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ellemj · 2 months

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Time & Temptation - Roommates w/ Benefits Pt. 4

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Read parts 1-3 first if you haven't!

Summary: The somewhat hostile dynamic between you and Bucky shifts the morning after a questionable chain of events. The tension between you seems to be mostly resolved...until it isn't.

Warnings: profanity, teasing, alcohol consumption, mentions of previous smut, gunshot wounds, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: It took me too long to write this and I don't love it, but it'll do. My mind has been all over the place lately and I have a hundred different things going on irl. Side note for anyone who reads my A/Ns, I kinda wanna post a pic of me in a slutty little dress next week for absolutely no reason. That questionable decision is still under advisement.

Bucky wakes up to an ache in his side and the feeling of a wet sheet stuck against his bare abdomen. He doesn’t even have to open his eyes fully to know it’s his wounds from last night, bleeding through the bandages you’d fashioned for him. He heals quickly, but deeper wounds take a little more time. Only a couple of minutes later, Bucky is standing in front of the bathroom mirror, pressing a wet cloth to the exit wound on his lower left side. The bandage you put on his lower left back is still intact and fine, but the one in front just didn’t cut it.

Fuck, I’m cumming. Those three little words in your soft, breathy voice suddenly come to the forefront of Bucky’s mind. That’s the final thing he heard last night before he fell asleep. It all comes flooding back to him. The charged banter in the kitchen, the teasing, locking yourselves in your separate bedrooms for the night and then getting yourselves off. He remembers your moans and whimpers carrying through the walls, straight to his ears. What the hell were you the two of you thinking? You weren’t thinking, and Bucky sure as hell wasn’t thinking.

He glances down and peels the wet cloth away from his skin but sees a fresh stream of blood threatening to spill from the wound and drip into the waistband of his sweats, so he quickly presses it to his skin again and braces his free hand against the edge of the bathroom sink. He’s so lost in thought about last night that he doesn’t even notice your bedroom door opening a few feet down the hall and you shuffling out in your oversized t-shirt.

“Are you bleeding again?” Your raspy morning voice has an almost uncharacteristic meekness to it, and Bucky freezes at the sound of it. His gaze flits to the side and he sees you through the open bathroom door, standing a few feet down the hall, staring at him. Your hair is messy and your faded blue shirt looks like it could be fifteen years old, but your appearance and your soft tone send a bit of blush to his cheeks.

“It’s fine, it’s not bad.” He says flatly, watching as your eyes float down his bare torso and land on the red-tinged cloth he’s holding against his abs. You don’t listen to a word he says, and instead quickly begin walking toward him. You can tell it really isn’t all that bad as you place your palm over his hand and force him to pull the cloth away. It’s a steady bleed but it’s by no means a major hemorrhage.

“Are you going to let me fix it?” You ask, letting go of his hand and letting him press the cloth back to the wound. You stand between him and the bathroom vanity now, looking up at him with a raised brow. Bucky doesn’t really understand the difference in the dynamic of last night versus the dynamic of this morning. You were up in arms all yesterday evening after the incident at the club, and then the entire drive back to the apartment and even in the kitchen you were pissy with him. Is one self-serving orgasm all it takes to completely turn your mood around? Is that why you’re almost being nice this morning? Bucky’s confusion is evident on his face, but you continue to wait for his answer.

“You’re asking this time?”

“If you want to bleed out on the bathroom floor I won’t interfere, but try not to stain the rugs.” You say, rolling your eyes at his stubbornness. Bucky gauges the situation. You’re in a better mood than yesterday, it almost seems like you’ve forgotten the disaster that was last night’s mission. He isn’t going to ruin that and end up with you driving him mad for the rest of the day.

A few moments later, Bucky is sitting on the edge of the bathtub as you sit on your knees between his feet, using a special kind of quick-clotting gauze to fashion a new bandage for his wound. The atmosphere around the two of you doesn’t feel so electrically charged this time, there isn’t an undeniable tension threatening to snap with a single word or touch. Bucky peers down at you with a cloudy gaze as you carefully size the gauze and place it where it needs to be. He can’t help but wonder for a moment how the two of you went from sharing takeout and beer on his couch to being at each other’s throats yesterday. He thinks back to the night he invited you in, the night he said that you and Vision should switch apartments. He liked you that night. After your second beer, you talked to him like you hadn’t lived across the hall from each other for 6 months and simply been acquaintances all of that time. He never would have thought he’d end up taking a bullet for you within the first two days of sharing a place.

The sound of a key sliding into the apartment door catches the attention of you both, and your hands falter against Bucky’s lower abdomen as you look up at him with questioning eyes. Does Vision still have a key?

“Bucky, I swear to god if you laid up in this apartment and bled to death last night—” Sam stops short when the apartment door swings shut behind him and his eyes land on the two of you. He can see straight down the short hallway, through the open bathroom door, to where you sit between Bucky’s feet on the floor, still facing his torso. “Shit, I should’ve knocked.”

“Why the hell do you have a key to my apartment?” Bucky asks gruffly, lifting one hand from the edge of the bathtub and running it through his hair. It takes Sam two more seconds to figure out that it’s you on the floor, and that you’re not doing Bucky the kind of favor you appear to be doing him.

“Why the hell are the two of you half-dressed, sitting in there like that?” Sam’s question reminds you that you’re not wearing any pants. You let out a soft sigh before continuing your work on Bucky’s wound, placing the last piece of medical tape firmly against his skin to secure the three layers of gauze you so neatly arranged. “Wait, did you sleep here last night?” Sam asks with an obvious hint of amusement in his tone. Bucky narrows his eyes at the man and notices the playful smile taking over his features across the apartment.

“Why are you here, Sam?” Bucky responds with his own question. Placing your hands on Bucky’s knees, you push yourself up to a standing position and step away from him. For the quickest moment, he's staring right at the line where your t-shirt ends and your thighs begin, but then you’re gone, moving to the sink to wash your hands, and he’s left staring at Sam.

“I texted you three times last night and you didn’t answer me once. It’s sort of basic human decency to respond to texts after you’ve been shot.” Sam points out. He walks further into the apartment and turns in the direction of the kitchen. You shoot Bucky a look over your shoulder as you dry your hands on a towel. It’s a look that says are we not telling Sam I moved in here? Bucky understands it instantly and returns it with his own look that says I don’t know what to tell him. So, neither of you say anything about it.

You head back to your own room to find some pants while Bucky heads to the kitchen to see what Sam’s on about.

“It’s making more sense now.” Sam chuckles, just as Bucky rounds the corner of the hall and comes into his view. Sam pulls the fridge open and starts rummaging through its limited contents, searching for any semblance of breakfast food. Bucky leans his back against the nearest edge of the kitchen counter and listens to the soft fabric sounds down the hall as you search for a pair of sweats to pull on.

“What is?”

“You two being at each other’s throats last night. It didn’t make sense to me then but it makes sense now.” Sam has a shit-eating grin plastered across his face as he closes the fridge and turns around to face Bucky.

“How so?” Bucky really shouldn’t be egging him on, but here he is.

“You’re into each other.” Sam says assuredly. Bucky scoffs, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his still bare chest. “She slept over last night, didn’t she? Did you two take your heated differences straight to the bedroom after I dropped you both off here?”

“I slept in my own bed last night.” You interject. You’re tying the drawstrings on a pair of joggers as you step into the kitchen and shoot both of the men passing glances. Your claim may be blurring the truth in the slightest way, but it’s not a lie. Sam looks between the two of you with narrowed eyes and disbelief written all over his face.

“Fine. I’ll give it a rest.” Sam concedes, holding his hands up. He steps toward the middle of the kitchen and plants his hands on the surface of the island while you begin filling a small glass with water. Bucky’s eyes are heavy on you. He’s watching you closely, and you can tell, though your back is to him.

One orgasm. One orgasm is all it took to turn you back into the girl you were when he found you standing outside of his door with a bag of takeout and an offer to share with him. He doesn’t even tune into what you and Sam begin conversing about. He’s stuck in his head, thinking about how you went from becoming his roommate, to becoming his enemy, to patching him up, and then to getting yourself off at the end of it all. He thinks if he dwells on the chain of events too long, he may end up with whiplash.

—

You lie on your back on the living room floor with the backs of your thighs against the front side of the couch and your lower legs resting atop the seat cushion. You’re two and a half beers in and feeling buzzed, listening to good music and drowning in your own thoughts when you hear the apartment door handle turning.

Bucky had been out with Sam all day after he stopped by this morning. They were doing a bit of recon on Elias Leveaux. It was something you should’ve been a part of, and Sam had indeed asked you to ride over to SHIELD headquarters with them and spend the day working on it, but you politely declined.

“After last night, I think I deserve a day off.” You had said. “I would’ve nailed him last night if someone hadn’t interfered.” You were obviously referring to Bucky.

“I’m sure you would have.” Bucky grumbled back. You knew exactly what he was implying, yet your only response was a roll of your eyes in his direction and a friendly goodbye to Sam before they left.

You turn your head to the side and watch as the door swings open and Bucky steps inside, immediately looking to his right and taking in the sight of you half on the floor and half on the couch, with a couple of empty bottles and a few unopened ones scattered around your body. The first thing you notice when you meet his gaze is how tense he looks. You can see the beginnings of dark circles forming under his eyes, the way the muscles in his neck and jaw look taut, the unreadable look on his face. You’re sure he planned to come in, shower, and go straight to bed, even though it’s barely past eight at night. You’re so sure he had no intention of engaging with you, especially after last night. After the heated exchange in the kitchen and the following mutual masturbation through the walls of the apartment he probably wanted nothing more than to pretend you don’t exist. Letting you patch him up again this morning was likely just a lapse in judgment, or maybe he’d forgotten about last night entirely. For a second, you get the horrifying feeling that your moans and sensual sounds might’ve actually been forgettable for him. Wait, why does that possibility bother you?

As you lie on your shared living room floor, still staring at Bucky as you overthink, he starts tugging off his leather jacket.

“Drink with me.” You say softly, nudging one of the unopened bottles of beer across the floor with your index finger. Bucky drops his jacket on the arm of the couch nearest to him and weighs his options. He can hear a hot shower calling his name, but the way you’re looking at him is tugging at him a little more than it should. You smile to yourself when he narrows his eyes at you, yet sinks into the far seat of the couch and reaches down to the floor, accepting the beer you pushed in his direction. “Did you guys find anything good today?” You ask, returning your gaze back to the ceiling above.

“Nothing you don’t already know.” Bucky pops the cap of the beer with ease and raises the bottle to his lips, taking one long sip.

“But you were out there for almost twelve hours.” You say incredulously, giving him a questioning side-eye. Bucky raises a brow at you and cocks his head to one side.

“You were counting?”

“Counting every hour of pure, rejuvenating quiet time I got today.” You retort.

“Oh? After what I heard last night, I was sure that quiet wasn’t really your thing.” The words leave Bucky’s mouth and they come as a shock to him as much as they do to you. He’d like to blame the beer for his slip of the tongue, but only being one sip in and having the metabolism that he does renders the excuse unusable.

“If you want to talk about that, can we also talk about your volume? I heard you loud and clear, soldier.” With your heavenly sounds from last night replaying in his mind, Bucky begins to notice the way the front of his pants are starting to have a little less room than usual. He takes another sip of his beer and lifts his gaze from where you are on the floor to look out the windows making up the wall to your left. Ignore it, he thinks to himself.

“You started it.” He grumbles, his words sounding a bit like those of a child. You laugh to yourself as you tug your legs down from the couch and move to sit upright on the floor.

“But we both finished it, didn’t we?” When you look into each other’s eyes this time, you’re definitely feeling the effects of the drinks you downed before he made it back home. You’re thinking about him wrapping his hand around the shaft of his hard cock, working up and down the length of it while he lies in his bed and listens to you through the walls. You’re lost in thought, as evidenced by the look on your face, and Bucky narrows his eyes at you.

“Is that why you seemed so normal this morning?” The question comes tumbling out before he can second-guess himself and stop his tongue from forming the words. “Because you…finished?” He chooses to go with your safe choice of words.

“I seemed normal this morning?” You raise a brow at him. He runs a hand through his messy hair and holds his beer atop his knee with the other hand.

“You weren’t pissed like you were yesterday.” He’s watching you carefully, studying the way your expression softens and your eyes roll away from him, toward the ceiling again.

“I guess an orgasm does that to a girl.”

As the two of you continue drinking in the unexpectedly comfortable silence, you find yourself wondering if last night’s orgasm did him as much good as it did you. You woke up feeling refreshed and at ease, even though, just as Bucky said, you were pissed yesterday. It was the perfect solution to your anger. Just by listening to Bucky and touching yourself you were able to lull yourself into a nice sleep and your bad mood had seemingly dissipated by sunrise this morning.

“Maybe you should do that more often.” Bucky says under his breath. Though he doesn’t know why he decided to say it, he didn’t feel like holding the words back. He watches you with the most nonchalant gaze as your lips part and your eyes begin to search his. He shouldn’t have said it, he knows that. But it’s just like when he said maybe you and Vision should switch rooms. He sits down and drinks with you and somehow, his inhibitions melt away and he says shit that he shouldn’t say. He watches as your bewildered expression turns into a more adjusted, thoughtful expression. You push yourself up off of the floor, coming to stand on your bare feet as you continue looking into his steely blue eyes.

“On my own?” Now Bucky’s the bewildered one. He does a good job of masking it as he sips on his beer, but you know you’ve gotten to him with just three little words. You smirk at him before turning on your heel and bending over to gather your empty bottles from the floor. You don’t even think about the view you’re giving him. You have no idea that the combination of your insinuating question and your current stance in front of him have his cock straining against the fabric of his jeans. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down, squeezing his eyes shut for a second until he hears the clang of the last beer bottle being gathered into your arms. He looks back at you just as you’re turning around to face him once more.

Fuck it. Bucky shrugs his shoulders and you shoot him a quizzical look, frozen in place a foot to his right, with all of those bottles in your grasp. You follow every move he makes as he rises from the couch and downs the last sip of his beer, keeping his eyes trained on yours. His stare is hard and penetrating, feeling as if it’s going right through you.

“Did I say on your own?”

TAG LIST (FULL):

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#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #mcu #bucky barnes x you #the winter soldier #winter soldier

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kookblurx · 8 months

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1920 - jjk [chpt 2. ]

→ SUMMARY: a photo of a beautiful smiling boy; an old tree in your grandparents garden ... and a feeling of sadness. all those things are connected to each other ...

→ GENRE: time travel au; changing fate au; rencarnation au; university au; death; sickness; historical setting; trigger topics; smut; dirty talk; switching between present and the past.

→ chapt. 1 / chapt. 3

→ RATING: 18+

→ NOTE: thank you for blowing up the first chapter with so many reblogs and welcome to all new followers. also if there are any creative people among us, feel free to design a header for this story. i will try to include every pic in the next chapters + linking your account. ( no must! ). Also please enjoy the second chapter <3 DISCLAIMER; this is a piece of art, not many events will be historically correctly.

BTS MASTERLIST ♡.°₊ˎˊ PLAYLIST FOR THIS CHAPTER

The Past:

as you fell down into the grass again the boy looked at you more than confused; probably because of the strange clothes you were wearing. he never saw a woman wear pants before, at least not such weird ones. you on the other hand looked wide eyes up to him as he scanned your whole appearance. yes right now you didnt looked really good as your hair was standig in various directions. still that wasnt a reason to stare at you like this. you crumpled the photo up with your hand before putting it in the back pocket of your jeans. seems like you are stuck here now for a while, at least until you would manage to go back. the wind and the weird voice was gone also the force which pushed you through the tree. wait, of course the tree. you were quick back onto your feed before running to the tree again. from behind you could heard the footsteps of the boy following you. he must think you are crazy as your hands searched for something "unusal" on the tree trunk. there was nothing. the wood felt strong and didnt budged against your pushing or pulling.

"what the hell ...? how?"

your mind was still in denial that you really fell right through it. this must be a joke from your grandparents, for sure. you probably forgot to water the plants or something, before running into the library.

"are you okay? you look .. restless" from behind you could feel a hand on your shoulder. "yes, yes im fine ... just a little bit confused i think?" "maybe i can help you with that? are you looking for something?"

as you turned around; your eyes became a bit puffy and started to burn. normally you didnt cried that easily but now you were stuck in a place you didnt knew.

"what year do we have ..?" your question left the boy speechless for a second "uh .. 1920 why are you asking?"

1920 ... the same date as on the photo. this cant be possible. there is no way you just travelled back in time, standing in front of a boy who should be dead. was this a sign? a sign that you were the one who should help him from his fate? for a moment you just stood there, thinking about the possibilities. changing fate can be fatal, for this timeline and for your own. what would change if you were able to save him? something must change.

"jungkook! Jungkook where are you?!"

another voice from a young man starteled you. how many of them were here? at least you figured something out, the boy in front of you was, indeed, jungkook. the one, the voice of the woman called out for inside your mind. while you were deep in thoughts; jungkook turned around to wave at his friend. that said friend panted a bit as he climbed up the hill.

"what the hell are you doing up here? the others are looking everywhere for you" with a heavy sigh the boy ran his hand through his hair. "uh well ... i found her here. i dont know who she is but ... she seems lost"

as jungkook mentioned you, you finally came back to your senses. scanning the area you noticed that the two of you werent alone anymore. upon seeing the other boy, your heart suddenly stopped again. thats not possible. he cant be here too.

