She’ll be fine. I’ll find a way to get her.”

“I’m sorry.” You hugged your arms close to your chest as the heat from the club transformed into the cool night air.

“No big deal,” said Luke. “Just another Uber trip to come get her. Then I can take her right back.”

“No, um, about leaving,” you responded. “I’m sorry that I wanted t’leave.”

Luke glanced at you from over his shoulder, brows furrowed and lip tugged between his teeth. “Don’t be, babe. I was gonna leave soon anyway.”

You nodded, and an uneasy silence settled in the air. You wished for the right words to say, but you brain went blank, and you found yourself counting cars that passed by.

“It’s really good to see you again,” said Luke after a while. His voice was low and hoarse, and it made you feel a new type of warmth. “Forgot what it was like t’be with you. It’s nice. Like a breath of fresh air.”

You smiled at him, but you knew that was all you could do.

“Missed you a lot.” He smiled at you, too, and through that smile, he whispered, “I’m just really happy you’re here.”

-

Luke thought it hurt to look at you. Because when he did, he was reminded of the person he had left behind, the person he could have been had he stayed. You reminded him of a lost potential within himself, and he didn’t like it. It made him feel dejected, like a lost cause. And looking at you caused much more pain than that. Looking at you was like looking at the world in color for the first time. He saw you differently, and he wondered if this was how he was always supposed to see you.

It was unavoidable— the dawning feeling that only worsened every day. You had only been with him for a week. A whole week of stealing glances and swallowing down irritant thoughts that a best friend shouldn’t have. A part of him felt like he couldn’t call himself that. He felt like he knew you, but he didn’t know you. He read your personality through words and not actions. Maybe it was time he opened his eyes to the person you had become.

-

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

can u not send me tweets rn

u r literally right next to me

loser

Luke:

Can you not be rude?

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

no

Luke:

Fight me.

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

hehe ok

kinky

Luke:

Shut up

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

i feel the sexual tension already

-

Luke took a breath and glanced your way. The afternoon had been spent with his friends; a brimming beer cup soirée spent around the fire in Calum’s backyard. And for some reason, Luke felt like an anomaly. He had better luck counting the hairs on his leg than concentrating on a single conversation. Meanwhile, you cradled your first drink of the night, torso hidden behind the heavy jean jacket he once owned. Beneath it, only a floral bathing suit covered you, and it was enough to make Luke wonder why he had bothered leaving home in the first place.

He couldn’t hear what his friends said, but he could focus in on every little thing about you. From the shape of your legs, all tucked in beneath you to the small smile you wore as you listened to his friends speak. Your hair had dried from the few minutes you spent in the pool, and after a while, you pulled it out of your face and up into a bun. Luke thought you looked pretty, and he knew it wasn’t the initial heat of the fire that warmed him.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was wrong. You were quiet––timid almost––while you gazed at the palm shadows against the sunset. Even beyond the smiles, you seemed lost. Luke wanted to know why.

-

Luke:

You hungry?

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

fucking starving

tell cal to get better snacks

Luke:

Lol.

I want tacos

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

yoooooooooooooo

can we get tacos?

Luke:

Let’s get some fucking tacos

-

You hadn’t realized how hard it would be.

Luke started a new life for himself seven years prior, and it messed up your world for a while. It had messed up plans and memories you wanted to make with him. You started your own life without the company of your best friend, but he was still a text message away whenever you needed. Because he was still your friend. He still told you every little detail about his life. You knew how things had changed for him, whether they were for better or worse.

You hadn’t realized you would one day face the life he chose for himself. You hadn’t realized how hard it would be. He was the same, but he was so different. Being here simply acted as a reminder that you no longer fit into his life.

It came to you in heavy waves. When the overall reality hit, it hit like a sheet of sadness. You were washed over by emotions while Luke carried on about his favorite restaurant in Italy. You had never been to Italy or France or Spain. You had never been on grandiose adventures, not like Luke. It only hurt because you wished you had been by his side.

The two of you swung by his place for a change of clothes. There was an unexplainable silence that you chose not to break. You felt as though any word from your lips would feel forced, so you kept quiet instead. When you walked back out into the living room in an old tee and leggings, Luke was already there. He was already waiting for you in the patchy jean jacket that you treasured simply because it once belonged to him.

“Still fits, I guess,” he said, and you smiled. It was like old times, so you took a picture of the moment. Luke shot a goofy grin your way, and you had to pretend like it didn’t make your stomach flutter.

“Are there are any taco places you know of that are still open?” you asked Luke after settling into the car. You kept your hands pressed between your thighs. “I’m not really feeling like shitting my pants at a Taco Bell.”

Luke laughed. “Yeah, I know a place.” He turned on the ignition, and right off the bat, a song by The Summer Set began to blast through the speakers. And it felt like a tension had been swept away with the music.

He kept the windows down as you drove, his one hand firm on the wheel and the other out against the breeze. When he sang, he sang low. You couldn’t find it in yourself to sing at all. You could hardly look at him. Yet, you had given into temptation. You gazed at him during the verses and glanced away at the choruses, letting the city lights seep in while you listened to his soft voice. Luke drummed on the wheel during the upbeat melodies, and you found yourself reminiscing on old memories no matter how much you wanted to repress them.

He had always been an awkward kid. The heart on his sleeve never faded or splintered–– it just grew with each passing day. His presence made any form of discomfort wash away, and it still felt that way now. But, as people do, he had changed, and you struggled to find the good in everything. Around you, it was the same Luke you knew. Around others, he had built up a façade for himself. It broke your heart.

Street lamps glistened against the pavement as rain drizzled down. It didn’t last long, and the droplets on the windshield soon dried, but it left an earthy petrichor in the air. A comforting scent that only came with rain. The breeze slipped through your fingers, and you soon felt the words of familiar songs bubble in your chest. They left your lips a second later just as you began to smile. There was something oddly beautiful about the melancholy moment.

So, Luke sang loudly, his hands hitting the wheel while you cried your favorite lyrics. It all came rushing back, and the sorrow melted away. You wished Luke had never left, but you were happy to have this night with him.

-

You unwrapped your taco on your lap. “I’m not gonna tell you you’re wrong for putting that much sour cream on your taco,” you said, kicking your feet out on the stone wall before you, “but you disgust me.”

The waves crashed along the shoreline in the distance, and the beach was dark and eerie. It didn’t matter that it was ten o’clock at night–– the nearby park was busy and loud.

“Oh, I forgot to ask,” said Luke, “is it okay if I put sour cream on my taco?”

You kicked his thigh as he broke out in hysterics, and you thought, this is it–– this is what I’ve been waiting for.

“If you get that shit on my jacket, I’ll kill you,” you responded, meanwhile taking an unattractive bite out of the hard shell of your taco. Shredded cheese fell to the ground below.

“Isn’t it technically my jacket?”

You shrugged “Maybe if you had actually bothered keeping it.”

Luke let out a small gasp, and a large dollop of sour cream plopped against the wrapping on his lap. “Maybe if you were smart enough, you’d realize I let you keep it.”

“Oh, shit. That stings.”

“Good.”

“Fuck you,” you said with a laugh. “I deserved to keep it. I was the one who added all of those patches anyway.”

Luke furrowed his brows. “Not true. I added––“ He twisted around and pointed at a small bunny patch on the shoulder. “––this one.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your tongue. “You deserve more credit for the tiny bunny patch you found on the side of the road.”

“Thank you.” Luke sighed and grinned, sending a wink your way before biting into his sour cream-coated taco.

You watched the hard-shell crack and fall apart beneath his grip, and you watched as he pouted once the food hit his lap. You stared for too long, burning the image of him in your brain until you were confident it was permanently in there. It burned a little too hot and for a little too long. It continued to burn along the highway while the waves stirred beside you. You were nestled between the hills and the ocean, a cute boy to your left and a strip of heaven laid down before you.

Luke drove for an hour, taking exit after exit until he pulled off near the mouth of a lake in the mountains. The air was stale yet breezy, and exhaustion overwhelmed you. But you kept your eyes from drooping just so you could keep looking at the person you hadn’t realized you missed.

“Come home soon,” you whispered into the dark night. Bugs and other creatures hummed in the distance, meanwhile, you kicked up the crumbled pavement and leaned back against his car. “It hasn’t been home without you.”

