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tommyfroggie · 2 years

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Chapter Four: I can try.

Summary: You can't deny that you have some sort of feels for this man and agree to giving him a chance. That leads to you having sexy time at the thought of him when he's gone and then him finding out.

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Mob!FemReader

Warnings: something between fluff and angst idk, fem masturbation, lil mentions of guns and violence.

Word Count: 1.4K

NO CHOICE MASTERLIST

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Just like that. Within a day of meeting him. He had you completely smitten by him. The thought that you were supposed to hate him, was long gone. You realized that he was NOTHING like the stories you had heard. This man was sleeping on a fucking chair next to you, just so he could be around you in your weak condition. Fuck, anyone would melt.

The lights in the room were dim now and you couldn't sleep, but he did. So you stared at his features. His hand was still in yours. He looked very peaceful. His gelled curls were now messy and wild, his head dipping to the side on his shoulder as his chest heaved up and down. You could hear light snores coming from him. There were countless freckles littering his face too, and his nose was slightly crooked. It was a calming sight.

Your eyes fluttered open as you adjusted to the bright lights. So, maybe staring at a sleeping Tom, did the trick and got you some much needed sleep as well. He was no longer in the room. Just a doctor that asked you how you were feeling.

"Uhm I feel completely fine now." You sat up as the doctor nodded, heading out. Not even a minute later, a fully dressed up Tom came in, adjusting his watch, sitting next you.

"Hey, darling. How are you feeling?" He asked, cupping your head to see if it hurt anywhere. Why'd he always have to act like you both are a loving married couple?

"I'm fine." you said blankly. You knew you already had a soft spot for him. But, you didn't want to give in so soon. He hummed and took your hand in his, rubbing soft circles, making you feel very relaxed.

"Well, I've told your dad that you will be staying here with me for a while."

"Wha- I'm not staying over?" You asked, confused.

"C'mon darling, you can't do this to me. You have to at least give me a chance." And you definitely couldn't say no to those eyes. It didn't need much convincing.

"Okay. I guess.. I can try." You smiled at him.

"Thankyou." He planted a small kiss to your cheek. "I have to leave for work now but, Lindsay is outside, she will show you to your room and let her know if you need anything." He said, walking out of the room, waving goodbye.

"Okay." You mumbled. You really wished he was here with you right now. But it's work. So, it's understandable.

Wait. Oh shit. Who the fuck is gonna take care of work at your house? There was a deal you had to fix for today. And a meeting. Fuck!

Actually... Hold that thought. Although, you don't really hate Tom anymore, you can't even imagine seeing your dad's face right now. This mess, it was all his fault. So, why not just be carefree and let the meeting go to shit. Who gives a fuck? He'll be beyond pissed when he learns that a few deals were lost because you weren't present. Take it as revenge.

You got up and headed outside, finding a middle aged lady dressed in formal wear.

"Hello. You must be Miss. L/n." She smiled politely.

"Hi, you can call me Y/n. You're Lindsay, right?"

"Yes. I'm Mr. Holland's assistant. Would you like a quick house tour before I show you to your room?" She asked.

"Yeah, sure."

His house was impressive, to say the least. Definitely 10 times bigger than yours. It also had a very dark vibe to it. Fits well for the 'terrifying' boss. It had a gym, pool, tennis table, basketball court, a boxing ring, a sauna and hot tub, a gaming room. That last one was weird. Does he even have time for that? Anyway. Those were one-third of all the amenities the place had. Not to mention, a creepy looking door that obviously led to the basement. There, Lindsay did not take you. You didn't question it. You knew that the basements of huge Mafia mansions have some traumatizing shit going on.

She finally led you to your room, which was on the second floor. It was quite big and apparently, right next to Tom's. That's interesting. The room was the same as the others. It had an edgy vibe to it. There were a few photo frames of Tom littered on the walls. The one where he was sitting on this huge ass throne, shirtless, caught your eye. It was right in front of your bed. How does he have time to do photoshoots though? Oh. Right. Actors do photoshoots all the time, artists too. You have done quite a few of them yourself. You keep forgetting about his and your second personality ever since the date that went terribly wrong.

"Right, well, I'll leave you to it. I'll be a call away if you need anything." She pointed towards the little vintage service telephone beside the bed. You nodded and she left the room, closing it behind her. You noticed that your clothes had already been brought. They were all arranged in the huge closet. You put on your comfy white underwear and a loose t-shirt, tying your hair in a bun. You picked out a book from the collection beside the shelf and flopped down on the fluffy bed.

You spent the next 2 hours invested in a cheesy rom-com. Eventually, you got bored and put it aside. Suddenly, you had this urge to get up and take a look at all of Tom's pictures around. 'Fuck, he looks so hot in these' you thought. You spotted another one, where he was wearing a tight black shirt and grey pants with the camera so low that it looked he was dominating somebody, with that serious expression on his face. It formed a literal pool in your panties. Then there was one where he had his hands behind his head, flexing his biceps. By the end of that photo tour you were laying back down on the bed, slipping your fingers inside your dripping cunt at the thought of him.

"Fuck! Tommmm." you breathed out. You sped up your fingers, hitting the spot inside you, imagining it was him doing these filthy things to you. All the dirty thoughts along with your fingers moving in and out of you at a fast pace brought you very close to a blissful orgasm, until it was rudely interrupted by a knock on your door. You whined at the fact that you just lost an orgasm you were so close to. You retracted your fingers from your underwear and pulled the sheets over your body.

"Come in." Tom opened the door and slowly crept in, loosening his tie. He was still in his bossy attire from morning, except that he had THE gun strapped to his waist. The one everyone in the underworld knew about. It was his favourite one. Apparently, he liked to use it on people that betray him. Scary. Kind of.

He sat down on the corner of your bed. Taking you in, 'It's so fucking hot, why is she under the covers?', he thought.

"Did you like the room?" He asked, ignoring his thought.

"Yeah, it looks really cool. The entire house has your vibe to it." You replied honestly and he nodded.

"What'd you do while I was gone, love?" He whispered. He figured, the best he could do to get to know you PROPERLY, was to first make basic conversation.

"N-Nothing, just read a book." You stuttered. He could sense that something was off. Something you weren't telling him.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, skeptically.

"Uhh n-no, why would y-you think that?" You tried to sound very normal. As if you weren't just trying to get off at the thought of him.

You squealed when he pulled the covers off your body. "It's really hot. Why the fuck do you-" He paused as the heat crept up to his cheeks when he realized you were clad in just a pair of panties and a large t-shirt. And then he audibly gasped when he spotted the wet stain on your panties. You immediately closed your legs and internally cursed yourself. He was sure of what you were doing before he came in now. He brought his gaze back to your eyes as you nervously bit your lip.

"You dirty, little thing. Were you touching yourself before I walked in?"

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Taglist:

@livieweasley @racewife2004 @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @mn-jun @spidey-central @yoursopretty15

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #spiderman #mafia au #mafia #mobtom #mobtomholland #mobreader #oneshots #fluff #angst #tom holland mafia series #NC series #smut #chapter four

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i-need-air · 3 years

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"Dude" — Bakugou Katsuki x Reader.

Summary: Your former bully, Midori, has confessed her undying love for one of the most famous guys at U.A.; you're just venting gossiping about it with Mei, not knowing Bakugou Katsuki is right around the corner, listening;

Warnings: None. Well, Bakugou Katsuki having various anger induced strokes > the normal > no warnings; light crackfic? subtle ending;

Word count: 4.5k;

[ Part 2 ];

"She confessed to him." You grinned, throwing a bunch of fries into your mouth like the absolute animal you were.

Mei on the other hand continued her work on whatever in the world her new prototype, or "baby", was. Still, you had the honor of having half of her attention, which was a compliment to say at least.

She just smiled, shaking her head, leading you to continue, not knowing a blond was quite literally behind the corner, just outside the door leading to the support department, frown on his face.

"She came to class giggling like an idiot saying she's got a plan." You made a face into the distance, remembering your classmate's obnoxious squeal. "Ugh, she started telling the Divas how she's gonna have The Bakugou Katsuki in the bag." An ugly snort left your body, which earned an amused chuckle from Mei.

Both of you were pretty well known to be very good friends, and as much as you hated to admit it, you were both quite the social pariahs too. She was a little bit strange or weird, as some called her, but not for a single second she cared, which was the reason you admired the girl so much in the first place. Meanwhile you've taken the role of the bitch of the whole school by far. Sadly, you were placed in the same class as your archenemy, only increasing your chances of being called said endearing term.

Middle-school was a nightmare to say at least, getting bullied for your looks, the way you spoke or dressed, anything really as long as you were the one being mocked. And who was the one doing the bullying? Midori. Stunning, graceful, baby-faced Midori. Petite yet elegant, a devil in disguise. Whoever crossed her path suffered her malice unless she had something to gain from them.

And now, sweet Midori was in the U.A.'s General Studies, coinciding with you in the majority but not all classes. It had to do with the tragedy that your quirk was so rare that the principal Nezu had to adjust a new schedule just for you. Just kidding, it was amazing. The actual tragedy was seeing her face every day.

Back to your heartbreaking backstory and origin; time made you tough, comments made you build a wall so tall and thick nobody could crumble it. Backstab after backstab made you learn that not everyone has good intentions, but in your loneliness you found Hatsume Mei. So honest and dedicated, so raw and passionate. A good person. The type of person your parents promised you'd someway cross paths with and gain such a strong friendship that nothing could tear it apart.

Becoming friends with her was easy, kinda. It took snapping back at Midori when she started her normal bullying routine on Mei, which ignored it without a care. You stepped in and the rest is history. It did feel good though, calling her a pathetic bitch before turning to the stranger with a cool gadget in her hands to compliment it. And, since she's a sucker for her babies, you had to deal with an hour of sparkly eyes and monologues about her plans and prototypes.

Funny girl, Mei. You remember thinking but the following day you passed by her usual spot to fill your curiosity, asking if she did solve the problem she was complaining about.

"He was the one she was planning to ask out?" She screamed at you, head inside a giant metal gauntlet and the reason you two started talking about said man in particular. News were extra-fresh anyway.

"Oh, yeah!" You shook your head, ashamed to exist in the same general proximity as a person like your former bully. "He's gonna be so rich and famous!" A high pitched squeal left your mouth as you tried to copy her voice. "Poor fucking guy, if only he knew."

"But people know she's a bitch!" She screamed again, repairing or adjusting something with almost all of her body inside the gauntlet. A smile, genuine and soft this time, formed on your face. The pink-haired girl wasn't one to talk bad about others or even care, but it was clear she wasn't particularly fond with Midori either, although the conversation was more for you to vent rather than gossip. Sure it was.

"Like the people from the Hero Department even care about us, the commoners." With a roll of the eyes, you followed. "If he's smart, he'll run away. If he's an asshole, he could use her too."

"What do you mean?" Pink flocks of hair suddently submerged from the gadget, eyes curious zooming on you. That probably got more than 50% of her attention and it was a new personal goal while she was at the workshop.

With shrugged shoulders, your answer came nonchalant. "He could date her and dump her like she's nothing. Would serve her right for all the shit she's talking about him." But the only response you got was a short quizzical look, followed by your exagerated sigh. "She's talking shit about him constantly, but then says he's hot and that his personality doesn't matter anyway. Money, fame, looks. She has a whole fucking life-plan! Then calls him a rabid dog!"

"Woah—" that surprised her.

"Woah indeed! Insane. It's insane. I don't know the guy but no one deserves that shit." When you got no response, you continued your speech, munching in the food with passionate hunger, words coming out almost indistinguishable. "Doubt he'd play her though. He looks like a smart guy. I've seen the Sports Festival—" you picked up your burger, giving it heart eyes. "—and I've seen the news. He's probably a good guy too, the issue is people don't see that and... Well, I understand what's it to be judged... Not many have what it takes to be a real hero but he does. Hope he finds happiness in life." Much talk for someone that doesn't know shit about the guy in particular, but even so faint, your gut instinct was trained well enough to spot malice and he lacked that. "And a therapist." And there's the little shit in you that had to drop a cheeky comment.

Mei's gaze turned downwards and even if you could see her brain do mental gymnastics to solve whatever problem she had in front of her super-eyes, she also contemplated your words with great care.

"He comes here from time to time—" she grins, smacking the grenade looking gauntlet with her weird utensil. "I noticed you two are similar." Your face twisted, eyes wide towards the girl.

Similar how? He was loud, bold with a foul mouth, definitely needed a therapist for those unresolved anger issues... But he was also bright as in whenever he went, people looked in his direction, like he shined; obviously strong, also from what you've heard smart, popular, lucky to be surrounded by kind people. Example being that very nice pink girl that had a joyous conversation with you the very first day of school and, much to your surprise, continued greeting and having sweet small talks with you every single time you saw each other. Or the blond haired guy that showed off a little bit too much and made dumb flirty comments with no bad intentions, the same blond that waved at you with enthusiasm when you'd cross paths. There was the red-head, Kirishima, that was an absolute gentleman, opening doors for you even if you had two functioning hands and smiled so bright it made your corneas burn, or also the dark haired guy, Sero, that you've seen helping literally anyone in need around the school campus with an easy going attitude and gentle grins. Bakugou Katsuki was surrounded by good people, good heroes just as amazing as him and if they liked him, he must've definitely had some good in him, right? Another point appeared in your mental presentation about the brash hero in the making was that he was way too attractive but the wise burried deep inside of you made that particular point dissappear. No need to think about that. Overall you weren't even remotely similar. Not even close. Two completely different human beings from two completely different worlds that would never collide. With that being said, there was the small chance that Mei hinted for you to get a therapist too, who knows.

"How even—"

"I mean!" She screwed something in place. "I mean in your— determination?"

"I wouldn't know that." You muttered.

"He screams I'm gonna be the best every time he's here—"

"Cute..." You vomit that endearment without thinking, but thankfully it got ignored.

"—and it always reminds me of you." A small chuckle left your mouth.

"Don't make fun of me."

"You say it too~"

"I just heal, Mei, it's not the same." Principal Nezu's speech, the speech he gave your parents months into the first year as they found themselves aware of your power made you hold your words. You had it in you. The potential. If incredible people like your teachers, like Shuzenji Chiyo or Principal Nezu twisted things around for your quirk, for how rare and powerful it is, you'd accept it.

"But you're gonna be the best healer ever, aren't you?" She taunted.

"Of course. Which reminds me—!"

"Hmm?" Her attention faded away slightly, but it wasn't a problem.

She cheered, both at you and at her finished masterpiece and proceeded to eat too, passing through the lunch hour without interruption.

"Recovery Girl is putting me on active duty at the infirmary from now on. Finally!"

Innocent pale purple eyes stared into deep crimson ones, furrowed brows covering them.

—

Bakugou Katsuki wasn't one to enjoy being annoyed or surprised and this extra managed to make him feel both things in a short notice.

Everyone around him froze in fear or wonder, awaiting his response without breathing or moving an inch. Meanwhile Whoever-she-was held a pink envelope in front of him, a perfume too sweet coming from it making him want to literally gag in the spot.

Another thing the boy did not appreciate was to have someone bullshit him. His senses were telling him to back off, alarms ringing in his head and those purple eyes held hidden intentions; he wasn't having any of it.

"Fuck off." He snapped, yet his stance was casual as he refused to move out of her way since she was the one that had the audacity to run into him.

Some gasps, even coming from his so-called idiotic friends, could be heard and an indignant Bakubro behind him as he got slapped in the shoulder but he did not care. Not until her lips started to tremble as she retreated her confession letter towards her chest dramatically. His eyebrow started to twitch at the sight.

It was a spectacle for anyone surrounding him.

"What's going on?" Shushes and whispers.

"Bakugou Katsuki just got a confession!" Gossip.

"What!? Who?!" Confusion.

"You said Bakugou Katsuki?!" Shock.

"Oh, she's pretty!" Awe.

"He told her to Fuck off! What an asshole!" Outrage.

"Is that Midori?" Surprise.

"The nerve—" Anger.

"Midori from—" Disbelief.

"Oh, my God, she's really doing it~!" Giggles.

He frowned deeper. If people were to talk about him, they should be talking about all the crap he's been doing and all the lives he saved, not because of a fake bimbo decided to cross his path.

Bakugou wasn't stupid either. With time he knew these things would eventually come in his direction, stuff he'd have to deal with in the future as fame would take over, but not now. He did not have time to entertain this show anyway.

There was only one destination in his mind and she was keeping him in the middle of the whole school cafeteria with prying eyes on them both.

"Bakugou, do something, she's about to cry!" Dunce Face harshly whispered, but turned towards the white haired girl that looked devastated in front of them. "Ignore him! Ask me out, I would never make you cry!"

He rolled his eyes so back in his head it almost hurt. With a need to hurl the food he just ate, he made a step to leave the scene but small hands with claw-like fingernails gripped his arm and he looked at her in utter disgust.

"No, I would never! He—" she sniffled but had no tears in her eyes. He gave her a scowl, trying to take his arm out of her grip but she scratched him in place with her tiny rat hands. "You're the one I love! I—" her bangs covered her face as she continued her show.

"Bakugou! Dude! Do something!" Shitty Hair said, his dumb and blind trust in people buying the act. A vein almost popped on Bakugou's forehead.

"I fucking said—" he pulled his arm so hard she fell on her knees by his side. "Fuck. Off."

Another set of gasps filled the room.

"Bakugou!"

One thing he did not want, even if he could tell it was a foul theater, was to hurt somebody. His asshole act ended at that but his pride stopped him from saying anything.

Glancing to see if she's hurt, Pink Idiot was by her side, helping her up and asking way too many fucking questions.

"No, I'm fine..." she said with such a meek voice he scoffed, also hearing all the shit everyone around him was talking.

"He's such a brute."

"What a mean guy—"

"She's crying!"

"Fucking asshole."

He gritted his teeth.

After the disaster with the League of Villains in the first year, people started to respect him for who he was yet one single, minuscule shit like this and they were all at his jugular.

"I took Bakugou-san by surprise." She excused his behavior to Ashido, which then suggested they should eat lunch together sometimes to make up for the trouble after apologizing in his behalf.

"Yeah, we'd love to have you around! Isn't that right, Bakugou?" The apologetic and almost pleading voice of his blond friend, if he ever was going to call him that anymore, just made him bare his teeth. If they wanted to get played like fools it was their problem, not his.

And that's how he found himself eavesdropping on the weirdo and an extra.

And with a single "Whatever." he left the cafeteria, going to check if his gauntlets were ready, annoyance oozing off him, making the sea of people part from his path. Except he didn't notice you rushing away a little bit in front of him, holding a bag of food, all amused.

Why the fuck was everyone talking about him? Can't they fucking keep his pretty name outta their mouths? With time and without finding a reason why the hell he was glued in place, he listened attentively, his suspicions confirmed and his ego hurt, but whoever was talking about him calmed his nerves a lot. He just needed to put a face to that voice. Just to see who's gossiping about him, nothing else.

—

With a full belly and a whole afternoon to study by Recovery Girl's side, you marched towards the infirmary after you bid your farewell to Mei. There was still time to walk around, grab something sweet for later and save any poor soul that Midori decided to sink her teeth in. It was common at this point, you getting in between her and her victims and taking the hit, yet somehow also being called a bitch by everyone. That's how high-school worked. She did have friends and they spread any word she spat. Vultures.

It was fine though. Hero [Y/N] is there to save the day no matter what. You scoffed at your own stupidity, turning the corner just to step on a leg that was sprawled on the floor.

He clicked his tongue, getting up with no worry in the world, but made no action to leave, settling for observing and analyzing you way too intensely.

"Watch where the fuck you're going, idiot." The man of the hour, the guy you've defended in front of your friend just screamed at you as he dusted off the imprint of your shoe left on his pants. Meanwhile you just paled in place before regaining your composture.

"Why are you sitting on the floor?" You said, tilting your head with a frown, already knowing you will not apologize.

Unimpressed by what was going on, even if you truly couldn't point out what really was going on, you made an attempt to move past him towards the vending machines not far behind, but he caught your arm in a firm grip.

You blinked stupidly at the skin contact.

"Heard you were talkin' shit."

Your stomach dropped. Legs almost gave up too if it weren't for his iron grip holding you still. In the silence and at the satisfaction of the reaction you let out, he smirked and raised his chin, only Mei's singing voice coming from her workshop could be heard. Realization hit you. Hit you? Bitchslapped you in the face and left a mark for sure, because your cheeks started feeling heated, tingly.

He dragged you away, maybe to have the privacy to murder you in peace, but your common sense kicked in and you came back from the land of the mortified.

Much like he did before, action you saw with your two own eyes and repeated, you pulled out of his strong grip and stared as he turned towards you, mouth already opened to probably eat you alive.

"I wasn't talking shit about you, dude." You quickly spoke first.

"You don't fucking know me." He growled back, taking a step towards you but like hell you'd back down.

"Don't need to be besties to say what I said." Without understanding why he was so agitated, the only thing left to do after this beautiful turn of events was to defend the honor remaining in you, so you raised your chin to be at par with him. The action clearly took him by surprise, making him glare more, if even possible.

"I don't fucking appreciate when extras talk about me behind my back!"

"I don't give a shit what you appreciate, dude." Your laugh was the complete opposite of his menacing loud voice, like ying and yang.

"Bakugou, the name's fucking Bakugou, you extra!" Bakugou recovered quickly at your snappy self, getting more bothered as you talked.

"Okay, dude." His hands fisted, shaking in place as he stared you down but did not continue.

Silence; the hallway was now filled with silence as he boiled in his own anger and as you raised your brows in confusion. Now what? Was it time to leave? You've never met anyone like him, this was peculiar—

"NOW IT'S WHEN YOU FUCKING TELL ME YOUR SHITTY NAME, YOU FUCKING DUMBASS!"

A second passes; two; at the third you're wheezing your lungs out, laughing at the ridiculousness of the scenario.

"What the fuck are you LAUGHING AT?!" His voice got louder just to top your howling. You did not expect that.

Through a sigh, regaining your breath, you say "It's [L/N] [Y/N].", seeing him retreat in his form and cross his arms. He was still seizing you up.

"If you have shit to say to me, say it to my fucking face, understood?"

"I—... Say what now?"

"I—." He copied in a mock, getting an incredulous look from you. "You stupid or what?" Your upper lip lifted, ready to cuss him to infinity and beyond but he continued. "Like about that bitch from before and shit—" even if he still was loud, he placed his hands in his pockets and looked more interested in the way the tiles on the wall were placed instead of your person. "An' like you told the weirdo—"

No time to be shocked at the implied; his last word enraged you, making your body shake with rage. "Don't fucking dare to call her a weirdo ever again."

Like a challenge, he snapped his face back at you, ready to take it.

"Or what?"