"yo, you. whats your name?"

lifting one of his eyebrows the boy looked at you, waiting for an answer ... which didnt came. instead you took a few steps forward, cupping his cheeks between your hands. the stranger jumped immediately because of the sudden touch. no wonder; they lived in a time were woman werent so straight forward. both of his cheeks grew red as he looked helpless to jungkook. instead of helping him, jungkook just stood there laughing at his friend. you squinted your eyes a bit, they really looked alike. the same eyes, the same confused expression hence even the hair is the same.

"whats your name?" now you were the one asking the question. still a bit lost the boy looked at you "m-me? ... im jimin, park jimin"

slowly you let go of his cheeks. this isnt a coincidence, if you are really back in 1920 there was a high chance that this person is your crush's ancestor. at least thats what is probably happening here.

"okay alright this is crazy but .. i will play along for now. im y/n ... you are jimin and you are jungkook right?" jimin widened his eyes; he looked at you like you just killed someone "hold on; dont speak so informal with him." slightly confused you looked over at jungkook, he didnt looked like a prince or someone else from the royal family "what do you mean?" "you must be new around here ... but in front of you stands Jeon Jungkook. The berserk ... the one who won every single war for our holy land!" jimin must really think highly of jungkook as he stretched his arms out.

a war hero. you tucked this information away into the corner of your mind. if you ever came back home you would check his name in your grandparent library. to be honest on the first glance jungkook didnt looked like an berserker, more like a normal farm boy. his features on his face were soft and he had a beautiful smile. nothing which screamed "berserker" into someones face. but who knows how war heroes really looked like in this time. your gaze went back to the tree as the two boys started to quarrel with each other. somehow you already missed your family, they must be worried sick about your dissapearance. the picture suddenly felt really heavy as another wind came up ... and there it was again... the faint voice:

"you must save him... you must save him for your future"

"... what?" you turned around but no one was there.

jungkook and jimin were gone .. and right in front of you were your grandparents mansion again. what is going on here? did you really just relieved a memory snippet of this place?

"this isnt funny anymore! come out!" you screamed at the tree right in front of you.

first there was silence and then out of nowhere small little hands appeared on the tree trunk. a small head popped out behind it. for a moment you believed that you totally lost your mind now. it was a little fairy, smaller than your thumb. shyly she flew into your direction, fidgeting with her fingers.

"did you pushed me through the tree?" she nodded. "... please tell me what is going on? where are jungkook and jimin?" slowly the little fairy opened her mouth "i needed to bring you back in order ... to explain everything to you. if they would had saw me ... they would declared you as a witch."

this whole thing became more and more complicated. "okay so ... what is going on here?" the fairy suddenly had a serious expression on her face "listen to me. my power is limited .. in order to let you travel back ... i need you to find trigger points to certain events in the past. they are all hidden inside this mansion ... with every object or info you can find ... you will be able to stay there longer"

your head started to hurt. why you? why is it so important that you are the one.

"got it but .. why me? what does this have to do with me?" the fairy bit down on her bottom lip "i cant tell you ... you need to discover it for yourself what your role is ... the only thing i need to tell you is .. that you MUST save him. please." saving a war hero ... of course its not an easy task considering all the battlefields he needs to go. "fine but how?" "you need to look into his death more. no source documented what really happened... but your grandparents have a grand collection of books. find out what happened ... so you ...will be ... able to ... go"

with every word the fairy faded away more and more until you were back alone on the hill. your hand reached into your back pocket, grabbing the picture again. the only info you had was the year, the place ... his name and what he was.

"great .."

with a heavy sight you walked down from the hill, the first direction will be your laptop. maybe some history nerd already researched those events back then. according to jimin, jungkook was pretty famous ... so there must be some kind of records, right?

taglist:

@junecat18

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noteguk · 3 years

Note

Hey nala! I loved bad attitude, I can’t wait to see more of the oc teasing jk 😭

Thank you!! I really like exploring the dark side of the force that overtakes the oc every once in a blue moon. So I hope you guys like this one! (The timeline is after bad reputation, but before bad attitude)

[ ! ] this is a drabble for bad influence. You can read it as a stand-alone.

— contents and warnings; pwp, smut, sexting, badboy!Jungkook x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits/enemies to lovers, dirty talk, taking and sending pics (not nudes), jk’s skirt thirst, a glimpse into the chaos that lives inside the oc

— words; 1,2k

Years of high school (and now college) excellence did wonders to disguise your impulsive side. It was a common misconception to believe that, just because you were disciplined enough to keep your grades high and your responsibilities in check, you didn’t act on dumb, random thoughts that popped up inside your head. You kind of wished it was true (it would’ve saved you a lot of drama in your personal life) but you also had to admit that you had your fun indulging in your more chaotic needs as well.

Jungkook’s answer came quickly, but not as quickly as you had first expected. Which meant that he was either busy or distracted — past tense — and that it would be slightly more fun than you thought.

With a smirk growing on your lips, you turned around on the bed, reaching for your phone. His answer was simple, only one word, but it was more than enough for you to realize that your machiavellian plan would be fruitful.

jk tutoring 🚫: dont.

If years of perfecting self-restraint didn’t stop you, his half-assed warning wouldn’t. With your phone in hands, you propped yourself up on your elbows as you typed a response.

You: Why not? 😔

As you nervously waited for his text, the picture you had previously sent him was staring you right in the face. It wasn’t anything outrageous, just a simple mirror selfie of you sitting on the edge of your bed, legs crossed and head slightly tilted to the side. It was something so innocent, so gentle and casual, that you could almost pretend that you didn’t know exactly what you were doing when you picked that skirt.

It wasn’t any revolutionary discovery to claim that Jungkook had a thing for your skirts — he had mentioned about a million times already and, even if he hadn’t, it was extremely obvious from the way he explored your body with a lot more eagerness when you wore one. What was a revolutionary discovery, however, was the piece of clothing you found hiding in the corner of your closet, something you had long discarded because Yongsun had managed to shrink it the first time she washed it.

It was practically impossible to wear it outside, but, well, it was the perfect tool to provoke Jungkook with. Because if karma didn’t take care of him, you would.

Finally, his messages popped up on your screen:

jk tutoring 🚫: in a lab rn dont wanna get hard thx

jk tutoring 🚫: but it looks rlly fucjing hot

jk tutoring 🚫: wanna see you riding me in it bby

jk tutoring 🚫: in front of that mirror ;)

You bit your lip, bubbles of expectation starting to pop in your stomach. Sexting Jungkook was the free trial of being a chess genius — you were always ten steps ahead, predicting his following words with almost perfect accuracy. Was it mean, perhaps a little twisted of you to be doing that while he was (miraculously) in class? Maybe. But you had a lot of things in your mind and mercy wasn’t one of them. Especially after the months of torture he had put you through.

You: whatever you want 🥰

You: I’m surprised you even go to class tho, that’s news

jk tutoring 🚫: u took the day off to pester me?

You: maybe I did

You: maybe I’m also home alone for the rest of it

jk tutoring 🚫: dont fucking say that

In true supervillain fashion, you had to laugh at his apparent desperation — a high-pitched, victorious laugh that seemed to come straight from your soul. Jungkook very rarely found himself in that position and you absolutely lived for it. It was one thing to provoke him in person, when he was much stronger than you and could shut you up in no time, but, through the screen, only equal rights. And equal methods of torture.

You: why? You don’t wanna come over?

jk tutoring 🚫: u kno I do

jk tutoring 🚫: ill ttyl

You: not later!! Now 🥺

jk tutoring 🚫: baby this isn’t the best moment

jk tutoring 🚫: Im already hard n im almost done here ok

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, giving the angel and the demon on your shoulders time to present their case. The collected, rational part of you told you to leave it at that: he would come over later, you had managed to provoke him enough to piss him off and get the reaction you wanted. You won. But the impulsive, evil side of you told you that you didn’t win hard enough.

Before you could think too much about it, you took another picture, feeling blessed enough to get a good shot on your first try. Your thumbs flew over the keys, typing fast to get the message sent before Jungkook decided to put his phone away.

You: but these are the panties that you like 😔

Like clockwork, there was a long moment of tension between your message being viewed and those little dots appearing at the corner of your screen. Once again: you knew exactly what you were doing. And you knew that a picture taken underneath your skirt, presenting him with a full view of your red laced panties, would be the cherry on top.

jk tutoring 🚫: I fucjing hate u

You: don’t think you do

jk tutoring 🚫: im saving these

jk tutoring 🚫: gonna fuck u so hard bby

jk tutoring 🚫: not even gonna take those off��

jk tutoring 🚫: just gonna push them aside n see u coming all over my cock

Playing like that with Jungkook was like russian roulette — only, it was only you, and all chambers were filled. You knew it would backfire, you knew that the second he walked in your room all your control would go flying out the window, and yet you pushed on. Impulsiveness was a drug for someone that rarely indulged in it, and you were too high to care about the consequences when they seemed so far away. Or, even worse, when you kind of liked them.

That was what pushed you to write your following messages:

You: come over now? Please?

jk tutoring 🚫: wait like 10 min we’re wrapping up

You: now 🥺

You: I’m so wet kook

You: my panties are soaked

You: don’t you wanna come and take them off?

You: Or maybe I can take care of myself today and I can see you another day 😔

jk tutoring 🚫: dont fucking dare

You: I bet I could come super quick too I’m so turned on

You: I want to feel you inside me

You: I’m so tight too I can barely put my fingers in

You: please? Come over?

Checkmate. The forces of chaos inside you were rejoicing, every cell of your body anticipating the impact of your words. You, however, already knew you had won even before he answered you.

jk tutoring 🚫: im coming over rn

check out the rest of the bad influence collection!

tag list > @minyoongiboongi @bvrrym0re @marcoazam2 @shojotae @youurkryptonite @fan-ati--c @btstrasht @crazy4myself @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky @imluckybitches @gyukult @jinsalpaca @we8joon @gamerkooks @study-clouds @myanswer-is-you @pb-n-juju @disaster-rose @spicybangtanwings @fairymagdalene @seagulljk @she-is-dreaming @jjktthpmj1 @pinkysunsett @1aekooks @jkficsiliketoread @ellesalazar @wearenot7withu @codeinebelle @erraaxh @lovelyloverlia @dayjeons @illwritetomorrow @dreamsindreamss @limee7 @pixiejjk @dancing-queenf @storms-and-stars-blog @un-love @knjoobs @yopjm @pixiejjk

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fic #jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts x you #bts x reader #jeon jungkook #x you #x reader #smut #bad boy jungkook #college au #secret dating #enemies to lovers

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navalcriminalimagines · 3 years

Text

Match

Fic inspired by this scene (S17xE15) and @specialagentastra ❤️(gif and pic are mine)

Tags: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @madamsnape921 @specialagentastra @ncisfan

Get Started.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs isn't sure what got into him. How did Phil Brooks manage to get him to do it? He hates everything about online dating, about smartphones, about technology. Why did he press the button? Sure, he still can change his mind, erase his profile (if he ever find how) and forget all about it.

But the truth is...he's lonely. For many years, he lied about it to everyone, saying that he wasn't if someone asked. But he is. Very much so.

Plus, online dating doesn't involve into anything, right? He's just going to see women's profiles and that's it. "Swipe left if you don't like her. Swipe right if you do." Phil told him. God, how he hates smartphones.

But Gibbs is smart. He hates those things and never got interested in them, but as Phil and Tobias show him how to use his new phone, he starts to get it. He just doesn't know more than what they show him.

Changing his picture profile was one of those things. "If you don't like the one I choose for you, here's how you can change it."

It's not that Gibbs doesn't like the picture, but he thinks that the less we see of him, the better. So, instead of the one Phil took, he puts one that was taking by Tobias while they were fishing. He can be seen from afar, holding the fish he just caught. That seems right to him.

Gibbs doesn't spend much time on the app. Sometimes at night, he hears the phone buzzing and he checks. Women swiped him to the right. He swiped to the left.

Maybe he's being picky. Or maybe he just doesn't how he supposed to value someone through a picture or two and not many more information about them. It feels so impersonal to Gibbs. He hates it.

"Have you match with someone?" Phil asks one night.

"No."

"Gibbs, come on!" His friend spots the phone on the coffee table and grabs it. "Let me do it for you." And he does.

For what feels like an eternity for Gibbs, Phil swipes either left or right, while the Agent is annoyingly looking at the western movie on his old tv.

"Crap, look at her!" Phil holds the phone right under Gibbs's nose. He doesn't have his glasses on, so the screen appears blurry to him. With a smile, Phil offers him the glasses with his free hand.

Still very annoyed, Gibbs grabs them. "Too young." He says when he sees the age.

"But pretty as hell!"

"Too. Young."

"Too. Late." he uses the same tone as Gibbs's. "I swiped right!"

"I hate you."

"You'll thank me when you'll have a date with--" Phil checks the name. "Y/N."

* * * * *

Online dating has never been good to you. You've been on it for about year, after a bad breakup, and until now, you've only matched with weirdos. None of those match led to an actual meeting and you were getting tired of it.

You barely pay attention when a new notification from the app comes through. You focus on your book, forgetting about it until your curiosity gets the best of you.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs," you read out loud. "Dude, you seem good looking but a fish holding picture? Seriously?" yes, you're talking to your phone.

There's nothing much to this Leroy's profile. And the picture definitely doesn't get your interest, it's quite the opposite actually. You put your phone aside without locking it and return to your book.

A few minutes later, another notification comes through.

Leroy: Hey :)

How? How did he manage to send you a text? You didn't swipe. Or at least, you thought you didn't, but after checking, you realized that you did swipe... to the right. Damn.

You're too nice, you don't want to leave him on read - you know how terrible that is - so it's better you answer and eventually tells him the truth, or something close to it.

You: Hello.

Leroy: How are you?

You: I'm fine, thank you. You?

Leroy: Better now that you swiped right.

You: Smooth.

Leroy: I'm not really used to this. Are you?

You: More or less.

Leroy: I'd prefer to meet someone face to face.

You: Why are you on a dating app, then?

Leroy: Didn't you read my bio?

You: I did. But that friend didn't put a knife on your throat, did they?

Leroy: Nope. But if he did, I know how to fight anyway.

You: Right, former Marine?

Leroy: Gunnery Sergeant.

You could have stopped the conversation as soon as it's started, but somehow, you went on and on, all night long.

* * * * *

"What the hell are you still doing on that phone?" Gibbs asks his friend.

"Still talking with Y/N. I think she likes you."

Gibbs disappeared in his basement hours ago, leaving Phil is the living room. He knew that Phil sent you a text as soon as you matched with him, but he didn't except for it to keep going for that long.

"That's not me talking to her. It's you."

"I know you well enough to know what you'd say."

"You don't know me well enough to not do things like that to me."

"Stop complaining and get ready for a date this weekend."

* * * * *

Gibbs is still not sure how he got into this. But somehow, he finds himself at the diner on a Saturday night, waiting for a young and beautiful woman to meet him.

Is he nervous? No.

Maybe a little.

Okay, he is.

He read all the texts you exchanged with Phil - thinking that it was actually him - to make sure he wouldn't miss something. But it doesn't feel right anyway. It feels like he's lying to you before he even met you. That's not how a relationship can start and work.

Although, the chance of this turning into a relationship are close to none. "You know, you could just take her home, spend the night with her and the next morning--bye-bye." Divorce really changed Phil.

Gibbs is facing the entry, and checks everyone who’s coming in. He’s on his second coffee when he finally sees you.

Phil was right, you’re pretty as hell. But still very young, Gibbs doesn’t understand how you can even get interested in an old man like him.

But he doesn’t have to overthink it as you softly introduce yourself to him. He stands up and shakes your hand. You sit across the table and for a moment, none of you talk. You both feel awkward. “I don’t really know how to—“ he starts saying.

“Me neither.” You chuckle. “You’re actually the first match I’m meeting.”

“Really?” He looks at you, extremely surprised.

“Well, yeah. You know those weirdos I talked with…”

Gibbs vaguely remembers that part of the texts. But to avoid saying the wrong thing, he asks you what you want to drink. “Coffee’s fine.”

He calls for the waitress and orders your coffee. “People usually doesn’t understand how I can drink coffee at night.”

“Same. But with or without it, I don’t sleep much anyway.”

That’s how it started. Once you were talking, everything went smoothly between you two. You’re very interested by him, just like he’s by you. “You’re very nice, Leroy. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“I’m listening?”

“I didn’t mean to swipe right. It was mistake—but I’m really happy I did. You’re not a creep,” you warmly smile at Gibbs, he feels his heart melting inside his chest.

“I appreciate your honesty. I guess I should do the same.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “I wasn’t the person you talked with. My friend did it for me.”

Well, what you did was a honest mistake. What he did was... weird. You looked at him, confused and a bit disappointed. "I just ruined it, didn't I?" he asks for the look on your face.

"I talked with a man and met another one... that's--strange, Leroy."

"Look, this whole online dating-- that's really not my thing. And Phil, my friend, just wanted to help." he explains. "What do you say we start all over?"

Despite the other people talking around you and Gibbs, there's a long silence between you two. Gibbs just stares at you, unsure of what you're going to do.

You're thinking for a moment, before finishing your coffee. You stand up and to the man's surprise, you smile at him. "I'm gonna sit at the counter. Come talk to me like none of this happened."

He deserves the benefit of the doubt.