Luke let out a quiet laugh, but it was muffled between his lips. “Gonna get all sappy on me now, huh, babe?” he asked, but his smile soon fell when his head turned to face you. He swallowed and faced the stagnant water ahead. “I wanna come home,” he said, “but I feel like I don’t belong there anymore.”

“You’ve always belonged.”

Luke didn’t speak.

“I don’t belong here,” you said, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. You had expected an outrageous reaction, something that assured you that he thought you did belong. But he stayed quiet. “This whole city, this place, it’s–– I mean it’s wonderful. I love it. But it’s not me.”

“It’s weird to have you here,” said Luke. His voice had lowered into a faint hush, yet you felt it in your bones. “Not bad weird. You’re just home. You feel like home. I’m not used to that here.”

“You’re home,” you mumbled.

Luke didn’t waste another moment. He pulled you into a hug, one that reminded you of teenage years and restless late nights. It reminded you of a warmth you lost, of strong arms that hadn’t held you in seven years. His chest expanded with each breath, and you listened closely to the air as it left his lips. And then you couldn’t help but dig your fingers into the rough denim along his back. You couldn’t help but press yourself against his chest in order to feel his heartbeat in sync with yours. You ached to embrace his scent–– you ached to embrace everything about him.

There was something in the air as you pulled away, something thicker than the hint of humidity. Whatever it was, you had trouble letting go of Luke. It felt like you had stood there for ages, just staring at his chest and holding onto his waist as if your life depended on it. You felt like crying, and you felt nervous. Something about his presence made you nervous.

When you looked up, Luke had already been looking down at you. A small smile was playing on his lips, and you could hardly see the twinkle in his eye through the dark night. But you weren’t focusing on his eyes. You focused in on that smile, the one that stretched his smooth, pink lips just slightly. The one that kindled some spark in your chest, and you couldn’t look away.

Luke placed a hand on your jaw, his long, slim fingers cradling you in a soft manner. “You okay?” he asked breathily.

You replayed his words in your head and thought about the ways his lips moved around them. No, you weren’t okay. But you didn’t mind the feeling.

“Yeah,” you whispered. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears. At the same time, it felt like you couldn’t breathe. The desire to kiss him was overwhelming, and it ached and ached. You tightened your grip on his waist, eyes flickering back up to where his lips had pulled into a concerned pout.

Luke let out a breath and tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. His fingers were firm on the back of your head, and then he pulled you in. His lips were on yours, hard yet passion-filled, and neither of you could move. But when he ran out of air, Luke pulled away slowly. His top lip brushed yours as he moved, yet the pressure never left. It still felt like he was kissing you.

Luke had kissed you. And you hadn’t wanted him to stop.

You smiled, fingers toying with the opening of his jean jacket as you glanced down at your shoes. “That was new,” you said lowly.

He laughed, meanwhile running his thumb along the apple of your cheek. It made you feel safe. “Sure was,” he mumbled. “Not bad, though.”

“No,” you replied, looking up. His gaze was intense, but it was the kind of intensity that summoned butterflies. You shrugged. “Not bad at all.”

“Good,” said Luke. “Cos I was plannin’ on kissing you again, but I wasn’t sure if we were on the same page, or––“

You tugged him in and leaned forward to press your lips on his again. You felt him smile against the kiss, and you had to smile, too. Luke’s opposite hand met your other cheek as the kiss deepened. You didn’t mind it–– you had no reason to mind it. In fact, you loved it. You craved it. It was warm and soft, and it made your toes curl. His lips felt like velvet. The heat crawled up into your chest, but the kiss soon ended before the moment carried on.

You felt lighter than air. Small puffs of air escaped your lips while you tried to laugh. And Luke was laughing, too. You were each other’s best friend, and you had kissed.

“Wanna keep driving?” Luke asked you, tracing your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

You grinned and nodded before pecking his lips. And then you skipped over to the passenger seat to once again fill the night with new memories to be made.

-

Luke grabbed your hand and laced your fingers with his while The Summer Set continued to blast throughout his car. It felt good to touch you, to finally feel you after all of these years. For some reason, he craved your touch even more now. It had only been a week, yet Luke quickly realized the effect you had on him. It had never been like this before, and he was relieved to know you felt the same way, too. He couldn’t get enough of you.

He wanted every piece of you.

“Should we head back home?” you asked at around two in the morning, lips red from the 7-Eleven slushie you were slurping.

Luke smiled at your appearance. His heart swelled at the sight of you so comfortable in his company. It made him want to hold you and never let go. “You gettin’ tired, babe?”

You giggled. “Never said that.”

Luke’s face physically ached from the weight of his grin.

“I like it when you call me that,” you said.

“Hm?”

“When you call me ‘babe’,” you spoke. “I like it.”

Luke felt a chill rush over him. He wanted to call you “babe” every single fucking day–– he never wanted to stop. “Yeah, babe?”

You hummed.

Luke’s hand instinctively reached out to place itself on your thigh, and he froze. But you didn’t react. When he looked over, your smile hadn’t left.

“Is this okay?” he asked you, fingers burning and shifting against your leggings. His eyes left the road for a split second to watch you nod. Luke smiled again and squeezed your thigh, emitting a quick squeal from you. The sound was music to his ears, and he couldn’t believe how fast he had fallen for everything about you.

The silence that fell over was comfortable.

“Is this what Brian felt like when he wrote Passenger Seat?” you asked after a while.

Luke glanced at you, smile still wide as he slowly replied, “it’s exactly what he felt.”

He took you down to a small beach off of the beaten path after that. The waves were loud, almost violent as he kept his hand firmly locked with yours. The breeze had picked up, but he could still hear your teeth chattering through the gusts.

“Gosh, sure is nice to have a jacket to keep me warm right now,” said Luke while he set himself down into the sand.

“Sh-shut the fuck up,” you muttered, plopping right beside him. “You’re such a fucking j-jackass.”

Luke laughed and took off his jacket, nevertheless. You pulled it over you before falling against him, head nestling onto his shoulder as you brought your knees up for warmth.

“It’s so dark,” you said a few moments later. “Did you come here to murder me?”

“How’d you know?” gasped Luke.

You shoved him away, he only tugged you in closer. You set your head on his lap, and the two of you sat there for thirty minutes in complete silence. He hadn’t wanted to stay quiet–– he had so many things bouncing about in his brain, but he couldn’t find it in himself to say a single word. He couldn’t tell you that this week had been the best week of his entire life, and he couldn’t beg you to stay. He couldn’t keep you in a city you hated to be in.

It had hurt to hear you say that, but he didn’t disagree. Los Angeles didn’t fit you; it never would, no matter how much he wanted you to stay with him. You belonged in comforting towns, ones filled with life and love but held hopes and dreams high. You belonged with him, yet he wasn’t sure where he belonged either. It was too painful to think about.

So, Luke kissed your forehead and ran his fingers along your arm. If he could hold you forever, then he wouldn’t have to think about anything else. He wouldn’t have to think about saying goodbye to you within the next week. He wouldn’t have to think about losing all of the built-up feelings that had surfaced within the past few days. He wouldn’t have to think about losing you.

You were curled up in the passenger seat of his car on the ride home. Your eyes had succumbed to exhaustion at the beach, and he carried you all the way back without stirring you awake. It filled his heart with so much love to see you so calm and peaceful–– he wanted to take you home and hold you for the rest of his life. But he couldn’t do that. He buckled you in, kissed your forehead once more, and then drove home in silence. It left him alone with his thoughts, and he didn’t like that.

“Lu?” Your eyes fluttered open as he unbuckled you and prepared to take you into his home.

“Mornin’, darling,” he said, cracking a smile.

You hummed. “You don’t have t’carry me,” you said, “but thank you.” You rubbed at your tired eyes, and he grabbed your hands to help lift you out of the car. You fell against him and pulled him into a tight hug.

He chuckled, but he didn’t say anything. He just held you close.

“I’ve missed you so much,” you mumbled into his shirt. You leaned back to look up at him.

Luke smiled, and he felt like the luckiest man in the world. He kissed you softly before pulling you back into a hug. “I’ve missed you, too.”

-

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

On my way home.

Still okay with going to the party?

You:

ya i wanna black out and vomit in a pool

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Please do not do that.

You:

don’t poop on my party

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

It’s technically not your party

You:

party pooper

stinky pooper

ur stinky

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

You’re stinky.

You:

yes

-

The next day was weird.

It felt like the night prior had been some drug-induced dream filled with romcom storylines inside a coming-of-age film. It was an old memory resurfaced–– a moment you had shared with him many years prior. Things changed so suddenly.