"Listen here, fucker—" now that was a nice surprised face he was pulling. "Just because I gave you a pat on the back in there doesn't mean you can disrespect people just because you think you're the shit. You're not. Now get out of my fucking way." With a final push to his shoulder, your mind was focused on going to the infirmary, steam almost coming out of your nostrils.

"Hey, extra!"

Ignore him, ignore him, ignore him. went through your mind, marching away without a glance back. Not until—

"[L/N]! You're a healer, hah?" That's interesting. He stood where you left him, watching.

"What's it to you?"

Someone sane would've left at your tone but this guy walked towards you then showed you his arms, recently scratched. Images came back to you about the cafeteria incident but did not underst—... did he want to get healed?

You scoffed.

"They're scratches, dude."

"They annoy me. Now heal." All the energy you had left in your body was channeled towards the slow blink you threw at him, at which he scoffed. But they did look nasty— and Midori did them. It was a curse by itself to look down at your own arms and remember that face, so the guardian angel in you decided to take control and be the better person.

Gentle fingers barely tapped his muscular arm. Smile crept up on your lips, feeling absolutely delighted at his obvious stiffness at the skin contact and the clear interest in his eyes, specially when the scratches started disappearing into nothing, leaving smooth silk skin under.

"Hey— Wha— Where the fuck do you think you're going?!" raspy voice got lost in the distance and one thought in your head.

"Want a lollipop for being a good patient too?" You mock and his face explodes in all shapes of red. It would've been great to mock him more, enthralled by his reactions, but with that you turned and left, ignoring the tingling under your fingers that should not be there and your stomping heart.

Did he wait all the lunchbreak to talk to you?

—

A long queue was ahead of you, earning the longest sigh out of your lungs. Life was pain sometimes. Mei couldn't hang out, food was too far away, the delicious croissants Lunch Rush made ran out as far as you could see. Pain. Just pure pain.

And disappointment. When you walked away with your food in a bag, maybe to sit under a tree and enjoy some peace and quiet, you saw her. Midori sitting at a table you did not expect. At the same table where Ashido Mina, Denki Kaminari, Kirishima Eijirou and Hanta Sero sat at. Good people. Honest, good people about to get bitten by a snake. If she was there, then Bakugou decided—

"You. Sit."

Thinking about the boy somehow summoned him behind you. Food in hand and bored expression on his face, he passed you not without giving you a stink eye. Indeed, disappointment.

You shrugged, trying not to pay much attention to the pang in your heart as you moved forward, but a voice— his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"You. Get the fuck out of my face." His growl made everyone around him turn to watch, you being one of them. There was no excuse to what came next, no way to run away past it and dissappear. He nodded his head at you out of all people and pointed at the seat still occupied by Midori; her purple eyes big, shocked, running between your frame and the blond's.

Do you know what it felt to be put in the spotlight without warning? Well, congratulations because that was your life now.

"Ba—Bakugou-san?" Her voice, now highed up and meek followed, then a small scream as Bakugou slammed his food on the table. His friends sat there, wide-eyed, but made no attempt to interrupt.

"Did I fucking stutter, bitch? Or want me to turn into a rabid dog for fucking real?"

You choked on your own spit, bag of goodies about to drop on the floor once you saw her horrified face. She knew that he knew. And when her pale eyes, filled with sudden malice, act dropped, turned to you it's when you realized she figured out where he found out from.

Not like you cared, really, but the little shit that always had to poke out every time she was in the same room as you decided to finally show up, making you wave and send her a wink.

"I said MOVE!" now— that growl, raspy and filled with anger startled her. The orange juice in her hands spilled all over her uniform and woke her up from whatever delusion she was in. With zero time to reconsider, every belonging of hers was picked up with trembling hands and she ran away to her group of cockroaches.

A smile was already settled on your face; your brain was storing that whole interaction deep within, ready to bring it back up whenever you needed a good laugh.

Life was pain and disappointment, you say? No. Life was great. Or more importantly, Bakugou was. Not like he needed to know. But he was a decent guy as he proved—

"THE FUCK YOU STANDING THERE LIKE A DUMBASS?! I SAID SIT!" —to be a pain in the fucking ass and the bane of your existence.

You gave him a face then turned to walk away, even rushing more when you heard his chair screeching on the floor. The exit was so close, so near, freedom never felt this great, the sunlight kissing your skin giving you a new hope to live. But not for long because he grabbed your hand and started dragging you towards his table.

Your hand was in his hand and he was dragging you—

Your hand— his big, warm, a little bit sweaty hand—

How could you ruin such a beautiful moment? Eyes on you two, shocked, silence, his adorable red ears being the only thing you could see as he was completely in front of you, still dragging you towards his friends...

"Did you wait all lunchbreak yesterday to talk to me?" You collided into him as you finished the sentence, his way taller form stiffened so much you felt you single-handedly broke Bakugou Katsuki for good.

But when he turned... Oh, when he turned. Biggest deer-caught-in-the-headlights eyes you've ever seen on anyone, cheeks painted so red you almost melted in the spot, lips trembling as his head worked a thousand miles per second just to find a retort. And you prepared yourself for—

"NO, I FUCKING DIDN'T! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, YOU FUCKING EXTRA? I'D NEVER WAIT FOR SOMEONE LIKE YO— ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME!" Mina's waving hand caught your attention and smiled at her. Your hand was still in his, gripped harshly as he still hasn't noticed it's still there.

"Hey! [L/N], long time no see!" She cheered, ignoring the living shit out of her screaming friend, like she's used to it.

"FUCKING LOOK AT ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU—"

"Hey, chill, dude. Now let go of my hand, I wanna talk to Ashido." You smiled sweetly, making extra effort to wave your linked hands arond until he finally noticed. He zapped his hand away so fast, like he's been bitten by a wild animal. Maybe even a rabid dog, if you will.

You couldn't ignore your own flustered state as you walked past him, giving him a one up, adding the absolute scandalized face he had into the back of your mind for safekeeping.

"Come sit with us!" The pinkette offered.

"Oh, hey, I know you! You're by Hatsume's workshop all the time!" Kirishima intervened with a surprised face that broke into a grin. "Nice to officially meet—"

"I fucking said." he appeared, sitting in front of you. "My name's Bakugou."

"Ok, dude, but I'm talking to someon—"

"BAKUGOU KATSUKI!" Could be heard from the stratosphere.

Note: I just realized Midori means Green [ fucking duh ] but I'm not gonna change the name or her description. I think her parents fucking up her name was the start of many accidents leading into the Midori we all know and hate. Also, I know you understand. We all know a Midori in our lives. Much love.

Note 2: I keep editing it but tumblr dot com slash Install App on Phone fucks my editing and switches paragraphs all around! If you find any PLEASE tell me, I'd really appreciate it!!!

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha #noire writes #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #i just wanted to make myself uwu #reader is op

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eremiie · 3 years

Text

one — love confessions

❥ your actions have consequences. eren wants more with you but his motivation is unclear. there one thing you’re sure of though, eren jaeger is relentless.

❥ wattpad link ; ao3 link ; masterlist

❥ prologue ; chapter two

❥ word count ; 7k words

❥ content ; mentions of alcohol, alcohol usage

huge thanks to @arlert-slut for beta reading my work, she was a big help, ily callie!!!!

❝ it’s delicate and sickeningly sweet, like the saccharine candy you’d find at a corner store— and what doesn’t help us the remaining taste of strawberry pineapple he leaves on your lips. you kick at the skin in efforts to get rid of it, and he only chuckles at your attempt before dropping his hands from your face. ❞

彡

kisses were peppered on your face, threatening to stir you out of your sleep, and you knew who the culprit was, their hand sliding over the slope of your body and murmuring into your ear— words that were incomprehensible in your sleepy haze.

"get up, it's time to wake up."

the past few mornings since your return from carla's had been a nuisance for you to get used to, but you were getting used to it. you were getting used to eren shaking you up early in the mornings to propose an activity for when you'd awake, and you were getting used to other things as well, like the more intimate touches he'd lay on you and the subtle nicknames.

you were getting used to your situation with him after the events of the weekend prior.

the weekend prior; you spent your nights with eren at carla's, and he insisted that you go with him to a party at a nearby bar. you didn't mind and so you let him take you along, only for the two of you leave early after a more than inconvenient mishap.

it was irritating at most, always having to be the one to drag eren away when he got more than comfortable, always having to talk to him about it only to see him make no effort to change. but for some reason something clicked in his brain that night and you ended up tangled in his sheets, a lazy love confession muttered in your ears when you were pressed against his front. a lazy love confession that you were partially swayed by.

you and eren didn't talk much about it, after leaving his mom's the two of you decided to leave it in the air. after all, there wasn't much to talk about that hadn’t already said. eren would try to do his part to win you over, and you'd just sit back and observe. the two of you went on just like you were before, as a matter of fact how you went on was almost too similar to how everything was before, yet at the same time somewhat foreign when you thought about the "other things".

the other things; the nicknames and the touches. you weren't too fond of them— maybe because you weren't his yet, but for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to shy away from them. they were comforting, they were something new to you, and you'd learn to appreciate them over time.

it was funny because it was only eren who you’d let do these more than friendly touches even before what happened last weekend, and it was you who enjoyed the whole aspect of it. you were more prone to friendships as opposed to relationships. you never liked them much because you found yourself on a pedestal compared to others. no one could catch your attention, no one was good enough or worth your time, yet eren seemed to build his own pedestal and sit right beside you, and for that he was special.

it was only eren who was able to do that, and only eren you were able to open up your heart to. you'd only hope he wouldn't screw it over for himself, and maybe for you too.

apart from getting used to your new situation with eren, you were getting used to letting go of things too, namely spending your mornings with someone else— spending your mornings with historia.

it didn't pain you much— you and historia had a friendship of pleasure, words by aristotle; she was good company for you in the mornings after class and when you needed socializing at events.

maybe you'd blame it on the break you were on, after all, you'd walk out of your first class together. since there weren't any classes 'till next week, that could very well be the reason why you weren’t seeing her. although you knew even when they would start up again it wouldn't be historia who'd be offering you a piece of her breakfast, spritzing her floral perfume over her body for the nth time, or keeping you awake with her tangents, it'd be eren.

plus, you were saving yourself from the awkward encounter, considering that night when she let her drink plague the front of eren's shirt, and considering the fact that that morning you had just told her to let eren be, that he was a player, that what may be fun for her was only a fling for him. yet you ended up in her exact position, letting eren sweep you off your feet and into his bed. that would linger on your mind when you saw her, and the more you thought about it the less fair it was to her,

but it wasn't your fault, right?

"c'mon get up, it's almost eleven." eren's hand slid back up to shake your shoulder before his fingers made their way up to your eyelid, pulling it up. you smacked his hand down, a groan leaving your lips as you turned in your covers.

"eren," you pulled the soft fabric of the blanket over your head and began to blink underneath them, eyes adjusting to the small gleam of light that was let through the thick fabric. "what is your problem?"

he huffs and you feel his weight dip the bed some as he falls backwards on it, his head resting against your legs. he reciprocates your groan, seemingly more irritated, as if you were the one to disturb his sleep. "my problem is that you won't get up."

"you said it's eleven eren, eleven." your voice is groggy and you can feel the swell of your face, rubbing at your features before you tugged the blanket from over your head. eren perks up at the sound of the fabric rustling, and he rises, happy to see your face, that same radiant smile you're used to seeing every morning greeting you.

"i always wake you up earlier than this," he shuffles back on the bed and lays his head down against your stomach and although he can feel you glaring at him from above, he still gets as comfortable as possible. it's then that you realize he's already ready for the day, clad in clothes different from what he went to sleep in, a shirt, and some sweats. "'wanted to get something to eat with you."

you feel the guilt curdle in your stomach, his attire tells you he's been up for a while now. he must've let you sleep in a bit longer than usual because he was right, he would wake you up earlier than this and the two of you would get ready together. your mouth downturns into a small frown and your hand comes down to caress his brown locks, almost like a form of an apology. he accepts it, green eyes fluttering shut at your touch. "i'm not that hungry."

"than something to drink? we can go to that smoothie bar nearby."

"we're not using zeke's car again." you knew eren wouldn't let up, and a part of you tells you that you owe him this as a return for the extra hours you were able to catch. you were just talking to talk, you'd end up going with him anyway, you ended up going with him every day.

you can feel eren smile against the fabric of your top, a low chuckle that was barely audible leaving his lips, and it made you smile too. "we'll walk."

it doesn't take you long to get ready, and it doesn't take long for the two of you to be on your way either. you were hand in hand with eren, a small silence looming over the two of you if you didn't count the aimless comments he'd throw here and there that you tried your best to engage with.

it was nothing but you, eren, and the small breeze that tried to sweep the loose pieces of hair around his face away, his hand occasionally coming up to move them out of his line of sight while the two of you walked before immediately connecting with yours again.

it felt nice, it was tranquilizing even and not much was with eren. it was times like this that didn't make you regret having him pull you into his bed on that hectic evening, having him pull you out of bed every morning, and you especially didn't regret it when you caught sight of the glass windows of the bar, chairs and tables still visible through the tinted glass.

his hand drops from yours. it feels empty again and cold when you grab the steel handle of the door. you can feel the wind of eren striding past you and the door shuts faster than you expected. the thud of it closing behind you, almost shutting you in, made you flinch. you turned to look back at it before turning to see eren more than a few steps ahead of you already.

you furrow your brows and let your feet pick up the pace to catch up to him and you don't even realize the way your hand stretches out for eren to grab it again. he doesn't, keeping his hands in his pocket as he walks, but you couldn't blame him— he wasn't even looking down at your outstretched limb, his eyes surveying the bar.

you roll your eyes at yourself. your subconscious attempt was feeble anyways. it was no big deal— and so you shove your hand back into the pocket of your jacket, fingers playing with each other inside the fabric.

the two of you round the corner of the divider placed in the middle of the store. you reckoned it was to give customers who were eating more privacy, and once you got around it your eyes immediately look up to take a glimpse at the menu while your feet come to a halt in line.

eren leans down a bit, "what are you gonna get?"

you shrug your shoulders. you didn't put much thought into it, too in the moment of the walk you were on earlier to consider that you'd actually need to order something when you arrived. eren on the other hand seemed to know what he wanted, staring ahead at the cashier instead of the menu. perhaps he'd been here before.

the line begins to move and you and eren diverge from it, stepping over to one of the open cash registers.

"hey, what can i get for you today?" the girl has a kind smile on her face that eren tosses back. she glances between eren, then you, then eren again while her finger hovers over the pad of the register.

he answers before you, letting you take your time to decide what you'll want, you continuing to skim the contents of the menu. "hey, uh," his tongue slides over his bottom lip as he leans forward on the counter, hands hugging the end of it to stable himself while he passes some of his weight forward. "can i get the strawberry pineapple smoothie? can you replace the coconut water with um, orange juice?"

it’s then that you notice the ash orange of her hair, the way it curled against the frame of her face and complimented the hazel of her eyes that were trained on the boy next to you, listening to him talk while she occasionally nodded her head, punching numbers into the register. "of course you can, pretty."

"that's all you— thanks, carly." you couldn't recall her saying her name, so your gaze travels down to her shirt, body relaxing when you see the name tag pinned to the cloth of her uniform. you shift your weight from one leg to the other, eye flicking back up to her face before eren taps your shoulder, making you look towards him instead.

"_____?" it's your name he says next and he must've had to say it more than once, the slight downturn of his lips tells you so. "what do you want to get?" his tone is different from earlier, and the smile you could hear in his voice when he was ordering wasn't there anymore— but most people put on a cheery persona when addressing an employee. it was more or less natural.

"i'll get what he's getting." you didn't really hear much of eren's order, clearly focused on all except, but you didn't have time to ponder on a stupid smoothie. she punches up your order as eren pulls out his wallet, you not daring to take out your own, hands still sitting idle in your pockets. he slips out a crumpled twenty dollar bill, attempting to smooth it out before handing it to the girl.

you and eren step off to the side, not having to wait very long for your drinks. when eren heads over to grab them from the same brassy orange-blonde, giving her a polite "thank you," and her responding with an "anytime, come back soon!", your phone vibrates in the back pocket of your jeans and you avert your attention from the two by slipping the device out.

it's pieck, her caller id sitting above the "home". you don't hesitate to swipe your finger across the screen to answer.

seeing her name made you remember the night at the bar once more, you and pieck enlightening each other with easy conversation, eren being the topic, and you’re reminded to update her about the fiasco that had you slip away from her for longer than you expected.

your mental note to call her clearly was washed away by other intruding thoughts, and the same feeling of guilt from earlier when you were laying with eren returned— she shouldn't have been the one to call you.

you lift your phone up, the glass of the screen was cold as you pressed it against your ear. "hey, i'm sorry for not call—"

"my curiosity got the best of me." you can hear the lightheartedness in her tone, voice soft as it flowed through the phone. it puts you at ease. "don't worry too much about it, i just needed to make sure you were alive after this weekend."

a smile plays on your face and you were almost oblivious to eren's sudden presence beside you, two identical pink drinks in his hand, one jutted out towards you for you to take. your hand wraps around the drink and you walk behind him, letting him open the door for you this time around, making your way out of the smoothie bar.

"i'm alive... what have you been up to?"

pieck chuckles from behind the screen. it's warm and pleasant. this time instead of you, eren and the breeze, it's you, pieck and the breeze. although, you were still aware of eren next to you and the side glances he was throwing your way— interest in every one of them. "that's the question i should be asking you, after all, you were the life of the party on friday."

"far from it, but if you'd like to know 'm fine. out with eren right now, he just took me to this little smoothie place not too far from campus."

she's silent for longer than a few seconds, as if she was processing something before she speaks up again. "eren? now you really have to tell me what you've been up to." her tone still has that hint of jest to it, keeping the conversation lighter than it would've been.

eren's ears perk up at the muffled sound of his name and he once again turns his head your way, an eyebrow quirked at you that you pretended to ignore. "who are you talking to?"

you bring the smoothie up to your lips, using it to take more time to answer before letting your eyes slide over to eren. "just pieck, nosey." you were only half-joking and neither you or eren laugh at the comment. "not much is up if i'm being honest with you, but i can tell you about," you pause for a moment, brain scrambling to find a word that would make the topic you were discussing more vague. "...we can talk about everything when i get back to my dorm?"

"why don't you come over? yelena is here but i don't think she'll mind."

you had nothing planned for the remainder of the day, it wouldn't hurt to spend a few hours updating pieck. it was well deserved on her part— she'd been patient and hadn't even sent you a text ever since you'd last seen her at the party. not to mention she was a good friend and a wise person to chat with, her feedback would be nice to hear. "yeah that's cool, i'll text you."

"i'll be happy to see your face, have fun."

the line cuts off before you could even give your goodbyes but you brush it off and slip your phone back into the back pocket of your jeans, sipping at the almost forgotten smoothie that was dripping against your fingers. eren pulls your now free hand into his own, and it's like he's trying to recreate the moment before the bar, swinging your hands back and forth while the same silence dawns on both of you.

it's a little more stiff, a little too quiet, but it didn't matter because before you knew it you were walking up the steps to your shared dorm and eren's scanning the keycard so you and him could slip inside the warmth of the room.

you don't waste any time placing your cup down and shimmying out of your jeans, replacing them with sweats instead while eren just watches from the seat he takes on his bed. his eyebrows are knit from observing you hastily move around the small dorm. "where are you going?" it was question after question, but it wasn't anything new— he was always eager to know what you were up to, to try and keep an eye out for you and to try and keep up to date with you. when it wasn't a little vexatious, it was actually quite endearing.

you finish the remnants of your drink, plopping the cup into the trash and picking up your phone on your way to the door. "to pieck's dorm, i'll be back later."

eren stands up, following your route of throwing his empty cup into the trash then heading over to you, stopping right in front of your figure and making you tilt your head upward to get a better view of him. "that's what the two of you were talking about?"

he's in close proximity— you could count all the wrinkles on his shirt if you wanted to, or every eyelash that curved downwards above his eyes. "...i guess."

"i wanted you to come with me to reiner's in a few hours, sasha and them were gonna be there."

you recalled seeing sasha on friday, how she beamed being in your presence and how excited she was to see you— telling you that the two of you needed to hang out more, and although now would've been a great opportunity, you had plans.

you sighed. albeit you never minded hanging out with your friends, maintaining them was a little harder than usual. "for one, i don't know who reiner is, and second of all, i have somewhere to be; i'll just text her when i get back." you'd hope you'd be able to stay true to your word, as you weren't able to do so with pieck.

in the midst of you turning to grab the handle of the door, eren's hands come up to cup your jaw, palms resting against the supple skin of your face, and you roll your eyes before looking down to the ground.

his affectious demeanor was present again as he pulled you closer and pouted at you while his thumb caressed your cheek. "m'gonna miss you, you'll probably be asleep when i come back."

your own hand comes up to grab at his wrist, but you can't bring yourself to try and pull his hand away. instead, you find yourself rubbing at the tan skin, still not maintaining eye contact. "and that's fine, tomorrow's another day, i need to go." your words are somewhat bitter, but eren doesn't catch on.

he presses a testing kiss to your forehead, looking down at you before tilting your head up more and pressing a gentle one to your lips.

it's delicate and sickeningly sweet, like the saccharine candy you'd find at a corner store— and what doesn't help is the remaining taste of strawberry pineapple he leaves on your lips. you lick at the skin in efforts to get rid of it, and he only chuckles at your attempt before dropping his hands from your face.

even though you could feel your cheeks burning, you still felt cold without his skin being in contact with yours. "text me when you get back." he says when you're stepping out the door, and you mutter a "we'll see," that you couldn't tell if he heard or not, not that it mattered much to you.

the walk to pieck's dorm feels shorter than usual, and you're not sure whether to blame it on the fact that you were getting used to the route, or on the fact that you were clouded in your own thoughts. either way, you're knocking a melody on her door in no time, and you're greeted by yelena looming over you, a neutral expression on her face.

"yelena," she nods her head at you but doesn't say anything back, only sidestepping to let you in, the person you wanted to see lying on her side against her bed, casting a lazy smile at the sight of you.

"______, long time no see?" pieck doesn't make an effort to sit up, only scooting backwards to create a space for you to sit at, and you let yelena pass you to get back to her desk before walking over to pieck.

"it's barely been a week," you saunter over to her bed, balancing your foot on one of the boxes that platforms her bed to climb up onto it. "you saw me just last friday."

"and i was supposed to see or hear from you earlier than today." she's still holding her smile as she speaks, tilting her head towards you and raising a brow. "nevertheless, i'm glad you're here now." she truly was— despite you being a year under her, appreciative of your company. to her it was like having a little sister to look after, she felt like she was constantly watching you from the distance— and you felt like she was always there when you needed a bit of advice.