#ncis reader insert #ncis imagines #ncis fiction #ncis fanfiction #ncis x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #jethro gibbs imagine #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs #gibbs #phil brooks ncis #gibbs is an old man and we love him for it

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luvdsc · 4 years

Text

mark lee sucks at technology.

tap the heart if you have a big, fat, embarrassing crush on your best friend!

pairing :: lee mark x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + social influencer au word count :: 5,883 words warnings :: none playlist :: dumb stuff (lany) ⋆ feeling (coin) ⋆ so far so good (gabrielle aplin) ⋆ electric love (børns) ⋆ love by mistake (bad suns) author’s note :: i was debating if i should post it on his bday instead, but i decided to drop it earlier, so uh, happy (approx. one week early) bday to mister absolutely fully capable (except when it comes to tech stuff) !!!! thank you for blessing us with your god tier raps ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.

In your required upper division business course aptly titled “Essential Marketing Strategies,” you had learned about a concept called personal brands. A personal brand is explained as the first impression a person wishes to perceive based on their own experiences, qualifications, and achievements. Your professor had told you and your classmates to pick three words to define your own brand. For instance, you chose to label yourself as charismatic, fun, and creative.

Your best friend’s brand would be awkward, endearing, and technologically challenged.

Okay, so that is definitely more than three words, but who’s counting? You might as well tack on “Y/N’s big fat crush” at this rate because everyone and their mother knows that you carry a torch—or more accurately, a blazing wildfire that can easily be spotted from Pluto—for your best friend.

Well, to be more precise, you should probably say everyone, except Mark, knows. And that’s not for lack of trying either. You completely dropped the art of delicate subtlety months ago already. Maybe you should add “hopelessly oblivious” instead.

The rolling end credits to the sixth Harry Potter film are playing on the screen in front of you, signaling the nearing end of your magical movie marathon. You’re seated on the worn down couch in Mark and Donghyuck’s shared apartment, watching the former make his drink with the fancy, gently used Keurig newly settled on the scratched countertop. Johnny dropped it off a few days ago because he had splurged on a better coffee machine (“It even makes Instagram worthy whipped frappuccinos!”) and didn’t want his old, but still perfectly functioning caffeine provider going to waste.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” Mark slaps the side of the machine, and it starts to emit a low whirring noise. “Oh, that’s good, right? That sound is good, you think?”

His question is immediately answered by the sad squirt of hot water speckled with coffee grinds falling into his mug for a few seconds before the machine shuts off.

“What the hell?” he mutters angrily, carding his hand through his hair in frustration, and you finally decide to take pity on your best friend. Getting up from the comfy spot you know you sadly won’t be able to recreate perfectly again later, you stride over to where your best friend stands and flip open the top of the Keurig.

“Hyuck didn’t take out his used coffee pod,” you say, pulling out the incriminating evidence of your best friend’s roommate and disposing it in the trash can next to the refrigerator. “Where’s the espresso one you’re gonna use? Why didn’t you put that in?”

His jaw slackens, and he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze and mumbling, “I thought I’d just open it later and pour it into my hot water.”

“Mark,” you start, placing your hands on his shoulders firmly and staring into his eyes with a serious look on your face. “Please know that I’m saying this in the most loving way possible, but you are an absolute idiot.”

You release your grip on his shoulders and grab the espresso pod dangling from his fingertips before slotting it into the Keurig. You remove the mug he placed underneath the spout and wash out the accidental coffee water before placing it back in its original position and pressing the start button on the machine. With a sigh, you lean against the side of the counter, glancing at your friend who looks like a child being scolded for stealing from the cookie jar.

“If you pour the pod into your mug, are you just going to chug all the loose coffee grinds, too?”

“... I didn’t think that far ahead.” His lips start to unintentionally form a tiny pout, and your eyes (and your heart, too) soften.

You’re very relieved that Donghyuck is off filming with your friend because he definitely would be making fun of your heart eyes that frequently make an appearance around a certain Mark Lee. Which you always deny. Because you certainly do not have a gigantic crush on your technologically inept best friend.

You glance over at him again and have to physically fight yourself to resist the urge to kiss his cute pout away. Okay, so maybe you harbor a very respectable, medium sized crush. But it's no big deal. It’s completely under control. Unless you’re counting the fact that your best friend is still unaware, and you’re running out of ideas to try and see if he likes you back before you actually shoot your shot. Then it’s very much not under control because you’re losing sleep over it and you don’t know what to do to be any more obvious without stating the, well, obvious.

“Well, now you know. If you forget, you can FaceTime me and I’ll give you instructions on how it works.” You pat his shoulder reassuringly before pausing. “Wait, you do know how to FaceTime, right?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, sulking even more before confessing in a quieter, defeated tone, “Hyuck showed me last month.”

Mark grabs his finished drink and follows behind you, settling back onto the couch next to you. The streaming service already has Deathly Hallows Part 1 in the queue and ready to go, and your best friend is ready to click play until he notices your attention being focused on the smaller screen in your hands. He wonders if you’re about to post another one of your popular cooking videos on that app that shares a name with the most iconic song of the 2000s (hint: the name of the song’s singer is made up of four letters and a dollar sign).

“Are you uploading one of your videos?” he implores before taking a sip of his drink with a satisfied smile. Somehow, it always tastes better when you make it, and he can’t figure out why for the life of him. When he went to Johnny’s place, his older friend uses the exact same pod and water ratio for his espresso, and yet, it’s never as good as yours.

“Nah, I’m ordering my grocery delivery before I forget. Do you want anything?” You select the option to load your usual grocery items into your cart before debating on whether or not you should splurge on buying several packages of those seasonal Pillsbury sugar cookies that only come in stock during certain holidays. It seems like such an insult to the entire premise of your Tiktok account based on baking and cooking, but you’re an absolute sucker for those soft pastries.

“Yeah, can you get me a Shin Ramyun ten pack? Hyuck ate the last one two days ago and didn’t tell me.”

“You sure you don’t want ten boxes again?” You decide to get those Pillsbury sugary delights, happily adding three boxes to your cart. Everybody has a weakness, and yours just so happens to be a premade one way ticket to diabetes. You’re here for a good, delicious time, not a long time.

“No! That was an accident!” He objects, flailing his hands around, before falling back against the couch cushions in defeat. “But Hyuck does all the online grocery shopping now.”

“Thank god. You guys finally have quality toilet paper again.”

The past month of bathroom occurrences was plagued with scratchy tissue that felt more like goddamn sandpaper from the horrible depths of hell. To be honest, you probably would have rather used actual sandpaper, given the choice. You even made sure not to drink too much water any time you came over, but today, you decided to splurge on a venti passion fruit iced tea with sweetener from that very popular franchise sporting a mermaid logo and fiscally cosmic name. To your pleasant surprise, your trip to the toilet this time was wonderfully padded with Charmin Ultra Soft, not that absolutely awful off brand one with the gross texture of a dried pinecone from inferno.

“Hey, that toilet paper was a good steal! It was a three for one deal,” Mark protests, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Wow, I wonder why it was priced so low.” You deadpan, and Mark blanches, recalling all those restroom incidents that were rather rough. Literally.

“Anyway, do you think my viewers wanna see me make chocolate crinkle cookies or mochi doughnuts?” You bring up the two recipes you managed to perfect and add your own spin to on your phone, eyes scanning the ingredient lists.

“Both. And tell me when you’re making them, so I can come over and eat them.” He gives you a wide grin, and you let out a snort at that. His smile only grows as he says happily, “I love your job.”

“You only love it because you can freeload off of me,” you jest, but nevertheless begin to start to add all the ingredients for both recipes to your shopping cart. You always film cooking videos on Tuesdays, edit on Wednesdays, keep Thursdays free for last minute touch ups and emergencies, and post one every week on Fridays with other various random videos uploaded whenever in between. With that in mind, you schedule your upcoming grocery delivery for Monday.

“Hey, you need me. I’m the best taste tester.” He puffs up his chest proudly before hastily tacking on a more genuine reason. “And because I’d starve without you. I can’t live off of instant ramen and frozen chicken nuggets forever. Gordon Ramsay already confirmed my shitty cooking skills. I need you to survive.”

“Oh my god, when I uploaded those pics of your scrambled eggs on Twitter, I lost like a hundred followers in less than a minute.” You confirm the delivery and place your phone on the coffee table, picking up the opened bag of Cheeto puffs before settling back in your seat. “My cooking credibility was completely shot. I had to explain to my fans that I didn’t make those.”

“Yeah, but now everyone calls me Eggy Boi online!” he whines, and you laugh. You have to admit, it’s quite a funny play on the whole “edgy boi” terminology. You wonder if Mark will find it amusing if he discovers his roommate is the culprit behind his new online persona (He probably won’t, and you reckon Donghyuck enjoys living in a safe space where he doesn’t have to sleep with one eye open, so you stay quiet about it. You’ll use it as leverage some other time).

“Okay, Eggy Boi, come by on Tuesday because I’ll be baking in the afternoon,” you say casually, grabbing the remote control from your best friend and pressing play.

You very narrowly avoid a green gummy bear to the face. It lands somewhere behind the couch, lost forever to the dust bunnies and other snacks that missed its target. You know for a fact that it’ll stay there until the boys decide to move to a new apartment. Mark grumbles at the miss, biting off the head of a red cherry flavored gummy bear perhaps a little harder than necessary.

“I hate you. But I’m still coming over next week because I want a doughnut.”

“No cookie?”

“... and a cookie. Maybe two.”

Wednesday comes faster than you expected, and you’re currently holed up in your apartment’s second bedroom—which you had transformed into a snazzy office space—completing the edits to your second video on mochi doughnuts. You already finished polishing the one about the cookies earlier, thank goodness. If you had to stare at your computer screen for another three hours, you would rather eat those pastries Mark tried to make two months ago, but had mistaken salt for sugar. Adding a cup of salt to any baked good is an extremely effective way to make anyone who tasted your best friend’s brownies experience a trip to the beach. Because they essentially just swallowed a mouthful of sand and ocean water. Because it’s salty as heck. Just like Mark was when you told him.

Speaking of your best friend, he’s currently puttering around in your kitchen doing god knows what. He knows better than to try another recipe and possibly blow up your number one moneymaker—your prized oven—in the process. Your heart nearly drops when your ears pick up the faint chopping sounds of a knife against your wooden cutting board. Is he going to try to temper chocolate again? He nearly burned through your entire stock of dark, milk, and white chocolate last time.

After much contemplation and deciding that you deserve a good procrastination break and a fully intact kitchen, you’re about to go out and see what he’s up to when Mark timidly appears in your doorway, clutching onto a white bowl of watermelon cubes with a fork tucked neatly in it. He shuffles in, dropping the snack on your desk before turning to walk out without a word, not wanting to disturb your work mode.

Your heart warms up at the sight, and you speak up, a small smile slipping into your face. “What’s this for?”

“Knowing you, you probably haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” He pauses in the doorway and adds on sheepishly, “And I can't cook anything, so this is what you get.”

Your heart swells tenfold, and your smile widens even more as you spear a piece of fruit with the fork and quickly pop it into your mouth. “Thanks, Marky.”

His cheeks flush with a pretty shade of carmine, and he fails to suppress the little giddy smile that appears on his face at your nickname for him. He walks out of your office, reddened cheeks still rising up higher than ever. “Y-Yeah, of course. No problem.”

By the time you finish adding the final few touches to your edited video, the bowl of watermelon has been picked clean. You save your video and transfer both of your completed projects to your phone, making a mental note to schedule their uploads and add them to your account’s posting queue later. Shoving your phone in the pocket of your sweats after ensuring the successful transfer of your videos, you pick up the empty dish and walk out towards the kitchen, the silver fork clinking against the side of the bowl with every step.

As you wash the dish and utensil, Mark wanders over from his spot on the couch, leaning forward and casually placing his chin on your shoulder. Almost instantaneously, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you briefly fantasize about your best friend wrapping his arms around your waist and how domestic and sweet the two of you would look, like one of those cheesy couples the two of you always made fun of.

“What’s up?” you ask, making a conscious effort to hold your voice steady and not waver over the fact that Mark is basically draped over you. After you place the dish on the drying rack, you turn around to face your best friend, sorely miscalculating the distance as mere inches separate your face from his now.

“I—” Puberty decides to make an ugly appearance in the form of an ill timed voice crack, and he internally curses as he takes a step back, willing the incoming blush to go away. Letting out a small cough, he tries again, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I, um, Jisung sent me some kind of dance video. He said it’s a challenge? I kinda don’t know what to do with it? Like do I make a new dance, record myself, and send it back? Actually, isn't it easier to just do a dance battle face to face?”

“Can I see the video?” You already have a good idea on what the video will be, but you want to confirm it. Mark fumbles with his phone, pulling up the video in his text messages. He angles the phone towards you for you to see, and you grab his hand, bringing the device a little closer to you for a better look and clicking play.

“Oh, it’s a Tiktok challenge! He’s doing the Say So dance!” you exclaim, recognizing the song almost immediately as your eyes follow the fluid dance moves, completely enthralled. “So a challenge isn’t going up against someone, like a battle. It’s just some kind of trend or concept that you try to copy yourself. You’re supposed to learn the same dance and record yourself for this one. I can show you some other challenges and help you practice and record this one tomorrow if you wanna drop by after work!”

“O-Oh, okay, sounds good.” Mark stumbles over his words, attempting to focus on what you’re saying and the dance Jisung is doing, but all he can think about is the way your body is pressed against his side, hand comfortably wrapped around his. He freezes up as the tips of his ears grow redder and redder with every passing second, and his face sports a similar color. He silently prays for the telltale crimson to go away by the time the dance is over.

When the video ends, you once again realize the close proximity between you and your best friend. Your face burns at this revelation, and you awkwardly take a step back. Clearing your throat, you hastily release Mark’s hand (He inaudibly lets out the breath he’s been holding in this entire time, yet he also already misses the way your hand felt grasping his).

“Uh, anyway, I’m gonna make a latte. Do you want a drink, too?” You walk towards the other side of your kitchen with Mark trailing behind you. You take out a floral, peachy colored mug from your cupboards before pausing and looking at your best friend. “Wait, do you remember how to use a Keurig?”

“Yes!” He says, slightly exasperated as he picks out his own cup from your cabinet. He always uses the same one—a cerulean blue mug with squiggles all over it—and all of your friends and guests know not to use it because it’s unofficially officially Mark’s mug (And perhaps, you did indeed buy it from that overpriced kitschy tableware shop down the street two years ago with your best friend in mind).

“Really?” You select the latte option and press start after you had already positioned the mug beneath the spout and inserted a green tea matcha pod. He finally relents, shoulders sagging and a defeated expression on his face.

“... No.”

You chuckle, taking the mug from him and carefully putting it on the counter. You grab the espresso pod you know he likes from the drawer below and place it next to the cup. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you again.”

Mark tries. He really does. He tries very hard to concentrate on memorizing the simple process, but he keeps getting distracted. His eyes are focused on the correct button to push before they start to trail up to your fingertips. And then, they go from your hand to your arm, then up to the elegant curve of your neck, and finally, to the way your lashes frame your pretty eyes and how the tip of your tongue sticks out slightly as you concentrate until all he can focus on is you, you, you.

Suddenly, in what feels like a blink of an eye, you’re done and handing him his finished drink, complete with a perfectly whipped milk foam on top. You ask him if he knows how to make it now, and all he can do is lie and nod with a barely convincing smile.

After all, how can Mark tell his best friend that the reason he never remembers is because you’re the biggest distraction?

Mark should be here in five minutes, according to his most recent text message. And in the text message below that, your friend had sent you a challenge. More specifically, it’s the one she completed with Donghyuck a few weeks ago. When you said you wanted bold suggestions on how to figure out if your best friend feels the same way about you as you do about him, you didn’t want one this bold.

Yet, the video link to your friend’s “today I kissed my best friend” challenge along with a winky face from her is staring mockingly at you. While you aren’t one to back down from a challenge, the mere thought of kissing your best friend causes vast colonies of butterflies to erupt in your stomach and your ears to feel as if they have caught on fire. You’re already tongue tied with your head in the clouds, and he isn’t even here yet. How utterly fantastic.

However, your mother definitely did not raise a quitter, so you spring into action when you hear the faint jingling of a key being inserted into your apartment’s door (You had given Mark a copy of your key almost immediately after you had moved in). You move the pretty indoor fern given to you by Jaemin as a housewarming gift last year closer to the edge of your towering bookcase, leaning your phone against it. You quickly position the device to capture a good view of the couch area in your living room and press the record button, arranging a few of the leaves to hide as much of your phone as you possibly can without obstructing the lens.

You run full speed to your bedroom, letting out a sigh of relief when you’re safely inside and hear Mark finally unlocking the door successfully and shuffling in. When he calls out to you, you try to even out your breathing, walking out of your room with your tripod and laptop in hand.

“Hey,” you greet him in the most casual tone you can muster. You place the tripod down and sit before opening your laptop and setting it on the coffee table. “I thought we could watch a few challenges for fun before trying the Say So one. Have you watched Jisung’s videos before?”

“Um, well, no, not really,” he confesses sheepishly, taking a seat next to you on the couch, leg pressing against yours. He squints at the YouTube video you pulled up earlier before he had arrived, reading the title before clicking the space button to start it. “Savage Tiktok dance compilation part two?”

“Wait, hold up.” You pause the video and then turn to face him with an incredulous expression on your face. “You’ve never watched any of Jisung’s dance Tiktoks?”

“No… I don’t even have an account.” His cheeks are dusted with the lightest shade of pink as he quietly admits, “I watch all of yours though.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, face heating up as you stammer out, “O-Oh, well, I can help you make an account later to upload your video.”

“Sounds good.” There’s a few seconds of silence as you mull over his previous words before he speaks up again awkwardly, “Should I, uh, play the video?”