And neither of you spoke of it. You didn’t know how to. At the same time, you weren’t sure you wanted to.

It had been beautiful in the moment, but thinking back, you weren’t sure it had been a good idea. Luke was Luke, a famous rock star living among the elites in Lost Angeles, and you were a shell of a best friend, old remnants of a life he used to live. You weren’t the one for him, and you never had been. He had too many choices before him; he wouldn’t choose his best friend.

A friend was hosting a birthday party, one you assumed would involve a cake and stupid decorations, perhaps presents as well. But the house was packed upon arrival, and it felt more like a frat party than anything. You wished you had known, yet you fisted the skirt of your black dress and ambled in behind Luke, feeling more like a lost puppy than ever.

Because he had always been a people person. He had always loved people.

You lost him at some point in the night. You scoured the premises, searching for his bright red button-down amongst the sea of illustrious eyes. And then there was you, looking sad and somewhat angry while you searched for your best friend. He had done this only a week ago. He had left you to fend for yourself against a pack of B-list wolves. You hardly felt human in comparison.

Sweat had accumulated against your back while you wandered the crowded rooms. You admired the architecture through a Mike’s Hard haze, wishing you had left town when Luke did to maybe make a name for yourself in and amongst the wealthy. The guilt would have eaten you alive; it would have been all at Luke’s expense.

You found him in the kitchen at one point during the night. He stood there with his friends crowded around, a dazzling yet drunken smile etched on his features, and it seemed as though his eyes alone lit the whole room. The knot building in your stomach was uncomfortable. His laugh echoed, and you had to excuse yourself before he could glance your way.

So, you wandered again and retraced your steps, wondering if you would ever know your place in a world this big. It felt like you never would.

You hadn’t gotten black-out drunk, nor did you vomit in a stranger’s pool. Instead, you sat by that pool with your feet plunged into the illuminated water, fingers still cradling the neck of your lemonade while you listened to strangers talk. The bright blue below made you feel sick, so you stared up at the light-polluted sky and hoped for the night to be over soon.

And then there was a tap on your shoulder.

“Jesus Christ–– thought I lost ya for good,” said Luke, voice hoarse and slurred while he slumped down onto the brick beside you. He stuck his feet in the water without rolling up his pants.

“Nope,” you mumbled. “Been here.”

Luke was smiley, and the freckles on his nose seemed more prominent under the teal hue from the pool.

“Where’d you go?” you asked him, yet your heart ached at the thought of him leaving you the way he did. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Uh, y’know.” Luke shrugged. “This, there, n’ that.”

You shook your head. “No. I don’t know.”

“I’ve been looking for you,” said Luke, fingers running along the surface of the water before gently splashing your knees. “Wanted t’show my girl around. People kept asking ‘bout you.”

“Your–– your girl?” The words rattled around in your brain, but at the moment, they didn’t settle quite right. They would have sounded wonderful the night prior. But you weren’t property. You weren’t his girl.

Luke glanced at you, eyes shiny and dark, and his lips tugged into a lazy smile. He smelled of whiskey sour and bourbon, a combination that made your stomach churn. You admitted his proximity intimidated you, and you admitted that you wanted nothing more than to go back to last night.

Suddenly, Luke was leaning in to kiss you, and all you could do was push him back. It had been sloppy and wet. It had been wrong.

You couldn’t speak.

“Sorry?” he asked. His eyebrows scrunched together.

You stood quickly, reaching down to fix your dress before you walked off. Luke was hot on your tail.

“I thought you were cool with that!” he exclaimed as he stomped through the grass behind you. A few strangers turned their heads, so you faced him and kept him close. “Did last night mean anything to you?”

“Yes,” you said flatly. “Last night meant everything to me. But last night means nothing now. It has to mean nothing now.”

Luke laughed and ran his fingers through his hair. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Us, Luke,” you said, holding out your arms. “We’ve been best friends for like, ten years, and suddenly that changes in one night. Maybe if we were on similar paths, it would actually work. But it doesn’t work, Luke. It just doesn’t. Not for us.”

His face relaxed, and his lips pulled into a frown. “Not for us?” he whispered. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that you’re you,” you said, “and I’m me. We live on two different parts of the world, and we still don’t know where we belong. It’s not the right time–– if there’s even a right time at all.” You hugged your bare arms as a light breeze blew over.

“Who fucking cares?”

“I care,” you replied.

Luke let out an exasperated sigh. “Fucking hell,” he mumbled, laughing lightly. “Why do you have t’care? Just say fuck it. Do what you fuckin’ want.”

“No, Luke, I can’t just do that––“

“God, you’re being so annoying.”

You blinked. “I’m–– what?”

Luke blanched and swallowed. “Nothing.”

“I’m being so annoying?” you asked with a smirk. “Oh, wow. Okay. Sorry. I guess I’ll stop being so annoying then.”

“No,” said Luke. “I didn’t mean that.”

“You can’t take it back.”

“Please.” His eyes widened, and his sincerity radiated off of him. “I didn’t––“

“What did you mean?”

“What?”

You sighed. Your stomach hurt, and you wanted to just go home. “If you didn’t mean it, then what did you mean?”

Luke shrugged. “Just think you’re being kinda unreasonable.”

“What?” you questioned. “Because I don’t like it here?”

“Because you’re not open to trying!” yelled Luke.

His raised voice made your heart stop. It made every built-up emotion ache to release in an instant. But you wouldn’t let yourself cry. “I want to try,” you said weakly. “I wanna try so badly. But I wanna be happy, Lu.”

He folded his arms over his chest.

“I’m happy with you,” you continued. “But I’m not gonna be happy here. As much as I like being with you, it’s not gonna cancel any of that out.”

Luke didn’t reply. He stared at you, eyes glazed and emotionless.

“I’m gonna go home,” you said.

“Okay.”

You nodded. “I mean, home home.”

Luke’s eyes filled with another unreadable emotion. “Why?”

You sighed again, but this time, you felt annoyed as well. You felt like every feeling from the night prior had dripped from your shoulders. You felt like it had all gone down the drain. “I don’t belong here,” you said.

“Yes, you fucking do!”

“I’m going home,” you repeated, this time harsher as your eyes brimmed with tears.

Luke’s composure fell. There was silence for a moment, and then he nodded. He nodded twice. “Okay,” he mumbled. “Okay.”

-

Luke had been peeling the skin from around his nails.

The two days following the party had been spent in heavy tension. It took every ounce of him to not bring it up–– he wanted to talk about everything he had said, yet the more time that passed, the more he forgot. But he remembered every change in your expression, and his stomach churned at the thought of him upsetting you the way he did. He wanted to take it all back.

You didn’t mention it either. You packed up your belongings quietly, and he didn’t bother you. He didn’t bother exhausting you over words that meant little in the grand scheme of things. Because as much as he wanted you to stay, he knew that you had no choice. In a perfect world, he could drop everything for you. In a perfect world, he could settle down and be with you for the rest of his life. Nobody made decisions in the span of a week, but he wished he could.

He saw you. He didn’t want to see anyone else.

Luke drank his coffee cold on your last day. It stained his white shirt, yet he kept his feet planted against the tiles in his kitchen. He didn’t go change because you were back in the guest room, and he knew that his chest would hurt the sight of you. He knew he would try to say things to make you stay. He knew that they would fail.

He heard the wheels of your suitcase before he saw you. And then you were there, jean jacket draped over your arm while you waited for him to speak up. Luke didn’t know how to talk anymore. He only felt dejection.

“My flight leaves in four hours,” you said, grip tightening around the handle of your suitcase.

Luke nodded. He wanted to believe you were sad, too. He wanted to believe you still thought about that night only days ago.

“I can call a cab,” you continued with a shrug. A light-hearted shrug that felt out-of-place.

He shook his head. “I’ll take you,” he said, but his voice was weak.

“Okay.”

And the familiar silence clicked back into place. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It hadn’t felt like this before. Leaving you at sixteen was full of smiles and “see-you-soon”’s. But with you leaving now, it felt like you were leaving for good.

Luke nodded again. “Okay.”

The ride to the airport was quiet. It was a sickening quiet, one that brought on the urge to cry and scream. He wanted to yell at himself for being so fucking ridiculous. His fingers tensed against the steering wheel.

When Luke parked the car, the words “I’m sorry” tumbled from his lips.

You glanced over. “What for?”

A part of him wanted to laugh. You knew the exact reasons why he felt sorry.