"and i'm glad to see you, how're your friends doing?"

she shakes her head at you but she answers your question anyways, "zeke, is being zeke— off dilly dallying and being an english major, nothing new to him. if you couldn't tell yelena is over there doing some work, porco is doing well, colt’s good, we're all good." with the way she grins wider, you already know what the next topic of discussion would be, her eyes narrowing at you as she finally sits up, back falling into her surplus amount of pillows. "how're you and your friends?"

"well according to one of them they're all supposed to be gathered up in someone's dorm right now, a little get together i think."

pieck's mouth parts and her eyebrows upturn. "and you've decided to sit here with me?"

"i told eren i didn't want to go, i wanted to spend time with you."

her hand comes up to her chest dramatically and she stares at you in awe, "i always knew you liked me more than the rest of them, apart from eren i suppose." your nose scrunches up at her, you knew it was coming. you knew she'd find a way to bring him up, she always found a way to make things go according to her. it was admirable— and fun to watch when you weren't the victim. "speaking of eren..." her words slide off her tongue tauntingly and you groan. she doesn't take the sound to heart.

"here we go,"

"what? you said you'd update me. so what happened? my ears are open."

you pull your legs up onto the bed until you were sat criss-cross. "well, after we left he didn't tell me anything until we got back to his mom's," you can hear pieck adjusting herself, getting comfortable as if she was a giddy child and you were a veteran getting ready to tell an old war story. "what he told me was that he had said something to upset historia, and that's why she threw her drink on him— and i told him that he shouldn't have been fuckin' around in the first place."

pieck nods her head after every couple words and you use that as a cue to go on, "and he starts saying he's sorry and shit, i kind of started to feel bad and i reassured him that it wasn't that big of deal, just that he needs to be better, you know?"

"i know."

your voice gets quiet at your next words, and your back slouches. the pads of your fingers tap against each other when you start to speak again. "and after that... after that, i don't really know how it happened but we kissed, and then he took me to his room and... and we had sex," the nearer your sentence came to an end the less audible it was.

"excuse me?" pieck leans in, and you can see her blink once, twice, and then a third time as she raises her nimble fingers to move stray ebony locks behind her ear until the appendage was visible to you, and you almost snort at the gesture. "the last part, i'm not sure i heard it well."

"you did." your hand lightly shoves her head away and it's quiet for a minute, only the taps of yelena's fingers against the keyboard and the birds chirping just outside the window of her dorm. "we fucked." and even though you knew she heard you the first time around, you repeat it. more so to yourself, like you were confirming the events and making sure they were true to what actually happened.

pieck settles against her pillows again but she doesn't look surprised. it's amusement that dances across her features and it's... satisfaction? she lets out a small sigh of content, as she closes her eyes and lets her head rest against the pile behind her. "mhm, that's what i thought."

it's you who's taken aback, her demeanor so calm that it's almost unsettling. "what?"

"well something happened that night, right? c'mon the way zeke's brother acts around you alludes to something. how he watches you, he's very touchy with you, i'm surprised you didn't figure it out earlier." she doesn't mention how you'd reciprocate every touch regardless of the matter and would watch him in the same manner, maybe just from a farther distance. "he's the candidate i mentioned."

your words feel stuck in your throat and even if you could speak properly you weren't sure what you would say. you'd hope it was only pieck who was this observant, this alert when it came to those around her, otherwise the displays of affection would have to become a private thing; it was almost embarrassing knowing people could see you unknowingly gush over eren in plain sight.

when you don't respond immediately, pieck does instead, and her question flows out of her so easily that it’s as if she was patiently waiting to ask. "what about the blondie?" you were sure pieck remembered her name by now. maybe the nickname was more pleasant on her tongue.

"what about historia?"

"what about when she finds out about you and eren?"

pieck saw things full circle, she rummaged every corner and crack for possibilities, what ifs, and what abouts, and it made you think harder— even when you didn't think you needed to ponder too much on what she'd make you reflect on.

the quality was endearing when you'd skip a step or two during a math problem, or when you didn't consider the hangover of a party overlapping with a test you'd have to take the next day. however, it wasn't so endearing when you were trying to just get through an exam, or when she made a simple problem more elaborate than it had to be.

"well, i told her not to fuck with eren— i can't help it if he likes me or not." you rub the back of your neck while staring off into the corner of pieck's dorm. "eren will tell her anyways."

"and if he doesn't?" both you and pieck's head whiz towards yelena and you realize the sound of her fingers clacking against the keys of the laptop cease to exist. her slender arm is hung over the back of the chair and her legs are crossed at the ankle. you can't read her doe eyes, not sure if she was genuinely interested in the conversation or if her ears only decided to listen for the remainder of it out of boredom— but you knew she heard the last sentence either way. "it's your job to inform her, after all you seemed closer to her than eren."

"yeah but it's eren who needs to cut her off, so he should tell her then."

pieck pats the bed in front of her, stealing both you and yelena's attention with the smallest gesture. "what about talking to blondie? giving her a letdown and letting her know what's going on between you and eren? i mean, you and eren aren’t dating yet, right?"

your eyes meet pieck and you speak lowly, slow and careful. "no..." a brow is arched above your eye; you weren't sure what she was getting at. "but that's what he's trying to do. i wasn't just g'nna... throw myself at him that night," you cup your jaw with your hands, placement just like eren's earlier and your face twists into a lovesick expression, lip jutting out and eyebrows turned upwards. "oh, eren yes i'll be yours!"

pieck chuckles at your sarcastic tone and shakes her head. "i didn't say all that now, i'm glad you didn't..." her hand waves around your face in a circular motion, "do that."

"yeah, 'm not stupid,"

"i know, i know, my point was just that you need to be wary of your circumstances, _____." her words are darker and she gives you a motherly expression, almost as if she was scolding you. her finger pointing towards your figure didn't help to dull that feeling. "you need to be the one to talk to historia and you need to set your boundaries with eren. be mindful of the predicament you're in, it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks."

"and don't be upset if the old dog can't learn them." yelena doesn't fail to add on, before spinning her chair back towards the desk in front of her, seemingly uninterested in the conversation already, the jaded look that she gives you telling you enough.

you don't respond but pieck knows the gears are turning in your head by the way your eyes cloud over and the way you stare a little too long at the photo of her and porco pinned up against her side of the dorm.. if she asked you to tell her the color shirt she was wearing in it while closing your eyes, she was sure you'd be able to give her that and more.

but she lets you ponder and she knows it's a good chance you won't heed her advice.

you were independent for the most part and you seemed to have things under control when they needed to be— that included having eren under control. so why would you need someone like pieck to tell you to take your brain out of autopilot for a few seconds and be wary of eren?

as far as you knew, from the ache of his words that night in the laundry room, the way he held onto you as if you could slip out of his grip any second; he wanted you and he wanted you bad. it wouldn't be your feelings hurt if he tripped over his own feet— it'd be his loss and he should know you wouldn't be one to try and pick him back up again.

that wasn't the kind of person you were, it never was— it was eren who'd have to change, not you, no matter how small the transition.

but you knew you wouldn't have to worry about that anyways, it was your subconscious plaguing you.

“my mom would kill me if i played you anyways.”

those were his words that night and they'd linger in the back of your mind. they were a constant reminder to you that what was happening wasn't imaginative, and you'd reckon he'd stick by them.

彡彡彡

nothing feels better than toeing out of your shoes and slipping them under your bed for a later occasion. you had talked with pieck longer than expected, arriving back to your dorm a few hours before midnight, yet eren still wasn't back as you expected.

you slipped out of the attire you'd been walking around in all day and went to the bathrooms to take a shower. it was a quick one, the water temperature more on the warm side then you'd like, but it was nothing you could control.

you found yourself skimming the contents of eren's clothes when you headed over to the closet for pajamas to sleep in, plucking one of his shirts from the hangers.

don't think too far ahead, it was just the feeling of the fabric clinging to your skin while being a few sizes too big. how it fell around your body and covered you just enough so you wouldn't have to wear sleep shorts that you always ended up kicking off in the middle of the night.

it felt safe and you'd grown to like the feeling ever since eren slipped one of his shirts over your head when you were barely able to get up.

you crawl into your bed but you knew sleep wouldn't greet you for an hour or so. knowing eren wasn't in the bed across from you stirred your stomach, so you grabbed your phone that was still on its charger and opened youtube; it'd be a clever distraction for the time being.

you weren't sure how long you'd been scrolling through pointless videos, clicking one that’s thumbnail sparked your interest and watching it for as long as you could muster then swiping down to the recommended to repeat the process.

however long it was, it made your eyes grow weak, weight pulling down your lids and particularly loud segments from each video making your eyes snap back open, the cycle continuing.

it's one noise that makes you jump out of the grasp of sleep— and it's not the sound from the video playing in front of you, it's the noise of the handle of the door jiggling. your eyes move over to watch the brass handle shake up and down with vigor, as if the person on the other side was trying to break in.

it's the curse of breath that calms your nerves, the small "shit," coming from the other side sounding all too familiar even with your body struggling to stay awake.

a small smile tugs on your lips at eren's attempts to open the door, but you make no efforts to get up. you're more than overjoyed when you hear the sound of a keycard being used at the door, it finally swinging open a little harder than you expected, eren bending down to pick up the card he seemingly dropped.

he stumbles when he stands, grabbing the door. you're not sure if it was to close it or steady himself, but his gaze is trained on you the whole time when he shuts it, back pressed against the wood when it is completely closed, his frame only standing there for a few seconds before he giggles.

"______."

his words are slurred and he bumps into the end of his bed when he begins making his way over to you. the goofy way your name leaves his lips still makes your heart skip a beat and your hand slides your phone over, arms open for him. "eren."

although you've seen his face more times than you can count, it’s still refreshing to see it for a split second in the dim moonlight that shines on the side of his face as he passes the window. his hair is more tousled than you remember and his eyes are half lidded— but in a way that makes it seem like he was trying to make them as wide as possible. you can't help but shake your head as he crawls into your bed slowly, lifting the covers for him so he can slide in.

"______... you're awake." he hums when you drape the covers over both his and your body. he makes himself a home between your legs, head falling to your chest and his arms to his sides as hands scrunch into fists.

"i'm awake." he's hot to the touch and he makes you warmer than you were before, makes you stare at him in awe and caress his hair again, taming the stray locks on the top of his head.

"_______," you can smell the alcohol on his breath as well as a floral scent and the smell of sweat that littered his body. it's not off putting enough for you to want to tell him to "get up," and to "go sleep in your own bed." but you'd make a mental note to remind him to shower in the morning— not that he wouldn't take one without your reminder.

"yes, eren?"

eren scoots up more until his head is leveled with yours. his weight is heavy but soothing and you press yourself against him more, able to feel every rise and fall of his chest, every beat of his heart, and every exhale of his breath onto your cheek. "i love you."

you've heard it before more times than you could count. you were his childhood friend, it was so natural but you knew it meant more this time. yet, you couldn't scratch the fact that he was drunk and his words could be empty. you could wake up tomorrow and be the only one who would remember what he said. "yeah i know, eren."

he whimpers and his lips press to your cheek, it's elongated and hard, but when he's done he doesn't move them, letting his mouth rest against your skin.

when you don't reciprocate his fingers come up to turn your head towards him and he’s pressed his lips against yours this time. it's slow and sensual and you melt into the meager kiss. the taste of beer that lingers on eren's tongue is not enough for you to pull away, and the way eren kisses you sloppily and lazily isn't a bother either.

he groans and the vibrations can be felt where your body was up against his. his lips are slightly dry and it compliments the soft feel of yours that he can't seem to get enough of, his lips trapping your bottom one and him pulling back before doing the same with the top.

eren's thumb rubs against the skin of your tragus, every back and forth motion making the skin under it tingle. he uses the grip he has on your face to pull you in further and let his teeth graze your lower lip. you're so caught up in the moment, but the buzz of his phone in the pocket of his sweats that sagged against your thigh makes you jolt and pull away for a second.

he tries to bring your lips together again but you remember that he's drunk and both of you need sleep, especially eren if anything. "eren," you breathe, and he murmurs a "hm?" against the skin of your jaw that he was kissing, trailing back up to peck kisses to the corners of your lips.

"let's go to sleep."

"but i love you," he's whiney, a hand sliding down to bring you impossibly closer, pulling you by the small of your back. you sigh, your palms pushing off his chest to put some distance between the two of you that even you didn't want there. but the brunette was too handsy and you were only following your brain, not your heart.

your hand slips into the pocket of his sweats and you grab his phone, body flipping over to unplug yours and plug his in.

it vibrates once to signify that it was being charged, then twice to signify another incoming text message and the phone screen lights up, your eyes skimming the screen without thinking.

under every contact name was the words imessage, all his notifications including messages hidden from the lock screen.

you read the name armin, the text from the boy being the one that lit up eren's phone screen in your face, sasha, a text from her more than several hours ago, and an unsaved number that started with 760, the number having texted a couple minutes ago. you assumed it must've been the one that buzzed when eren was against you.

his phone screen goes dark and you place it down onto the bed, your phone beside it before pulling the covers more over you and not turning around towards eren. you were afraid he'd pester you again. you could feel his abdomen up against your back, arm slung over your midsection that he must've threw while you were plugging in his phone.

you can hear him snoring against your back and you could laugh at how fast he fell asleep, silently wishing that had been you hours ago. you scoot back against him more and close your eyes, the darkness replacing the pretty moonlight that the crooked blinds of your window let in.

"i love you too."

#eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren aot #eren snk #eren jeager x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

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hartigays · 3 years

Note

big brain thot: wheezie being the one to get rafebarry together👀👀

“wheeze, you can’t just show up here like this.”

she hasn’t even gotten off her bicycle yet, helmet still in place and everything. she looks up at rafe with big eyes, rolling them as slowly and dramatically as humanly possible.

“i just did,” wheezie points out, unclipping her helmet and setting it in the front basket of her bike.

rafe eyes her warily, then relaxes a bit. his eyes flicker back towards the trailer. “how’d you even know i’d be here?”

“topper,” she tells him simply, shrugging.

“topper?”

another overly-dramatic eye roll. “yes, topper. he came by looking for sarah and i asked him if he knew where you were. i need help with something.”

“and topper told you i’d be here?” rafe asks, brows raised.

topper is a lot of things, but is he the type of person to send a kid to a coke dealer’s trailer? no, absolutely not.

“i encouraged him,” wheezie replies, a little too vague for rafe’s liking. he narrows his eyes and she sighs. “fine, i kicked him in the crotch until he gave it up. happy?”

rafe snorts at the mental image.

wheezie finally climbs off her bike, standing in front of rafe with her arms crossed. “so, are you going to help me or not?”

he really doesn’t want to say yes. but he’s sort of always had a soft spot for wheezie - she’s one of two people who don’t make him feel completely homicidal.

(the other is sitting back in the trailer, smoking a joint and watching some boxing match on his old as shit tv. the thing has antennas, for fuck’s sake.)

rafe glances back at the trailer again, then turns back to wheezie, scrubbing a hand over his face. “fine. but you can’t come inside, wheeze, i’m serious.”

“why, because of drugs?” wheezie snorts, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “please. i’m pretty sure you smoked weed in my room when i was like, five.”

“that’s not the point,” rafe huffs, his fuse shortening ever-so-slightly. “just tell me what you want.”

for the first time since her arrival, wheezie looks mildly uncomfortable. she bites her lip, looking towards the treeline.

“i want to learn how to fight,” she says, and her voice sounds so small that rafe sort of feels… bad.

which is like a new milestone or whatever, so this is sort of a big moment for him.

“why do you need to learn how to fight?”

wheezie doesn’t say anything for a long stretch. then, her cheeks get red, and the words burst out of her. “i’m getting picked on at school, alright? this girl keeps saying she’s going to beat me up after class and i can only hide from her for so long, you know?”

rafe is mildly taken aback, never figuring wheezie for the type to get bullied. she always seemed self-assured and well adjusted, with a sizable group of friends and an active social life. for a middle schooler, anyway.

“what’s her name?” rafe asks, indignant on his sister’s behalf.

if he had to choose a sister to be the target of bullying, it’d definitely be sarah. wheezie, on the other hand, is just a kid. and if someone is threatening to kick her ass, rafe sure as hell is going to find out who.

“i’m not telling you her name, rafe,” wheezie says. “i don’t want you going and knocking her door down to threaten her or whatever. i want you to teach me how to fight so i can hold my own.”

rafe would probably just kill the kid, not threaten her, whoever she is. but he doesn’t tell this to wheezie, biting his tongue for once.

he rocks back on his heels, then sighs, and beckons for wheezie to follow him into the trailer.

wheezie throws her arms up as if to say fucking finally, following rafe inside.

barry is still smoking on the couch, but when he sees wheezie trailing after rafe, he has the presence of mind to put the joint out with an awkward cough.

“you gonna tell me who your little friend is, country club?”

“i’m his sister, wheezie,” she says before rafe can speak, rolling her shoulders back and holding barry’s gaze steadily.

“wheezie?” barry repeats, then laughs, wagging his finger in her direction. “you funny, kid.”

wheezie gives rafe a look, clearly judging him for his choice of company.

“jury’s still out on you,” wheezie tells barry, eyeing him.

barry actually throws his head back when he laughs this time, and rafe can’t help but eye the line of his throat, his mouth going a little dry.

the worst part is, wheezie notices him staring. she raises a brow at rafe. he just coughs and looks away, regretting every decision he’s made in the last ten minutes.

“look, she wants to learn how to fight,” rafe tells barry. “i figured two heads would be better than one?”

“or you just a pussy and know you can’t beat nobody’s ass, rafe,” barry says, reclining back on the sofa, staring at him through heavily-lidded eyes.

“neither can you,” rafe reminds him.

always reminding him. where rafe has failed, barry has too. rather consistently, as a matter of fact.

“fair ‘nough,” barry says after a stretch, leaning forward again. “two heads, then.”

wheezie coughs, and they both turn to look at her. she gives them a bored look. “are you two done having a moment? or do you still need a minute? because i can step outside if- ”

“shut up, wheeze,” rafe groans, pushing her towards the couch.

they spend the next hour and a half discussing fighting techniques, and the cardinal rules of fighting. the ones rafe and barry abide by, anyway.

there aren’t many. they spend the majority of the time discussing technique.

when wheezie gets sick of listening to them yammer on about the different types of headlocks, she starts to get restless.

“oh my god, i didn’t come for the rules of fight club, alright? will one of you just show me how to punch this bitch in the face?”

both barry and rafe shut up immediately, barry’s mouth dropping open in mild surprise.

rafe just snorts, mumbling fair enough under his breath.

and that’s how rafe ends up watching barry do some sort of shadow boxing with wheezie in the living room. rafe re-lights the joint, watching the scene before him in amusement.

“no, kid, you ain’t gotta do all that fancy shit with your legs,” barry is saying at one point, then demonstrates some sort of kick for her.

rafe forgets sometimes that barry has military training, and despite the fact that he gets his ass beat on a regular basis, he’s a pretty damn good teacher.

the joint is long gone by the time wheezie looks at her watch, cursing.

“shit. rose is gonna kill me,” wheezie mutters, fumbling for her phone.

“just tell her you’re staying at a friend’s,” rafe suggests. “it’s too dark for you to bike back anyway.”

“you could always drive me, you know,” wheezie reminds him. then, her eyes flicker down to what’s left of the joint (basically, the filter) and backtracks. “well, he could.”

she’s pointing at barry, and barry shrugs.

rafe, however, finds himself wanting wheezie to stay. dare he say it, he might’ve actually missed his sister.

he’s pretty sure he’ll regret it later, but regardless he says, “we’ll get you something to eat and you can crash here if you’re too tired to go home after.”

something to eat ends up being freezer-burnt pizza rolls, but wheezie doesn’t complain. she eats her food while scrolling through her phone, glancing up at rafe and barry every now and then.

they’re conversing quietly about a drug deal they have set up later, a big one. rafe doesn’t think wheezie is listening, but he also doesn’t notice the way she keeps glancing up at them, her eyes flickering between them with an unreadable look on her face.

and then, out of nowhere, “are you guys dating?”

rafe looks at her sharply and he sees barry do the same out of the corner of his eye. barry’s mouth had shut so quickly that his teeth clacked together, and rafe can see him rubbing at his jaw.

“what the hell, wheeze?”

wheezie raises her hands in mock-surrender, but still rolls her eyes. “it’s just a question, geez. but thanks for the answer.”

“the fuck is she talkin’ about?” barry asks, his gaze flickering between rafe and wheezie.

“you two,” wheezie explains slowly, looking almost bored. again. rafe is starting to think he’s had a bad influence on her. “you’re dating, right? like that’s why you’re always here, right?”

the latter question is directed towards rafe, and he feels his stupid cheeks betray him, burning red.

“oh, right. you’re men, of course you haven’t talked about it,” wheezie sighs, then stands up and brushes invisible crumbs off her shorts. “well, i conveniently have to use the bathroom, so. use this time wisely, i guess?”

then wheezie disappears from the small kitchen, leaving rafe and barry sitting in thick, palpable silence.

“so… what the fuck just happened?” rafe asks when he can’t take the uncomfortable silence any longer, pointedly not looking at barry.

when barry shifts in his seat, rafe can feel it, and he realizes all at once just how close they’re sitting.

“she thinks… “ barry trails off, shifting in his seat again.

“that we’re dating,” rafe finishes, swallowing around the golf ball-sized lump that has mysteriously appeared in his throat.

rafe can feel barry looking at him. he can feel the heat of his gaze, and wow, wheezie is taking a really long time in the bathroom.

“that what we been doing, country club?” barry asks, and rafe looks over at him so quickly that his neck pops.

rafe searches barry’s face for any trace of humor, but comes up empty.

they’ve been practically living together for months, ever since rafe gave up trying to please ward and joined barry’s little side business. and if he really thinks about it, they have lapsed into something almost nauseatingly domestic.

it’s like. like rafe’s been in this weird, fucked up relationship this whole time, and he’s just now realizing it. and realizing, at the same time, that he doesn’t want it to end now that wheezie has gutted them both and laid everything out in the open, where neither of them can hide.

jesus fucking christ, is he in love with barry? barry the drug dealer?

well, rafe supposes that’s what he would call himself now, too, so. maybe it makes some sort of sense after all.

“i don’t think so, but i think we should now,” rafe finally says. he doesn’t know why he says that last bit, it just sort of slips out before he realizes what he’s saying.

but he doesn’t take it back either.

barry is too quiet next to him. the silence goes on for far too long, and rafe is starting to debate internally whether or not he should dump wheezie’s body in the swamp or somewhere off shore.

finally, barry speaks. “startin’ to think you may be onto somethin’, rafe cameron.”