“Oh! Yes, right! Of course, hit play,” you laugh nervously, twisting and playing with the hair tie around your wrist. He starts the video again, and the two of you watch the compilation, slowly relaxing once more as you tap your fingers to the rhythm of the song and he bobs his head to the beat.

“Do I have to change outfits like that?” he questions a few minutes later, eyes growing round as he sees the girl on the screen switch between four different outfits throughout the dance. His closet basically consists of the same five black shirts that he stole from Jaehyun. Even if he did do an outfit swap, there would literally be no difference at all.

“You don’t have to,” you assure him, clicking the enter key to play the next video that’s recommended: another Tiktok dance challenge compilation. “All you have to do is copy the dance.”

Mark nods, taking a glance at the laptop screen before his hand shoots out and he pauses the video, leaning forward to take a closer look at the little recommended video title banner at the top. “Wait! What’s that one?”

He clicks on it, the new video now loading up. The two of you wait patiently for it to begin, waiting for the spinning disc to stop. But it doesn’t. In fact, the whole chrome page goes blank and then, the little pixelated Google Chrome dinosaur pops up on your monitor, announcing that you have no internet connection. Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to reload the page before trying to re-establish your laptop connection to your wifi. Unfortunately, you cannot find your appropriately named “drop it like it’s hotspot” wifi anywhere to connect to.

And that’s when it hits you. Your landlord had sent out a notice to the entire apartment complex last week about the electricity being powered down today from 4 to 6 p.m. for a maintenance check, and a quick glance at the digital clock on your laptop shows that it’s a little past four.

You groan, closing your laptop and flopping back against the couch cushions dramatically. Mark cocks his head, slightly confused, before he pokes you in the arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I completely forgot about the scheduled electricity shutdown for the entire building. We won’t have any wifi for the next two hours.” You pout, your bottom lip jutting out in the slightest, and Mark doesn’t think it’s fair that you get to be this cute and have this much of an effect on his racing heart rate.

“That’s okay, we can… play some board games?” he suggests offhandedly, pushing away the embarrassing thought and nudging your leg with his, and you smile before a sudden idea occurs to you.

“Or we can still do some Tiktok challenges! What was the challenge you clicked on?” You quickly sit upright, turning to face your best friend, eyes sparkling in excitement. “I memorized a few of the dance ones already! Was it Renegade? I can teach you that one. Jisung showed me how to do it.”

“Um,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. His eyes dart everywhere, except you, as he lets out a feigned cough. “It wasn’t a dance one. It was about, uh, going up to your boyfriend… and um, hugging him... when he’s playing video games.”

“Oh.” You answer lamely, not knowing what to say. You unsuccessfully try to push away the image of you attempting that challenge with your best friend. “Those are really cute.”

“Really?” He says doubtfully, wrinkling his eyebrows and fiddling with the frayed sleeve of his sweater. “Wouldn’t the dude get mad?”

You don’t know what suddenly possessed you to do this (you’ll have to ask Renjun and his paranormal loving ass later), but you thank whatever demon did for that split second because you find yourself gently grabbing Mark’s arm and slipping your head underneath it. You swing one leg over his lap and settle down until you’re securely sitting in his lap, bent legs on either side of his hips, hands curled around the soft fabric of his sweater on both sides and resting on top of your thighs. His arms instinctively go around your waist, wrapping around you securely.

You tilt your head to the side slightly, studying the flustered boy in front of you with a teasing, albeit a little anxious, smile on your lips. “Are you feeling mad?”

Splotches of red litter his cheeks and decorate the tips of his ears, but your best friend furiously shakes his head at your question, bashfully ducking his head afterwards and muttering a soft “No.”

You swallow hard, heart pounding erratically in your chest as you timidly ask, “Would you be mad if I do this?”

Mark looks up at that, confusion written all over his face. His arms start to loosen around your figure, hands now resting on your waist. “If you do what?”

You take a deep breath. “This.”

You lean in and gently press your lips against his. Mark freezes in shock, and you quickly retreat soon after, gnawing at the inside of your cheek as you wait anxiously for his reaction. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and be buried six feet under.

A tiny noise of surprise belatedly escapes from him and crimson spreads across his cheeks like wildfire. His doe eyes are wide and sparkling, staring at you in bewilderment. Your best friend lets out a small laugh of disbelief before a full blown smile breaks out across his face. He gazes at you adoringly, breathing out softly, “I’m not mad at that.”

You perk up at that, draping your arms around his neck as you lean forward, beaming. “Really? You’re not?”

“Definitely not.”

This time, Mark meets you halfway, his lips slotting against yours perfectly and making you feel tingles up and down your spine. Your eyes are closed, and you are so hyper aware of the way his hands grip your hips, how he tugs you closer, and how his lips chase after yours. The number of butterflies from earlier multiply in your stomach, and you have ascended past cloud nine by now.

When the two of you break apart, your eyes flutter open, and you nudge your nose against his affectionately. The brightest grin blooms on his face once again, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his little giggles and hiding the awfully vibrant cerise that rapidly blossoms on his face.

“Is this a good time to tell you congrats for completing your first challenge?” you say, resting your cheek against the crown of his head. You pull away when he lifts his head up, surprised.

“I wasn’t playing video games though,” he says slowly, processing your words and thinking back to the challenge that started this all.

“It was a different challenge. It’s the one that Hyuck did a few weeks ago,” you confess, and realization dawns on him, his face lighting up for a split second before a look of horror takes over.

“Oh, no. Is that why you had your phone recording on the bookshelf?” Mark asks, dread beginning to cloud his mind.

“Yes…” you say slowly, a little perplexed. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Oh my god, I ruined your video,” he moans, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. “I saw your phone when I walked in and thought you were filming earlier and forgot to turn it off, so I turned it off for you.”

When the words finally register in your mind, you can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of your throat, and he raises his head up to look at you with wide doe eyes at the pretty sound. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

You can’t stop laughing at the situation, and he looks at you worriedly, gnawing on his bottom lip slightly. You force yourself to calm down, a soft chuckle leaving your lips before you beam at him, leaning in and placing the softest kiss on the tip of his nose. “It’s okay, Mark. I’m not mad. That video wasn’t important anyway.��

“But still,” he whines before letting out a groan and slapping his hand against his forehead when the realization sinks in even further. “I’m such an idiot.”

“But you’re my idiot now, right?” you say teasingly, albeit a little shyly as well, as you reach over to tug his hand away from his face and lace your fingers with his.

“I mean, I kinda thought I was always your idiot,” Mark laughs softly and a little embarrassedly, eyes averted and cheeks turning pinker than ever. The largest grin spreads across your face at that, and you turn away slightly to hide it. You didn’t think your best friend can possibly be any more endearing, but he manages to prove you wrong every time.

“Well, then now you can add ‘Y/N’s boyfriend’ to your resume,” you say, and he fails to suppress the pleased smile appearing on his face at your remark, his rosy cheeks rising even taller than skyscrapers.

“So, uh, what sort of job description does that have?” He gazes at your intertwined hands in wonder, still completely giddy at the reality of you being his best friend and something more.

“Sharing hoodies, giving me attention, kissing, holding my hand, going on dates, you know, the basics,” you answer, squeezing his hand tenderly, and his doe eyes instantly light up. Mark feels a little bolder than before, and it shows when he grins widely and says:

“Can we do number three again?”

“Yes, we can, Eggy Boi.”

He wrinkles his nose at the name, disgruntled and unimpressed, as he crosses his arms over his chest, sulking. You let out a laugh before leaning in and crashing your lips against his. He immediately relents at that, enthusiastically responding and hugging you closer to him, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss as you feel his own smile appear as well.

At that moment, you decide that you want to change Mark’s personal brand. Because his should be “absolutely wonderful, positively amazing, a cute kisser, your boyfriend, and your bestest friend.” And yes, that is most definitely more than the allotted three words, but again, who’s really counting?

Certainly not you when you’re too preoccupied with kissing your best friend. Correction: best friend and new boyfriend.

One new notification: donutkillmyvibe uploaded a new video!

moominjun commented:

so you’re saying the reason why we didn’t get the highly anticipated best friend challenge video is because @ marklyrawr turned the camera off?

donutkillmyvibe replied: yes 😔 I’m sorry to disappoint everyone 🤧

nanaislove replied: omg no bby it’s ok 🥺🥺💞💓💓💝💗 you didn’t have to make an apology video for that 🥺💗💓💘💖

goofys.chuckle replied: yeah it’s mark’s fault. he’s the disappointment here 🥴

morklyrawr replied: hahahahaha stfu hyuck

tytrack commented:

mark is going through puberty. I apologize

dobunny replied: @.@

goofys.chuckle commented:

are we getting whip(ped)lash pt 2 by eggy boi?

morklyrawr replied: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO STARTED THAT NAME?????

goofys.chuckle replied: uh gotta blast 🚀

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle does this mean you’re staying over again?

goofys.chuckle replied: @ showmethemonet yes if you want your super cute, mega talented, very handsome boyfriend to still be alive 🥺

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle oh my god I didn’t know I was dating bts jin???

moominjun replied: LMFAOOOOO

goofys.chuckle replied: heart 💔 been broke 📉 so many times ⏰ i don’t know 🤔 what to believe 💯 mama 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 said 🗣 it’s my fault 😢 it’s my fault 🤦🏻‍♂️i wear my heart ❤️ on my sleeve 💪 i think it’s best 👍🏻 I put my heart ❤️ on ice 🧊

jenojam commented:

why am I not surprised……

itsmebetch replied: just mark thingz 🍉

suhprisemf commented:

mark your head looks flat af

jungjaeprince replied: 😂😂😂

10vely replied: @ jungjaeprince be quiet don’t cry

letswonwon commented:

whoop whoop

junguwu commented:

OMG CONGRATS ON YOUR RELATIONSHIP SWEETIE 😍😍

takoyaki_prince commented:

MARK!!!!! you look handsome !! 😘

jisungpwark commented:

rip to @ donutkillmyvibe ’s future videos that mark will ruin. press f in the chat to pay respects 🙏🏻

bigheadking replied: F ✊🏻😔

peachyangel replied: f 🥺🥺

yoitslucas replied: F 🤪🤪🤪 but glad you’re happy, man ❤️

donutkillmyvibe replied: F 💔

morklyrawr replied: @ donutkillmyvibe wtf babe????

officialgordonramsay commented:

didn’t i tell you to get back on tinder ?

apado_god commented:

nice 😎👍🏻

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lukealvezhimboextraordinaire · 3 years

Note

Prompt — wearing their lover’s clothes! (also, “can I get my shirt back? ’'no.”)

Philioise 🥰

okay so i tried to fill the bill this time! things get a bit hot at the end but nothing worth an r rating!

let's see philoise + wearing their lovers clothes.

It had taken some convincing on Eloise’s part.

Phillip was a man with a very defined style and that style didn’t involve hoddies - an absolute pity according to Eloise. He liked his cardigans, his pleated pants, and his wingtips. He liked to look good and yet be comfortable and wasn’t here to be ashamed for taking care of his appearance. And really, it was fine. Eloise loved it. The only problem was that Penelope had been bombarding her with snaps of her wearing Colin’s oversized hoodies and although she would never admit it out loud, she was starting to feel the green-eyed monster burning in her chest. Goddammit, she wanted to take cute pics clapped in one of Phillip’s extra-large hoodies and post them on every social media account she owned.

But Phillip was not having it. Not even when she went out of her way to make obvious hints as to how she wanted to steal his clothes. Or rather, how she wanted to be given his clothes.

And really? What was the problem? Eloise had full access to his closet. She could just walk into it and grab whatever she wanted and he would not protest. But he was a smart man and smart men did not engage in couple wars with their girlfriend’s siblings. Especially not with Polin. Because out of every two words Colin said, one was Penelope. And Phillip loved Eloise but he preferred to keep his displays of affection a bit more subtle and he preferred his love confessions to be for Eloise's ears only. Nothing wrong with proclaiming your love and devotion for the woman you were sharing your life with every two sentences, really. But being around Colin was, in all honesty, a bit sickening.

But even if his love language were light, casual touches or his quiet but calming presence or listening to her ramble about her day, that didn’t mean he loved her any less. Where Colin’s love was loud, grandiose, overwhelming, Phillip’s love was quiet, nurturing, gentle. It was waking up to fresh flowers resting on a vase every morning, it was coming home after a long day at work to the table set and dinner ready, it was finding little notes scattered around the house, reminding her to take her keys with her, to drink some water, to drive safely. It was a soft kiss on her cheek every morning before leaving for work, a cup of her coffee exactly like she liked it placed on her hand. It was pressed flowers under her pillow. It was a back rub while they read together in the afternoons. It was books with his favorite parts and quotes underlined showing up on her bedside table randomly - full pages circled with this reminds me of you all over it. It was gentle praise and sincere encouragement. It was words of affirmation. It was a sense of finally belonging, being taken care of, and being put first, of mattering.

Phillip loved Eloise in all the ways she had ever wanted to be loved but didn’t dare to allow herself to yearn for and even in ways she never knew a person could love another person. He understood her silences as well as her words and always seemed to know how to make her feel better. There was something in his presence that never failed to make her feel safe.

There was nothing she could complain about.

But she wanted to take a bloody picture wrapped in one of his shirts and post it, dammit.

And then a brilliant idea crossed her mind.

She would see Penelope’s hoodie and raise it. Go big or go home.

And go big she did, indeed.

Phillip had one of those botanic conferences he loved so much that weekend, which meant she would (practically) have the house for herself. Or at least she would have the house for herself once the twins went to bed. The smart woman she was, Eloise had already crafted a detailed plan to tire them out so much all through the day, that the moment they came back home they would pass out, giving her the time to put her second master plan into action. It was genius if she herself said it.

-------

The twins had drifted into a peaceful sleep as soon as their heads touched the pillows. The day had been filled with excitement, laughs, and a couple sugar highs that Eloise had made sure to schedule to last until they were on their way home. The plan had almost taken a turn for the worse on the ride home when their eyelids started to flutter. Nothing a good old banger couldn’t avoid. They ended up singing to the top of their lungs to songs Eloise had never heard before walking into those amazing kids’ lives but now she often found herself humming absent-mindedly.

She placed a sweet kiss on the top of their heads and made sure to tuck them in before closing the door quietly and making her way to the bedroom she had come to share with their father.

As much as she would have loved to take her time

Everything was ready; the lights settled to the perfect intensity, the phone resting on the tripod, and the throw pillows placed in a way that only added to the scene. All that she had to do was get in front of the lens. Surprisingly, the hardest part had been to pick the perfect garment to wear. Phillip had such a collection of nice shirts that it had taken Eloise a good twenty minutes to narrow it down to just two and then five more to come up with a winner. The soft baby blue cotton fabric looked very nice against her skin and it even made her eyes stand out so it became an easy pick. Even though the light yellow one was very nice too. Eloise took a mental note to keep it for a late date. Maybe she would have to ask Daphne to keep the twins for a night one of these days.

Eloise tried a couple poses on the mirror before settling for a suggestive yet not very explicit one. Her legs slightly parted, the hem of the shirt covering just about enough skin to allow the word tasteful to be used but to still spark the curiosity about what was (or wasn’t) behind, the first few buttons of the improvised attire open, allowing the valley of her breasts to peak over the lace brasserie, offering a glimpse of what was to come. The wicked smile adorning her features and messy hair the perfect last touches to her ravishing look. The camera snapped once, twice, thrice. Eloise studied the pictures, nodded with satisfaction, and with one last look at them hit sent.

My sunflower: A little something so you don’t forget to think about me tonight;)

Jesus, El, I almost crashed against the wall.

Just so you know, I always think about you.

My sunflower: I hope so.

Is that my shirt?

My sunflower: Maybe?

You little thief.

My sunflower: Do you want it back?

I think you ought to show me if you had stolen more of my clothes.

Like my boxers, for starters….

Eloise didn’t get much sleep that night.

The next morning she made sure to send Penelope a nerdy snap, Phillip’s shirt looking huge on her smaller frame, making her look like she was wearing an oversized dress. Judging by the dry response she got from her best friend, Colin was about to make a trip to the mall to get a couple dressing shirts. The bar had been raised. Hoodies were no longer good enough. It was pressed shirts or nothing now. Good.

Eloise surprised herself by how reluctant she was to take off his shirt. It had been only a day and she already missed him. His laugh, his hugs, his arms lazily thrown over her shoulders as they laid on the couch, the way he wrinkled up his nose with the first sip of tea… she missed having him around and the peace knowing he was close brought her. And it was funny because until that moment the realization of how used she had gotten to having Phillip by her side had not hit her. Their broken souls were two sides of the same coin, joined and twisted and embroiled until they became one.

So she threw a pair of jeans on, tucked the shirt in the pants, and went on and about with her day. The twins didn’t even bat an eye when she descended down the stairs muffled in their dad’s favorite gear. It was almost as if they had been expecting it for a while. In retrospect, they probably had not given it any thought because they were kids, smart kids, but kids and children didn’t tend to have the same worries as adults. For them, sharing clothes didn’t have a special meaning.

And Eloise realized that she should have gone digging into Phillip’s side of the closet a long time ago. Thinking about it, she couldn’t come up with the exact reason why it had gotten her so long to finally do something that had been on her mind for a while.

But Eloise didn’t have much time to dwell on the reasons behind her actions - or lack of them. Because the door sprung open, startling everyone inside, to reveal a smiling Phillip, bag hanging lazing from his shoulder.