But he just shrugged. “For throwing you into my life,” he said. “It was selfish of me. I didn’t think about how it would make you feel.”

“You didn’t mean it like that,” you replied. “I know you didn’t. You were just showing me your life.”

“But it was too much.”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

You gave Luke a small, sad smile before reaching over and grabbing his hand. You intertwined your fingers with his.

“If it’s okay,” you said, “I’d still like to be a part of your life.”

Luke smiled, too. “Yeah,” he breathed out. “It’s always okay.”

-

You felt sick.

You held Luke’s hand on your way into the airport, and you dreaded letting go. You dreaded the idea of possibly never feeling his touch again. You weren’t saying goodbye for good, but it felt like you were.

“Here’s where I leave you,” he mumbled, voice breaking at the last few words, and his grip on your hand loosened.

You refused to let him go. When you turned around, Luke’s façade had chipped. His eyes welled with tears, and soon enough, yours had, too. You pushed yourself against him in a tight embrace, arms meeting around his neck while his wrapped around your waist. The tears slipped down your cheeks before you could stop them.

You wondered why it was so hard. You wondered why it hurt so much.

You held him for as long as you could before losing your balance. Yet, when you pulled away, you didn’t let go of him. You stood on your toes to brush your nose against his.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, clutching the collar of his shirt as you pressed your lips to his through tear slicked cheeks.

Luke held you closer, and this time, he didn’t let you pull away. His lips were warm and wet, but it was perfect. Everything about him was perfect. It hurt so much. You wanted to kiss him forever.

When all air ceased, Luke rested his forehead against yours, and you could feel his own tears falling against your skin. His breath was hot on your lips. And then you pulled him in again, teeth clashing in a hard yet heartbreaking kiss. You didn’t care–– you just needed to feel his lips again.

“Don’t leave,” he mumbled.

Your arms weakened around his shoulders, hands soon resting on his chest as you began to move away. It hurt to smile, but you did it anyway. “Gonna miss you, Squid,” you said, and your eyes watered once more.

Luke sniffed, and as your hand cupped his cheek, he leaned into you. He let out a breath. “Gonna miss you, too,” he said.

Your hand fell back to your side. “Well,” you said, swallowing down the tears that threatened to spill. You shot him another smile. “I’ll let you know when I land.”

He nodded. “Yeah, um––“ He scratched the back of his head. “Thank you.”

So, you nodded, too. “See you soon, String Bean.”

And finally, Luke smiled, too.

You gathered your belongings and slowly made your way to the security line, stomach twisting as your thoughts invaded. You couldn’t shake the negative feelings away. Every glance over your shoulder reminded you that you didn’t want to say goodbye. Every step felt erroneous. You looked back at Luke.

He waved at you, and your chest caved in.

It was wrong. Everything was wrong.

Your eyes scanned the line and the many travelers waiting with their tickets in hand. You looked at the agents who seemed less than pleased to be there that day. And finally, you locked your gaze back on Luke again, and your heart tugged.

It was wrong.

So, you left the line and walked back over to him, and he watched you the entire time.

“I’m sure there’s a later flight,” you sputtered out, heart pounding in your chest while a grin spread on his cheeks. You smiled in return.

“Yeah,” he said, laughing. “I’m sure there is.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck again and kissed him until your head spun. It finally felt so right.

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[malfoysqueen54]

White Flag  Part 4

Dean and her grew up together, trained together. Also, absolutely can’t be in the same room without a fight ensuing. When she has to come back and help out the boys and their friends. If she stays too long will all her secrets come out. She swore he would never know, circumstances and their friends and family, they might have other ideas.

Pairing : Dean X Reader

Warnings: Angst!, oh and ANGST! . Anger issues. Dean angry and yelling. (That needs a warning).  Smut. Sexual situations, cussing, blood, gore, the usual Supernatural warning.  This could be a triggering chapter!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!! 18+ ONLY!!!

Also @winchest09​ and @jensengirl83​ Thanx for the help and the fixing of all the words...lol Love you both!!!

2014

She was looking for him. After Sam’s desperate call to her, Dean was dead. Yet, he had left a note. He was somehow alive. They didn’t know what was happening. She took what Sam said and ran with it. It was taking every favor, resource, I.O.U she had. She spotted him twice but by the time she got there he was gone. It was infuriating. Finally after weeks, she tracked him down to Montana. Figures he would stay in the midwest, it was the Winchester comfort zone. 

Her anger rolled off her in waves, pinpointing him at a motel in Butte. Y/n didn’t bother with keys or lock picks and let her pure rage kick the door in. The two occupants of the room woke up. The brunette sat straight up holding the sheet to her, as Dean lazily raised up onto his elbow.

Y/n let out a snort, coming over to grip the bed warmer by her hair, not caring as she screamed. Dragging her out the door, she threw her clothes after her before she slammed the door shut. She leaned against it for a moment trying to calm herself but she couldn’t, whirling around as Dean was pulling on a t-shirt, his jeans already on, his back to her. “This is what you do? I mean you're alive and you just take off on Sam and everyone?”

Dean sighed, not bothering to turn around. “Yup, didn’t want to be found. Wanted to do me.”

“Do you? Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve been doing you your whole fucking life!” She huffed, running her hands through her hair. “ Sam called me. ME?!” she gestured towards herself, even though his back was still her. “He asked me to help hunt you down. The person you hate most in the world. What the hell Dean?!”

He finally turned towards her and smirked. “ Well you are right, I fucking loathe you.” 

Her eyes narrowed at him. “I am aware, asshole.”

“I left him a note for a reason. I am done.” He shrugged.

Y/n huffed tossing her arms up. “Oh well that explains everything. It will make us all go away.”

“I wish it would.” He grabbed a beer and tossed her one, which she caught. She was livid and needed it. This fucking man was just unbelivable.

“You are a selfish prick. I swear to god! Sam will not give up, you know this.” She didn’t understand his mindset, why would he think this was ok?

“Y/n he did once, he will again,” he said, simply taking a pull of his beer.

She shook her head in disbelief. “You are just cosmically fucked up. No! Sam won’t. He knows you’re alive, dickhead. Your Sammy, your baby brother. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Ah, Hell, good answer.” He turned, pointing that smirk in place.

A growl crawled up her throat before she threw the beer at him which he dodged. “Fuck I hate you! You are so selfish sometimes.” Her hands flew around as she screamed at him.

Dean didn’t flinch, taking a swig of his beer, watching her pant in rage and narrowed his eyes in a very almost sinister manner.

“I’m selfish,” he laughed. “Thats funny,” she couldn’t look away from him. Something was different, very different with him. She barely noticed him slowly approaching her. “Especially from you.”  The hand holding his beer poked into her collarbone. “You wish you hated me. I know you do, but you don’t.”

Y/n knocked his hand away but he gripped her wrist. His reflexes were quicker as he jerked her against him. “Let me go you pig,” she warned, narrowing her eyes.

“I don’t think I will,” he said, bringing his free hand up to grip her chin. “I know you have wanted me for years. You were just such a cunt, I couldn’t deal with you, I hate you.” His finger caressed her skin as she kept that defiant gaze on him. She was good, she didn't even flinch. “Now though, it makes me want to fuck the bitch out of you.” Biting his lip, his eyes grew cold. That she flinched at. This wasn’t Dean. This was so off.

She tried stepping away and to get out of his hold. It was no good, he jerked her right back and slammed his mouth to hers switching his grip to her ass, pulling her flush against him. Y/n immediately pulled away and slapped him. Dean just smiled, slipping a hand into her hair and jerking her lips back to his. She pushed and clawed but he tasted so good, and damn if it didn’t make her lightheaded. He ravaged her mouth into submission, her lips opening to him and he dove in pushing her roughly back against the dresser.

When he stopped for air, he looked her in the eye, his mouth still touching hers. “It won’t matter much soon. I’ll fuck the brat right out of you and you’ll only be begging and screaming for more. Cause I will give it to you, you are gorgeous.” He bit her lip, lifting her none too gently on top of the dresser knocking over beer bottles that were littering the room. 

She did not want to respond, but she shivered lightly, his words causing a flood in her core. He groaned into her mouth, like he could smell her and it vibrated through her. She felt his lips move to her neck biting and sucking, marking her and she took a panting breath. “D-Dean.” She tried to push at him but he ignored her, slipping his hand into the front of her jeans, his fingers reaching the flood he caused.