“so is that a yes?” rafe huffs, already feeling exposed enough as it is. he doesn’t need barry speaking in shades of gray.

suddenly, there are fingers wrapping around his jaw, gentler than rafe would’ve anticipated, and then barry is turning rafe’s head and kissing him.

like, really kissing him. rafe feels like he’s being turned inside out, his insides shifting and adjusting, rearranging and adapting to make room for barry.

it’s not a particularly long kiss, but it’s sure as hell the best one rafe has experienced in his life.

“they teach you that in the army?” rafe asks when barry pulls away, aiming for nonchalant but failing due to the heavy rise and fall of his chest. and the fact that he can’t stop staring at barry’s mouth.

barry just smacks the back of rafe’s head, shoving him lightly. “get the fuck out my kitchen, country club.”

rafe is about to respond when the bathroom door opens, and wheezie pokes her head out.

“ugh, thank god you’re finally done. you should invest in a bathroom fan, you know,” wheezie tells barry, “i could literally hear everything.”

she shudders and gags, barry laughs, and rafe vaults himself out the nearest window.

well, he tries to. barry catches him by the waist easily, dragging him back into his seat. wheezie just rolls her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“okay, well, since you’re done being a drama queen, i think i’d like that ride home now.”

#rafebarry #outer banks #fanon rafe and canon rafe my beloveds #thank u for the request!! <3 #my fics #ask #anon

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ceruleanchillin · 3 years

Text

5 Day Stay

| Or, Angel down bad for a week |

Angel x F!Reader

Warnings: language, infidelity, Angst (?), lil bit chili spice at the end

Mon:

Angel felt he was too young to consistently feel so bone-tired, yet that’s how his day had been ending for weeks now. Sometimes it was all he could do to get off his bike and make it to the door, only to have to rest his head against it to prepare to make it to the couch and collapse.

Tonight was one of those nights, and he wanted to be dead to the world until it dragged him back into it.

It was the smell of mixed spices that hit him first. It felt like he was in suspended animation, and slowly being released as different things started to register to him.

His TV was on, someone was rummaging through his kitchen, and music played faintly from his desk. Thinking back to the last time an unwanted guest was in his kitchen, he placed a hand on the holstered knife fastened to his back.

The fridge door closed, and you appeared in the window, eyes focused intently on whatever you were cooking on the stove.

He exhaled, feeling like complete shit. It only spoke to how weary his mind was that he could forget you were staying with him for the next week. Especially after the conversation that led to it.

“I don’t know Angel…really I can afford a motel for a few days.”

“Here? Rusted-through pipes will be the last thing your landlord is worried about when you bring back bedbugs and shit.”

Your eyes had widened at that, but still you brought up the thing that had been chained to your hesitation. “I mean….do you think it’s ok to do this? After we…Nails..Ang-“

He remembered a flash of irritation, more so at himself than you, when you said that. “Yes querida, fuck. If you’re so scared, I most likely won’t even be there the way things are going. Nails is out of town til’ next weekend…”

“Relax Ignacio.” you had cut your eyes at him, and he’d felt his dick jump like it did whenever you gave him attitude. “I’m just not trying to be a problem.”

Your voice calling his name brought him to the present. He caught the last part of your statement, that you didn’t know he’d be back.

“Yeah, we got in earlier than expected.”

“While you’re standing there like a weirdo, let me shame you real quick. How does a man in his thirties still have the kitchen of a frat boy?” You leaned on the sill of the divider. “You’re lucky I already knew you were sad in the kitchen. I had to bring my own tagine.”

He stepped into the kitchen, his stomach coming alive with interest. “One, I don’t know what that is, two, I can’t help it if the kitchen isn’t my preferred room of work.”

He peeked over your shoulder, but the unique pot kept him from seeing what you were making.

“Neither is the bedroom, unless that work is piling up dirty laundry.” you stuck your tongue out at him and turned back to your simmering dish.

“Ha ha. Dinner and a show, she does it all folks!” he collapsed at the table, the day catching back up with him. “Should put your ass on the club’s payroll. End the cashflow problem real quick.”

You turned to him, concern etched on your face. “I heard from Hank about that…sorry. I know now isn’t a great time for that at all.”

Things got awkward like they always did when you referenced the recent changes of his life. He wasn’t sad about getting another chance at fatherhood, this one more tangible than the last. However, he wasn’t entirely sold on everything he’d accepted along with it, and he was pretty sure you at least suspected that. It threw the previously comfortable confusion that was your relationship off track when it was touched on.

“No, it’s not.” was all he could manage.

It was quiet for a beat, the simmering of the food and quiet Neo Soul the only sounds.

“Well,” you started, turning off the burner. “At least you don’t have to eat like a ‘we got food at the house’ meme for once.”

He laughed, a genuine and needed laugh. “Ok, you know what? Keep talking about my pantry stocking skills, and I might take it personally.”

The rest of his night went that way. Anytime you and Angel got together, things were just…easy…better. You spent the evening eating in front of the TV (Angel getting all the way to thirds for what turned out to be olive chicken and roasted potatoes), trading jokes, and going over the finer points of Golden Girls. Angel learned you took it very seriously, and mocked you for being “old”.

It wasn’t until you were nodding off, and he was left with his own thoughts, that he realized he hadn’t enjoyed coming home this much since he moved in.

Tues:

Angel had dreamed he’d been back in his childhood home, but as a grown man. There was music coming from his parent’s room, and when he got to the doorway, his mom was at her dressing table. She hummed along to the soulful seventies music and smiled at him from the mirror. She said something, but he couldn’t make it out, and woke up in the frustration.

He jerked up from his position on his stomach, and slowly came to. With a grunt he wiped his hand down his face, glancing at his phone to find it was six in the afternoon.

It then occurred to him the music wasn’t just in his dream, it was coming from his bathroom. He got off the couch and followed the sound.

“Hey coma head.” you grinned at him from where you were doing your makeup.

He shook his head, trying to let go of the last vestiges of the dream, and how eerie the scene before him was.

He focused instead on the nightmare of products and alien looking tools surrounding you.

He kind of liked the mess, even if he couldn’t see the counter anymore.

“Hey hurricane Ulta.”

You made a face that was a cross between being amused and suspicious. “You sleep in your jeans and buy your shirts in pack form. Don’t act like you know what that is.”

He made a face of mock offense. “That’s so classist.”

This time you paused completely in you what you were doing and twisted your body to meet him. “Uh oh…let me find out you’re actually learning something from EZ.”

“Angel Reyes can know something about something, damn.”

You laughed, lowering your hands from where you’d been lining your eyes to avoid a mistake. “I’m only teasing you Angel Reyes.”

“Looks like you plan on teasing more than me. Some clown is gonna get his hopes and tiny dick up for nothing.”

“There’s this new club in the city that Belinda’s getting us into. It’s bad luck to buy your own drinks on the first night at a new place.” you adjusted the bodycon mini-dress for emphasis. “You doing anything?”

“Club shit.” he started picking through the products, sniffing them every so often. “Then I think I’ve got a call with Nails at some point.”

“You think?” you popped his hands when he got too close to the good stuff, or the things you were using currently.

“Yeah..I think.” he shrugged, only realizing how short he sounded when you winced.

He didn’t know why he got so annoyed when she was brought up around you. He wasn’t like that with anyone else, and he knew you were only trying to support his incoming changes.

“Ok..”

Awkward silence settled in before he found the words to break it.

“Why do you wanna know? You want me to be that clown?”

“Never.” you pinched his cheek, tone pure saccharine jest.

He muttered in Spanish, stepping around you to the toilet.

“Angel!” you exclaimed.

“What?! It’s my bathroom, I have to piss.”

“You better never make me angry Reyes, I could end your whole Casanova game with ease."

Wed:

“You holding on a little tight there mami!” Angel called over his shoulder with a laugh. “You said go fast."

“Shut up!” you giggled, but he wasn’t lying.

You’d asked Angel to take you to work on his bike since even though you spent so much time with bikers, you hardly got to ride one. You were going to the same place anyways. He had been all too happy to shake up his commute, but your speed challenge took it over the top.

He didn’t know how you were up so early, he personally felt like the bags under his eyes were like a PEZ dispenser. You’d gotten in at two am, and still got up with him at eight.

He loved watching you in the morning, you managed to be cheerful without being obnoxious, and it worked better than coffee for him.

He loved how much he was learning about you.

As he pulled onto the street beside the cafe you’d asked him to stop at, he felt your arms uncoil from around him. He may have pretended to shift just to make you pause and hold him a few seconds longer, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge that.

“I didn’t scream, and I’m not shaking, so you still have to buy my breakfast.” You unclipped your helmet, grinning the whole time.

You looked so pretty to him, with the sun hitting your eyes and hair just right. He could catch you at just the right moment, and you’d look so gorgeous, he struggled to believe you were real.

He cleared his throat, afraid his voice would crack if he didn’t. “Fair enough, come break my pockets then.”

You laughed, squeezing his chin and pointing out his pout. “You don’t even have to tell me once sir, I know my worth.”

Once inside, he trailed after you to the counter, using your head like an arm rest when you reached it. “That’s good.”

“Boy!” You swatted his hand away, and it was his turn to laugh at your adorable pout.

“New bet,” he stepped around you while the customer ahead of you wrapped up. “If I get your entire order just right, you buy lunch.”

“Deal.” you leaned on the counter, eyebrow raised at him in challenge.

Angel knew the best part of his day would be watching your expression go from smug to shocked out of the corner of his eye. He nailed every pastry, the iced coffee, and their preparation with ease.

The simultaneously impressed and amused barista looked to you for confirmation. She got a shocked nod in response.

“I know my worth too mama, so don’t skimp on lunch.”

“Fair enough.” You shook off your shock as you repeated his earlier words and shrugged. “Can’t complain I guess. I trained my work husband too well.”

He scoffed loudly, and the two of you went back to swapping smart ass barbs while he tried to ignore the lingering dip his stomach did when referred to him as “husband”.

Thurs:

Angel was a grown man, with years of grown man experience, yet he was sitting on the edge of his bed feeling like a teenager again.

The end of your stay was nearing, and every time he thought about you going back home, he felt weird. He was pretty sure that’s why he’d been a little snappy and annoyed easily at the club the past couple days. He just wasn’t ready to delve into that too much.

Regardless, he had to admit you had some growing effect over him. All morning, while he should’ve been resting and preparing for a charter visit, he was fighting off hard-ons thanks to you.

“Can I borrow your kitchen for the day Angel?” He mimicked your voice in a nasally mocking tone. “I’ll save you some when I’m done baking.”

He’d thought nothing of it when you asked the night before. Really didn’t even feel like you had to at that point.

He realized why when he saw that the desserts you were making for your friend’s brunch were elaborate as hell. The effort took all your attention, and unfortunately for him, his too.

You were baking a lot more than dessert and didn’t even know it.

Now he was hiding in his room, fighting off arousal he knew wasn’t appropriate. You weren’t his and he wasn’t yours.

That didn’t change the fact that you in a short silk lounge set, singing in French (how the hell did you know French?), doing domestic things in his home, did it for him.

He ran a hand over his hair, still damp from his cold shower, and forced himself to finish getting dressed. He had to be ready to face a room of dangerous bikers and prove his patched in worth. He couldn’t be thinking of weird little fantasies and parallels to his parent’s marriage.

He must’ve zoned out again, because you startled him enough to almost make him hit his wardrobe.

“Oh my god Angel try this! I think I did magic.” You excitedly thrust a red cookie his way.

Angel took the offered treat, and found it was a red velvet cookie. “It’s fucking good mi dulce.”

“Really?” You looked so hopeful, so beautiful, that he would’ve lied if the situation called for it.

“Yes, but you know you kill it in the kitchen.” He turned away to put on the flannel he’d fished out.

Now you were in his personal space, smelling amazing, and all his senses were under attack. He couldn’t trust Angel jr. at the moment.

“Baking is different. It’s a whole thing for me...I go all in.”

“I noticed your little Broadway production in my kitchen.” He kneeled down, pretending to look for his shoes as something to do while you were there.

“Don’t shame me.” You pressed your foot into his back, gently pushing him. “It makes for better results.”

‘shit.’ He cursed mentally at the contact.

Luckily, he heard you turn to leave the room. “Oh, EZ said to tell you to hurry up or pick up your phone.”

He rose up once you were gone and checked his phone. Sure enough, he had several missed calls and texts from Gilly, Coco, and EZ. He cursed aloud this time and finished getting ready, determined not to get distracted again.

Of course, his boys having to physically come in and get him when he did just that destroyed that promise.

Fri:

It had come down to the last night of your stay with him, and what he thought was a favor to a good friend, turned out to be more for his benefit.

The hell with the club seemed so far away when he was home now, and he’d laughed more times that week than he had the previous few months total.

Tonight though… Tonight had him so in his head he didn’t know if he was coming or going.

You, sensing something was going on with him, had invited EZ and Felipe to dinner. He didn’t know how you got the latter to agree, his dad had never even been in his home before, but you did it. It went over a hell of a lot better than the last time they tried it too.

The missteps that reared their head when his family tried to talk to each other at length were mitigated by you. You were the perfect buffer, able to get them to engage with you and then each other.

He saw his family in an unfamiliar, but favorable light. His father was actually enjoying his time with him in his house. He knew that night wouldn’t have happened if not for you.

Now, as he distractedly dried the dishes you’d washed, listening to you hit all of the high notes in Loving You, it hit him.

‘She should be my wife’ the thought came so quick, and was so loud he almost jumped, confused if it came from him or someone else.

“Hey dishwasher-less!” you nudged him with your hip. “Move those hands.”

“Why can’t we be a thing?” he blurted.

You dropped the silverware you’d been washing, eyes wide and focused on him. “Um..excuse m-…what?”

He knew that wasn’t the most tactful way to introduce his thoughts to you, but it was his way. Fuck…he didn’t even understand them fully himself.

“You heard me querida,” he put the dish down on the counter, turning to you. “When I stayed with you that weekend that my head was all fucked up-“

“Angel.” your tone made it a warning, but he kept going. He was never afraid of a challenge.

“I was inside you so much that weekend I forgot that’s not how I came in this world. I can’t believe I’m saying it out loud, but I felt home cause I was with you-”

“Stop it!” you hit the sink, rattling the contents.

“Fuck that!” he shouted back, startling you both. He stayed silent for a moment before speaking in a calmer tone. “Fuck that. Why can’t we talk about it? Why couldn’t we talk about it then?”

You didn’t say anything, but he saw your chest heaving with adrenaline, and realized you were just as affected by the conversation as he was.

“You just decided it didn’t matter and put it in this space we can’t touch now. It’s all fucked up!”

“Because,” you hissed. “If you remember, it was all over that Adelita chick, and I don’t know what kind of hold she has or had over you, but it was deep.”

He cringed at that, and turned his attention to the light fixture over your head, unable to meet your heated gaze.

“Whatever feelings I have for you Angel, I put them away in a place where I can still be your friend and keep things in perspective.”

“Feelings you have for me?” he latched on to the lack of past tense, hopeful.

You inhaled sharply. “You are having a baby and just got engaged. What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing..I mean a lot, but nothing to do with this. I know-“

“I know,” you pushed away from the sink and reached up to cup his cheeks. “That you’re scared Angel. You’re scared, because you’re gonna take two steps you’ve never taken before at once, and you’re trying to sabotage it.”

He shook his head, taking your hands from his face and holding them tightly in his own. “No..mi dulce, no. I’ve been struggling with this all week, longer if I’m being honest. Tonight sealed it.”

You snorted humorlessly, looking around the kitchen as if something in the room would help you get through to him. “I cook you some big boy meals, and treat your speakers to some musical taste, and you’re ready for vows?”

“Don’t put this all on me. Tell me you don’t feel it. Right here and now, to my face.”

He watched your expression soften, and let you put one hand back on his face, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. “Ok, I can’t do that, but I also can’t just fall into a situation with you either.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “We both know we didn’t just fall into anything. We sat here and let it build and didn’t say shit, and now I have to. This week just made it too real not to.”

He placed his forehead to yours, his own hands cupping your face. “Please…”

He watched you have an internal battle by your changing features before you finally leaned into him. The moment you did, his lips were on yours.

He knew it was more than just a kiss a few seconds in. Everything he’d felt that the previous week was alive and confirmed between you too. He could feel you telling him you had moments like his own.

He palmed your thighs under your sundress before grasping them tightly and lifting you up. He placed you on the counter while you two separated for air. Your chests heaved in unison, and neither of you had to say you wanted the other touching you again before it happened.

He gripped your hair, tilting your head back for access to your neck. The smell of vanilla and cocoa butter surrounded him as he worked his mark all over your skin.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you pressed yourself against his jeans.

He hated he couldn’t feel the heat he knew was emitting from your core through the thick material of his jeans, and slid his other hand up your thigh to your panties.

Your entire body twitched when he ran his fingers over you through the thin cloth. It wasn’t just hot it was soaked.

“You need me that bad mami?” he pulled away from your neck, satisfied with his work, and beginning to work at his jeans.

“And quick.” you breathed into his ear, your tone and the sensation making him shudder.

The ache against his jeans didn’t need to be told twice to find its way into your heat. He slid your panties to side and pressed his thumb against you. You jumped, whimpering your need again, and he pulled your panties way from you.

You’d gotten them around one ankle before he was inside of you, and they were no longer your focus.

You clung to each other so tightly there’d be evidence on both of you.

In the quiet, he wondered if your mind was racing with the same thoughts that his was. What now? How do we get this again?

He pressed kisses to your cheek just as he started to move. You inhaled, your nails sliding down his back. Not quite catching the skin, but enough to set him on fire all the same.

He mapped out a rhythm by your whimpers and how you grasped at him until he crafted the right one.

This was the conversation he’d needed. Every thrust from him, every cry from you, every bit of give and take to heighten the other’s pleasure. The two of you were admitting that everything that was between you was deeper, realer than you’d wanted to admit. He loved you, and you loved him, and you were engraving that on one another.

The flirtation, the way you could be yourselves around each other, the heatless jabs. Good friends was always a ruse.

Your face was buried in his neck, and when he felt dampness he knew came from your tears, he hiked your legs higher, moving deeper.

You cried out so loudly it echoed in the kitchen, drowning out the soft crooning of an eighties songstress.

“I know baby, I feel it too.” his voice was choked by the threat of tears of his own.

He’d never been here before. Not with Adelita, not even close with Nails. He was terrified. Terrified for it to end because he never felt so good. Terrified for it to end because it might never happen again.

“Angel..” your voice sounded so small, but it was strong enough to anchor him back with you. “I’m close, I’m so close.”

“Let go,” he encouraged. “Let me have it querida.”

Your body seized up with your release, his name the only thing he caught in your unintelligible babble.

You clenched up repeatedly in the aftershocks, and that drug him over the edge with you, biting your shoulder.

His vision tunneled, pinpricks of pleasure traveling up and down his spine. Your hands smoothed up and down the area, and he realized it was because he was shuddering.

He gripped the counter for support, pulling back slowly. He was searching for a way to ask if he’d changed your mind, but the act hadn’t made words for his thoughts any easier to find.

It didn’t matter, before he could even speak you stopped him. Your eyes were glazed over with tears that had nothing to do with pleasure this time.

“That was all that I can give you Angel. It’s not right, none of this is, but it’s all I can give you.”

AN:

Am I the only one who wishes she had reference photos for their home/club layouts? Lol, it’s such a weird non-factor thing, but still. From memory, I’m pretty sure Angel only has one bedroom though.

No shade, no hate but this was partially inspired by how over Nails Angel looked when she was putting her back into it….🥴

I played with a few canon-timeline things + knocked the dust off my smut writing ability (I’m going under my humiliation rock now, no calls plz)

#angel reyes x reader #angel reyes #mayans mc #mayans imagine #reader insert

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omiscurls · 3 years

Text

haikyuu!! characters as bed sharing AU’s

taken of pinterest!

characters in question: kiyoomi sakusa, miya atsumu, kenma kozume, suna rintaro, tobio kageyama, kuroo tetsuro, akaashi keiji

kiyoomi sakusa - the “you have too much nightmares, let me try this method on you”

When you look at Sakusa, you wouldn’t guess any of his weaknesses... well except for one maybe

He always speaks so confidently, if he doesn’t feel secure, he just doesn’t speak

So even if you’ve been their manager for... several years, you still know as much about this man’s weaker sides as if you met him yesterday, or even less.

The surprise on your face when you binge watched a series at night, and you suddenly felt the scream definitely coming from outside your headphones was indescribable

Was the room next to yours... Sakusa’s?

you thought nothing of it, but night after night, you heard a lot more, you heard crying, ventilating, calling out random names, and finally you decided that not only is this interrupting your sleep, it’s not healthy for the wing spiker either

come on, the next day is game day, he has to be on his best abilities

nobody wants to deal with grumpy kiyoomi, nobody has the guts

so you remember a method your friend has told you about that their s/o uses on them

it took a lot of courage, but there you are, about to knock on his door...

Sakusa flinched hearing knocks on his door. That definitely wasn’t just a comeback from a dream. Someone’s knocking on his door. Was he being too loud? Did he wake someone up? He prays that it’s just someone wanting something, even if it’s around 2AM, and who on earth would want someone at 2AM.

Normally he would’ve been pissed off, but now he wished for this scenario to come true.

He put on a hoodie before opening the door, since it was cold outside the sheets, besides, who wants to see him in his underwear, right? Especially if it’s marvel themed-

The look on his face when he sees his crush on the other side of the door is priceless. He can practically feel his face going all red.

“Can I help you?” he clears his throat and says lazily, pretending to be annoyed by the fact you allegedly woke him up, even though the tears still flow down his cheeks.

“No, but I can help you” you say, just as embarrassed as he is, and it doesn’t help when he raises his eyebrows like that, so you quickly add “That is, if you like, please feel comfortable to tell me to piss off if I’m being too much, but I have a friend with a problem simmilar to yours and I just...”

“Okay, I’m listening” he interrupts, causing you to look up at him.

When you explain the idea to him, he’s more than pessimistic, he’s laughing in your face, mumbling something about how he thanks you for your concern, but...

You took the opportunity that you’re both sitting on his bed, and just lay on your back.

“Come on, just try”

“No!” he answers almost immediately, but, as he’s also a man of logic...

He really has to be on his best tomorrow, and you’re his only hope at the moment. He reluctantly lays down next to you, and your hand guides his face near your neck.

“Fine, but only so you stop with this idea already. It’s not gonna work.”

You’re both extremely out of your comfort zones, but you’re slowly adjusting. You feel him nuzzle closer, and your hair just instinctly lands in his hair, curling one little curl on your finger.