“Daddy!” The kids rushed to his encounter, screaming happily, and attached themselves to his legs. He scooped them up, each in one arm, and when he looked up his eyes locked with Eloise’s. A knowing smile immediately overtook his features. Eloise knew that smile knew what it meant. It was the promise of something to come and it never failed to send a wave of heat down her stomach.

“Hi,” he had to lean in slightly to give her a soft kiss on the lips. The kids made disgusted noises and Phillip took it as his cue to let them run free. He watched them disappear up the stairs and only then did he turn his attention back to the brunette, his eyes burning into hers. “Is that my shirt?”

Eloise licked her lips. “Maybe.”

He grinned, closing the distance between them in two long steps, his lips brushing against her neck, tentatively running down her collarbone until they reached the valley of her breasts. The air caught in her lungs. Her eyes closed. And then he stopped. When she opened them again, he was smirking down at her. “Can I get it back?”

Somehow she managed to find the strength to talk. “N-no.”

Phillip grinned evilly. “Not even if I do this?” His fingers teased the hem of the shirt, sending a wave of electricity down her spine whenever they grazed her skin. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he started unbuttoning the shirt, leaving a kiss on every inch of exposed skin.

“If you want your shirt. You are going to have to rip it off of me.” Eloise breathed out. And Phillip's eyes burned with desire and something that looked a lot like a promise.

Let’s just say, the shirt ended on the floor.

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

When she came into their bedroom later that night, there was a bag resting on her side of the bed. She looked around for him but he was nowhere to be found. Never one able to resist the temptation of satisfying her curiosity, she looked inside. Tears filled her eyes because there, resting in the bottom of the bag was a brown hoodie. Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, the warm breath against her neck making her hair stand up. "I would give you the world, my sunflower. All you have to do is ask."

It had taken some convincing on Eloise's part. But she never needed to try so hard.

#eloise bridgerton #eloise x phillip #phillip crane #fics #mine #philoise #listen i don't write smut so that's why this sucks #i tried

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marvel-ing-at-it-all · 3 years

Text

Yachi's Ball

(Yachi x platonic!Karasuno VB team)

This was a headcanon that spiraled out of control so now its a fic I guess. I wrote it at like 1-2am, its not really proof-read. angst to fluff I guess? Obviously I would never want this to happen to my girl Yachi, but I had this idea and I thought it was kinda wholesome so... here you go, enjoy!

So let's say theres like a school dance or event going on and Yachi happens to have a crush on someone in one of her classes. She feels so lucky and happy when they ask her to go with them, she is overjoyed at practice talking to Kiyoko about it, the team overhearing, is happy she's happy. She and Kiyoko plan to go shopping for their dresses and excitedly plan for the magical night.

The night of the dance rolls around, her date told her they'd meet her there, so nervously she enters the crowded school gym. She had arrived with Kiyoko after she had helped her get ready, they both "look like a million bucks" according to Tanaka and Noya who almost too quickly upon Kiyoko's arrival stole her away to dance...it was almost as if they were waiting at the entrance for her arrival...

ANYWAY. Yachi is quick to assure Kiyoko that she can go have fun with the boys and that her date would be there soon, it had only been 10 minutes past their agreed meeting time, they were probably just running a little late. So Yachi waits, lingering near the entrance nursing a cup of punch as 10 minutes go by, then 20, then 30. As time seems to drag on and no messages come from her supposed date she starts feeling frustrated. Frustrated with how optimistically happy she was when they had asked her, frustrated by how much time she spent talking about how much she looking forward to tonight, frustrated with how much money she put into her outfit, how much time she took to do her hair and makeup, with how she had taken up Kiyokos time to help her, and of course how frustrated she was with her date. She's an understanding person, if something came up she would have understood, but not a single text was exchanged and she just felt so dumb about the whole thing.

She'd lost Kiyoko and the two rambunctious 2nd years over 40 minutes ago. In the crowd of bodies moving around her short stature and anxious nature did not help her efforts to look around for a familiar face, even with the damn heels that had been nothing but cruel to her feet. Not wanting to call her mother to come pick her up she decided to become a wallflower, finding a nice spot to lay low. She didn't want to cry, but she felt as if she were on the verge of tears, embarrassed by the whole situation, head lowered, tightly clenching her near empty cup of second refill punch by her side.

It's only then, when she is about to make a break for some fresh air outside, or an empty classroom, or maybe the volleyball gym, or literally anywhere but the cursed dance that she notices many sets of mens dress shoes appear on the floor she was so intently staring at. As she looks up there the boys volleyball team stands, dressed in their best formal wear, a certain Shōyō Hinata stands right in front of her, a hand extended towards her. "Can we have this dance?" he asks with the same determination and enthusiastic tone he has when it come to the sport he loves so much. She looks around the group, all the boys looking at her expectantly, some with sympathetic faces, others with bright smiles, and some somewhere in between. However, those faces turn to frowns as she lets the tears fall. She is quickly pulled in for a hug by Kiyoko, but as the boys begin to awkwardly apologize, she wipes them away and expresses her gratitude for the sweet boys who have tried so hard to bring a smile back to her face after seeing her standing dejectedly on a wall.

Claiming this was the sweetest thing anyones ever done for her, she smiles through the remaining (happy) tears, going in for a large group hug. The boys gladly huddle around her, when they release from a hug she thanks them again, explaining her frustrations which had lead them to this point. There are exchanges of threats and trash talk about her so called date, most notably the "piece of shit" from Kageyama and a "looks like I'll be having a little chart with someone" from Daichi. Tanaka and Noya reiterate enthusiastically that she looks so pretty, Sugawara laughs as he gives her a little twirl, showing her off. She giggles as well before stopping in front of a flustered Yamaguchi who manages to stumble out a sincere "You look beautiful Yachi-san", she flushes deeply at the compliment and thanks him. She is now smiling brightly, looking around, happy she has such great friends, when Hinata prompts again, "Now, how about that dance?". She takes his hand and exclaims, "lets go have fun, I did't get all dolled up for nothing" she jokes. With that she, Kiyoko, and the gentlemen of the boys volleyball team take to the dance floor! They dance in a group having a fun time, some (*cough* the first years *cough*) offer her solo dances when slower songs arrive, graciously accepting she dances the night away.

Her trash date isn't even on her mind, she's just happy she had such a good time with the boys who she takes care of at practice taking care of her for a night. When the dance comes to a close the group decides to go out for some late night, trash food. Tsuki offering to carry her heels as they walk through the grass outside. After their bellies are filled with food and exhaustion takes over they call it a night, but not before more thank you's and hugs are exchanged.

By the end of the night many photos and videos were taken and posted on Instagram, captions ranging from "happy I could make you smile" to a more ballsy "their loss". Yachi herself posts a series of photos, the first being a group photo of her and the boys, captioning it something along the lines of "the Karasuno Boys Volleyball team, sure know how to make a girl feel special! Very grateful to call you all my friends 🥰". Other photos are of her and Kiyoko, some solo shots of her (not pictured the boys hyping her up), a first year group photo, some duo shots, and lets not forget the pic of everyone in their formal wear chowing down on greasy fries, burgers, and milkshakes!

Needless to say when her "date" sees the post they know they missed out. Hitoka Yachi is ✨t h a t ✨girl and now everyone knows it.

I hope you all enjoyed, I know I haven't been putting out much original content, but every now and then I have some sparks of inspiration and time lol. I've been taking some summer classes, but my last one should finish up soon so I might be able to put out some more content for you guys ( I say that like a whole bunch of people read my shit and follow me lol) anyway, as always feel free to reblog, please leave a comment or like if you know, you liked it lol. Even though I don’t consider myself a serious writer I appreciate the validation 😂

also tagging my mutual, @aka-ashi-keiji (mwahahaha more fluff!)

<3 marveling

#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #yachi hitoka #yachi hcs #yachi fluff #kiyoko shimizu #hinata shoyo #kegayama tobio #hq tsukishima #yamaguchi #yachi x hinata #yachi x yamaguchi #haikyuu fic #haikyū!!#haikyuu x reader #marvelings fics #idk how to tag this

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nashibirne · 3 years

Text

Painkiller - 5

Need a painkiller? Here we go! The fifth part of my story about Henry and Ella. Months have passed by since their date, let's see how the "friends" are doing...

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Ella)

Summary: Ella keeps on pretending and Henry tries to move on

Warnings: Angst, a little smut, 18+, NSFW, sex, mentioning of oral sex (f receiving)

Unbeta'ed! As you know...English is not my mother tongue so be warned...

Credits: Pics for the moodboard are from Pinterest (face claim Pamela Reif, unfortunately I don't know the name of the model I use as face claim for Ella), I know nothing about the real Henry Cavill, this is all fictional.

You can find part 1 - 4 on my Masterlist.

taglist: @hell1129-blog @lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @mis-lil-red @willkatfanfromasia @agniavateira @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo

(let me know if you want to be added or removed)

~~~~~~~

The little bell above the door rang like crazy when Jackson entered the book-cafe with vim.

"Jax!" Ella beamed with joy when she saw him.

"Hey auntie." He embraced her with a grin, hugging her tightly and lifting her off the ground a bit. "Congratulations on your third nephew. He's really cute. I paid Katie a visit before I came here. Paul was there too, almost bursting with pride, changing diapers like a pro. He's going to be a great dad."

"Yeah, absolutely. They're going to be great parents. Hopefully Katie can leave the hospital soon. Henry can't wait to meet little Leonard."

"So you've already told him?"

"Of course. I had to promise him to call as soon as Katie goes into labour. And I kept him updated throughout the day yesterday. He's so happy for them."

"Uncle Henry and Aunt Ella, huh?" Jackson said with a teasing grin.

"Funny." Ella rolled her eyes.

"Not really. I mean come on, Elsie, you know that you and him are in a relationship without sex? Sharing everything but the bed?"

"Yes, I know that. It's called friendship, Jax."

"No, it's not. What you have established over the last 4 months is much more than friendship."

"Nonsense. Henry is a close friend just like you." Ella crossed her arms ready for defense.

"Fuck no. He's not..." Jackson let out an amused snort. "You talk on the phone every day, no matter how busy you are. You text each other constantly. He comes here whenever he finds a minute. You spend all your spare time together when he's in town, he practically lives at your place on his free weekends, sleeping on the couch. All your neighbours know the attractive guy, who looks so vaguely familiar under his caps and beanies and the beard, and who's always so friendly when he walks his dog with you. You do everything together, like a couple, you just don't fuck and nobody understands why."

"Because it's for the better." Ella turned away from Jackson and began to unpack a parcel that was standing on the counter. She got out some books and put them into a shelf with a stern expression.

"Really? You still claim that?" Jackson started to help Ella, pacing between the counter and the shelf, following her close.

"Yes I do. Because it's still true. We're better off as friends."

"Jesus, Elsie. How can you be so stubborn? The last months have proven that your worlds are not different at all, on the contrary...you love the same things, you laugh about the same silly jokes, you share the same view on life. You perfectly fit in with his life and vice versa."

"Yes. As friends. And I'm not stubborn, I'm realistic."

"And what would be so different if you were lovers and not just friends."

"Everything would be different, Jackson." Ella stopped in her tracks and turned around to him. He could tell by the look on her face and her crimson cheeks that she was not only annoyed but really upset. She cocked her head and poked his chest with her index finger. "What do you think would happen if we were spotted together? Appeared in public as a couple? Holding hands or kissing? If I left Henry's house in the morning? The whole world would know about it. It would be in the press, on the internet. The tabloids would be full of it. Who's Henry Cavill's mysterious girlfriend? Oh, only an ordinary book trader from Uxbridge...there must be more to it. They would start to dig and stalk me and my family, show up here at the store. His fans would go crazy, and I would be their target. They would bitch about me. How the hell did this mousy bag of bones get a man like him. I would be called gold digger, attention whore, slut and worse. I'd have to go to official events with him, meet his VIP friends, we would be chased by paparazzi..."

Ella stopped her rant and took a deep breath.

"Right. And I know this scares the shit out of you, but don't you think it might be worth it?" Jackson placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a soothing smile.

"No, I don't. And I don't even know if Henry feels about me that way. If he would still want to date me..."

Jackson stared at Ella, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? He's crazy in love with you. And you love him too. Stop lying to yourself, honey."

Ella just shrugged, avoiding Jackson's gaze.

"He won't wait forever, Elsie. One day, he'll get over you and he'll move on and then it might be too late. Mark my words."

That was the moment a customer entered the shop and gave Ella a good reason to end their conversation at this point.

***

Later that day, when Ella was cuddled up on her couch, eating ice cream and trying to read a book, Jackson's words still nagged on her. You love him. That much was true. He won't wait forever. Another truth. He'll move on. That was the hardest part because of course he would and it was Henry's goddamn right to do so. And she couldn't help but wonder if he'd already started to. There were those slight changes in his behaviour. It had been harder to get him on the phone in the evenings lately. He said he had an ass full of work but it sounded like an excuse. He got a lot more texts than usual and he never read or answered them when Ella was around. He'd even shaved his full beard. She knew it was wrong and pathetic and completely unjustified but Ella was jealous without any actual reason. The thought that Henry was seeing someone was killing her.

Then it might be too late. Yes. Jackson was right. If Henry was dating someone, if he was in love with someone, it would be too late indeed.

She couldn't help but think about all the chances she'd wasted to become more than friends with him. There had been quite a few moments in the last four months they had been close to crossing the line, but Ella had been too scared to make a move, for all the reasons she'd mentioned to Jax.

And Henry had respected her boundaries and taken her no for a no and had never tried to leave the friend zone, which was great because it showed her how much he respected her and what a decent man he was, but it also sucked. She had maneuvered herself into a corner and she didn't have the guts to get out of it on her own. She was a coward.

She thought of a day only a few weeks ago, when Henry had tried to teach her some Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu techniques. Ella was pretty sporty, she did yoga as part of her daily morning routine, she liked running and played volleyball once a week with some of her friends but she'd never tried martial arts before and it turned out soon it was for the better. She had zero talent.

After an hour of training that included lots of touching, rolling around on the floor together, sweating, panting and laughing, there had been no improvement in her non-existent skills. The only things that had increased had been the tension in the room, the physical attraction and Ella's arousal. Being so close to Henry, his hands all over her body, her hands touching his muscles all the time...it had been pleasure and pain at the same time.

After her umpteenth ineffective try to pin Henry down on the floor, he finally had mercy and let her win. He dropped to the floor laughing, dragging her down with a smirk so that she topped him. They had been so close in this moment, her body on his, their noses almost touching. Henry had wrapped his arms around her waist and he had looked her deep in the eyes.

The moment had been so intense, so intimate, the atmosphere so vibrant with an erotic kind of anticipation, it had sent shivers down her spine and goosebumps all over her body. Her pussy had been throbbing and she'd felt Henry's dick harden in his sweatpants. It wouldn't have taken much. She could have kissed him easily. She'd wanted it and she was pretty sure he'd wanted it just as much. But she hadn't been able to move, to stop her thoughts from running, to turn off reason, to let emotions lead the way and so the moment had passed with the result that they still were nothing more than good friends.

And she just couldn't shake off the feeling that she was going to regret her hesitation soon.

****

Henry grabbed her by her hips and increased speed. His balls slapped against her butt as he fucked her hard from behind. She moaned loudly and it sounded fake in his ears. He was quite sure the orgasm she had when he'd eaten her pussy a few minutes ago was a real one, but the sounds and noises she was making now were artificial, somehow forced and deliberate, just slipping from her lips to turn him on. But he didn't really care, it worked well and he came with a muffled grunt. He thrust his dick inside her pussy another few times till his orgasm was over and pulled out right after. He stripped off the filled condom and got up to throw it in the bin.

"Come back to bed, Babe." Kelly stretched out between the rumpled sheets. He looked at her and smiled. "Gimme just a second." He went to the bathroom and took a deep breath while washing his hands and his cock.

What am I doing here? He asked himself not for the first time and the answer was always the same. He was having a stupid fling with a beautiful 25 year old bimbo. He had met Kelly four weeks ago and after two weeks of flirting on the phone and a lot of hot texts and pictures he had taken her on a date first and on his kitchen counter afterwards.

Since then they'd met often to have sex. Casual sex, no strings attached. He had told Kelly this several times and she didn't seem to care. "No problem" had always been her answer. Nothing seemed to be a problem for her.

"You have to sneak out, so nobody sees you!" - "Sure."

"You can't stay overnight." - "That's alright."

"We have to be very discreet. Don't tell anyone about us." - "Of course not."

"I'm not looking for a relationship." - "That's fine."

"I'm in love with another woman." - "Okay."

Ella. Yes, he had told Kelly about her. That he loved her though she just wanted him as a friend. And again...no problem for Kelly. But it was a problem for him. He thought way too often about Ella when he was with Kelly. He didn't only compare them constantly - always with the same result, Kelly was nothing like Ella, not a tiny bit and that was equally good and bad - but he had to think of Ella whatever they were doing, even when things got steamy. He didn't really imagine being with Ella when he fucked Kelly, but he often thought about her before and afterwards. Fantasizing about how it could be...if this deep friendship they had turned into a relationship. If they turned from friends to lovers. The problem was he was quite sure this was never going to happen.

There had been some moments they had been close to kissing but Ella had never made the one missing step to close the gap between friendship and love. And he couldn't because he was trapped in the friend zone. Just lately there had been this situation. Both of them lying on the floor after a Jiu-Jiutsu session, Ella on top of him, shaking and obviously turned on, her eyes full of desire. And she must have seen the same sensation in his eyes and even if not, she must have felt his hard-on. But even in this moment she hadn't crossed the line. No kiss, no touch, no words. That had been the moment he'd finally accepted that all he would get from her was friendship.

A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. "Henry? Is everything okay? The bed's too big and too cold without you."

Their friendship...that was another problem. He had a terrible guilty conscience. Not because of the fact that he had an affair, he was single, Kelly was single, there was no reason to feel bad. But he hadn't told Ella anything about it. Not a single word. He had texted Kelly behind her back, had made up excuses why they couldn't meet or talk on the phone in the evenings. He knew if he told her Ella would start to ask questions about Kelly, about his feelings for her. And what was he supposed to answer? I don't have feelings for Kelly, I just shag her to get you out of my system, because I love you more every minute, every hour, every day we spend together. And it kills me that I know we will never be more than friends.

That was completely out of the question.

"Yeah, sure." He opened the door and gave her his best fake smile. "Just freshened up a little."

"Why don't we get dressed and you take me out for dinner?" Kelly wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close for a kiss. "I'm starving."

"I don't know, Kell. I don't want us to be seen...you know that."

"Oh come on, babe." She pouted and kissed him again. "You can wear a cap or a beanie and glasses or something and we go to a simple chippy. No one will recognize you."

Henry thought about it. He was hungry too and she was right, it was unlikely that some paparazzo caught them in a fish and chip shop.

"Fine, let's get ready and go."

****

Two weeks later Henry still hadn't told Ella about Kelly and when he opened the Daily Mail in the morning he knew he wouldn't have to anymore. She could read and see it herself.

He almost spit out his coffee when he saw the pictures of Kelly and him in front of the little Asian supermarket, they had visited yesterday. They were kissing and hugging each other tightly in one picture and walking away from the shop hand in hand on the other.

Fuck...Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.

Henry Cavill in love again. Has Superman finally found his Supergirl?

The headline made him want to puke.

That was bad. Henry had to talk to Ella before she saw this rubbish. He had to explain it to her. He got dressed in a hurry while he called his agent to cancel their 9 o'clock appointment. When he left the house he had a bad feeling, a very bad feeling.

****

tbc

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #cavillry #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #smut #henry cavill smut

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

Note

Hi, I know you’re a fan of namjoon so I wanted to ask your thoughts on this ring thing? I’m kinda new and assumed all these namjoon is married with kids stuff were a joke. But some people seem to totally believe that. I mean where he’d get the time to see a partner and kids is beyond me but who knows? Anyways I was looking at some of their recent pics and he doesn’t wear it all the time - which if it was a couples ring - wouldn’t he? I thought maybe he would only wear it if they were appearing on Run or Korean shows, but he didn’t have it on for either of the new shows they’ve been on recently, as they may not have been as widely watched. I mean I guess it’s none of our business - but I’m trying to rip of my delulu hat for making me think Seokjin gave it to him 🙈

Hi anon, I hope you don’t mind that I’ll combine my answer for you with my answer to another ask since I feel like they fall into the same kind of category, as in people taking things too far and/or blowing things out of proportion. And, coincidentally, both have something to do with rings.

I’ll start with your question though and give you another example that followed a very similar trajectory as the omg namjoon is married with kids because ring narrative/theory. Some months ago, Namjoon posted a few pictures on twitter and among them was a picture of him with another guy wearing a green sweater. His face though was covered. At first ARMY didn’t think much of it, but then, eventually, someone started a joke that “remember that sweater Joon wore for BV4? The guy is wearing the same one, what if that's his boyfriend?” and it went viral.

It started out completely harmless with hundreds of positive and funny tweets made in good humor, no one taking it that seriously knowing that we’d never find out even if it were true. But, as the jokes started to simmer down, everyone had their laugh, the next wave came in and this one decided that this isn’t a joke at all but serious matter. Quickly this harmless fun turned into a witch hunt of “ARMY” trying to figure out who the guy might be, if he is Namjoon’s mysterious friend that once sent him a coffee truck with custom drawn designs on it, perhaps the same one with whom Namjoon already once posted a picture sitting on this garden porch swing type thing, some even trying to prove that the guy is either Seokjin (in which case, what would be the need to cover his face?) or Florist Isaac whom they met during that one RUN episode.

So, very quickly a few idiots turned harmless fun into something almost malicious and got into fights with ARMY who were trying to tell them to stop.

The ring thing followed a similar story. It was once a harmless joke based on the fact that Namjoon wants to have kids one day, so some made jokes about what if he’s already married but we just didn’t know etc. But very quickly that got out of hand as well, going as far as people claiming the little girl in his pictures which he posted around his birthday or something is his daughter (even though it was said it’s probably the child actress from BTS WORLD) and that him making jokes (during a BangtanB while trying on glasses before their MOTS7 press con) about his child being able to read/write hangul at a very young age wasn’t jokes at all but solid proof of the fact that he is married with a child (despite the fact that he would’ve had to have gotten married and his wife pregnant not long after their debut for the timeline to even work out somehow which makes it seem even more ridiculous). This even went as far as people spamming the comments during this vlives with questions about it, flooded his selcas on twitter with questions and “jokes” and, again, attacked anyone who told them to stop.

In all of this, watching it happen from the sidelines as someone whose bias is Namjoon, I was confused why these particular rings (which I don’t even think were the same ones each time) caused such a reaction. The members have all worn so many different rings over the years, on all fingers, sometimes even like eight at the same time, and yet it wasn’t until 2020 and their KBS interview after their first BBH100 #1 that things went bonkers. All because Namjoon decided to take the ring off before they started filming or something.

In all of this I see two things that make me wonder:

When would he have the time to find a girl (since same sex marriage is not a thing in Korea) with whom he would have enough time to befriend her, trust her (considering who Namjoon is, that one is a major thing), fall in love, date and be together for a few years, and then get married? From Seokjin we know they have maybe two or three days off a month and work at least ten hours a day on their BH regulated schedules. Add to that the time they spend in the studio working on music outside of schedules, gym time, a few hours of sleep, and perhaps a few scarce hours of free time to (in Namjoon’s case) go to a museum or ride his bike, does that really leave enough time for romance (with an outsider) that leads to marriage (and a child)?

Is age 26 at the height of their career really the time for marriage? Even more so when you are someone like Namjoon, the leader of the world’s biggest group with more responsibilities than we can likely imagine as outsiders. Sure, he said he wants kids, but he can still have those in his thirties, he can also get married in his thirties, after all, life does not end once you hit thirty despite what some teens believe.

Lastly, I actually think that if it were true, Namjoon, or really anyone from the hyung line, would be the ones who wouldn’t have to hide it, at least not when compared to the maknaes. You could argue that “it would threaten their career” but would it really? Perhaps if the ring were from a man (some namjinists did make jokes that it’s like his promise ring from Seokjin or whatever, but it was all in good fun, nothing more than that), then yes, but connected to a woman? That one member from EXO also came out and said he’s getting married because his fiancé was pregnant and all it did was cause a few fansites to close and a handful of people to “protest” in front of the SM building.

Little correction about my comments about that EXO member, though even with this my point still stands:

From anon: Re: your last post about namjoon’s rings! I agree with everything you said but just a small correction. I’m not an EXO stan but it wasn’t just a a few “protests” or fansites closing. From what I read online, he his fiancée and later wife, and his child were harassed, threatened and stalked to the point where he enlisted early just to give his family some relief. We all know there are people like this in every fandom and I know BTS would be aware of these things, so they’ll be extra careful.

Would there be delulus like this who’d go crazy if Namjoon were to say “ARMY, I’m (getting) married”? Of course. Would it ruin BTS’ career? I seriously doubt it. Do I think Namjoon would actually come out and say it if it were the case? No, but not because it’s bad idol etiquette or because BH wouldn’t allow him, but because people are insane and who knows what they would do.

It’s the same with times when people argue “I wish X ML members would just say he has a girlfriend so the ship wars would end” without taking into consideration the girl’s safety and the fact that a partner different than the one X member is shipped with has never been that big of an obstacle for some before. Just create a conspiracy theory about the company forcing this upon them and voila problem solved. We’ve seen that before when the tattoo scandal happened, and people thought JK might be dating that tattoo artist and therefore it would mean he isn’t in a relationship with Jimin or Tae.

Whatever happens in the members private lives, it is safer for all parties involved if it stays private, even more so if their romantic partners were non-idols, or non-celebrities, or another member.

Now onto the second ring question:

From anon: I am a young army and I am slowly losing my bearings. I've seen Vlive S, H and V. Many say it was a Tk*ok day (?) And all three emphasized it, and the V even wore the friendship ring for Jungkook. Is it true? I don't understand anything about it, I don't see it. After the last BTS interview on TV, I thought Vmin are best friends, not Tk*ok. I thought V said he didn't want Tk*ok and yet he was so happy during Vlive because it was Tk*ok day? Help!

Now this one, I was curious if we’d get an ask about this, even more since, if you’re a reader of our blog, you likely already know what I’m going to say.

Let’s start where you usually do—at the beginning. The day of the vlive coincided with what T*ek*okers have decided on is T*ek*ok Day, based on how supposedly some years ago this was the day Tae and JK named their subunit like this. I tried to find where exactly this happened, as in in which piece of official content, but I couldn’t find anything except for a screenshot. Anyone have a clue or a link?

Side note: T*ek*okers love using the “ship” naming as proof that not only are they real but also proudly showing it off by giving themselves a name but continently forget that they are not the only ones who gave themselves subunit names. After all Jimin and Namjoon named themselves MiniMoni, or Yoongi and Jimin who are MiniMini, Namjoon and Seokjin calling themselves RJRJ last year, or that one vlive with JK, Jimin and Seokjin where they also put together their names the way you build ship names. At the end of that vlive Tae, thanks to come prompting from the chat, named their trio vsope, so does that mean they are a romantic ship now too?

If you were watching that vlive as it was happening, and decided to look at the chat, then you know what was happening. For those who did not, basically the chat was flooded with comments about T*ek*ok Day, asking where JK is whom Tae loves, where his boyfriend JK is, congratulating Tae for T*ek*ok Day etc. Basically shippers took their shipping into a space where it doesn’t belong, into a space where the members can see it, and therefore purposefully broke one of the shipping rules (I even saw some tweet about how they were proud of themselves for literally spamming the chat with T*ek*ok comments which is so wrong, and I mean that regardless of which ship we talk about). In between those were the usual other comments like speak English or say hello to XYZ or say XYZ in whatever language, and very few comments that actually reacted to what the members were doing on screen. Like when Tae said he didn’t shave, instead of telling him that it’s fine, which it is, it’s his face after all, some decided to tell him he should shave more often, basically telling him what to do, which he saw and read out. Great job.