“Shhhh,” he lulled into her ear as he stroked her, a whimper escaping her as she gripped his shoulders, digging her nails in lightly. “Let go, enjoy and take what you want.” His tongue traced her ear as Y/n growled, bucking her hips towards his hand with a moan. “That’s my girl.” He smiled into her ear.

No more could she deny that she wanted this. The minute he touched her, she became a desperate wanton pliable tool for his pleasure. After decades, she couldn’t exercise self control to stop it. She had wanted him for so long, not just physically, but as pathetic as it was, she would take it. She couldn’t hate herself more than she already did. He made it clear it was physical. She could and would suffer the after effects from this one time with him. Jesus Christ, she felt like a teen movie trope. She gasped a moan as he slid two of those rough elegant fingers into her, all thoughts ceased, her mind going to mush.

He retracted them just as quickly as he slid them out, followed by her whimper, his fingers now working on her jeans, opening them and practically ripping them off. Her jacket and shirt were quickly shed by herself, when she met his gaze again. He was kneeling between her legs his shirt once again gone, licking a slow line up her inner thigh, watching him sink his teeth into her skin. 

Gasping, she tossed her head back to the wall. “ I always knew you were the rough dirty kind.” Dean's voice carried to her through the haze of desire, nuzzling her nether lips making her nails dig into the dresser. She wanted him, he was so close. 

“Please.”

Was all she was able the shudder out, feeling his lips quirk before he dove in like a crazed, starved man. If eating out a woman was an art form, he would be Picasso, blue period. Fingers gripped his hair urging him to all her right spots.

“Words, babygirl.” Dean demanded.

A heavy moan left her with the nickname. “Right there!”

Dean's nose nudged her just so as his tongue dove deep for the treasure he sought. Edging her entrance, teasing, keeping Y/n at the brink before delving deep and hard without warning.

“Fuck, I- I need to cum.” She heard her voice beg, her legs shaking, starting to close but suddenly Dean's large hands were on her knees forcing them wide apart making her convulse with no way to control the waves of pleasure.

“Fuck, yes.”  The whimper sounded too pathetic, needy, right on the edge. He didn’t let up this time now, he forced two orgasms out of her before she fought him off her center, with aftershocks rocking her, she slid off the dresser as he stood. Narrowed flaming eyes watched him as she pushed him back across the room onto the bed. Enveloped by a erotic need that had never happened before, she hit her knees as he sat. Her nimble fingers quickly undoing his jeans and pushing them and his boxers past his waist and off. An almost anime twinkle glazed over her eyes, seeing a beautiful erection before her. Mouth watering, Y/n stroked him in reverence before her tongue went to work on him. Tracing and learning every vein. Memorizing it for nights she took care of herself. A forceful tug of her hair and growl, she knew he wanted it all, which she obliged.

Hitting the back of her throat, she swallowed him all down, making her moan just as Dean did. His head tossed back, lips parted in bliss, she suckled the whole of him before beginning a steady bob of her head. She knew what she was doing. Y/n was no novice.

Dean's hands caged her head like a claw from a claw machine as he fucked into her mouth, taking what he needed. Y/n let her tongue run along the pulsing vein on the underside as her teeth grazed just enough to stimulate. She heard Deans gasp and felt the force as he slid down her throat.

Relaxing her throat, she took him all, till he stalled and came. He tasted like salty cotton candy. It was glorious. 

She batted her eyes once he finally started to plop from her lips. “You done now?” She asked, quirking a brow at him.

A guffawed chuckle from Dean as his thumb rubbed her bottom lip. “Not even close.” Even as he said the words he was stroking that beautiful cock into attention. It was saluting again in moments, it had definitely served time.

Dean's jaw visibly clenched as he pulled her up by her hair and shoved her across to the bed. “Still with that bitchy mouth. You are a challenge. I am very competitive though.” His words barely met her brain as he crawled up her body biting at her neck wrapping her legs around his waist. No warning, no passing go, he slid in with the precision of a porn star all the way to the hilt. Y/n let out a scream of ecstasy clinging to his shoulders digging her nails in for the ride.

“Fuck Dean, yes!” 

Dean nuzzled up to her ear. “ I always pegged you as one who liked it rough, hard, and dirty as hell. That- right there. That is the attraction to you.” Then he started a brutal pace, she knew there would be scratches and bruises for days. It only turned her on more. Hooking her heels into his ass dragging him deeper.

“More, harder!” She gasped already on the edge of another orgasm. 

Dean obliged sitting back on his knees changing the angle to hit that wet spongy spot she needed. The first stroke sent Y/n curling into herself, moaning. He must have gps for a woman's g spot. It was only 4 strokes later she came with her nails dragging down his forearms. Panting still Dean rolled them over so she sat atop him. “My turn. Ride me.”

It was a demand, still quivering Y/n gripped the headboard and began to ride him circling her hips raising slamming back down. The full rodeo cowgirl. She couldn’t get enough. Over stimulated, sensitive. His cock was like candy. She couldn’t stop riding him once he asked. She would take everything he gave and give back just as much. The fucker would know he met his match.

“Come on girl! Take it!” Dean groaned fingers digging bruises into her hips adjusting her speed or helping her move. “Fuck Y/n, I feel it, so close aren’t you. This what you need?” He asked as his thumbs gently brushed her pulsing clit. Sending her orgasm over the edge tossing her head back with a cry of bliss.

“Fuck woman!.” He pushed her off and she was so pliable at that point blissed out of her mind. She thought they were done, nope. Dean still hadn’t cum and he turned her over to her stomach, jerking her hips up. She felt him gently stroke her swollen abused core. “I know you got at least one more.”

She didn’t whimper, she  pushed herself up on her hands and got ready. She would take everything the bastard had. 

Dean slid a little slower into her this time but still started a brutal pace. She moaned lewd lascivious sounds as his hands ran up her skin rolling her back, pressing against him. Wanting every stroke and every inch he had to give. She would make him remember this. Determined to blow his mind. Make him remember her everytime he looked at another woman. At this angle, he hit her directly into that spot once again. Letting her head fall forward as she pressed harder and harder back into him. Till her head jerked up by the grip he had in her hair. She could tell he was close especially how he started to get a little sloppy and groaned. Fucking into her like a man possessed. Little did she know he was.

“Cum again,” he demanded.

Panting slightly Y/n responded, “need more.”

She felt his hand wrap around her throat squeezing gently and she melted against him, now standing on her knees. “You do like rough. That's what you need. Cum with me, you can do it. DO IT!” He snapped as his hips did.

She had never cum on command but that one sent her into subspace practically. Falling over feeling him fill her to the brim with his seed, Jesus H Christ it could have made her cum again if she wasn't numb.

They stayed like that, a panting, sweaty heap of tangled naked limps for nearly 20 minutes. Their ragged breaths the only sound as their heart rates return to normal.

She didn’t really come back to earth till she felt his arms wrap around her from behind. “You know. The payback here isn’t that I just fucked you six ways to hell on a Sunday. It’s- well- you fucked a demon.”

Y/n scoffed, her brow furrowing as she turned to look at him, falling off the side of the bed in shock as she saw black eyes. Dean had black eyes. He WAS a demon!

“Holy shit! WHAT THE FUCK!?” Grabbing a shirt and throwing on the rest of her clothes frantically, as Dean dressed so casually.

“It’s the mark. It won’t let me die, not really. It freed me,” Dean explained as he buttoned up his pants. Y/n was looking for a weapon. Picking up a beer bottle and breaking it on the end of the table. Complete disbelief, Sam would lose his mind. She just fucked Dean and he was a demon. It sent her spinning. How could she, should have known this was too odd, not in his character. She berated herself.

“What ya going to do Y/n/n?!” He glanced at the bottle. “You won’t hurt me, we both know it.” He smirked.

She lunged at him. Yeah- that pissed him off and he was stronger now. Gripping her arm twisting her wrist so she dropped the bottle, his free hand gripped her throat and tossed her across the room over the dresser.

With a groan as she got up. “Nope, you will finally get this through your pathetic ass head. I LOATHE you. You are nothing but a nobody with a warm hole to use for a little bit. Always there when you aren’t wanted!” He yelled, punching her then throwing her into the night stand. Y/n tried to react and punch him, but damn his reflexes were like lighting. “No,” he growled, squeezing her fist crushing her hand she felt the bones snap then he punched her again bashing her head into the wall. “You are pathetic, you are a waste of time and talent.”