His showergel smells amazing, by the way. It puts you to sleep instantly, but you know you can’t be the one to pass out first. After a while of silence, you ask him if his trial run has expired already, but there’s no response. His breath evens out, and you’re too afraid to stir away far enough to check if his eyes are closed.

“Kiyoomi? Are you asleep?” you ask, but again, there’s no response.

Oh well.

The next morning he’s so embarrassed that the idiotic idea worked, he can’t even look you in the eyes at breakfast.

atsumu miya as “you’ve been so dejected lately i feel too bad to leave you alone at night”

He didn’t ask for this at all, but yet you ended up being his roommate.

A roommate who was recently going through an extemely tough time.

Seriously, even he feels bad seeing you all in tears all the time, mindless look and not paying attention to anything

Even though you weren’t each other’s favorite people in the world before, you ended up getting closer over the fact that he was the only one to see you at the worst moments

You hated that, but what can you do, there’s no safer place to cry in than your dorm

And even though he kinda made fun of it at first, the longer it kept going, the more concerned he’d get

It got to a point where he literally wouldn’t leave you alone

While still pretending not to like you, of course

Have you eaten? Have you drank something? Have you even left your bed today? How long did you sleep last night? Not at all? You idiot, start taking care of yourself.

You dumbass, you dummy, you moron, you absolute fricking mess

Some of your friends consider him your boyfriend, judging from the messages you get from him

“Dummy, there’s a granola bar in your bag, better eat it” “Hey idiot, I had to run to practice early today. Are you feeling less shitty than yesterday?”

He noticed that, as it is logical, your mood proggressively gets worse as you get tired

And that you actually learned how to cry without sobbing so you don’t wake him up, how thoughtful of you

Well your mistake, now you have an 80kg volleyball player over you.

“Atsu, what’re you doing?” you ask in a tired voice, covering your face with a pillow.

“You’re crying.” he states bluntly, staring at you like a four-year-old.

“Observant, are we?”

“Hey. Dumbass. You didn’t cry for so long already, what happened?” he whispers, sitting by your side, and you can’t mumble words, feeling so ashamed you want to disappear. You fall on your back and pretend not to notice the question.

He sighs audiably.

“Alright then, just know you brought this on yourself” he states, and before you can ask why, he’s already laying beside you.

“W-what’re you doing?” you scream-whisper, right into his blonde hair, and he shivers at the feeling.

“I’m comforting you, isn’t it obvious, you moron?” he hisses. “Although, I can see my mistake now” he states, and you think he’s gonna go back to his own bed, but no, he grabs you by the waist and rolls over, so now you lay on top of him, flustered as ever, thankful for the light being off, at least he doesn’t see your tomato-like face.

“But- Atsumu, please go to your own bed” you plea, but he shakes his head, eyes already closed.

“Nu-uh” he answers “Yours is more comfy, anyway” he jokes, making you chuckle through the tears.

He puts his hand on the back of your head and puts it on his chest.

“Goodnight, dipshit” he whispers, and you manage to fall alseep listening to the steady beat of his heart.

No tears, he’d feel them anyway.

kenma kozume as “the heater broke and i’m cold as hell, can you come here?”

this should not have happened

the guy looks miserable

but, you see, he’s doesn’t have the biggest amount of muscles in his body, his not as ripped as his highschool friends

body fat? also no, he’s a skinny, fairly tall boy who gets cold really easily

for real, he’s wearing a hoodie at all times, and in winter, he looks like a shell of himself

so you’re over at Kuroo’s house on a New Year’s party

the party ended like an hour ago, everyone is asleep

(Lev’s gonna be so dead when Yaku wakes up and finds the tall guy’s head on his stomach)

you’re almost sound asleep in Kuroo’s guest bedroom, so gracefully given to you by the host

the only other person in the room is Kenma, who originally slept in Kuroo’s room together with his best friend, but got annoyed by the weird questions him and Bokuto kept asking

so he asked you if he can sleep on the couch in the room

why wouldn’t you say yes?

earlier that night Kuroo burnt pizza in the oven, so you all opened almost every window in the house to get the smell to leave

and kinda forgot to close the ones in the bedrooms

but no worries, you have a radiator

...right?

why is the radiator set on the highest temperature and still stone cold?

well, doesn’t matter, you can just wrap yourself in the heavy sheets

Kenma, on the other hand, only has a small blanket

And since it’s a party, he’s wearing a shirt, not a hoodie

The boy’s freezing

“Hey, are you asleep?” you hear a very quiet whisper coming from the couch.

“Thought you’re here cause you couldn’t stand the chit-chat, Kenma?” you ask with a grin on your face.

“Yeah, right. Sorry.” he mumbles and you hear him shift in his spot, visibly annoyed by the circummstances. There’s a moment of silence, in which he can feel his face almost burn down from embarrassment.

Oh, my god, you sound like you’re annoyed with him here. Areyou? Come on, tell him you aren’t. He should just let you sleep.

But does he really want to spend the rest of his night feeling his feet hurt from cold? Fuck, Kuroo, you and your stupid pizza.

He gets up, tightly wrapped in his blanket, and checks the radiator.

“It’s definitely broke” he sighs, touching the cold surface, and turns back to the couch, falling on it face down, letting out a groan.

You giggle at his action, and he opens his eyes immediately, hearing the sound of your voice.

“Kenma... I offered you the bed once already, it’s warmer” you start, but he raises his hand and shakes it in a disagreeing gesture.

“No no, please, don’t worry” he mumbles against the couch, trying to ignore the, ironically, burning sensation in his legs. Is this a bedroom or is this Antarctica?

“Oh, come on” you say, opening the sheets. “We don’t want you to freeze, do we now?”

Oh my god, what did you do. There’s so much thoughts racing through his mind right now. Should he do it? It sounds so nice... But should he really?

Fuck it, he thinks, you’re offering, he can’t turn down an offer from you.

He lazily walks over to the bad and lays down next to you, at a reasonable distance, only to hear you laugh again. He spares you an annoyed glance, and you shake your head slightly, rolling over next to him, covering him with the sheets you have wrapped around yourself so tightly, and using his chest as a pillow.

Hold on, that’s not what he signed up for. Why are you... How...?

He hesitantly and gently puts his arm around you, relaxing his body, the scent of your shampoo making him slightly dizzy.

Please don’t notice how fast his heart is racing. This is fine. It doesn’t mean anything, he can promise.

rintaro suna as “hey dude, i hear cuddling helps you sleep, wanna try?”

the most chill person out there

literally you would never have guessed how nervous he was before asking you

it’s just another week, another game and another hotel you are all staying in

and fate is definitely on his side today, since his bedroom is literally next door to yours

he got to your door and left without doing anything about three times before he eventually decided to be a man and knock

has a master plan in his mind

he’s gonna show you a website with an article about how cuddling (allegedly) makes you sleep better

and he’s just gonna be so causal about it

he’s just gonna knock, put on an emotionless smirk and ask you, just like he always does

but here’s the think, he’s not so chill on the outside

“how should I call them? their name? a pet name? bro? no, too much”

but, he does end up knocking

“Hey, Y/N, what’s up?” you turn your head to the door to see a figure of Suna in only his underwear and an oversize t-shirt with the logo of some metal band.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” you ask, voice hoarse as you were already drifting off.

“I read this super cool thing, wanna see?” he seems not to mind your comment, as he walks over to your bed and practically throws himself beside you, not minding you laying there, shoving his phone in your hands.

“... help you fall asleep in just three minutes...” you’re mumbling under your breath as you read the headline. “Rin, this sounds so fake” you laugh, falling back on your pillows, as he sighs.

“I wanna try, and it’s either you or Kita, and he gives me serial killer vibes” he mutters, earning yet another serie of laughter from you.

But seeing the serious hint in his eyes, you lift your hands in surrendering gesture.

“Go on with it, Mr Romantic” you state, watching in amusement as he groans at the comment and burries his face in your pillow.

You’re sure this is him considering this mission a failed one and giving up, but then he looks up

“Well, are you coming?” he asks completely serious, and you have nothing left to do than hug him and settle your face in the crook of his neck, not minding as his breathing lifts your hair from time to time and tingles your skin.

Can someone feel your blush through their skin? You surely hope not.

tobio kageyama as the almighty “the hotel room has only one king size bed and we need to share”

He never would’ve thought his teammates would betray him like this

What the hell do they mean there’s only two people rooms available and they’re all in pairs already

Honestly, primary school all over again

ugh

His perfectly happy to be sleeping alone, when he finds out you’re his roommate

this is fine tobio, don’t freak out

well he’s composed about it

a little bit of a “tch” and “well I guess there’s nothing we can do about it”

internally he’s a little girl now, but you never would’ve guessed judging by the annoyed grimace on his face

because how does it matter if you’re sleeping in the same room, it’s not like he was planning to run around naked, right?

it all changes once you press the card to open the room, and when he so gentleman-like lets you enter first, you find out there’s only one, big, king sized bed for couples exclusively

the only thing missing are rose petals and candles prepared for newlyweds

you try so so hard not to burst out laughing

when he enters, he becomes as white as the walls around

he can’t process this, what the fu-

bet he’s spending hours at the reception desk explaining it’s a huge mistake

unfortunately, these were the only rooms left, sorry not sorry, you’re sleeping together

and that brings you to the situation you’re in currently

He’s almost over the edge of making a wall of pillows between you two. You can’t help but feel a tiny bit offended by it, but you know he’s probably just super hyper embarrassed.

“Yama, who don’t you trust, me, or yourself?” you ask with a proud grin painting your lips as you sit on your side, sheets tucked around your waist, back rested on the wall behind you.

He gives you an annoyed glance, before answering:

“It’s not that”

Once he says that, he proceeds to somehow nestle himself in, but he looks like one of those dolls that come with a bedroom furnishing, almost lifeless, resting on his back with hands straight down his body, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Relax, will you?” you giggle “You have a game tomorrow, grumpy face”

He rolls his eyes.

You shake your head and turn off the light, mumbling a quiet goodnight, as you turn to your side and place a hand under your head, back facing Kageyama.

Well, this is gonna be a long night, or so you think, up until he falls asleep.

You can physically feel him move around, and you think that’s what’s keeping you awake.

It takes a while for you to realize the star valley ball player is getting unconsciously closer, up until you can feel his breath on your neck.

Ironically enough, it’s you who’s all stiff and nervous now, when suddenly you feel his arm go around your waist.

“Oh you’ve gotta be kidding me” you mutter, but he shifts dangerously when you speak, so you have to give up side commentary.

You decided to tease him just a bit. He’s the one who’s gonna be flustered when he wakes up, you’re on a winning side by being awake.

You smile to yourself before shifting your body closer to his. He sighs contently, almost making you laugh.

Oh how you want him to wake up and see already.

tetsuro kuroo as “we fell asleep on the couch together and now my hand is in your hair and you’re breathing directly on my neck”

you’re over studying, or just helping him with something

the point is, you were working all day

at some point he suggests getting pizza

hell yeah, pizza

you order a little bit too much of it, but since you both are suckers for pizza, nobody can back up first

and as you know, people tend to get sleepy after they eat too much

he has a wide couch, so you can both lay beside each other without having to lay ON each other

and as you tend to get a little bit sleepy, you both shift to lay down instead of sitting, still focused on the work, though

you don’t know why, you don’t know how but it just happens that you fall asleep

you obviously don’t see what happens after that, but Kuroo notices you asleep when he asks you multiple questions and you repeatedly don’t answer, he got it like around question number 4

“Lazy much, huh, sleeping beauty?” he mutters to himself, but smiles unconsciously as he glances at your stoic face

and as if that subconsciously impacted his brain, soon enough he can’t find it in himself to keep his eyes open as well.

Kuroo wakes up to an annoying pain in his neck, causing him to hiss and automatically want to place his hand on the place that ached. Whoops, did he fall asleep on the couch again? Oh well, didn’t he have work to do?

He lifts his hand as he wanted to, but suddenly he feels something shift beneath it, and when he looks down to see you, with your head rested on his chest, breathing slowly, a peaceful smile on your face.

Your legs are tangled with his in some unexplicable manner, and as the man of logic he so obviously is, he can’t even begin to understand how that happened.

Especially why his hand feels so in place, holding you by the waist, closer to himself, and the other one lost somewhere in your hair.

You shift your head slightly up, and sigh contently, now breathing directly on the exposed part of his neck. He somehow manages to not shiver at the tingling sensation, getting more and more flustered by the second.

His heart rate inscreases drastically, making him realize he’s stressed like he’d never been before, as he tries to make up his mind about whether to wake you up, gently push you off and let you rest, or maybe stay in place.

He feels attracted to the last one, but knows it’d only be unfair to you.

But you could wake up if he moved you, and you had a long day, after all...

Maybe he’s gonna let you stay there. Not for long, only five... more... minutes...

keiji akashi as “you’re staying over at my place, you take the bed, i’ll sleep on the floor. no, really, i’m comfortable on the floor. GEEZ FINE we’ll both take the bed, ya happy now?

You wanna know what got you in this situation huh

well, you were over for dinner, but it started raining really heavily

like, really really heavily

and akaashi being the sweetheart that he is, can’t let you go home like that

it’s a long way to the train station, you’re gonna get sick, and what if there’s a traffic accident? he can’t have that

(he just wants to spend more time with you but shh about that)

doesn’t matter how hard you try to convince him you’re gonna be fine. you’re staying and that’s final

it’s cute, he’s cute when he’s worried

well that brings you to where you are currently, already after your shower, dressed in one of akaashi’s t-shirts, oh this feels so couple-ish

you wait for him to finish with his night time routine in his room, admiring all the posters and childhood pictures he has

he has the first ever selfie bokuto took with him framed

when he comes back, that’s when the problems start

“Alright, well, let’s get some sleep, you can take my bed, and I’ll take the floor

And that’s what brings us to the guilt rising in your stomach as you settle in the guy’s sheets, inhaling the heavy scent of his shampoo from the pillow under your head. It’s his house, his bed, and yet he’s sleeping on the floor like some random guest. You’re the random guest here, you can’t help but feel like you’re crashing at his place against his will, and you’re making him uncomfortable.

“ ‘Kaashi?” you whisper, making his eyes open wide to see the dark ceiling of his room. There’s silence for a moment, and then he shifts to turn on the light once more.

“Yeah?” he sighs, bringing one hand up to his face to rub his eyes, unable to open them properly because of the sudden flush of light.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep on the bed?” you ask shyly, making him chuckle as he shakes his head.

“Yes, yes I’m sure. Goodnight” he states gently, turning on the light once again. This is gonna be a long night, he thinks.

You cannot catch your sleep. Damn it, damn your altruism and all that shit.

“Akaashi no, I can’t-“ you’re cut of by the sound of him laughing.

“Oh my god. Fine. If I move to the bed, will you sleep already?” he whines quietly, and seeing you nod in the dark, he gets up and picks up his pillow.

You get off the bed, wanting to swap places with him, but are held back by his hand.

“No, if you sleep on the floor, i won’t be able to close my eyes even for a second” he forbids gently, moving you back to where you were previously laying.

Oh boy, you both think, this is awkward, but the warmth of his body pressed next to yours makes it hard to be mad at him for stopping you from leaving.

This is gonna be a long night indeed.

457 notes · View notes

vannybarber · 3 years

Text

Put Some Respect On My Name!

Summary: As a wife and a mother to the kids of this asshole, respect is the one thing you better be recieving from him...after some good 🍆 of course. That's number one right there.😏

Ransom Drysdale x Black Reader

BIG ASS PLOT

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: Pregnant¡Reader, swearing, insults, angst, mentions of cheating, SMUT, breeding kink, spanking, oral (female receiving), praise kink, unprotected sex, mentions of religion, threats of violence (nothing extreme).

So here your are. Sitting on you and Ransom's shared California King bed looking at his friend, Derek's Instagram story, disappointed and angry. But mostly angry. Some nasty ass trick is sitting on your baby daddy's lap. Her loppy floppy tits out with a drink in hand and him drinking a Moscato, the one beverage he loved to order everytime he went out.

Last year for New Year's, you had to stop him from ordering more or else you were going to be cleaning him up after puking everywhere at midnight instead of getting a kiss to start off another year.

Your two year old daughter was in her playroom across the hall making a mess with her toys. Usually you'd be down there playing with her but your swollen stomach done prohibited you from doing a lot of things now. But it most definitely ain't stop you from getting what you want from Ransom every day and night. Nothing could ever stop you guys from getting yo freak on. Nothing.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale is most definitely an asshole and you're not gonna sit here and lie, acting like he completely changed when you guys came together. That boy still has his moments, but of course, it would be a chilly ass day in hell before you sit there and take his bullshit. He been learned that.

At this point ,you were thinking of ways to get on his ass about it when he comes home. Should you get the bat and wait at the door on some Beyonce shit ? Or put some bleach in his Fruit Loops like Cardi the next day ? Those sounded a lot better than what you decided to do. You were gonna wait till he got back home and calmly confront him on it, regardless of what your hormones wanted. 6 months pregnant and anger do not go together. You're WAAAAY more vulnerable and bound to do anything now. So you just watch your daughter brush her baby doll, hitting her on the head cause she won't sit still, rubbing your bump and wait for him to come home.

You hear shuffling downstairs and keys hitting the bowl by the front door. His big head home now and you're beyond ready.

You check the time and it's 2:46 am. You been put your child to sleep hours ago. You were just watching Wild N' Out to pass the time, thinking of how you were gonna start off without making yourself even more mad. The baby nor you need any of that. You were internally praying he was gonna get his ass over here soon cause your ass knocked out for a little bit. You were sleepy as hell right now.

Hearing those expensive ass Chelsea boots hit the sleek stairs and up to the second floor, you woke the fuck up real quick. You stay quiet and watch him walk in your daughters room and check on her. You can see with the nightlight him smile and rub her brown cheek with the back of his forefinger, whispering inaudible words to her. Fuck him and his adorable ass.

He bends back up straight and walks out her room closing the door a little and make his way across the hall to your room. He sees you and your pregnant state in your white tube top and grey booty shorts. Simple yet the baddest bitch he's ever laid eyes on and ever will. He smiles while locking eyes with you and all you do is narrow yours back at him getting upset all over again, regardless of the sweet previous moment shared with your baby girl.

He gives you a 'what the hell ?' look and comes over to give you a kiss but you jerk your head back with the stank face and a 'boy move out my face' quietly leaving your mouth. Now he's REALLY confused.

"Mama, what's wrong with you?"

You look at him like he just asked you to get on your knees and bark like a dog.

"What's wrong with me? You really asking that?" raising your voice on the second question.

Technically, he has the right to ask, being that he doesn't know what you know. He probably doesn't even know that Derek was recording him and that broad. Nor does he know that you texted Derek to keep recording him so you know nothing escalates.

Call it what you want, but you know how your man is. He's immature and irresponsible as HELL. If something had popped off that really threatened y'all's relationship, you would've been in that bar with your child on your right hip, earphones in her ear and tablet in hand, cussing him and that girl out.

"You wanna tell me how your night went?" You tilt your head asking sweetly, with a drop of sarcasm. You truly are a petty ass piece of work. And you love it.

"Just get to the point Y/N. The fuck did I do this time ?" At this point he's now visibly annoyed. But you ain't care. This situation is on his part. Y'all could've had a nice night, fucking while Big City Greens playing in the background on the T.V. eventually waking your child up cause you loud as hell, but nooooo. That ain't happening now.

You grab your phone and open back up Instagram, Marta popping up on your feed with Harlan reading a book. You like it and search up Derek's @ then click his story. You flip through countless tabs until you see the man-child standing in front of you, on the screen. You motion him over to the bed.

"Come here, asswipe."

He rolls his eyes, but moves them feets anyway. You turn your phone to him and let the video play. You watched it about a thousand times so you know exactly when it ends. After it does you pull the phone back in your lap and give him a questioning look.

Sometimes it's hard to read his expressions and this was one. It was a mix of slight guilt and double the annoyance. He backs up and stands back at the end of the bed, arms crossed.

"Really? This why you're upset?"

You swear you almost slapped him. And this time you couldn't blame the hormones because it was gonna be ALL YOU. You take a deep breath and lean your back against the cushion headboard.

"I KNOW you did not just ask me that as if I ain't supposed to be bothered by the fact that my husband got some random woman on his lap while I'm at home with his daughter and his growing child."

You deadass don't believe him right now. He really pressing you as if he don't know how you get when you're angry, especially while pregnant.

"My feet hurt. I am TIRED. I can't even move for more than 5 minutes without getting sick and having to sit down. The you come at me with this bullshit" you continue. "What the hell is wrong with you ?"

He just deadpans you. And you stare at his ass right back. You not playing right now.

"Y/N, you never get upset when I go out with my buddies and get hammered." He's flapping his arms around raising his voice at every word.

"What is the big deal now? It's fucking late and you're doing all this right now. What the hell?"

You gather the strength and get out the bed to close the bedroom door cause you about to go AWF.

Getting back on the bed fully sitting up and supporting your own weight, you tie your butterfly braids up in ponytail.

"Listen, you raggedy shitball,"

It's about to go down. You adjust yourself, ready to release the wrath.

"I don't give a damn how late it is. You know better than to go out and let some bitch get close up on you like that. Were you even thinking about me or your kids while she was on you? The fuck was going through your mind? Oh wait, I forgot. You don't fucking think. You have to actually have a damn brain."

"Raggedy shitball? Real mature, babe. Real fucking mature." He says rolling his eyes, finally getting his shoes off and putting them under the chair were his scarf and coat are draped over.

You continue with your rant.

"Ironic for you to comment on maturity, Hugh."

Yep, that's right. You said it. You called him by his ugly ass first name. Linda and Richard must've been out they damn mind naming him that shit. He whipped his head around, any sense of expression just completely wiping from his face. Perfect. Just the reaction you wanted.

"Don't call me that." He stated, pure disgust in his words. To be honest, you don't even blame him. But like stated before, you petty as hell.

"Hugh, Hugh, Hugh. Your name is fucking Hugh" you say in a sing songy voice. Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.

"You don't get to tell me what to do right now. And back to what I said before. Why you let that girl in your lap like that ?"

"It was completely harmless. We were just having fun. Like you said before, you aren't a jealous person. Stuff like that shouldn't even be affecting you like this." He gets on the bed beside you and your face tore back up again. He's really getting in this fucking bed beside you like nothing.

But he was right though. You aren't a jealous person. A girl can come up to him at a party and flirt right in your face, but you'd never be bothered. Cause at the end of the day, her ass is getting rejected and he's gonna be inside you later the same night. He's yours and you're his. Simple.

"Ransom, just because I'm not a jealous person doesn't mean I'm gonna keep my mouth if our relationship is threatened." This man is actually delusional.