But all the madness came to a “climax” when Hobi was reading comments and among some other ones read out T*ek*ok, just the word not the T*ek*ok Day ones, and unfortunately we all knew he wasn’t reading out the Korean word for Thailand, which sounds the same though it is spelled a little differently. In that moment all hell broke loose. Focus cams of Tae’s facial expression in that moment went viral among shippers, most of course claiming he looked so happy, while other non-shippers claimed he didn’t look happy at all. It’s a micro moment so I won’t get into it, who knows what Tae thought in that moment and what his facial expression meant and if it even had any connection to the word and Hobi reading it out loud at all.

Because he read that comment, Hobi was basically crowned the new leader of the T*ek*ok shippers (I thought that role already went to Jimin?) and twitter basically had a meltdown.

As for the ring, I know this is something a lot of ships have, with romantic connotations according to their shippers, so I was curious how these rings supposedly look like in T*ek*ok’s case and if they even match the ring that Tae wore in the vlive. If it would, fine, if not, well…

If it’s not clear from the picture, the “supposed couple” or friendship rings are very delicate and thin, and sure enough I did find a lot of pictures in which both Tae and JK wore them, usually at different times, I will admit that. But the ring Tae wore during their vlive recently was much thicker and had some kind of design on it, therefore it’s a completely different one. Sorry. Why he wore it, if he bought it for himself or received it from someone, what emotional connotation to may or may not have, those are things we won’t know anything about unless he would tell us, so there's no point in speculating.

“Many say it was a Tk*ok day (?) And all three emphasized it” now this is curious to me since I watched the vlive as it was happening, and I didn’t see that at any point in the vlive. Sure, Hobi read that one comment, but if 95% of comments were about that, I wasn’t even surprised by it. Perhaps he thought that it would get people to stop? Perhaps he just read whatever comments his eyes landed on? Perhaps something else entirely? We have no way of knowing it so there is no point in trying to fixate on it. But besides that, they were talking about many other things and having fun making their smoothies, decorating them and just having a good time together with each other and with ARMY.

So, this way of presenting the vlive basically comes down to shipper perception, confirmation bias, and simply, almost, rewriting history.

Rings do not determine who your best friend is (according to a quick google search, wearing a ring on your index finger simply means friendship or self-esteem/authority), after all many of the members have rings either from each other or ones that match, like Namjoon buying Jimin a Cartier ring for his birthday a few years ago which Jimin proudly wore since it’s really pretty, or pink and blue rings (there are several different ones, actually) that Namjoon has worn with Seokjin in the past (which fits into the Namjinist pink and blue agenda), or the rings Jimin and JK have together according to their shippers, and many more. Jimin and Tae have a whole plethora of matching jewelry in form of necklaces, rings, bracelets, even contact lenses (as in wearing one of each pair to match each other), some which were chosen by their stylists and others they bought themselves for themselves (which are all conveniently “forgotten” by those who ship either big ML ship). Though we’ve seen that even with clothes given by their stylists they were still the ones to choose their own accessories, like Namjoon choosing a pair of glasses from a whole box of different ones, or the members choosing rings from two big boxes before going on stage.

Tae himself said, on multiple occasions across multiple years, that Jimin is his best friend, even his one and only best friend, and that he’s the one he likes most which he even proclaimed on national TV. As long as Tae doesn’t say that this has changed in the last, what, two weeks and suddenly JK is officially his new best friend, those who claim otherwise are basically nothing but shippers pushing a narrative that willfully ignores Tae’s own words. Just like they ignore and twist his Weverse comment about how T*ek*okers should get out of their imagination. What doesn’t fit is ignored or adjusted until it does fit.

Lastly, sure enough, Tae really was happy during that vlive but I’m fairly certain (though neither you, them or I will ever know for sure, we’re not in Tae’s head) it had absolutely no connection to T*ek*ok Day, something shippers created and not Tae and JK themselves, seeing as Tae has been in a very good and happy mood for a few months now. Whatever makes him so happy, I truly hope it’ll continue making him happy and I wish shippers (and solo stans) would stop trying to force a reason (which fits them) upon his emotions.

I know it’s easy to get confused by how loud shippers are online, especially as young ARMY (in this case both ARMY who are young age wise but also young in the sense of being new to the fandom), but shipper opinions, in many cases, are just noise, and also noise twisted and skewed a certain way to suit them. If you kept to OT7 spaces on the day of that vlive, no one really paid attention to the ring, most were annoyed by and furious at the shamelessness of the shippers in the comments, and tried to just focus on how fun the vlive was instead.

#answered ask #answered ask by admin 1 #Namjoon #Taehyung #BTS

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aceofspadegrass · 3 years

Text

Today Is A Wonderful Day

Characters: Arisu Ryohei, Karube Daikichi, Chota Segawa

Genre: General. Arisu is entering his own strange Wonderland.

5.2k words

Well, here it is, my self indulgent fic! I honestly had a great time just getting this out. Will I continue this storyline? Who knows, we'll have to see, won't we? Five hours of typing, my poor pinky~✨

Apologies if anyone seems off in characterization, this is again more self indulgence and a bare string of consistency.

The sun was bright, today. Perfect for a picnic, or to swing, or gardening.

It was such a shame he didn’t like going out much when he could spend all his days at his chair, headphones slipped over his ears, his grip around worn but well-loved plastic. Thumbs flick this way and that in accordance to what he needed to do with the avatar moving across the screen.

It was easier to not have to think about the outside right now. His father was always looking at him with disappointment that he wasn’t the son he wanted, but then again, was he ever the son he wanted? There was his brother anyways, the model of a smart, well adjusted man. Ever since they were young his father’s eyes weren’t on him, the first child.

But he shouldn’t complain, he did this to himself, being practically useless and not up to the standards he should have been able to achieve. He wasn’t worth his father’s attention, even if he wanted even a little bit, just for a fraction of his acceptance and pride to be for him.

But it wasn’t like he was alone in life. He had friends, two of them, and they were supportive of him, and he was supportive in return. He couldn’t ask for better friends, really. The tallest of the three, Karube, was a bartender, and willing to let his friends in to sit at the counter and chat their hours away, even if he was mindful of any alcohol they consumed. The shortest, Chota, worked in IT, although he tended to skip in order to come join them in their little adventures and hangouts, or to indulge in his own whims.

At the moment they were both busy, so he couldn’t meet up with them out on this beautiful day. It would be fun, maybe, spending their hours at the park, or maybe heading down to the arcade. A smile works its way up to chapped lips, and he instinctively licks at them when the skin tugs the wrong way, to alleviate the feeling. Yeah, that sounds great. Hanging together with them is great, being around them is such a wonderful feeling for him.

The screen flickers with a 1st place banner, and he quietly cheers, shaking his controller in his hand as a burst of achievement hits him, washed through his chest and makes him straighten his posture after who knew how long. It sinks back to a more relaxed posture as he starts a new game, and he starts all over again.

Hours pass, and the sun is lower in the sky, and Arisu remembers he hasn’t eaten since yesterday.He gets up, groaning a little as his muscles remember how to stand again, and he shuffles over to the kitchen. There was a note on the fridge. He glances at it, eyes flickering over the neat scrawl.

‘ Will be home late. Buy groceries. - Dad ’

Figured. Arisu opens the fridge, just to see if there was anything remotely edible before he would have to inevitably head out to refill the fridge again so that they could eat all week. There was only condiments, a half bottle of orange juice, and some other bits here and there that Arisu wouldn’t have the slightest clue what to do with. Shoulders slump, and he shuts the door and shuffles towards his bedroom door to get changed to head out for the day. It wasn’t an outfit worth taking time to pick, as it was only a grocery run. He grabs some simple jeans, comfortable and stretchy, as well as a t-shirt, light blue with the picture of a dog printed just behind the pocket on the left side of his chest, an illusion of it sitting there.

There was money on the table when he heads back out on the table he didn’t notice before, with another note on it, simply labeling it as grocery money. Arisu pockets the money into his jeans as well as his phone, and with a goodbye to an empty house, he leaves and heads into the open, warm world.

The walk to the grocery wasn’t long, but it still took some time, so Arisu was left to his own devices, in his own thoughts. They were simple thoughts, like how sunny it was, how people were walking by with their own lives in motion, how he wished he could hang out with Karube and Chota. He could always text them, they’d respond to him, but he didn’t want to bother them because he was being too selfish. So his phone remains heavy in his pocket as he strolls along the street, glancing around every so often to make sure he was going the right way.

There was a ping on his phone, and he pulls it out, staring at the new message. It was an unknown number, Arisu frowning a little at the text.

‘ Would you like to see something Wonderful? ’

It was a strange text, and way too ominous. Arisu ignores it, and he slips it in his pocket and looks back up, his stride never faltering as he continues onwards.

The text never left his mind though. As he stands in the aisle of the store, trying to find a decent box of cereal to put into the trolley cart, the thought filters back to him as he picks up a box, turning it in his head. Just what was that? It must’ve been a prank, or perhaps a text bot. Maybe even a sex bot, there were way too many of those, and he wasn’t interested in getting duped. But this one, for reasons Arisu couldn’t explain, this one felt…. different, somehow.

A ping startles him out of his thought. He looks down, and his hand trails back to his phone, stopping just before he pulls it out, fingers on glass and fabric. What if the number texted again? Arisu bites the inside of his lip. He was curious, that much was sure.

What did it want with him?

Arisu takes a slow, deep breath. He couldn’t do anything if he didn’t know. The phone slides out of his pocket and held in front of him, just high enough for the screen to register him and turn on.

Just as he thought, it was the same mysterious number again.

‘ Have you ever wanted to experience something out of this reality? ’

It was….. strange. Confused eyes flicker through the text — once, then twice. There wasn’t a sign of an attachment, where usually there could be a picture attached, trying to get an interested soul piqued. That, and there was no hint of a clickbait to be seen. His other hand, which had been on the handle of the cart, tightens around the cool plastic bar.

To be fair, he always wondered, just a little, if life was different. If he would ever see something, experience something, that wasn’t only contained in digital formation. He would joke about it with Chota and Karube, sometimes, thinking about fictional situations and what they would be achieving. But that was it, it was fictional, and nothing more.

The rest of the shopping leaves that text floating around in his brain, a puzzle that Arisu was itching to figure out what it held, all the way to him paying and making his way back. The trip was ordinary, only letting it gently warm underneath the sun, baking slowly and rising until it overtook any other kind of thought. “ I’m home.” He said, to an empty house. He slips out of his shoes and makes his way inside, dropping the bags of groceries down by the kitchen, planning to get to them later. At the moment though, he needed to get this thought out or else it would bother him for a while. He pulls a chair out and takes a seat, taking his phone out of his pocket in the same motion, and opens his messaging. The little notification for that mysterious number lingers, but he ignores it in favour for the group chat that he shared with his two friends.

Arisu: i have a question

He didn’t have to wait long for a response, as he watches the grey bubbles appear.

Karube: what’s up

Arisu: i got this really weird text

Arisu: and i dunno what to do

Karube: what does it say?

Arisu’s fingers lull above the keypad. Was it worth telling them? They’d probably share the thoughts of it being some sort of bot or perhaps some odd pranks. It was natural, something explainable.

But this was eating at him, and Arisu needed other thoughts.

Arisu: they were talking about seeing something wonderful and out of reality

Karube: definitely sounds weird

Karube: did it link anything?

Arisu: no

Arisu: its just the messages nothing attached

Chota: Maybe its a dick pic

That earns a small snort, Arisu rolling his eyes. He would hope not. Karube: wouldn’t they have attached it anyways then???

Chota: Ah yeah true

Chota: Maybe they’re asking permission?

Arisu: why though

Karube: dunno dude

Karube: just ignore it

Arisu: its been on my mind for a while

Karube: srsly?

Karube: hmm…….

Arisu stares as his screen as the bubbles flicker in and out. He didn’t know what he’d do. His phone pings again, and the notification slides in from above. It was the number again.

‘ Come experience the greatest encounters of your life! ‘

Arisu frowns, and he quickly exits the chat and stares at the tab for this strange number. Now that he looks at it, the number itself looked odd. At first glance it was numbers in a format of a normal phone, but now that he looked closely, it looked a digit too long for a Japanese phone number, much less did he recognize the area code.

He wasn’t all that much of a phone number whiz though, so he could be mistaken.

There was a new text from Karube, and he opens the chat again.

Karube: if it’s really bothering you, no harm in playing along right? just see what it is and then back out

Karube: no hamr done

No harm done, huh?

Arisu sits there, finger hovering above the option to text back, as he thought through his options. He could always just delete it, or send a text telling whoever this was that he wasn’t interested. He could follow Karube’s idea of playing along, finding what this was before leaving it behind, free of his insatiable curiosity.

The notification pings with another text again, and it was three simple words:

‘ Do you accept? ‘

Arisu bites his lips, and he sets his phone down, screen down as he approaches the grocery bags. He needs to think about this.

The familiar feeling of his phone in his hand was comforting yet so stifling at the same time, Arisu staring at the now opened chat log. The strange texts were there, without a single response from him. There was no links, no images, no anything to reveal their intents. Hell, the log didn’t even start with those cheesy greetings of a hello, diving straight into its offer of something ‘Wonderful’. What even was the meaning of that? The capitalization of that one world made it even stranger. The other texts that followed only built onto this strange, supposedly otherworldly thing, whatever it was. It was persistent and curious, and Arisu didn’t know why he was so interested in figuring it out.

His fingers hover over the bar, worrying the inside of his lip with his teeth. Is it really worth contacting it back? All for his curious mind to stop thinking? What if it was nothing to even worry about, and he just got himself fooled into some weird scheme for his credit card or his location?

Who even was this strange, unknown identity?

Arisu blinks, and he nearly drops his phone when he sees the bubble on the right side, his side, already pasted into the log.

Arisu: who are you

He…. didn’t remember writing that. His fingers move to delete it, but a response comes before he could press the trash icon.

Unknown: Who I am doesn’t matter! Are you interested in seeing something out of this reality?

Arisu stills, and he accepts his fate. No harm in finding out what this was. Worse case scenario, he has fun playing along and he can push this to the back of his mind, so it can’t be that terrible.

Arisu: that depends

Unknown: So you ARE interested! That’s wonderful!

Unknown: Are you willing to see something Wonderful?

Arisu: what even is it?

Arisu silently watches the bubbles, which appear, the disappear, as if there was really a person behind this odd number, this strange offer of something far too vague. But it was that kind of thing that still pulled him in, curious like a child watching something fantastical in front of their young eyes.

Unknown: Something only you have only thought couldn’t exist before! Something that will catch you and bring you along on a journey you would never experience any time elsewhere in your short life!

Unknown: Don’t you want something more than what you have at hand now?

Arisu freezes. Did it know….? He shakes his head. No, it couldn’t have, this was just some elaborate thing. There was no way it could have the slightest idea of how listless his life was going. It was a blanket sentence, something to catch a large group without pinpointing a singular person without it becoming a case of stalking.

That doesn’t stop Arisu from quickly glancing around his room before he slowly slides underneath his blanket, hiding from the world for just a little.

Arisu: why do you ask?

Unknown: It’s an opportunity of a lifetime! All you have to do is say yes, and you’ll see something Wonderful.

Arisu: and if I say no?

Unknown: That would be sad, but you can do whatever you want. You can continue on with your life, and see where that takes you.

Unknown: But you’re getting the offer that most people never are given the chance to take.

Unknown: Just say yes, and you’ll see something Wonderful, experience something Wonderful.

Unknown: What do you say?

Arisu knows, in the back of his mind, that this was a horrible idea. These were kidnapper words, words that parents and teachers and everyone tells others not to listen to because it only means bad things. These were way too odd to take seriously, and any rational mind would back out now, delete the log and continue on with their lives and talk about the strange encounter in the future, as if were nothing more than a funny story.

Rationally, Arisu should have said no. He should have said no, went back to doing nothing all day but play games on the computer, on his phone, on the television. He should have said no and went back to being practically shunned by his family, to only really hanging out with his two friends, to merely existing and drifting through life.

He should have just walked away and said no. He should have walked away like any other person would.

But his fingers slowly type out his answer, and he seals the deal in only a few words.

Arisu: alright.

Arisu stares at the screen, his breath held in his throat as the bubbles pop out, squeezing his poor phone as his thoughts flood in, regret and confusion and a tingling in his head and in his arms and in his everything.

Unknown: Wonderful♥️ Welcome to Wonderland, Alice.

Arisu takes a deep, shuddering breath, darkness in his vision. It’s hot, it’s stuffy, it’s-

He frantically sits up, and his racing thoughts get ahead of him as he looks around, chest heaving. It’s dark, where was he? What happened? He tries to take deep breaths, and he squeezes his eyes shut as the ringing in his ears dissolves until it was only quiet whirs of what might be the air conditioner running. He counts as he inhales, holds, counts as he exhales, holds, repeats.

His body returns to him after a while, and he opens his eyes to his room. It was just his room, with nothing out of place, with the AC slowly whirring in the background. Everything was okay, nothing happened to him. Arisu presses a hand to his chest, faintly registering the blanket. It was over his head, his brain supplies to him once he was calmer, that’s why it was so stuffy. He didn’t remember falling asleep, or what…..

The text.

Arisu searches around for his phone, hands swiping over the bed until it hits a solid object, and he fumbles as he picks it up, turning it on. There was no new texts, just the screen he was used to seeing. He clutches it anyways, swiping. It was only to prove it wasn’t just some dream. Arisu opens the messaging app, and his breath catches once more when he sees the text, that text with the heart attached, the number that was clearly not from a strange dream. He doesn’t open the log, the sight of it enough for him as it stares back at him.

He really said yes. To what exactly, he couldn’t say. It was far too vague and fantastical to explain, but something in him made him agree. Fingers brush against the edge of his phone, and Arisu wonders if he made a mistake.

The thought was making him feel strange, and he needed a distraction. Karube and Chota were probably asleep at this time, so that was out. He goes to one of his puzzle games instead, the shiny colours staring back at him. He starts, and his attention becomes absorbed in swiping that box left and up and right, zoning out his thoughts.

Sunlight peeking through his curtains was the only thing that pulls him out, and Arisu faintly realizes he was playing his game for hours. He rubs his eye as he sets his phone down to stare at the partially sealed window, and he sighs, flopping and covering his eyes with an arm. No use sleeping now.

Arisu gets out of bed, and he stretches a little as he trods to the bathroom. He doesn’t know what time it is right now, but it was probably early. Maybe too early, as when he gets out he gets a whiff of coffee, and the sound of someone else awake. It was far from the bathroom though, so Arisu continues on his way to brush his teeth and use the toilet. As mint hits his tongue Arisu remembers he forgot to eat, and he grumbles lightly under his breath. He completely forgot. Arisu leans over the sink and spits the foam out his mouth. No matter, he can eat breakfast and he’ll be fine. Being home didn’t expend that much energy anyways, and he could survive with a skipped meal or two.

Arisu walks out to the kitchen, and he gets a glimpse of his father and brother making their way to the front door, donned in suits. He waves as they leave, but he gets nothing in return, his hand dropping to his side. Figures, they wouldn’t bother looking to say goodbye to him when Arisu wasn’t consistent with waking up as they left like this. Still he could say that he made an effort. Arisu turns his attention to the fridge, and he opens it, grabbing some random item and popping it into the microwave for breakfast. He stands there as he waits, watching the thing spin. Once it was finished, he pops open the door and actually checks what he even put in there. It appeared to be some instant breakfast sandwich still nestled safely in its partially opened package, Arisu sliding it out of its rectangular prison and onto the counter to cool a little before he even attempts.

When it was, he slips it from its nest and held it in his hands, the only covering now being a paper towel as he eats, grabbing a bottle of water on his way as he wanders a little around his house. Just like always, there was nothing of importance for him to attend to, his only plan being gaming all day and perhaps texting his friends.

His body moves towards the window, and he takes in the outside as he sips his water, the sun shining in the sky, undeterred as always. It was such a beautiful day outside, and yet it was such a shame he didn’t have any reason to-

Arisu’s attention catches on something, and he pauses, lowering the bottle as he squints to something in the distance. It was faint, but it was there, disappearing out of sight as soon as he focused on it. Something white, but also pink in colour, disappearing into the trees.