Y/n coughed seeing triple but still shakily stood up or attempted too and leaped at him to try and take him down with her body weight. He caught her around the waist though. Wrapping his arm around her,he flung her across the room over the bed into the opposite direction. Shattering the window as her body hit, a cry of pain leaving her as her rib and spine connected with the glass and fell to the floor. She could barely move, through the blood of the cut over her eye she saw him approaching. She tried the only thing her cloudy brain could think of and started saying the Latin for an exorcism.

"Really Y/n," he laughed at her, pulling her head up by her hair roughly. " I'm not possessed. I am who I should have always been and I love it."

That was the last thing she remembered, she passed out after that. 

She had awoken a week  later in the hospital.

@thorne93 @pegasusdragontiger @st-eve-barnes @suz-123@magellan-88 @my-proof-is-you @carryonmywaywardwriters@forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @winchest09 @emoryhemsworth@ formulafun @delightfullykrispypeach @janicho88 @anathewierdo @flamencodiva​ @katehuntington​ @waywardbeanie​ @talesmaniac89​ @deanwanddamons​ @atc74​ @smol-and-grumpy​ @whatareyousearchingfordean​ @superfanficnatural​ @jules-1999​ @flamencodiva​

#dean winchester angst #dean x reader #dean winchesterxreader #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #white flag

[seiyasabi]

Yamaguchi’s Awakening

(Here’s a Yandere Yamaguchi Tadashi x Female Reader story :PP I know you only mentioned a Mommy fic, but I kinda added a lil more ‘spice’ to that lol, so I hope that’s okay! If not, feel free to message me! Also, he’s known the stutter, so I made it a bit prevalent in the story. Sorry if that’s annoying.

TW: !Noncon/dubcon!, Mommy kink!, !You are p mean lol, Painslut Yama!, Masochist Yama!, You physically fight him but he loves it, practically wrestles you to the floor!, thigh fucking, creampie!, Calls himself baby boy but alternates that w ‘pig slut!’, etc.. 

Please proceed with caution!) 

You woke up to Tadashi’s moans, eyes practically popping open in both terror and confusion. You’d taken a nap whilst waiting for him to come home from work, but you hadn’t expected to wake up to such a lewd sound. 

Pushing yourself up with shaky arms, your slip’s thin straps slide off of your moisturised shoulders, causing more of your cleavage to show in the skimpy garment. Tired eyes land on the green haired man’s slumped form, his long, lean body practically falling off of a plush chair on the other side of the room. His large hand is fisting his cock at an alarming pace, while his hips stutter upwards to meet his ministrations. 

“What the hell are you doing?” You frown in mild annoyance, scoffing in disgust. Is he really getting off to your sleeping form? 

“Mu-Mommy!” His face is pulled into the perfect Ahegao expression, tongue lolling out stupidly, as drool drips down his chin. Beads of sweat intermix with his perfectly scattered freckles, and if it weren’t for the fact that Tsukishima helped him kidnap you, you most likely would have found it arousing, “Puh-Please pu-punish me! I-I’m such a-a bad boy!” 

Screwing your face up in disgust, you practically spit venom at him, “Oh my God, you’re fucking disgusting. How dare you-” 

With a loud whine, he cums. His liquidy release coats his chest in large streaks, partially splashing himself in the face with his own spunk. The liquid creates a large puddle on the floor, demonstrating just how much semen he’s stored in his purple tinged balls. The sight before you has left you absolutely speechless, as Tadashi keens and whines for you to punish him. 

“Please, please, Mommy! I-I need you to-” 

“What the actual fuck did I just witness?” Your eyes never leave the puddle on your room’s wood look tile, “Oh my God, you’re such a disgusting pervert.”

At your words, the freckled man practically throws his naked body onto your lap, “Yu-you chose me! That means that you love me, right? A-and if Mommy loves me, she should punish me for being bad! Please hit me!” His previously softened cock is now standing back at attention, humping at your exposed legs. 

One of your perfectly manicured hands (thanks to Yamaguchi’s hard work) shoves his head off of your stomach, “Get the fuck off of me! Clearly, I chose wrong, because you’re just a slobbering pig!” Tears bead his large eyes, but the tall man doesn’t back down. He continues to try to rut against you, causing your shoves to become more violent, until you effectively shove him off of your bed. He lands on the hard ground with a ‘smack,’ as he moans on impact. 

“Ye-yes! Hi-hit me mu-more! I de-deserve it, your baby bu-boy deserves it!” He tries once more to crawl his way onto you, but you react far quicker than him. You use the ball of your foot to push him away by the forehead, dropping him back onto the cold floor. 

“Stay the fuck away from me! I knew I should’ve liked your asshole for a best friend, at least he wouldn’t be such a fucking weirdo!” You push yourself off of your bed, trying to escape to the bathroom, but it’s to no avail. Tadashi, in some sort of lucidity, drags you to the ground with him. His lean form tries to trap you to the floor, but your thrashing limbs and harsh elbows keep him from getting too close, “Stop it! Let go of me-”

“Du-don’t say you want someone else! Your precious piggy will do anything you want! Let your baby boy make his Mommy feel good!” You end up on your back, allowing your hands to worm their way between the two of you, and create a small distance. Taking full advantage of that, you get a single hand up by your face, which gives you the perfect opportunity to slap the dogshit out of the feral man. 

He moans breathily, as if he’s savouring the feeling of your harsh touches, “You’re fucking pathetic, Yamaguchi. No one would willingly choose you, which is why you lied and manipulated me!” You smack him multiple more times, his freckled, drooly cheeks quickly becoming bright red. You force your knees against his toned stomach, kneeing him uncomfortably in the ribs, which he just pushed more of his weight on. 

“Yes! Yes! Tell me more of the things you hate about me! Your harsh words are almost enough to make me cum!” Screwing up your face in absolute fury, you punch him in the throat, whilst simultaneously kicking him in the cock, causing him to cum immediately with a small scream, “Mu-Mommy, your piggy is cumming!” His hot, watery cum lands on your slip clad body, making you want to vomit. So, in a last ditch effort, you shove him off whilst he’s still recovering from a second intense orgasm. 

Scrambling to your feet, you make a break for the bathroom door, only to be dragged down to the floor by a firm grip on your ankle. Tadashi’s hot, wet body slots itself on top of yours, effectively pinning you down. Although he may be quite slim, his sheer size is enough to weigh you down. 

“Get off of me! You’re fucking sick!” He pants next to your ear, practically trying to mount you like a dog. His chest is firmly against your back, pushing down your lower half. His knees spread yours apart, allowing him to slot himself between your legs. 

You try to hit him, but because he’s behind you, your hits don’t land very hard. Both of his hands fumble whilst he tries to push your panties down, causing you to thrash even more than before. Growing tired of your ministrations, he rips the garment from your pussy. 

“Stop it! Yamaguchi, get off of me! Don’t do this to me!” Tears drip down your face in thick rivulets, as you sob in pure fury, “I-I’ll never forgive you! I’ll never forgive a pathetic fuck like you! I should have never become your friend- you don’t deserve any!” He lightly moans at your words, not quite listening to what you have to say, but enjoying your harsh tone. 

“Ye-yes, Mommy! Threaten me! I love how you belittle me so well!” He then tries to force his long cock inside of you, but is unsuccessful. You’d just barely moved your thighs together in time, blocking him from breaching your unprepared walls. But, that doesn’t seem to faze him, as he starts to hump your sweat slickened thighs, “Oh-oh my God, your thighs feel so good, Mommy! Your piggy slut loves them!” His eyes are practically rolling to the back of his head, as multiple squirts of precum escape his cock, slicking your pussy opening inadvertently. 

You throw your elbows at his head again, but he just lets them hit him, relishing your harsh blows. If anything, your attempted hits trigger him to hump you even faster. Which, in turn, unfortunately, causes him to accidentally hook his cockhead on your cunny opening, and force his prick inside of you. Your mouth gapes in both shock and pain, as you let out a shrill scream. He slams a sweaty hand over your mouth, fortunately minding your nose, letting you breathe through it. His entire body is convulsing, as he sits inside of you, relishing your twitching walls around his cock. 

“Mu-Mommy’s piggy lu-loves Mommy’s pu-pussy!” In quick, sudden movements, he bucks his hips into yours, his breeder balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. Your pants and light moans are muffled behind his hand, as you continue to cry and try to get free. Your thrashing does nothing but seat you further on his long cock, allowing him to hit your g-spot with every movement. Your pussy gushes at his ministrations, as you fall limp, “Fu-fuck, Mommy! Mommy, I-I’m gunna cum!” 