"You never entertain other girls when I'm around and here you are with a girl on your lap and I'm not there to say or do nothing. And you know your shitty friends will just encourage it. "

At this point, you started to get really insecure. Maybe it's the hormones, maybe it's just your logic. But your mind started racing like NASCAR. What really happens when he's out and you're at home? He wouldn't put your marriage and family at risk over a bitch...right? He hasn't cheated on you, has he? These thoughts really weren't good for your right now.

But he must've read your expressions. You were zoned out and he knows you're an over thinker so he had to stop you real quick. He puts his large left hand over your thigh, rubbing it and his right around your ass, leaning his head against your arm, trying to get you to chill. It almost worked, him knowing you liked your thighs rubbed, especially in your state.

But you caught that shit right away. You moved out of his hold and turn your body completely towards him. And then you ask him.

"Have you ever cheated on me?"

He freezes, you swear for at least 2.4 milliseconds and whips his head around to look at you. You turn your head away, somewhat regretting you even asked. You know this fucker loved you and your family with everything. He even said in his vows he would give his all into you. And you believed him. But fuck that right now. You need to know.

"Are you GODDAMN serious right now?!"

Okay, you paused for two things; he used God's name in vain, which you HATED, due to you growing up religious. Even though you don't practice it very often, it still bothered you. And two, he yelled, completely disregarding the fact that your kid is across the hall sleeping.

You snap your head around, braids hitting your face with super saiyan speed and kick him in his hip.

"What the shit, Y/N?"

"First of all, you know how I feel about that fucking word. STOP USING IT. And two, your daughter is sleeping so you need to keep your damn voice down!"

He's rubbing his side with a distorted look, but you could care less. You were fed up. This imbecile wasn't showing you any respect and your weren't gonna wait for him to get it right.

"How the hell would you feel if I went out, sat on some random dude's lap and entertained him while you were at home with our kid? Matter a fact, I'll do one even better. How about while I'm PREGNANT with YOUR baby, that YOU put in me, I sit on him and letting him rub my belly?"

Ransom has a big ass breeding kink. When you told him you were pregnant he was ecstatic. The though of him knocking you up, his seed growing inside of you just gave him pure ecstacy. And don't even get started on when your bump started to form. He was fucking every chance he got. He was in a theme park and you were his favorite ride.

You know you were playing with fire, but that shit felt AMAZING. He was really feeling how you were feeling right now. Them veins were popping out his neck and his face was slightly turning red. Baby boy was LIVID.

"Y/N, cut that shit out. I'm not doing this with your ass tonight." He looked at you with these eyes you've only seen when his family pissed him off at those gatherings he dragged both of you to. Before you had your first child of course. You went to them less after your daughter's birth because he didn't want her around his shitty family. You completely understood.

"Nah, baby boy. Since you want to be so inconsiderate and a triple asshole tonight, you can lay here by yourself and bathe in it." You got your big ass out the bed after minutes of struggling. Grabbing your black Betty Boop pillow with her cute afro, your charger, phone and your Hot Cheetos out the night stand and slipped on your slides, you waddle across the room, heading into the guest bedroom.

You refuse to sleep in the same bed as him, especially since he refuses to admit he's in the wrong. If you stay in there, you're just going to get even more frustrated and you don't want to harm your baby.

"Y/N, baby. What are you doing? Come back in here" he called you from the bedroom.

You shut the door and lock it. You'll be damned if you're gonna come running back cause he aSkEd you to. You settle in the bed, plug your phone up, grab your chips and turn When They See Us on the T.V.

Ransom just lays back on the bed in defeat. He didn't even make an effort to get you back in the room because you're stubborn as a mule. But he takes this time to go over what just happened.

He truly didn't think you would make a big deal. Like you said before, you're not a jealous person, so he didn't think he'd have to worry. Boy, was he all the way wrong. And you did have a point about you entertaining another man. That had his blood boiling. He gets at most irritated when you come with him to events, like the Oakley Country Club in Watertown and you're everyone's distraction.

It was your first appearance with him there and you being a sight to see, had all eyes on you and your body. Hell, even the women were checking you out, no envy or jealousy in sight. He knew then, he was gonna keep you close. You don't remember ever leaving his side that evening. He even volunteered to go into the bathroom with you. He didn't want to take a chance with the females either.

But in all seriousness, he couldn't bear the thought of you with another man. Especially now that you're married and have two kids together. But he really couldn't believe that you'd even suggest that he had been unfaithful to you. Your reasons were plausible, yes, but he was honestly...hurt. He knows what kind of guy he is comes off as, but he'd never intentionally ruin what you guys have built. You were the only one he truly let close.

He knew what he had to do, even though he dreaded it. He had to go apologize. He hates when you're upset with him. Absolutely hates it. Plus you were looking sexy as hell tonight and he need some of that round brown ASAP, no rocky.

Ransom got up and opened the door, making his way down the hall to the guest bedroom, but not before checking his baby's room. She was still fast asleep, little snores leaving her body. Exiting her room, he knew your door would be locked but tried to open it anyway. When it didn't budge, he knocked a couple of times. But you was knocked out.

Then he remembered. Lifting his hand to the top of the door frame, he searched for the thin key that unlocked the bedroom doors. Once he felt it, he grabbed it and inserted it in the door knob. Click. He pushed the door open and looked around to see the T.V. screen on, but paused, and you lying on your side with the Cheeto bag still open like a damn fool.

He shut the door quietly and made his way around the bed. He closed the loud ass bag, which caused you to stir and reposition your legs. He set the bag on the nightstand and crawled into the bed with you. He stared at you for a moment. Looking at your full lips and your wide nose.

Your afrocentric features were always so mesmerizing to him because they were different from all the other women. They were unique and he understood why you took so much pride in them. You had the damn right, especially looking that good. You were never afraid to embrace them. No person of color should ever be afraid to. Ever.

After what felt like an hour of weird ass staring, Ransom started to shake your arm, trying to wake you. You're a heavy ass sleeper, so it took him a while. You opened your eyes, squinting trying to figure what the fuck just woke your ass up. Feeling a dip in the bed and a presence next to you, Ransom comes into sight.

Even though this man is finer than a MOTHERFUCKER, you still turned your nose up when you looked at him. Your ass was still mad and it was ridiculous. Understandable, but ridiculous as hell. You could only imagine what he wanted now. You roll your eyes.

"Listen, I know you're still pissed at me and whatever, but I just came in here to.... apologize."

He averted his gaze to the T.V. You know how difficult it is for your baby to apologize for anything because even though he clearly in the wrong, he will never ever accept it nor admit it. And damn sure never apologize.

"I realize how you felt when you saw that video", he continued. "I would be even more pissed if you were the one in someone else's lap and I couldn't kick their ass as soon as I saw it."

You chuckled a little bit because it's true. He would be angry as shit. Although, you'd never be in that position because you love and respect him too much. But you let him finish before you spoke.

"With that being said, I'm sorry for my actions. Believe it or not, I'm still getting adjusted to being a husband and a father. I'm still struggling to give up my old habits and the shit I'm so used to doing. It's not easy, baby."

You grab is strong jaw and make him face you. He hasn't made eye contact with you this entire time. You almost felt bad, but he needed to understand. Understand where you were coming from and understand how it made you feel.

"Ransom, I'm not asking you to completely change who you are. I just want to know that you're in this for good. Because you can't turn back now. We've come too damn far. And I'll be damned if you decide to give up your responsibilities. Your ass gon' be grass."

He smiled a teeny bit, because what can you say? You're a natural born comedian. You can turn any situation in to some funny ass shit. But you get back to your point.

"I want you to be able to go out and have fun, but also come back and be a husband and a father. I value my independence just as much as you, so I get it. Just remember what you have. Don't fuck it up for some pussy, alright? That's all I'm saying."

You look him in his sea blue eyes. Damn, them thangs are hypnotic as hell. But you search for something that tells you he understands. That's all you fucking want. Him to understand. But you definitely got your answer.

Just as you were about to ask him, he shoots his face towards you and attacks your mouth like a damn wild ass pig. You were thrown all the way off, but you checked back into reality and kissed him back. You guys had this amazing ass way of getting in sync when you kissed. No matter who initiates it, you flow amazingly.

After a few mintues of saliva attack, you pull away tryna breathe cause he was about to take all your fucking oxygen. He laughs at the look on your face. You end up cracking up too. You can't help it. And he knows it.

"I completely understand, mama. I've definitely taken this into consideration. I learned my lesson." He smiles down at you. Internally you're proud as fuck because it's like you raised a bad ass kid into a well behaved one. The power your ass holds is amazing.

Then you look at the door trying to figure out how the hell he got in the room. "The key." You nod in realization. He rubs your thigh again, and this time, you don't stop him. Instead he stops himself. You look at him confused as fuck.

"But I'm gonna let you sleep in here, since you seem to be so cozy." He was messing with you. Fuck him. He gets up off the bed and head towards the door, but not before looking back to catch your reaction. You had a 'get your ass back over here' look on your face. But he just smirked. That signature smirk.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He really out here testing you right now. The balls on this motherfucker...

"Ransom, get your ass over here and give me what I want." You look down at his crotch, imagining him without his wool Reiss pants. He follows your eyes, still holding that smirk, but not forgetting to widen it. You lusting after his fLeSh turned him on bad. And it felt so good.

You already know you're to hard to resist. Everyone loves chocolate. Even Ransom's lactose intolerant ass.

You start to rub your belly, purposely drawing his attention, really making him turned on for you. You can feel that that tropical rain storm in your Fenty underwear.

And that boy was ready to start swimming. He expediTiously got back on the bed and in between your legs. You give him that look and that's all he needed. Connecting your lips to his and moving them in perfect sync like always, he starts rubbing up and down the side of your full belly.

"So fucking perfect and all of it's for me."

You pause.

"And who said all of this was for you, Mr. Drysdale?"

Not amused by your comment, he slaps your ass louder than a bitch and you shut your ass up real quick. Not before letting out a little giggle though.

He lifts your heavy ass and pulls the tube top over your head, letting your swole breasteses fall into position. Your areolas widened since having your daughter and Ransom LIVED for it. You were definitely enjoying them massages and those lips treatments he gave you when they were sore, just like now.

He starts kneading the left breast and continues to make out with your face like an animal. His left arm is holding your ass up. He eventually lays you back down, knowing damn well his ass is tired of holding you. You ain't blaming him either.

He hooks his lips on the nipple of the same breast, twirling his deadly tongue all around it. You moan with your head thrown back cause it feels good as hell. He lets go and replaces his mouth with his hands and twirls the nipple with his mouth on the other.

All you could do was mumble cuss words and grab his hair. He was really fucking you up and the real fucking didn't even start yet.

Trailing kisses all the way down your beautiful bump, down all the stretch marks till he reaches your shorts. He wasted no time getting them off and disposing them on the clean floor. Whatever he throw on the floor HE'S picking that shit up, not you. You'll make sure of that.

He looks directly at your covered pussy with excitement in his eyes. More excited than you were, if that's even possible. He takes his thick index finger and rubs you through your panties, completely soaking them. You just watch him, lust dialating your pupils.

He yanks them off, almost taking you off the damn bed at the same time, so you had to re-adjust yourself. He spreads your legs on their sides of his wide shoulders and licks from your core to the hood that covered your clit. You jerked a little cause you were in your second trimester, the horny trimester. You were 🌃 sensitive 🌃.

Then his annoying ass starts lapping in circles in super saiyan speed. You cry out and grab your left breast, squeezing and rubbing it. He stretches his left hand out and takes the right one, doing the same thing. Your back was continuously arching. You know your baby was fed up.

After a couple of more laps, your body finally can't take anymore and you cum all over his mouth. He has the audacity to keep going, even when your clit is hypersensitive, making you literally whimper, so you have to slap his head to get him to stop.

He pulls away with that stupid famous smirk.

"All that shit you're always talking, but you couldn't take a little sensitivity?" He teases you. But that's alright, cause you gon' remember that next time you're on your knees for him. When he comes, you not taking your mouth off him until you feel like it.

"Just fuck me already before I change my mind." You don't know why you even said that shit. He can tease you all you want. You'll never not have your legs or mouth open, ready for him to stick his dick wherever he feels.

He just chuckles, cause he knows that too.

Taking your body, he flips you on your left side and settles behind you, dick right against your ass. Its one of your favorite positions because he could hit your sweet spot perfectly this way. And he could rub your bump at the same time. Beneficial for the both of your greedy asses.

He was taking way to long so you grab his dick and line it up with your pussy and push the tip in slowly, playing with your own arousal. Ransom just watched. He loved seeing you desperate for his stupid ass, but you gave zero fucks at the moment.

Finally you slip his huge ass girth inside you and you moan out loud as hell. You really just be turned on by anything at this point. He then takes back the lead and pushes further till he bottoms out inside you. He's heavily breathing his hot ass breath on your neck like a weirdo, but fuck it.

Once both of you are adjusted, he starts moving in and out of you. The position made your walls hella tighter and he was already hitting your spot. His tight arm is wrapped around your stomach now. You constantly moan his name and he's just encouraging it.

"Ransom, fuck, baby just like that"

"You love when I fuck you like this, don't you pretty girl?"

You hated when he called you "pretty girl, sweet girl, or good girl" because you become a straight whore for him right away. He's such an asshole.

"Yes, Daddy- please don't stop"

"Tell me how bad you want it baby"

There he go with these fucking games. Always wanting to hear you beg.

"I want it so bad, Daddy ! pleASe give it to mE"

Happy Ransom?

He starts to pick up the pace and you feel the pleasure in your toes. It just travel from there all around your body and you can't say anything but "don't stop" and moan uncontrollably.

You start getting close and he can tell by the way you pick up the moans. So he starts going faster. But never forgetting to add a little nasty dialogue.

"I can feel you ready to come sweet girl. Keep clenching around me baby" That shit just made you even more whore-knee. If you weren't already pregnant, he was definitely gonna put a baby in you that night.

"Baby I'm close- fill me up Ransom please "

You're begging for this man to cum inside you, but he always wanna play a damn game.

"Hmmm do you truly deserve to cum baby? I don't know if you do.."

You wanted to hit him so bad, but he wouldn't let you come if you did. So you go along with it.

"Yes Daddy I'll do anything- Please just let me cum !" You screamed.

At this point you were loud as 🌃fuck🌃 .

After more begging he finally let you come.

"Oh shit Ransom- FUCK" You come all over his dick and shortly after, he came right behind you. Filling you up just like you wanted. He slumped against your back and you lowered your shaky leg.

"You always take me so well baby girl." He starts kissing your neck. You could literally hear that loppy ass smile he has on his face everytime y'all get done. But you get all tingly inside because you love when he praises you. Makes you feel proud of yourself.

"Well there's not much to take so...it's whatever." What are you without a teasing remark after every other sentence? But he always has a clapback.

"Its funny you say that because the other day you were practically in tears because my dick was "too much for one woman to take" and that I was practically torturing you." At this point you're turned over facing him grinning like a Cheshire cat and him smiling right back at you.

"Oh shut the fuck up, with your annoying ass." You snap back at him playfully, rolling your eyes.

"You love me, my chocolate bunny." He let's out an audible yelp when you kick him in his leg. You hate when he calls you that. "Cut it out Ransom, or you're not touching me for a week."

There you go again saying the dumb shit. You both know that YOU could never go through with that.

"Fine by me", he states unphased. Cause he knows you could never.

You roll your eyes for the 50thousanth time.

"You're lucky I love your ass."

"I love you too pretty girl" he winks.

Just as you were about to get up, you hear something jiggle the doorknob and someone huffing and puffing outside the door. That little girl over here jumping up and down tryna to open the damn door. You're literally hollering at her struggle. Truly sick in the fucking head.

"Mama! Where Papa ?" Ransom grins as he throws you his blue sweater so you can cover up and gets up to let your baby girl in.

You truly cannot stand this guy.

This all came to me so fast 😭 I hope y'all like it lmaoo

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751 notes · View notes

chasingpj · 3 years

Text

𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐠

"You're more powerful than you think, Y/n. What's he gonna do? Splash you?"

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 4,321

warnings: none?? some violence but nothing gory

timeline: post sea of monsters

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a/n: i can't believe I actually posted this on time. i hope you guys like it!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

Atticus leans against a tree, his hands in his pockets as he gives the wood nymphs a smirk that made you want to throw up. The three girls that stand in front of him giggle, nudging his shoulder playfully at something he said. You couldn't hear much from afar, but you doubt it was that funny, the girls just entertaining him because he's handsome or whatever. You scoff softly under your breath, turning away and sharing a look with Lou Ellen, who's scratching the backs of Ambrose's ears. The two of you rolling your eyes simultaneously before you turn on your heels.

While talking amongst themselves, your older brothers are huddled together, the three of them with furrowed eyebrows, serious stares seemingly deep in conversation. As Ernest takes a moment to look up from their circle, you meet his gaze. You don't fail to notice the nervous smile he gives you as he lightly jabs Alabaster in the ribs with his elbow. Furrowing your eyebrows, your steps become hesitant as Alabaster halts mid-sentence, his scowl fading into a friendly smile.

“What’s up?” You ask hesitantly. It was clear you had interrupted something. James and Ernest look at Alabaster, waiting for him to respond to your question. Alabaster shakes his head,

“Nothing. What happened? Got bored of watching your brother flirt with the wood nymphs?” He jokes with you, and you smile, willing to look past the strange tension between them.

“Not bored, more like I couldn’t stand it anymore,” you say, making your brothers chuckle.

“Dude’s got game,” Ernest nods proudly as he shrugs. You cringe,

“Gross.” Lou Ellen giggles as she joins you, her arms wrapping around yours. “Anyways, what are we doing to pass time today?”

Capture the flag was probably one of the activities you hated most at camp. Especially when you were playing on the same side as the Ares Cabin. None of you were strong sword fighters or archers, only relying on your powers in battle and this deemed you guys as not useful by Clarisse’s standards. This meant you and your siblings were always stationed at the same side of the forest where you rarely got any action.

Alabaster hums, his hands shoved in his pockets, “I was actually thinking that we should take over the game,” he suggests, and your eyes widen in surprise.

“What? Clarisse will lose her mind if we meddle with the game.” You really didn’t want to deal with her. Because of the run-ins you've had with her in the past, you preferred to stay out of her way because then, for the most part, she’ll stay out of yours. You were slow to anger, but when you got riled up about something, you raged. And in terms of Clarisse, she just knew how to get you there. Alabaster rolls his eyes,

"Yeah, well, we always lose because Clarisse takes the same approach every time. She has us tossed to the side as if we're useless. I'm serious; let’s prove ourselves. You can get the flag, Y/n. Take down Percy, and we'll cover you."

You shift, exchanging looks with your brothers. Not only were you surprised at Alabaster wanting to jump in the game, but he was also assigning you the task of taking down the other team's main defense. Alabaster was hands down your most powerful sibling at camp. Though you didn’t have a cabin, there was an unspoken agreement that he was the representative of the Hecate children. He’s been studying the longest and has taught you almost everything you know. You weren’t sure why he was putting you out there when he could do a better job at trapping Percy. Though Alabaster has praised you for being a quick learner and dedicated to your studies, you didn’t quite see the potential he obviously saw in you.

"I don't know… me against Percy? I don't think I'm the best one to put out there," you gradually begin mumbling your words as Alabaster’s face hardens at your self-doubt. He scoffs, looking off into the forest as he shakes his head,

"You’re more powerful than you think, Y/n. What is he gonna do? Splash you?" You gawk at him, not sure if he was discrediting Percy's powers or if he was truly ignorant to what he could do. You haven't seen Percy do much in person, but from the stories you've heard about what he's done on his quests, you couldn't act like he wasn't powerful. Your brother’s chuckle at what Alabaster said, and Ernest nods,

“You got this, Y/n. Remember, our powers are almost limitless; it all depends on up here,” he says as he taps your forehead with his index finger softly. “Your mind can be your sidekick or your downfall.”

You smile at the reminder and nod. Your siblings have always been your biggest motivators when it came to your magic. There are only 8 of you, so you guys are a tight-knit group, always encouraging each other to excel in your abilities.

Though you guys are all around the same age, you look up to your brothers the most. Alabaster, Ernest, and James are the most knowledgeable ones out of the bunch. They were usually the ones giving demonstrations of spells and potions, passing you notes from their book of shadows. James taught you and Atticus how to control your magic when you were angry, Alabaster taught you most of your defense magic, and Ernest just had a way of being able to lift everyone's spirits. They believed in you, you all believed in each other, and you couldn’t ask for a better family.

Still, with their words of praise and advice, you were still hesitant about going head to head with Percy. You didn’t want to disappoint them, though, not wanting to seem scared or weak.

“Okay, fine." Your siblings chatter excitedly, Alabaster smiling proudly as he pats your shoulder.

“Atticus!” Alabaster shouts, interrupting whatever your brother was saying to the wood nymphs.

“Yeaah?”

“Come over here.” Alabaster chuckles as Atticus's shoulders slump. He looks at the girls he was talking to, smiling at them before dismissing himself.

“What is it? I was on a roll,” he says, playfully annoyed.

“They’re sending me out as bait,” you say dramatically as you frown. Atticus furrows his eyebrows,

“Uh, what?” You laugh at his reaction, Alabaster side-eyeing you with a smile on his own face.

“What she means is she’s going to take down Percy, and we’re gonna handle the guys around the flag. James, Ernest, and I are gonna shadow travel as far as we can, which is maybe a little before their last line of defense, okay? You, Lou Ellen, Sage, and Alice are gonna deal with the Apollo kids,” he says, the 7 of you listening attentively. You shift on your feet; head cocked to the side as you raise your hand.

“Yes?”

“If you guys can shadow travel closer to the flag, why don’t you guys end the game?”

“Because it’ll piss Clarisse off even more if it's you,” James smirks, and your jaw drops,

“Oh, now, you’re really throwing me into the line of fire, huh?” Your face is straight as your siblings laugh, and you cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t know why you guys are laughing. I don’t find this very funny,” you retort, looking away to hide your smile. You couldn’t deny that you wanted to see Clarisse’s reaction when she realizes it was you who got the flag.

“When you have the flag, and it’s time to run back to the pond, you have to become ethereal,” Alabaster says, and you blink,

“What?! I just learned how to do that! And I did it at night,” you say, a little panicked. “I don’t know if I can hold it for long and-”

“You’ll do it,” Alabaster cuts you off, and you take a step back as Ambrose whines in displeasure. He definitely wasn’t giving you a choice, and it bothered you. You were grateful for his belief in you, but you really hated how nonchalant he was, considering you could get hurt. “Ready?” He asks the rest of the group, moving on from your concern and your jaw clenches. You feel unprepared, but it seems like it didn’t matter, so you didn’t bother saying anything else.

“Whatever,” you mumble, and you walk past your siblings, your familiar trotting close behind you. Before you disappear in the trees, you hear Atticus say something about not being sure if you should go out there alone before Alabaster shuts him down.

It didn’t take you long to arrive near the pond. Dodging the twigs and leaves on the forest ground, you get as close as you can, hiding behind a tree. You cautiously peek over the side to see if Percy was by the pond as he usually was and to your surprised, the pond is unguarded. You consider making a run for it but something about this felt too easy. Why wouldn't he be at the pond? A high-pitched whine comes from Ambrose’s lips, snapping you out of your thoughts and you quietly shush him, not wanting to get caught.

“Looking for me?” A familiar voice says, and you turn around fast finding Percy a few feet from you, his sword up and ready. The Percy you were met with in the past week or so always had this friendly glint to him. But right now, his eyes were clouded with determination. You feel your heart beating hard in your chest, but you maintain a pretty good poker face as you pull the dagger that’s strapped to your thigh in one motion.

You were by no means a strong sword fighter. Like everyone else, you attended a few classes initially, but it didn’t take you long to realize it wasn’t your domain. It didn’t come as natural for you as the other campers, and you hated when you weren’t good at something right away. After many defeats, you gave up, deciding you’ll excel in your magic so you can depend on it instead.

Your strategy was to go head to head with Percy with your abilities, not like this. Before you could adjust your plan, Percy makes the first move, lunging toward you. His movements were fast and strong, and you were struggling to keep up from the start. You grunt as you manage to defend his attacks, not confident enough to go for a hit because you weren’t sure of your timing. You had to think fast. There was no way you'd be able to win in this sword fight. So you did the last thing he'd expect, you ran away.

"Hey!" Percy calls after you, and you can hear the confusion in his voice. He looks around, not sure if this was some way to distract him or if you really gave up on the fight.

You turn around when you’re about 10 feet from him and you quickly shove your dagger into its casing. Electric green orbs form at the palms of your hands, and you swallow as concentrate on the tug in your gut. Your eyes meet Percy’s, the other now understanding what you were doing once he sees you form the orbs in your hands. He smiles, accepting the challenge as he caps his sword before shoving it in his pocket. His fingers spread out, his arm extended on his sides. He takes a deep breath as he channels his energy, and before you could send out your first attack, you see the water from the pond behind him rising in a thick controlled stream.

As he sends the stream right to you, you felt like everything went in slow motion. Your pulse is loud in your ears, and you focus on your energy, grunting loudly as you send out a thick green beam right at his water. You squint your eyes as you feel droplets splashing on your face from where your magic met his stream. There is a loud hissing in the air as the intense heat from your energy evaporates the water on impact. You’re out of breath by the time Percy retreats, his eyes darkening as he formulates another plan to attack.

Not letting him muster something stronger than what he did before, you begin throwing energy orbs at his feet rapidly, watching the heat burn the grass as Percy jumps back every time.

You had a new plan now, and as ridiculous as it sounded, a part of it was to get him in the pond. Most people would want to get him away from the water, but that would be too easy of a solution, and he’d be expecting that strategy. You had decided that you had to use his powers against him. Just as you planned, Percy eventually jumps into the water with a cocky smirk and you bite your lip. Don’t mess this up.

You close your eyes, feeling a tug in your core as you imagine yourself teleporting behind Percy. When you open them, you’re met with the back of his head, and before he can look around for you, you kick him behind the knees hard. He groans, falling forward into the water.

"Sorry!" You mumble as you jump out of the pond. The water begins to rise around him, and with the most confident voice you can muster, you shout,

“Incantare: Conglacio!" Your arms spread up in front of you, toward the pond. Almost immediately, the water that was risen suddenly becomes frozen solid around Percy. He grunts as he tries to move, quickly realizing that he was trapped in the ice from the knee down. You weren't sure of the extent of Percy's control over water, and you take into consideration that he may be able to change the temperature of it, but you don't wait to find out.

You speed past the pond, Ambrose racing after you, and he barks loudly. Not wanting to make the mistake of ignoring his warnings, you look up and you see campers from the Apollo cabin settled on the branches already pulling back their arrows.

“Where are they?” You mutter, hearing the whooshing noise of the bows being released. Anger and annoyance swirl in your chest at your sibling's late timing. You were already on edge about this whole plan. Now that you’ve taken down one of your big hurdles, you were determined to finish this game, not wanting to feel like a fool for trying if you failed.

Your orbs glow green with the returning of your aura, and you shout angrily as you abruptly stop running. In one quick motion, you extend your arms beside you with clenched fists, blasting a veil of your energy like a force field. The force sends their arrows in the opposite direction and manages to knock a few Apollo campers off the trees. You didn’t knock all of them, but it bought you enough time to run as they tried to regain their balance. Halfway through, you hear shouting and groaning as your siblings take down the rest and bind their arms behind their backs with magic.

You run past the Apollo cabin's defense, and soon, you arrive where the flag is. James and Ernest entertain the two disarmed Athena campers that were guiding the flag, fighting them with their hands while Alabaster tied up a couple of other campers in the trees nearby.

“Grab her!” One of the Athena campers yells, his partner lunging toward you without hesitation. You manage to dodge his attempt, the other grunting as he falls from the force that didn't meet your body.

The moment you were close enough to snatch the flag out of the ground and you hear your brothers cheering you on as you sprint back. Your mind races, not sure when you should attempt to become ethereal, and you begin to worry if you’ll even transform at all. Soon, you're greeted with your answer as you catch sight of Mark, one of Clarisse’s brothers, sprinting toward you, and you curse under your breath. Mark will take the flag from you and run back with it himself and you couldn't just let him claim you win. It was much earlier than you wanted, but there was no other choice.

You let out a rough breath, and you focus hard, recalling what you felt the night you transformed for the first time. A gradual tingle becomes more intense as it starts from your fingertips and from the tips of your toes. The sensation creeps up your arms and legs until it meets together in your stomach and as your core vibrates, you smile, knowing you’ve succeeded.

Your siblings shout at you excitedly from the sidelines, the moment you transform, laughing and taunting Mark while he makes useless attempts to grab you. You focus hard to maintain the vibrating in your core as you approach the river, afraid that you will lose your hold. As you get closer to the pond, you lock eyes with Annabeth as she, Percy, and a few others are waiting for your arrival.

If you weren't ethereal, she would have tackled you straight to the ground no problem, but as expected, she ran right through you. The other campers attempt to catch you after Percy sends out a thick slash of water that would have grabbed you by the waist and up in the air.

“What?! How are you doing that?!” Annabeth shouts, and you don’t say anything as finally get to the other side of the pond and you stab the flag in the ground. Your muscles and chest burn, and you double over, hands on your knees to catch your breath. The satyrs blow the horn and at the sound of it, echoing through the forest, signally your triumph, you manage a ragged laugh.

The distant cheers of your siblings become louder as they appear from the trees, running to you. The energy in your core disperses as you turn back to normal, but you don't have much time to recover. The moment your brothers approach you, you feel yourself being picked up and tossed in the air.

“Guys! Please,” you choke through your laughs, squealing when they throw you a little too high for your liking. You look over to your right, seeing Percy smiling, silently congratulating you as Annabeth was pink with anger.

As your brothers put you down, you notice Malcolm showing up a few seconds late with your team’s flag in his hand. Behind him, Clarisse stomps towards you with a few of her friends following beside her. You had to admit, it was kind of satisfying being the one to get the flag, but if looks could kill, you’d be dead.

“Uh oh,” you mumble as she approaches you, your siblings huddling close beside you protectively, and even Ambrose stands in front of you, growling deeply.

“You messed up the game!” She accuses, and your head jerks back,

“Are you joking? I won the game. Mark was barely halfway by the time I was running here.”

“It doesn’t matter! He would have made it.”

“He really wouldn’t have,” James points out, and Clarisse snaps her attention to him.

“Either way, you guys were supposed to stay on the north side of the forest! You freaks have no place in games like this, anyways.”

“Bold of you to say considering we won the game for you,” you say through a clenched jaw, your eyes glowing as you feel your anger stirring in your chest. You hated when you and your siblings were outed in the camp. Being called freaks or avoided because people deemed you guys as too dangerous without giving you chance, angered you the most. It just wasn't fair.

You laugh, not from amusement, but from disbelief. At this point, you didn’t care, you were at a high after your win, and if Clarisse wanted to fight about it, you were up for it. “Is your pride that wounded, Clarisse? Maybe you aren’t as good as you think you are,” you walk up to her, ignoring Atticus's hesitant calling of your name.

The way Clarisse’s eyes darken failed to intimidate you in your furious state. You guys were practically nose to nose, and in the reflection of her eyes, you can see your aura illuminate wildly around. As Clarisse draws her sword, you smirk, ready to blast her into the trees the moment she decided to move.

“Girls,” Chiron’s voice booms through the silence as he walks through the trees, and the both of you look over. He doesn’t say anything else, the tone of his voice being enough of a warning.

Atticus gently pulls on your arm, and you unwillingly back down. Clarisse scoffs, and she pushes past you hard causing you to stumble back. Atticus catches you from behind, letting you regain your balance and you rub your shoulder, looking back to watch her storming through the forest.

“You did well, Y/n,” Chiron praises, and you smile at him before he goes off to announce the winning of your team. Everyone except for the Ares Campers and the opposite team cheers loudly, excited to have fewer chores after a streak of losing. Soon the team crowds around you, and your siblings start telling a dramatic interpretation of what you did forcing you to chime in here and there as some of the things they described were a little off from the truth. You smile, listening to their chattering, and eventually, you fall behind the crowd as they begin talking about something else. Suddenly, a hand rests on your shoulder, and you look beside you, Alabaster with a proud look on his face.

“I told you you’d do it,” he says teasingly.

“Yeah, yeah.” You wave your hand, lightly nudging his hand off your shoulder. The last thing you wanted was for him to start his ‘I told you so’ speech. “I get it, you believe in me, and whatever,” you joke, and Alabaster laughs,

“I’m serious, Y/n. You’re-”

“More powerful than you think. I know.” You finish his sentence as you shift on your feet. “I guess you’re right,” you admit, mumbling under your breath.

“What was that?” He asks as he leans closer as if he didn’t hear you. You nudge his shoulder and scoff,

“If you missed what I said, then too bad!” You declare as you walk ahead of him. You hear his laughter, and he decides to let it go as he returns to walk with your brothers, Ambrose happily trotting behind him.

“Y/n!” At the call of your name, you turn around, Percy jogging over to you. You giggle, amused at how sweet he looked after being able to intimidate you during the game. “I can’t believe you apologized after kicking me."

“I felt bad,” you admit sheepishly, making him laugh. “How did you get out of the ice?” You ask, playing with the hem of your shorts. He hums,

“It took me a while to figure it out, but apparently I can change the temperature of the water,” he explains, and you nod.

“Yeah, I figured you might be able to. I won’t be using that again,” you say playfully, and Percy smiles.

“What you did was really cool,” he compliments, and you feel your cheeks warm up. Out of all the praise that you’ve heard just now, Percy’s made you feel different. “I have to look out for you now,” he nudges you.

“Yeah, you better watch out, Jackson. I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve,” you warn him, and you take in how he gleams at your banter, making you smile even more.

“I’m looking forward to it. I’m just happy that you can’t trap me in my own element; that would have been embarrassing.”

“I’m kind of bummed about that. It would have been funny if I did, though," you tease and Percy scoffs playfully.

“Y/n!” Alabaster calls on you and the other waves for you to come to him. “You have to rest,” he says shortly. You couldn’t read the expression on his face, but he didn’t look too pleased. You frown and nod, disappointed that your conversation was cut short with Percy.

“I’ll see you later,” you smile softly, and Percy nods.

“Yeah, same,” he says, returning the smile before you turn around to join your siblings back to the cabin.

masterlist taglist:@xxyrr

#percy jackson #percy x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #my writing #percy jackson and the olympian fic #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson au #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson fic

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adhduck · 3 years

Text

Oh Well, I Guess We’re Gonna Pretend

AO3

(Major spoilers for rqg 207)

Wilde is at a party with all his loved ones, and everything in his life is finally falling into place.

He’s also unconscious on the floor of the world’s last safehouse, and something is coming for him.

“Come on, Oscar, dance with us.”

Wilde blinks, realizes Hamid is standing in front of him with his hand outstretched; probably a symbolic gesture, considering he’d be hard-pressed to pull someone double his height.

Smiling, Wilde sets his half-empty champagne flute on the table. “Of course. Care to join, Zolf?”

Zolf, who’s slouching in the next seat with his long, worn coat tucked around him in a fabulous display of I am not a party person, scoffs fondly. “Absolutely not. ‘Sides, it’s yer party, Wilde, not mine.”

“It’s our party,” Wilde says with mock offense, putting a hand on his chest. “Didn’t you hear my toast?”

“Half of it, maybe.”

Wilde rolls his eyes, but relents and squeezes Zolf’s shoulder; presses down a smile when Zolf catches his hand for a second and pats it. “I’ll get you to have fun one day, Zolf, mark my words.” He’s rewarded with a gruff little mumble, and then Hamid tugs on his coattail to pull him away.

[Cel is still reeling from the shock of electricity when they see it. It’s large, with a body that could be humanoid if not for the oversized head, how its body seems not to take up space but distort it. If not for the six-foot swords it has instead of arms.

Instinct kicking in, Cel pulls two bombs from their pockets and throws them in rapid succession. Even with their hands trembling a little – they always do, the first few moments of combat – Cel know each one is perfectly weighted and near perfectly aimed.

The creature doesn’t even flinch.

It only takes a moment to process what that means – limited bombs, a 5% chance of hitting at best, almost a third of their own health taken in one hit – before Cel abandons the idea of attacking and reaches instead for Hamid. He’s desperately light, clothes singed and hissing; as Cel pulls him to their chest, he curls instinctively into the touch.

“Hang on, little buddy,” they whisper, trying fiercely to sound sure. “You just keep dreaming for now; I’ll keep you safe.”

They just need to get him through the door.]

There are a few people dancing, but the clear stars are Azu and Kiko—partly due to Azu’s shimmering, lightly glowing pink gown, but mostly because of the dance itself. It’s a bright, lively partner dance Wilde hasn’t seen before, where they pull in and out of each other’s embrace with twirls and dips and lots of laughter. It looks equally exhausting and exhilarating.

Azu notices him mid-spin and brightens immediately, waving him over. “Kiko, you mind if I show Wilde the ropes?”

Kiko grins and gracefully steps back, half-bowing in the process. “Yeah, sure. Long as I can watch.”

So Azu works Wilde through the steps, out of sync with the music at first to get them right, then faster as he gains confidence, and soon they, too, are spinning and laughing. “You,” Wilde says when they pause to catch their breath, adjusting the frill around his neck, “are an excellent dance partner, Azu.”

Azu preens a little. “Oh, thank you! Though I doubt I’ve got much competition, knowing Zolf.”

Chuckling, Wilde glances at the man in question to find him looking back, chin in hand and a fond smile tugging at his mouth—for a moment, at least, before he darts his eyes away with flushing cheeks. Wilde’s heart sings.

[Azu looks sharply between her friends – half of them unconscious, all of them wounded – and the advancing creature. It seems completely unconcerned by the weapons being pulled as it wades into the fray, dodging a heavy swing from Zolf without even acknowledging him. The swords protruding from its shoulders are almost as long as she is tall.

We can’t win this, Azu realizes. Not while it’s this strong. Pressing a hand to her chest, where her pendant rests safely beneath the armor, she calls to her goddess with words of love and protection and rage. The divine energy builds in her chest, bringing the dull glow of her armor to a bright shine; she throws her hand outwards, flinging the energy with it in all directions, and there—at last, the creature hesitates. It stops as suddenly as if caught in a rockslide, making a noise halfway between a groan of pain and the grinding of stuck gears, and Azu starts to feel hopeful.

Then, it raises its blade.]

Azu catches the movement and smiles conspiratorially. “You know, there are gardens out back that are much quieter than in here.”

”Ah, but you forget,” Wilde replies, putting on his best performer voice. “That just guarantees Sasha will be there, hidden amongst the foliage, waiting to strike.”

Giggling a little, Azu says, “The worst you’ll get from her is some rumors about you and Zolf that are actually true.”

Wilde gasps in (mostly) faux horror. “Don’t even say that.”

Azu laughs for real now, a full and surprised thing, and pushes his shoulder lightly. “Go spend time with him, the party will survive without you a while.” Wilde pouts a little at that, and she tips her head toward Hamid; he’s dancing with complete abandon a few feet away, wings half-unfurled and arms raised high in the air as he spins. Already, a few people have been pulled into his orbit, letting their awkward shuffling loosen into something more inelegant, more natural. “We’ve got it covered. Now go, before you start having deadlines again.”

“To be fair, we have an entire holiday between now and then,” Wilde argues—a bit superfluously, considering he’s already moving away.

Zolf greets Wilde’s approach by sitting up in his chair, eyebrows furrowed and hands raised defensively. “If you try to get me to dance, Wilde, I swear to gods—”

“Already learned my lesson with that one, darling.” Zolf’s ears go a little pink, and Wilde is powerless against the urge to lean into it. “Of course, there are plenty of dances we haven’t tried together—”

“Oh, sod off,” Zolf says, kicking Wilde lightly in the shin; his ears are red, though, so he’s already lost the fight.

[Augusta makes no noise as she’s stabbed through the heart; dead before the pain had a chance to wake her. It’s a mercy, perhaps, but one Cel refuses to let happen to anyone else.

The creature shifts, pulling back its bloodied weapon with Hamid as the clear target, and Cel lunges towards the door, clutching Hamid fiercely against them—and is stopped cold as the creature pierces right through Hamid’s chest.

Like Augusta, Hamid doesn’t cry out when he’s stabbed. He doesn’t move, either; not even when the blade is yanked back out with just force it nearly tugs him from Cel’s arms. Panting, they gather him back against their chest, whatever miniscule safety that might entail, and feel for a pulse. It’s there, thank gods, but only just. He might only have seconds left, and there’s nothing they can do.

At the corner of Hamid’s mouth, Cel can see a smile – the kind he might give during the opening toast of a party, now just the shadow of some wonderful dream – and they do not cry, because what fucking good would that do?]

Just to seal the deal, Wilde drops to his knees in front of Zolf’s chair, bringing them almost eye to eye, and flashes his shiniest grin as he teases, “Don’t worry, I know you love it.” He allows a few seconds for Zolf to huff and pointedly not answer, feeling his chest radiate with warmth, then adds, “Anyway, want to get out of here?”

Zolf’s eyebrows raise, then quickly furrow. “What’re you- that was an awful transition line, ya know. Unless you’re tryna seduce me or somethin’, in which case, why.”

“I’m always trying to seduce you, Zolf, it just never works,” Wilde replies easily. “That’s why I enjoy it so much. And anyway, that’s not what I was asking about. There’s apparently a garden out back, and I thought you might want to take a walk with me.”

“Ain’t you got allergies?”

“It’ll be quiet out there. Poetic.”

Zolf considers for a second, looking Wilde over with a slowly forming smile he’s definitely not conscious of, and for a moment there’s nothing else Wilde wants more than this: kneeling in front of the man he loves, basking in his quiet attention, knowing there’s exciting work ahead and time enough to rest before it comes.

[Zolf spins around, ready to level another attack – he hasn’t hit the thing yet, but maybe if he aims a little lower, forces it to turn for him instead – when he sees the blade sliding out of Hamid’s chest. No. Absolutely not. Without checking it’s clear, he rushes forward, dropping the glaive to his side and redirecting that power into the tips of his fingers. He licks his thumb, presses it firmly to Hamid’s forehead, and, with a low note of please humming in the back of his chest, mutters words of hope and determination into the staticky air.

The wound heals almost immediately, closing like a budding flower in reverse to leave a raised, slightly jagged line of scar tissue; the only proof of how close Hamid was to death. His wings flutter, trying to unfurl in the confines of Cel’s arms, and for a moment, he stirs. Zolf and Cel both breathe out in relief, but by the time he opens his eyes, the poison overcomes him again, and he curls back into Cel’s chest with a contented sound, asleep and completely unaware of the danger around him.

Not exactly what I had in mind, Zolf thinks, but there’s no sharpness to it. The poison in the air was strong enough to knock out people twice Hamid’s size, so he can’t imagine how strong it must be on him. And besides: this might not be a fight where all of them – any of them – get out alive. Can he really blame Hamid for wanting to dream instead?]

“All right, Wilde,” Zolf says at last. “Let’s go for a walk.”

The gardens aren’t particularly large, but they use the space well—bright flowers lining the walkway, bushes and trees bunched together to create the illusion of depth and privacy. Beneath the largest tree, there’s a clear spot where the light filters through like sparkles and the roots breach the soil in just the right way to make a sort of alcove.

It’s exactly the sort of place Wilde would’ve yearned to write poetry in as a teenager, so of course he tugs Zolf over to sit down.

“Thought this was a walk,” Zolf says, eyebrows raised, but makes no argument when Wilde lays down with his head in Zolf’s lap. His fingers quickly find their way into Wilde’s hair, untangling it little by little, and Wilde can’t stop himself from pushing into the touch with a little hum. Thankfully, Zolf just chuckles, scratching lightly at Wilde’s scalp for a moment before continuing.

There’s silence for a few moments, and Wilde idly searches for a pun he can use to fill it; it’s difficult to focus, though, when Zolf is gathering his hair into sections for a braid, those careful fingers brushing occasionally against his temple, his neck, his jaw.

Finally, what Wilde settles for is: “I hope we’re actually allowed out here. I’d hate to go home early because Grizzop took a swing at me again.”

Zolf snorts. “Don’t tempt me. I’ve always wished I had seen that in person.”

“Some partner you are,” Wilde grumbles, trying not to melt when Zolf tucks a few shorter strands of hair behind his ear. “S’posed to defend me, not join the enemy.”

[Zolf does a rapid once-over of Cel to make sure they’re not injured as well. They’re panting and wide-eyed and definitely only not in shock because there’s not time for it, but seem physically all right, which is about as much as he can hope for right now.

He glances to the door of the lab, where Ada and Skraak also seem to be managing okay—and, importantly, where there’s clean air and a door between them and the monster. Grabbing Cel’s arm, Zolf injects as much authority in his voice as he can and orders, “Get in there, close the door, be safe.”

Without waiting for a reply, he sets his glaive on fire and turns back to the fight. They might not all make it out of here – always a risk, in this line of work – but he’ll still do his damndest to make sure at least some of them do.]

There’s no response, save for a suppressed smile and the continuous back-and-forth motion of Zolf’s steady hands. Wilde basks in it for a moment, getting to lay quietly in the grass without even his allergies interrupting them. It brings to mind when he was a child, rolling down muddy hills with his sister and seeing how long the world tiled after they reached the bottom, dazed and laughing.