Your slack mouth tries to deny him, but your eyes practically roll up into your skull as you cum suddenly, spraying girl cum on his cock and on the floor below your chest, practically covering your entire torso. Feeling your orgasm milking his cock, Yamaguchi cums quickly after you, filling you to the brim with his watery, overabundant cum. It was like he was trying to fill every crevice inside of you with his milk, relishing how well you take him. You practically collapse to the ground, no longer having the strength to hold yourself off of the now slick wood look tile. This, in turn, causes his still cumming cock to fall out of you, spraying your ass and thighs with his seed. 

Yamaguchi strokes himself, trying to wring out as much cum as possibly on your crumpled, fucked out form. He looks down at you with an innocent grin, before smooching you kindly on the face, “Thank you, Mommy, your baby boy feels sooo much better, now that I’ve filled your pretty cunny! Do you want a bath?” 

You say nothing, seemingly still in shock at what just transpired. Yams coos at you, trying to gain your attention, but when you don’t respond, he takes it upon himself to clean you up. 

“It’s okay, sometimes when Tsukki would experiment with me, I’d be too sore to move, too! Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re all pretty and clean after a long, hot bath.” 

With wobbly legs, the tall man stalks off to the bathroom, not batting an eye at your weird silence. 

#yandere yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi x reader #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #tadashi x reader #yandere haikyuu imagines #hq yamaguchi #haikyuu yamaguchi

[lihikainanea]

Tiger calling Bill in the smallest, most submissive headspace she's ever been in. She doesn't even sound like herself on the phone, its soft and almost high pitched because she's floating so sweetly. And Bill is shook. The poor guy is at a loss for words because hearing her like that makes his dick hard. Plus its brand new territory for him because she's never been like this before. What got her there? No clue LOL I'll leave that up to you ;)

Ohhh baby, I love this so, so much.

But like hang on here, is she small in a good way or a bad way? YOU KNOW WHAT LET’S DO BOTH.

Okay so like, a bad way, right? And I kind of love this idea that there’s really nothing that triggered it. Nothing drastic, anyway. I don’t know I feel like we all get in terrible moods that sometimes have no catalyst other than just we feel like being in a terrible mood. Maybe the entire thing is mundane—like, it’s a Wednesday or something. They didn’t have an intense night. Really nothing would have set this off. And tiger is grumpy, because Wednesday. But Bill woke her up, and she was basically just on his chest so when he sat up slowly she didn’t have a choice but to wake up. And he gives her some gentle hugs, some butt pats to coax her into the shower so she can start getting ready. He has a few meetings today and he really didn’t have to be up until later, but may as well start the day now. Bill is annoyingly optimistic like that.

So anyway, he packs up her lunch and she’s basically just like, grumbled incoherent sounds at him the entire time but he’s used to that. Mornings are hard for tiger. But with a sweet smooch and a little butt pinch, she’s on her way.

And who knows—maybe her coworkers are kind of dicks and that triggered it. Maybe she has a lot to do and that triggered it. Or maybe legitimately nothing triggered it, and she just started to spiral. Started to not feel so well, as her mind got away on her. And progressively over the course of like, half an hour—everything just became so loud and overwhelming and so too much and she couldn’t quiet it. Couldn’t fight her way back to rational.

So she called the one person who always can. Who always makes it all go away, and makes everything more clear.

“Hey kid,” he answered on the second ring, “What’s up?

“Hi,” she stuttered out. And Bill has gotten so good that he can tell just by the tone of her voice. Can tell she’s slipping, or that she’s gone completely. In this case, she’s probably halfway there.

“Oh sweet girl,” he murmurs softly, “What happened?”

“I…I don’t know,” she’s trying to talk over the lump in her throat.

“Okay,” he said, “Tiger, where are you?”

“At work,” she mumbles.

He checks his watch. His next meeting isn’t until this afternoon but he can leave home now, meet her at her work, and then go to his meeting after.

“What time are you taking lunch at today, kid?” He asks. She shrugs even though he can’t see her.

“I don’t know.”

“Come downstairs at noon, tiger. I’ll meet you in the lobby,” and he tells her, he doesn’t ask. It’s better that way.

“Okay,” she stutters out. And man, she sounds broken.

“You’re okay sweet girl,” he murmurs to her, “Hang in there for another half an hour, okay? Just half an hour. And then I’ll make it better.”

She sniffles a bit, nodding.

“Do you want to stay on the phone with me until then?” He asks.

“No I can…I can manage,” she mumbles.

“Yes you can. I love you kid, I’ll see you soon. I’ll make it go away for you,” he promises.

And she knows that he will—because he always does—so already he can relax just a tad. And at noon she goes downstairs to the lobby and he’s there, tucking her under his arm and walking her out to his car. There’s not enough time to go home, but he finds a secluded spot—maybe in the dark corner of an indoor parking.

“Climb in the back with me, kid,” he says as he opens the door. He folds into the back and when she joins him, he reaches for her immediately and pulls her into his lap. He kisses her slow and deep, weaving his hands through her hair. 

“Did something happen, sweet girl?” He asked when he finally pulled away. She shook her head.

“I just started to feel…bad,” she mumbled. She dragged her bottom lip between her teeth but he reached forward, gently tugging it loose with his thumb. He gently pushed on her lip and she opened readily, sucking his thumb inside.

“It happens sometimes,” he reassured, “You did good to call me, tiger. That took a lot of strength. You’re so good for me, sweet girl.”

She looked up at him with big eyes and he just pulled her forward, tucked her under his chin and wrapped his arm tight around her.

“You’ve had a lot going on,” he kissed the top of her head, the side of her nose that he could reach, “It’s normal that it all starts to get a bit overwhelming.”

And he let it fall into a comfortable silence, just her in his arms, his thumb in her mouth, trying to pull her out of her own thoughts and just give her a bit of comfort. When it’s almost time for her to go back to work, he shifts her so that she’s facing him again.

“Eyes on me kid,” he commands softly and her eyes snap to his, “I know you have some important shit you need to get done this afternoon, tiger. And you will.You’re going to get through it because that’s what you do. And then when you get home—we’ll really make this go away, okay? I’ll put you on your knees like you need, and we’ll get you feeling good again. Okay?”

She whimpers a little, then nods.

“Just get through the next few more hours kid. You can do it,” he murmurs.

He probably walks her back in, staying with her as much as he can until she has to go. And you know, tiger’s a bad ass bitch and she absolutely powers through the afternoon because now at least…she knows. She knows it’s going to get better, if she can just make it through. And she does. And I’ll bet when she gets home—oh man. She comes through the door and just frantically kicks off her shoes. She can hear Bill in the kitchen and I’ll bet that she barely even greets him. I’ll bet she just goes running in and just…immediately gets on her knees in front of him, her hands in her lap, looking up at him and begging.

“My good girl,” he purrs, walking over to her.

BUT ALSO THEN LIKE

Okay so what if she’s actually in a small head space but in a good way? And again, there’s really nothing that triggered it. Maybe she’s just out with some friends for brunch and she ate well and it’s a beautiful crisp day outside and she’s warm and full of good feelings and she’s just so goddamn soft for her big dude. And she just wants to hear his voice—that deep, velvety purr that still has the slightest lilt to it no matter how much he tries to fight it. So she slips away for a second, goes to find an empty hallway or something and calls him.

“Hey tiger,” he greets, and she can hear the smile in his voice.

“Hi Billy,” she says softly—and again, Bill knows. Bill knows right away. He can’t even pinpoint it, but there’s something in her voice that just tips him off every time.

“Ohhhhh,” he says in realization and his smile gets even bigger, “Hi sweet girl.”

She’s smiling now too—and goddamnit, she’s even blushing.

“Hi,” she says again. Because why fight it? She is his sweet girl.

“Are you having a good time?” He asks. He definitely talks to her a little different when she’s this way, especially if she’s in a good space, because it helps her enjoy it even more.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” she says, “What uh, what are you doing?”

And Bill is a bastard. But he also loves, loves when she gets like this with him. And the fact that she got a little small when she was out with friends, and that she CALLED HIM to talk to him? Bill could die. He could just die.

“Just at home, wishing I had you all wrapped up in my arms,” he tells her, “God, what I wouldn’t give to have my sweet girl on her knees in front of me.”

Tiger actually whimpers. He hears it.

“What?” She stutters.

“You heard me. All soft and sweet for me, those warm lips around my thumb until I give you what you really want to put your mouth around. God kid, I’d pick you right up and lay you out on the bed, my good girl…”

“Bill,” she says feebly, and he smiles. Has to bite his lip to stop the chuckle.

“I’d get you under me, all small and shit. I’d get you feeling so good sweetheart, just bury my face between your legs until you’re screaming for me.”

Tiger is red. Red as a tomato, and her knees are giving out.

“Bill—“ she whimpers again.

“Nothing tastes sweeter than when you’re coming for me, tiger. I crave it. God I’d give my left fucking arm for a taste of you right now.”

Tiger can’t breathe. She literally can’t even make a sound, her eyes closed, her mouth hung open as she leans on the wall for support.

“Are you still with me sweet girl?” He asks after a beat. She takes a minute to try and gain some composure, but he’s still grinning like an asshole.

“Y-yeah,” she stutters, “I’m uh, I’m coming home.”

“I’m not there until closer to dinner time, kid,” he says, “But I’ll tell you what. You stay out with your friends, have a good time. Have a good long think about all the things you want me to do to you tonight.”

She bites her lip.

“And then I’ll text you when I’m on my way home. And tiger?”

“Yeah?” But it comes out as more of a breathless sigh.

“I expect you on your knees for me when I walk through the door,” his voice gets stern and she literally clamps her legs tighter together.

“I will be,” she promises.

“Good girl,” he purrs, “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Anything,” She says.

“Are you wet for me?”

“Bill—“ she can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Are you?” He demands.

“Yes,” she admits pitifully, “You have no idea how much.”

His deep groan comes through the line and it sends a shiver down her spine.

“God I can’t wait to taste you,” he purrs, “Don’t keep your friends waiting. Go on.”

And she hangs up the phone reluctantly, going back to join their table. But 5 minutes later, a pitcher of mimosas hits the table and all the girls look at the server, confused.

“From a man who calls himself,” the server pauses, clearing his throat as if the next words pain him, “Big daddy.”

Confused looks are exchanged, a few eye rolls, and if anybody caught the way tiger’s cheeks turned pink, nobody said anything. Clearing her throat, she reached for the pitcher.

“Well I for one don’t give a fuck what he wants to call himself, whoever he is,” she says and pours out a glass, “I never refuse free mimosas.”

[atlafan]

I just got back from dance and saw Something Wicked got posted!! I’m super excited to read it!! Himbo Harry here I come!! I probably would be a better writer if I had Harry as an English teacher!! I have a stripe of hair on the back of my head that was blue once then I died it pink before lockdown. And I’ve been thinking of getting a pastel lavender or a silver for my next color; a tribute to the lovely Amber Hale!?! A HUSKY NAMED OPAL!?! Love!!! I can already sense we will be getting a penny and amber conversation about how amber is meant to be with Harry and such!! Mhmm love those friendships!! “Maybe worry about teaching that to your students instead of me. I’m a lost cause.” Why did I relate to this? Can I make a guess now?! Does amber fall in love with Harry reading to her? If so SIGN ME UP!! I want to listen to his voice all day! “Amber had a hardened heart that couldn’t be so easily sueded by a handsome man with a kind a smile.” If only, unfortunately I fell for that goofy smile! “I can’t help it! He smells nice.” Same! “Hey, there, pretty girl.” I know he’s talking to Opal but I would like to greeted this way! “Then explain what’s going on because I woke up with a raging boner this morning, and it took a really long time for it to go away, and I also can’t remember a thing that happened last night, so I want some answers!” That’s a sentence I would like to hear Harry say! Oh course Harry is freaking out at first but once everything is explained he’s like “but who was it? Why are they after opal?” Like the engagement of helping Amber! “ It pisses me off to no end that she likes you.” Me to myself! Why do you like this man? But also good for you for liking this man! “You’re so fucking positive and bouncy. You’re always in a good mood, it’s disgusting.” What me and Harry’s arguments will be like! “I do, however, one room with a full left.” Yes the classic trope oh no there’s only one bed in the room! 👀 ohhh Harry is a mage!!! “Y ou strike me as the type that likes to hear a woman beg for your cock.” And you are correct Amber! “I think that whoever you’ve slept with in the past never pleased you in the way that you need to be pleased.” You right Harry, tell me more! Oh god is the wax melting already?!? I smell it!! “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To feel all warm and wet between your thighs.” THE WAX IS ON FIRE!! It’s going to get filthy I can feel it!! Oh god I’m in horny jail already! THE TEASE!! Jordan you tease me!!! The wax is on a simmer and the cell is unlocked but I’m staying in horny jail for now! “You can be attracted to someone and hate their guts. It’s hot and lustful.” Even though Amber doesn’t like reading she definitely read ‘Je T’aime” by Jordan! “I wanted us to go out on a proper date before we did anything like this.” AHHH!! I was some what right, penny definitely knew that the need to be together so she set up this plan!! “Please, take care of me. M’dripping.” Put the heat on high and lock the cell! I’m back in horny jail with some hot hot wax!! “the best part of my day is when you come into the shop after you’ve finished working for the day. You set up your stupid laptop and work on your stupid assignments, all while looking unapologetically handsome.” I would say this to Harry while we are about to do the deed! He has no right to be that handsome! “We’re going to be able to go for multiple rounds, and I want you to fill me up each time.” WAX!! The WAX!!! “she giggles as he wiggles his bum at her.” Shake that ass for me boy! “He sits up on his knees, and starts pounding into her relentlessly.” RE👏🏼LENT👏🏼LESS👏🏼LY👏🏼!! YESSS!!! “You’re really good at going down.” A sentence I wish to say one day!! “You just licked my asshole, I’m not too concerned about tasting my own come while it drips out of you.” I need Harry to say this... for science! “Harry ate out Amber’s ass, she rode him reverse, he hit it from the side, they were like animals.” Is there a place for me to sign up for this? Like the full package?!? Oh shit I think I’ve reached ask limit!! Lol back to the old days Part 2!!!

Who knew this would be back!! Part 2 folks!! “I just sort of thought about how I wanted to keep you safe, how I wanted Opal to stay safe because I knew that if anything happened to her you’d be devastated.” He’s so good and powerful and cute!! They want to be together!! Yes the communication!! The talk about what they are!! AND FEELINGS!! “I think we were supposed to find each other, like, there was some sort of pull between us.” Soft wax! “Feel like I fell in love with you from the second we met, but I’ve been trying really hard not to come on too strong.” The sigh of relief he had was adorable! “I’m the stoic one, and you’re the cinnamon roll.” 😭😭😭 “You’re the only one this stoic girl becomes soft for. You turn me into a little cinnamon roll, one of those really sweet ones with a ton of icing.” SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! This is adorable! “The kisses, the soft touches, the hugs, the smiles, everything Amber did, Harry loved.” Precious!!! “He liked that they both enjoyed a good tonguing, and he liked that they were so good at taking turns.” 👀👀 is it me and Harry?!? “Course you did, how else would he have gotten that mark on his neck.” AMBER YES!!! “Now, why don’t you do everyone a favor and put your tits away because he’s not going to suck on them, alright?” Amber with the callback!! I’m screaming! ‘“Let’s sit on the loveseat, even if you’re on top, I’ll thrust up into you.” He kisses her. “I’ll rub your clit.” He kisses her again. “Suck on your glorious tits.”’ If I’m possessive and this is what I get I wouldn’t mind making that decision every once in a while! SIGN ME THE FUCK UP! “Can’t have you squirting all over my office. I’ll take care of you when I finish work for the day.” Oh this cheeky bastard!! “but when I love, I love hard. It’s just who I am.” It me! THEY ARE CONNECTED!! I feel like I’m back in like 6th grade reading a witches book and being like I’m witch I’m powerful! Am I going to base my personality on this character for a week? You bet you ass!!! I want to be Amber so bad! I want Harry soo bad!!! I wouldn’t mind eating his ass or having my ass ate at the moment!! Give me the hole.. I’ll give you mine! They are too fucking cuteee!!! Jordan yes! Yes yes yes!!! So wicked and powerful!! Your mind is magical!! 💜🤍

Sorry this took me a few days to get to! I like to make sure I’m in the right headspace to respond when I get longer messages. I’m so glad you enjoyed this one, Alyssa!!

#something wicked