“She would have loved this party,” he says, brushing a hand through the barely damp grass at his hip. “Isola, I mean.”

“You could’ve brought her, you know,” Zolf replies. “I could’ve- I dunno, watched her, or somethin’. Not like I was doing much anyway.”

Wilde laughs. “She would be terrified of you.”

[Moving has already proven dangerous, so Cel shifts Hamid in their arms and throws him through the door; once he’s safely inside, they swallow their alchemical allocation and pull a previously untouched potion from their jacket. Dragon’s breath—the one they’d been so excited to get after seeing a glimpse of Hamid’s power; the one they’d chattered back and forth about days or maybe months ago, excited to see when Cel might try it out.

“Not leaving you,” Cel says firmly to Zolf’s back, and chugs the potion. Lightning crackles in their body once again, except this time, it feels powerful instead of painful. This time, Cel is going to be helpful instead of helpless. Whatever it takes.]

Zolf snorts. “Oh, so that’s why I haven’t met her yet.”

“Yes, I’m just absolutely terrified you’ll smite her with all your holy rage,” Wilde deadpans, twisting obediently when Zolf taps the side of his head. “Or gods forbid, convert her to hope.”

“Oi,” Zolf says, tugging lightly on Wilde’s hair. “That hope has saved your arse twenty times by now.”

[Azu catches sight of Hamid breathing and nearly crumples with relief. He’s not dead, she didn’t kill him, she might not have to lose someone else—but there’s not time for that, not yet. They have to destroy this thing first, before it hurts anyone else.

She swings her axe as hard as she can, a scream building in her throat as it moans through the air, and – miraculously – it connects. There’s a satisfying thunk, a sharp note of pain; but as she goes to hit it again, it seems not just to dodge, but actively unform and reform around her axe. Learning. Adapting.

In the second it takes for Azu to regain her footing, the monster sinks one of its blades into Sumutnyerl’s chest. The air seems to freeze for a moment, but the strike is lower than it intended, in the stomach rather than the heart, so maybe it isn’t fatal, but Azu doesn’t know. She just doesn’t know.]

Humming noncommittally, Wilde turns his head to look at Zolf, and when he sees the concentration in Zolf’s summer sky eyes, he’s pierced all over again with the force of how much he loves this man—and how much he, in return, is loved. Gods, Zolf is smiling the way he only ever does for a Campbell, and he’s braiding Wilde’s hair as if it’s the most important work his hands have been tasked with, and he looks so utterly, brilliantly happy that Wilde can hardly stand it.

“You alive in there?” Zolf says, tapping him lightly on the cheek.

[There is only one person left unharmed, the horror of the situation made almost a farce by Wilde’s oversized neck ruff and glittering cape. Almost, but not quite, because when the creature turns – body shifting in and out of focus, sword-like arms dripping with the blood of every other being in this corridor – it turns for him.]

Wilde smiles, catching Zolf’s hand before he can pull away. “Yeah,” he murmurs, stupidly fond with it, and rests his lips against Zolf’s knuckles. Zolf’s breath hitches, staring with undisguised awe and quickly reddening cheeks, and Wilde can’t even look at him, he’s so happy. He ducks his head, pushing it against their joined hands; feels Zolf’s warm callouses all the way into his bones. “Thanks to you.”

[There is only one person left.]

“Wilde,” Zolf breathes; a prayer, a promise. Lips press clumsily to his hair, brush his temple as they soak in each other’s presence. “You saved me, too, ya know. So- so many times. I need you, yeah? And I- it- gods, I’m horrible at this, but I just, you’re

[Zolf sees it, this time, when Wilde dies. Sees the sword pierce his chest – right in the heart, a perfect shot – and yank back out with almost careless indifference before the creature turns and does the same thing to Sumutnyerl.

Even dead, Wilde manages to look artistic. His ridiculous cape is flung out beneath him, one arm draped above his head, the barest trace of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He’d been this way after the crash, too, impaled almost a foot off the ground with his limbs dangling and chin flung up to the sky; the perfect semblance of a martyr being raised into heaven. Had he been unconscious then, too? Zolf thinks. Or did he feel the spike go all the way through his chest before he succumbed from the pain?

Doesn’t matter. Zolf had time to mourn when he saved Wilde then; he doesn’t have time now.

Skraak and Ada both attack, but Zolf doesn’t know if the hits land, refuses to process anything that isn’t Wilde and the mere seconds left before he’s gone for good. He throws himself forward, landing hard on his knees beside Wilde’s head, and starts to pray. The magic builds like strong drink in his throat, and he clumsily wipes the blood from Wilde’s mouth as the spell reaches its peak—and is nearly knocked over as the monster deals a crushing blow to his temple.

His vision goes briefly white, blood already dripping down his cheek and jaw, and the magic begins to fizzle away, but he refuses, he refuses. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Zolf presses a hand firmly to the desecration of Wilde’s chest, cradles his cheek with the other. He’s still warm with hope, and Zolf channels that into his prayer, pressing their foreheads together in a way that might’ve been painful, had Wilde been awake to feel it.

Please, he begs the power inside him; begs anyone who’ll listen. Please. Let this be enough to bring him back to me.

The magic bubbles inside Zolf once more, sparkling and bright and warm, and there’s no way to know, really, if it’s enough. It doesn’t matter, of course, because he doesn’t need to know. Because when he presses his mouth to Wilde’s, stroking his cheek and breathing every last ounce of that vital energy into his body, Zolf has hope.

And there, where Zolf’s fingers curl tenderly against Wilde’s neck, new and weak but steady all the same—a pulse.]

The first thing Wilde registers is breath on his face, warmth in his throat—then pain, all over his body but especially in his chest, gods, what happened? He opens his eyes, hoping to regain his bearings; Zolf is there, face mere inches away from his own, which is a nice start.

Realizing he’s awake, Zolf pulls away, fingertips brushing against Wilde’s cheek as he goes. His other hand is pressed firmly to Wilde’s chest, and there’s blood running freely from a wound at his temple. He looks about to cry.

If Wilde didn’t feel unmoored before, he certainly does now. “Zolf- wh- what-”

In lieu of an answer, Zolf pulls Wilde to his feet. There are flashes of movement to the side, none of which Wilde is capable of processing yet; Zolf grabs his arm, which is easier. He looks resolved, in that urgent way he used to get just before leaving on solo missions; Wilde has just enough time to be scared about that before Zolf pulls him close and says, “Get the others out and be safe.”

Wilde opens his mouth in question, but Zolf’s already shoving him away. He stumbles backwards a few steps, more out of shock than actual force, before losing his balance and landing hard on his elbows just inside the lab. His neck snaps back a little, making his vision swim, but he blinks hard to clear it and now, now, he sees it all. The creature. The dead. The ones left standing.

For just a moment, Wilde catches sight of Zolf’s face before he turns away. His eyes nearly glow, lips parted around gritted teeth, and there is rage in his features like Wilde has never seen before. Then he raises his burning glaive, this idiotic man that Wilde loves so unbearably much, and growls, “Right. It’s yer turn now.”

#this fic and i did hand-to-hand combat for NEARLY TWO WEEKS before i bested it #please appreciate it in my honor #rqg #rusty quill gaming #zoscar #rqg wilde #rqg oscar wilde #lolomg #cel sidebottom #rqg azu #hamid saleh haroun al tahan #zolf smith #rqg 207 #rqg fic #zoscar fic #rqg fanfiction #zoscar fanfiction

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jurisffiction · 3 years

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literally what is dta about i’m actually asking 😩I read the whole first book and i couldn’t tell you please help

this ignites a lot of other thoughts in my mind (wh. where else would my thoughts be.) about literary genres and fiction/fanfic demarcations because while people do talk about dta as comparable to big fantasy series it really IS a fanfic or at least, secondary/sideline work at heart merely for a) how much context from the original show you’re meant to read into things, and b) how completely centred a lot of the start is on just Dean and Cas and their perspectives on each other.

a lot of the time when i try to recall separate books I’m like “ha ha what even HAPPENED. nothing happened dean and cas just kept brushing fingers <3″ then im like. samantha you idiot there’s a war on.

but that’s not what you asked. it has actually been a while since i read book 1 and i’ve only read it once so uh. best guesses here

EDIT: woops this got long. what i would say more succinctly is . dta narratively is about dean being hurled back into the endverse timeline with no hope to return, stuck in an apocalypse which refuses to happen, and has to learn about this entire new world, including twisted layers of multiple deals/plans people have made, to Solve It All before the universe actually deteriorates. dta thematically is about like, you know. choosing on purpose to fight as if you’re gonna win, for love/community/yourself, long after it seems all hope is lost.

anyway uh so book 1 in my mind is like

5x04 The End occurs. Lucifer taunts Castiel, who leaves but discovers canon-timeline Dean is once again back in this time, and he takes him back to Chitaqua. Dean can’t remember anything about his last few months before he was sent here, and everyone who could have done it to him is seemingly gone.

Cas keeps Dean hidden around the camp. All the team leaders died in the confrontation with Lucifer, Cas is the only survivor, and believes the world to be imminently ending, so why let the camp know Dean survived?

Dean gets #outed as alive, and has to pretend to be the endverse Dean. Him and Cas fight over the various constraints on them, where Cas is grieving the other Dean, our Dean is grieving his other life, they’re struggling to adjust and Dean has to learn everything about the camp (so does Cas, because Cas previously mostly opted out and was having orgies instead), Cas has to claim ownership of Dean’s soul to protect him, and meanwhile the apocalypse just isn’t happening.

There’s other signs, like all supernatural activity has stopped, and they can’t find any animals anywhere. Cas does some angel mojo to discover there are literal holes punched into creation, seemingly Lucifer’s doing, as he has a temper tantrum over the world not ending like it was meant to.

Dean and Cas slowly make up, and live together, for ritual blood magic protection reasons. I’m more hazy on this end. I think Dean gets injured ? anyway then he decides to go out on a routine trip, gets bitten by a brownie (was confused myself whether this was the scottish folklore spirit thing or some weird american insect I DO believe it to be the folklore one tho.) and dives headfirst into a ridiculous disproportionate fever, almost dies, and has visions. He confuses this Cas for Godstiel, and attempts to seal a contract with a kiss. THat’s not majorly plot relevant it just makes me want to scream. Anyway then he appears to pull through and the book ends.

Book 2 is then (I ...think? I get the specifics confused) the events from him recovering from his fever and being read translated hippo porn (book 2 is VERY funny imo), being told the entire camp thinks Cas is fucking him for camp privileges or the other way around, confirming this rumour and officially Fake Dating, telling Cas about the Fake Dating, while meanwhile you’re finding out the original team leaders tried to assassinate Cas, a thread which partially resolves at the end of Book 2 but is drip fed with more and more consequence over the whole thing so far, iirc.

Then Book 3 is, in terms of bookends, mostly about the fake dating becoming real dating, but also about the neighbouring town of Ichabod, encountering Croats properly, learning more about why Dean’s there, and what other forces are at play. Book 4 is just like. plot being hurled at you while Dean and Cas start a remarkably well-communicated if chaotic relationship at the top of the camp hierarchy. Crowley is there and you start learning a LOT of backstory.

Like most fantasy series, the world grows as the books go on:

Book 1 is very much mostly set within the cabins only, with most of the plot and discussion firmly scoped on Dean and Cas alone.

Book 2 is about Chitaqua more broadly, how the camp functions and all the characters there, and you learn more about how the apocalypse is-isn’t going, both in terms of the supernatural and like, the current federal regulations regarding trade and how Chitaqua has grown and interacted with other groups.

Book 3 is about Ichabod, a major neighbouring commune situation, and ritual magic, and psychics and witches and gods.

Book 4 is uh, more of all of that, as they’re mostly trapped in Ichabod, you know more about other camps, you’re sideflashing over back in time to the Roman Forum, and finding out a lot of the characters’ prior lives.

tried to keep this short woops. anyway they haven’t been home in so long :////

anyway im not a part of the like, very long arc of the original dta fandom from 2014-2016 but i think my gist from reading things from them is a lot of people think dta is “About” like................. choosing to keep your head up and continue despite all odds. The story literally kicks off when the apocalypse fails to happen, with a bunch of sitting ducks waiting to be slaughtered at the end of the world, and they instead choose community and fighting instead of giving up. and this isn’t one narrative — there’s many, many mirrors/foil characters for dean and cas respectively who also go through similar arcs at a personal level. there’s also a lot of themes in it about being a thousand different people over a lifetime, which i cant really articulate here but is wonderful 2 me personally

it’s also just like. fun and funny and i do not regret my time reading it but also it is not for everyone whatsoever !

was this post useful to anyone, even me? no <3

#dta lb #asks #MAYBE I GOTTA LOG OFF FOR THE DAY

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Into The Unknown, Part 5

First

Tim finished up pretty quickly.

After all, all the baby toys seemed to just be different variations of each other. Some crinkle, some make sounds, some squish, some… do nothing at all? Tim had no clue how he used to get by as a kid.

He ended up getting Damian three toys:

A tiny rubber duck. He’s almost completely sure that Marinette would have bought one if Tim hadn’t. At least when he was the one buying it he could opt to get the Darth Vader one (Damian had always been woefully uncultured, this was his one chance to make the kid watch sci-fi without risking getting stabbed).

A plush cow with crinkly ears. He had to hope that this could maybe jog memories of Batcow and, in turn, everything else. Tim had tried to think of something a little more relevant but all he could think of were things related to Batman, to Superboy, to the League of Assassins (did their lives really revolve around vigilante-work that much?)... and, unfortunately, this reality didn’t have merch that he could give the kid.

And a squishy plastic baguette. Because that was all he could think of to get back at Marinette for the duck thing.

When it came to little kid books he hesitated for just a bit before getting the basics -- stuff like animals and the letters and Spot The Dog. He wondered, vaguely, if he’d have to teach the kid numbers since they already used the Arabic numeral system. He got a book on it just in case.

Then he got a couple of books on parenting.

He checked out and then walked back to the sitting area where he was supposed to meet Marinette.

… she was taking forever.

He sighed quietly and skimmed through a book on parenting.

… oops they were supposed to breastfeed until Damian was about two. No clue what to do about that. Maybe the kid was already used to a bottle? He hoped so. He’d watch him more carefully while Marinette was holding him to see. In the meantime, he’d get a bottle and some formula on top of the baby food they’d been getting so far.

Alright so the kid was supposed to learn behaviors and language through observation. Good. That, hopefully, solved that problem. Tim probably would have just given the kid a textbook and said ‘good luck’. Marinette… he didn’t really know what Marinette would have done, but the woman wasn’t a teacher as far as he could tell and asking her to teach the kid properly was a little unfair.

Babies around his age are supposed to speak in something called… protowords? Like… a baby language? Damn, he has a miraculous and it seemingly allows him the power to understand every language but apparently ‘baby-speak’ didn’t count as a language. Tim called bullshit.

He felt a weight settle down on the bench next to him and absently glanced over.

Marinette sent him a slightly tired smile. She was wearing a new, dark red scarf.

He opened his mouth to say something only to have her shake her head and adjust her scarf a little to show him something.

Ah. It looked like Damian had fallen asleep on her shoulder so she’d fashioned the scarf into a makeshift baby sling.

“Could’ve used the stroller,” he whispered, setting his receipt in the book to mark his page.

She snorted. “And risk waking him? He cries every time he wakes up, I’m not dealing with that right now.”

He bit his lip. “You know… this book says he’s supposed to cry for, like, an hour to an hour and a half a day.”

She tipped her head to the side a little. “He’s cried like… three times.”

“Yeah, and he was really easy to shut up. Decidedly not normal.”

They looked back down at Damian, identical frowns on their faces.

“Does it have an explanation for why he’d be like this?” Marinette asked, her voice soft.

Tim hesitated.

“The only reasons I can think of are that he doesn’t think we’d help him if he cried or he thinks crying is something he’d be punished for. Considering how he was raised… it could be either. Or both.”

Marinette yawned as she sat back on the hotel bed. She leaned back against Tim, leaving him to bear the weight of both her and Damian.

He, to his credit, barely even blinked. He turned slowly until they were both leaning back against each other.

She tipped her head back to rest on his shoulder.

She could fall asleep like this, she thought. Propped against Tim. Damian, in her arms, watching an episode of something called True and the Rainbow Kingdom… it was nice.

Or, at least, it would be if Tim could stop that infernal tapping.

“Ugh, could you stop that? Some people actually sleep.”

He gave a tiny puff of laughter that acknowledged that he heard her but, alas, he continued typing.

She groaned a little and reached a hand behind herself to give him a tiny bap to his side.

“Hm. This may shock you, but hitting me really hasn’t helped your case.”

She huffed and twisted around to try and see over his shoulder. She’d given up on sleeping, anyway.

“What are you even doing?”

He shrugged just slightly. “Trying to figure out what to do about money.”

She nodded slowly, looking over his shoulder as he scrolled through jobs they could do with zero experience or degrees. That could sustain a family of three and pay for the daycare they would have to take Damian to. The options... weren’t great.

Damian tugged on her shirt for her attention and she looked down as he pointed at his screen with a bright smile. There was a black cat on the screen. She didn’t really know what he wanted until he kept saying ‘ma’ over and over. She nodded and said ‘cat’ in both Arabic and English, which seemed to sate him as he went back to watching… the giant green yeti monster stealing a basket of candy? What the fuck was even going on on this show? Were kids’ shows like this in her own world, too? Or was this one’s shows just especially weird?

A thought occurred to her and she looked back over at Tim.

“You exist in this world, right?”

He nodded absently and opened a tab that, despite its claim that it was an entry level job, apparently required two years of experience and a degree. He closed it quickly.

“Why don't we just mooch off of the other you?”

Tim sighed. “Because that’s illegal?”

“You’re a vigilante. I don’t think that ‘borrowing’ money from your alternate self is where you should draw the line on illegal activities.”

“I draw the line when it harms innocent people.”

She laughed at that. “He’s rich. It’s not like he’s going to miss it. Think of it as… giving the money to people who need it.”

“You’re a regular robin hood,” Tim said sarcastically.

“I know. I’m so kind,” she agreed, grinning.

There were a few moments of silence.

Then, finally, he shook his head. “Even if we could somehow do that -- which I can’t guarantee because I’m not completely sure I could guess my passwords -- the fact that we’re in Texas… he’d notice.”

She shrugged. “Then let’s move back to Gotham.”

He blinked and finally looked up from the computer. “What?”

“We don’t have much of a life here, really, so why not move?”

He considered this for a while before sighing and flopping back on the bed. “Let me see if I can even get into the account. There’s nothing to say that I even have the same social security number here...”

She nodded her understanding and laid back next to him. Damian whined a little at the sudden displacement but just ran a hand up and down his back absently until he was watching his show again, completely silent as he stared at the screen. Now the main girl was reaching into her bag for a weird orb of light that was, apparently, sentient. Was this the Dora of their world? God help their children.

Speaking of helping their children...

She picked up a parenting book to read while Tim tried to guess his otherworldly counterpart’s passwords.

Tim managed to get in.

He rested his head in his hands, cursing quietly.

She glanced over and smiled at his slightly flushed face.

“What was the password?”

He grumbled under his breath.

This only seemed to encourage her more because she started nudging his shoulder, the soft smile morphing into a cheeky grin.

He sighed and took a moment to gather himself before looking over at her. “It’s… ‘<3Richard<3graysons<3little<3brother<3’.”

“... I don’t get it.”

“Good. So you can’t tease me about it,” he said, sticking his tongue out at her.

She scoffed. “That’s not fair.”

“Totally is.”

He set the computer down beside himself and stretched his achy old bones. He’d had a baby for approximately two days now and he could already feel the bad back setting in. Tomorrow he would have gray hair.

“I’m going to look it up if you don’t tell me.”

“... he’s a celebrity,” Tim said quietly.

Her grin wavered back towards that genuine smile for just a second before spreading into an even wider grin. She reached out and pinched his cheeks. “Awwww, Tim, that’s so cute --!”

“Shut up,” he complained, batting her hands away.

She snickered. “No. I’m going to write that password on your tombstone.”

“You’re assuming I’m going to die first.”

“I have an extended lifespan. You’re only going to have that for another fifteen years. After that? Unless I’m really stupid you’re gonna die first.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m going to find out how to be immortal now. Purely to spite you.”

She snorted. “Okay. Good luck with that.”

“Thank you.”

With that, he pushed himself up with a groan. “I’m going to get him ready for bed.”

She nodded her understanding and continued with her reading.

Damian whined a little when Tim tried to take him away from where he had curled up next to Marinette but that seemed to be more because he was tired and cranky than genuine distress.

Tim was the one to bathe him. It wasn’t a bubble bath, he wasn’t eager to repeat the previous night’s mistakes, but he did give Damian the rubber duck. This seemed to work for all of them, since Damian now allowed them to take him out of the bath as long as he got to bring his duck.

Marinette grinned when she looked over at where Damian was chewing on his rubber duck as Tim struggled to click the annoyingly difficult buttons of the onesie into place.

“Told you he would love it.”

“We both know that wasn’t why you wanted to get it.”

“And we both know you didn’t get that squishy bread-thing just because you thought he would like it, either.”

He smiled. “Maaaaaybe.”

The onesie finally allowed itself to be buttoned and Tim picked Damian up so he could get into bed.

Marinette frowned. “This book says we shouldn’t let him sleep with us every night. Says it creates a bad habit that’s hard to break.”

Tim raised an eyebrow at her but, reluctantly, carried the kid over to the crib so they could sleep separately.

“Fine. But I’m going to sleep before him so I don’t stress out all night.”

She snickered. “Fine. Fine.”

He climbed into bed, set a pillow between them, and promptly dozed off before he could get woken up by Damian whimpering through the night.

… Tim woke up a few hours later -- his body wasn’t quite used to sleeping through nights just yet -- to find that Marinette had brought the kid into bed with them again.

He smiled a little and moved the pillow out from between them. Even if Damian was currently too trapped in Marinette’s arms to even reach it, it was best to make sure it couldn’t happen.

Damian whimpered a little in his sleep again and Tim tipped his head to the side. He reached over and gently combed his fingers through the fuzzy little tufts of hair that the kid had so far. Damian relaxed.

Tim sighed and shifted in the bed until he was closer to Damian, then maneuvered through Marinette’s mess of limbs to press a tiny kiss to the top of his head. The baby smiled in his sleep and, though the kid couldn’t see it, he returned the smile. He rested an arm around the kid as well in hopes that it would keep the kid feeling safe before allowing himself to drift off.

~~~~~

@nathleigh @peachmuses @unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx @laurcad123 @927roses-and-stuff

#into the unknown #maribat #tim drake #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #timari #timmari #shutterbug #timinette

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