Arisu blinks, and then he remembers he doesn’t really live anywhere close to a park.

So why were there trees?

His grip tightens around his sandwich and his bottle of water, and something tickles at the back of his mind that he should go down there. Eyes narrow, and then the memory of yesterday comes back to him, and they widen once more. Suddenly he’s rushing back to his room, scarfing down the sandwich. The burst of energy was new, as was this sense of urgency, and Arisu didn’t know what to make of it just yet.

What he did know is that this was it. He chugs the rest of his water, and he’s slipping on some comfortable pants and shirt and rushing out of the house, only barely remembering to lock up behind him. The only thing he had on him was his phone and the spare house key, but that didn’t matter right now.That urge to follow that white and pink something, to see if that strange bunch of trees that he didn’t remember before was that out of reality experience.

Why he was convinced to go along, even he didn’t know. There was nothing stopping him from this, from finding out if it was really real, and so shoes pound against ground as he runs towards where he swears he saw the trees.

When he gets there, it only answers him with green foliage and deep brown bark. The trees were real, and Arisu was standing in front of them, the smell of wood and something natural amongst the scent of artificial manmade livelihood. He looks around him, people continuing on their daily lives, packs and individual alike, and nobody paid the trees in front any mind.

Arisu looks back at the trees, and his chest pangs with what he faintly recognizes as excitement, as a rush of something else that he can’t put the words to at the moment. Trepidation, perhaps. But he wasn’t afraid, not in the least.

He takes his phone back out, and he texts something to the group chat.

Arisu: lets see where it takes me then

With one definitive, solidifying breath, he tucks his phone into his pocket and walks into the forest. The smell hits him stronger once he crossed the supposed threshold. The ground was still the same pavement as he was used to seeing, but the area around him was definitely new to him. Trees lined the road, and it seemed to only go in one direction. Clearly sketchy, but curiosity overtook him, and Arisu lets his feet carry him onwards, deeper.

It didn’t seem to end, he realizes as he watches the trees pass by him. It was fairly quiet, with faint sounds that at least told him he wasn’t alone, not completely. With how long he’s been going forward, he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s walked through a building if this was any more real. The path was far too strange, far too simple and peaceful. The only reason he hasn’t given up now was the fact that it was so strange, and something kept beckoning him to continue forward on this peculiar path.

Come to think of it, he didn’t even feel tired, despite all this walking. His feet didn’t ache, his legs didn’t give up, his breathing was completely normal. Arisu was aware he wasn’t much of a healthy person and likely would’ve at the very least needed a break and a bit of water at this point, but Arisu only rationalized it being a side effect of this odd experience.

He doesn’t know how much time passed, but he finally stops when the path finally turns into dirt, dark and healthy. It didn’t look that well stepped on, and there were grey stones embedded in it, a natural rendition of the slate grey concrete stones Arisu had been walking across. Arisu stands there, and finally looks back, staring far into trees and the singular pathway. He squints, trying to see if he could see the way back into the city, but it was nothing more than a pinprick into nothing, and he turns back around to spot a glimpse of white and pink. He gasps, and from where he was, now upon more even, closer grounds, he could make out a human running away. “ W-Wait! Hold on, where’re you going?!” Arisu yells, and he pushes onwards, his feet racing across dirt and stones in an attempt to reach this mysterious figure. The white and pink remains in his visions, although far, and it was calling to him without uttering a single word. Words weren’t important here, just the urge that tugged at his chest that called him forwards, allowing him to run after this faraway figure. Arisu barely registers the lack of fatigue that should have taken to his body, strain from not getting nearly enough exercise to even make it this far. His attention was on that figure, which continued to run away from him, and he wanted to know who else was here with him, on this tree and dirt lined path.

Why was he so intent? Arisu didn’t know, but he continues until the pink and white gets closer. Only when he can make out the person clearly does he realize how odd the silhouette of this person was. Their hair was cut in a bob, and they wore a pink windbreaker with a white rabbit printed on the back, along with simple pants that looked rather easy to move in. From the back view, Arisu realized that it was a young woman, or at the very least had a slim and fit figure. Normal things, really.

It was the ears that caught him off guard, long and white and on the top of her head, bouncing as the same rate she she was running. Rabbit ears, just like the ones on her jacket, except she was definitely human. Maybe it was a headband, but her hair flowed and swayed freely, and Arisu didn’t think he could see any hint of any headband on her head. It was strange, and Arisu tries to pick up his pace.

“ Wait! Hold on, can I talk to you?” Arisu shouts at her as he chases the rabbit, and finally he catches her attention. Her runs slow to a jog, and Arisu slows in a less smooth manner, until they were both at a halt, the girl still meters away. “ Can we talk? Can I ask where I am?” Arisu asks, and he’s mildly surprised when his chest doesn’t heave like he expects, although he was breathing a little deeper as he expected.

The girl slowly turns around, and her eyes were a little confused yet calm as they lock with Arisu’s. She blinks, and she looks around, then back at Arisu.

“ You actually followed me.” She said, and Arisu nods in response. He didn’t know why she was so confused that he followed, there was only this one path after all. Was it because he ran after her? He looks at the ground in embarrassment. Hopefully she didn’t think he was weird for chasing her-

“ Hey, it’s alright. I was surprised you did.” Her voice was closer, and he jerks his head back up, and she’s closer. He sucks in a quiet breath when one of the ears twitches, his eyes locked on the white lagomorph ear. His staring was clearly evident though, as she gestures with a hand for his attention to get off, Arisu looking back at the girl’s face and bowing his head.

“ Ah- Sorry-“ He sputters, and her lip twitches upward.

“ No, it’s alright, I understand. It’s real, trust me. This is your first time, right?” She says, and Arisu nods. The girl copies him, as if to take that in, and her small smile drops into a thoughtful look, dark eyes scanning him briefly. “ What’s your name?” “ Ah- My name is Arisu Ryohei, it’s nice to meet you-“ Arisu bows again, this time in greeting, and she lightly chuckles.

“ It’s very nice to meet you then, Arisu.” She greets, and she bows a little in return. “ My name is Usagi.” Arisu looks at her again, eyes wide. Her name was Rabbit? A little on the nose, but Arisu wasn’t about to judge. After all, his own name was the same pronunciation as Alice. “ So….. where am I?” Arisu asks again, and Usagi looks to him.

“ This place has no real name, but if you want, people before you have called this Wonderland. Although… we’re not in the one you immediately think of.” She says, and she jerks her head to signal to him to walk with her, Usagi taking simple strides. Arisu matches her pace, and he nods.

“ Alright. Fair enough.”

The walk was just as peaceful as it was before Arisu even met Usagi, but it was just as comfortable as it was beforehand, if not a little awkward knowing he now had company. His gaze couldn’t help but occasionally look towards the lapin ears, curious. His hand comes up before he realizes what his brain unconsciously did, and they brush against soft fur. Usagi steps away in surprise, looking up at him as her ear twitches. Arisu backs away in return, and he feels his face heating up.

“ A-Ah- Sorry-“

Usagi frowns a little, but it wasn’t one that was really sad, just annoyed. Arisu can only bow his head and apologize again, and she lets out a soft sigh. “ Next time just ask, okay?” Arisu nods, and they continue onwards, Arisu holding his hands into his pockets to prevent another strange incident. At the very least he now knew that they were 100% real, and that she could feel them.

“ Where are we heading towards?” He asks after a particularly long stretch of silence and walking along the dirt and stone path. Usagi glances up at him, Arisu looking down at her and tilting his head slightly.

She looks straight once more, and she points to something Arisu doesn’t see. “ Somewhere you have never seen before, something that you won’t forget for the rest of your life, Arisu. Are you ready?” Arisu nods. He’s already made it this far after all, and she nods once, and she starts into a jog. Arisu blinks, and he picks up his pace, and he can’t help but smile a little, hoping what she said, what that strange text, really meant it.

He wanted to see this Wonderland for himself.

#aib #alice in borderland #aib fanfic #alice in borderland fanfic #arisu ryohei #karube daikichi #chota segawa #usagi yuzuha #completely and utterly self indulgent where things are not quite what it seems now #oh and there's the barest cameo of arisu's family but so brief it doesn't matter #arisu needs a solid eating schedule #if i continue oh boy you're in for a strange ride #it's wonderland but also not at the same time #how does nobody question the appearance of trees? well.....

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lovelylogans · 3 years

Text

honey, you’re familiar (like my mirror)

see other chapters, notes, and warnings here!

chapter five: obligate mutualism

obligate mutualism: a type of mutualism in which the species involved are in close proximity and interdependent with one another in a way that one cannot survive without the other.

REMY

Emile appears in Nice, squealing and jumping up and down.

“Hey!” Remy says warmly, hugging him; Emile’s joy is so infectious that Remy can feel Emile’s smile stretching across his own face. “What’s got you so happy?”

“They let him off!” Emile says exuberantly. “Rem, they let Remus off! Jay proved that they don’t have anything on him so Remus is free to go!”

“Oh my God, that’s amazing!” Remy says, then, “wait, what was Remus under arrest for?”

“Oh, murder,” Emile says, waving that off, “but Jay proved that Remus was just joking when he was threatening him, so Remus got off! Oh my goodness, he’s out! He can finish his latest book! He can stay with Roman! Yay!”

“Yay,” Remy cheers weakly, wondering what the hell kind of cluster his boyfriend has birthed.

ROMAN

Roman drops a substantial amount of money on champagne on their drive home.

Remus rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning a little bit, so Roman assumes that he’s happy about it. Or maybe he’s plotting how to ruin Roman’s possessions with champagne. One of the two.

Roman opens the door, balancing the champagne bottles in his arms, feeling a lot like he’s forgotten something. He drops his keys into the bowl on the entry table.

“Hey, Roman! Ooh, champagne—on a Tuesday? What, did you land a role with Guillermo del Toro?”

“God, I wish,” Roman says wistfully, then, oh shit I forgot to tell Sasha.

Sasha blinks a couple times before she stands up.

“Um, hey, sweetie,” she says. “Who’s your friend?”

Remus snorts loudly at the fake endearment.

“Um, Sasha,” Roman says, shutting the door behind him. “This is my twin brother, Remus.”

Sasha gawks at Remus. “I didn’t know you had a brother!”

Remus socks him in the shoulder so hard that Roman nearly drops the heavy glass champagne bottle. “You bitch, you said you’d tell her!”

“I forgot?” Roman says weakly.

“I have no idea how you put up with him,” Remus tells Sasha. “Is the convenience of a beard worth hearing him sing Disney in the shower?”

Sasha, looking a little startled that Remus knows the full truth of the deal Roman and her made, rebuts with, “

“Where have you been before this, anyway?” Sasha says.

“Oh, jail,” Remus says brightly.

“Oh, okay,” Sasha says, and, with a level of casualness that frankly stuns Roman, moves on to, “So, I’ve had a gripe with one of your books for forever.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t know you read his books,” Roman says, mystified.

“Yeah, I started back when I was doing that slasher pic a year and a half ago, you remember that?” Sasha says. “Helped me pick up on the internal life of a stalking victim. Anyways, the first book I read of yours—”

“Behind the Bushes, I’m guessing,” Remus says.

“Yeah!” Sasha says. “I super love that you subverted the expectations and the victim was the one that slaughtered the stalker, but I do think you could have carried through a threat she was considering through the book.”

“Which threat is that?” Remus says. “I write a lot of threats.”

“She should have castrated him,” Sasha says. “Duh.”

Remus looks at Sasha how an inventor might lovingly look at a device that finally works.

Roman groans, because he should have expected this outcome, and feared it.

“Oh, no,” Roman says. “You’re going to be friends.”

Sasha and Remus give him identical grins full of mischief.

LOGAN

Virgil appears sitting on the counter. Logan isn’t even fazed by the surprise of seeing him, although his heart rate does pick up a little.

Over the past few days, this is the way it’s been, between them; Logan suddenly finding himself looking over Virgil’s shoulder at his dinner when he’d meant to be looking at data charts, Virgil finding himself with handfuls of flowers in the face of the barren landscape of the Antarctic.

Even when he isn’t actively visiting, Logan still feels that pull, his mind turning to Virgil at the oddest times of day. He tastes coffee when he should be drinking tea. He finds himself idly doodling South African native flora during dinner. He thinks Virgil might like this when he tries to read a novel during his relaxation times and wonders how best to explain the minutiae of his science to another scientist.

“Hey, Logan,” Virgil says, and Logan feels that thrill in his stomach again.

“Hello, Virgil,” he says, after making a show of turning on his Bluetooth, for the benefit of the other scientists in the lab. “How have you been today?”

“Pretty okay,” Virgil says. “My mom said she was gonna see if she could find any of the other sensates down here that my grandma knew, so I might be able to hear more about her cluster.”

“Excellent!” Logan says. “Be sure to ask if they’re connected to the Archipelago?”

“You and that Neolithic Google,” Virgil says with a lopsided smile. “But, yeah. I’m being careful about it; I know not every sensate’s a great person to connect to. Ergo mom as a mediary.”

“A wise plan,” Logan says. “It does seem like a disadvantage that all that’s needed for a lifetime of connection is a singular instance of eye contact.”

“Maybe I should invest in a really good pair of blocking glasses,” Virgil teases, and he reaches over. Logan hadn’t even noticed they’d been slipping down the bridge of his nose.

Virgil gently nudges Logan’s glasses back into place, his finger resting on Logan’s nose, and Logan’s mouth goes abruptly dry.

This might be the first time one of us has touched the other.

Logan tries to swallow, coughs a little bit, and says, “It could potentially be a wise investment, yes. I’d—um. I’d have to do more research into what exactly would suffice to block eye contact.”

“Yeah,” Virgil rasps, and he clears his throat, too. “Yeah, that’s probably, uh. That’s probably a good thing to ask Emile about.”

“Yeah,” Logan says, and he fruitlessly tries to refocus his attention on his research. He’s much too aware of Virgil’s eyes on him.

JANUS

Janus turns the phone over and over in his hands.

One last job, two more jobs, three more jobs…

He remembers getting arrested for the first time. He remembers the lawyer who got Janus out of it, pro bono, and managed to keep it off his record by the skin of his teeth.

He thinks about representing Remus in the courtroom; he thinks about the state of his accounts; he thinks about how the threat of jail that Remus would have faced was what spooked him into pursuing a law degree in the first place.

He thinks about Remus and Roman, side-by-side in the courtroom; he thinks about Roman declaring that he doesn’t care if Remus killed him or not.

Roman is an idiot. An idealistic, loyal, altruistic idiot.

Janus is many things. He is not an idiot.

Key, scowling, sits across from him at the restaurant. Sriracha aioli, fried cod. Janus has been here a thousand times before.

He proffers the little box; Key takes it.

“This is my last job,” Janus says.

Key snorts. “I’ve heard that before.”

Janus hands him the burner phone, too.

“Oh shit,” Key says. “For real?”

“For real,” Janus reaffirms.

“Shit,” Key mutters, sitting back against the booth. They stay quiet. A waitress drops off their meal. They stay quiet for a bit longer.

“Don’t suppose I can lure you back with money,” Key tries to joke.

“No,” Janus says.

Key heaves a sigh. “All right. Well.”

He moves for his wallet, and Janus shakes his head.

“I’ve got lunch,” he says. “I can appreciate that I’m leaving you in the lurch for a computer guy.”

Key snorts and shakes his head disbelievingly. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”

Janus chews the inside of his lip. “If you ever need a lawyer…”

“Yeah,” Key says. He stands. “Yeah.”

Key leaves. Janus stays.

He’s been here a thousand times before. And yet.

PATTON

There’s a hint of spice in his mouth, and Patton rolls over in his bed to see Janus.

“I keep showing up when I should be sleeping, I think,” Patton muses, before he reaches out and takes one of the chips that Janus is neglecting.

Janus snorts. “Roman was stealing those the last time I was here. Perhaps you all keep showing up to eat my food.”

Patton smiles, dipping the chip in the sauce. “Maybe,” he says.

Janus exhales loudly, before he says, “I have a brother too.”

“Oh?” Patton asks, intrigued, and for a moment they’re in Patton’s bed, Patton lying down with his head propped up on his arm, Janus sitting uncomfortably at the corner.

“Unlike Remus, mine did it. Does it,” Janus amends.

Patton frowns. “That’s tough.”

“I did too, until,” Janus checks his watch. “Three minutes ago.”

Patton’s eyebrows lift in surprise, but that’s the only sign he shows.

“It’s the reason I became a lawyer,” Janus says.

“Oh,” Patton says because that—that clicks. He doesn’t know Janus very well—he will, surely, but he doesn’t yet—but taking on the good-quality job of lawyer for self-protective reasons makes a lot of sense. Janus kind of seems like the type of person to not really want to rely on other people.

“So, I don’t,” Janus says, and he sighs again. “I’ve been chasing down just one more job for years and years, and now…”

“Now, you’re done, and you don’t really know what to do with yourself?” Patton asks sympathetically.

Janus nods and he drinks some of his Ribena. The fizz of blackcurrant condensation pops in Patton’s mouth.

“Can I offer some advice?” Patton says. “You can do whatever you want with it.”

Janus scoffs a little, but he gestures for Patton to go ahead.

Patton takes another chip. “There are a lot of other people who need a lawyer’s help to stay out of jail. Not just sets of brothers.”

He dips the chip, takes a bite, and is back in bed right as a thoughtful look dawns on Janus’s face.

REMUS

Roman’s fake girlfriend is delightful.

They spend almost the entirety of dinner talking about their favorite horror movies—Sasha is quite the aspiring scream queen in her career, so it makes sense that she’s studied the greats—to a point where Roman puts his hands over his ears and went “I can’t hear you, lalalalalalaLALALALALALALA—”

Truly excellent. Especially when Roman had screeched at the top of his lungs when Sasha had gone into an in-depth side tangent about the verity of the special effects of slitting throats in movies.

And now—

“Ooh, that was good!” Remus says eagerly, pointing at the Sasha in the little screen as she gets stabbed.

“Right?!” Sasha says, and they ooh! in unison as the movie gets increasingly bloodier.

“I hate you both,” Roman grouches from where he’s slouched between them, one hand covering his eyes.

Sasha ruffles his hair. “Go ahead and break up with me, then, I’m sure the press will get us both booked like crazy.”

Roman grumbles to himself, and Remus grins at Sasha over Roman’s head.

“If any of my shit gets adapted into movies, I’m absolutely gonna make sure you get cast into a leading role.”

Sasha grins back. “You’re the best fake brother-in-law I could ask for.”

⁂

Sasha is flopped out on the couch, asleep, as the credits of the movie roll in the background.

“Where is your nearest sharpie,” Remus asks, and Roman rolls his eyes, pulling Remus to his feet.

“Leave her alone, Freak-a Kahlo. I’ve got a spot set up for you to sleep.”

“But,” Remus whines, images of lewd drawings dancing in his head, but he allows Roman to pull him away anyway.

Roman has got a little cot set up for him in his room; it’s like they’re ten again, on a trip to see their abuela, except Remus can’t tackle him and wrestle him to the ground for the honor of sleeping on the bed.

Well, he could, but considering Roman posted Remus’s bail, he figures that roman could be allowed to sleep in his own bed.

All the same, it does give Remus a strange sense of deja vu of their (admittedly rare) family vacations; Roman brushes his teeth and does his extensive skincare routine in the bathroom first, then he cajoles Remus into handling his hygiene, please, they’re living together in the same room, eating soap didn’t exactly work to make Remus smell like a spring rose. To which Remus would usually rebut good, he doesn’t want to smell like a spring rose, he wants to smell like sewage, to which Roman goes ugh, how are we twins, how did two people so catastrophically different come out of the same womb, at the same time, to which Remus says it’s payback for stealing my dick in utero, to which Roman says that doesn’t even make any sense, it’s not like I have two, to which Remus says—

It’s a whole familiar argument, anyway. But Remus does at least dunk his head into Roman’s bathtub to get his hair sopping wet and swish around some mouthwash.

They’re both tucked into their blankets, and Remus is staring at the ceiling, wondering at the best ways to ruin Roman’s fancy linens. He thinks Roman’s fallen asleep until his voice pipes up.

“I’m glad you’re not rotting in jail.”

Remus ugly-snorts. “Yeah, I guess I am too.”

“Thanks to our weird psychic lawyer, anyway.”

“And your fuck-off big actor money,” Remus reminds him, rolling over to face him. The room is so dark that he can barely see the outline of Roman’s face.

“Yeah, honestly, bribing the cops was going to be my next plan if you didn’t show up,” Roman says sleepily.

Remus grins at Roman in the dark. “I’ve been a fantastic influence on you.”

“Incorrect,” Roman grumbles.

“You’ll be watching slashers with Sasha and me in no time.”

“Ugh, I hope not,” Roman says.

“They’re inspiring!”

“Yeah, to you, Mr. Big Horror Novelist.”

“You know what else is big—”

“Ew! Ew ew ew, I know I set it up, but ew. No.”

“...This—”

“Remus, I’m kicking you out, I swear to God.”

“No, you’re not,” Remus sing-songs, “You were gonna bribe the cops, I’m holding this over your head forever.”

“I didn’t actually bribe the cops.”

“Yeah, but you were gonna,” Remus says. “Funnily enough, that seemed like the biggest case the cops had against me, too. That I was gonna.”

“I know you’re a horror writer, but I hope you don’t write about Miguel,” Roman says. “Might look a bit too If I Did It to the public.”

“Course not,” Remus says, his eyes slipping shut.

“Good.”

“I’m going to be writing a book about murdering the cops.”

“Oh, much better,” Roman sighs.

VIRGIL

Virgil spits out his toothpaste into the sink and looks up into the mirror to see Logan in his reflection, his glasses off, a toothbrush in hand.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Virgil quips.

The Logan in his reflection smiles at him awkwardly around his toothbrush, blushes, then redirects his attention to finishing off brushing his teeth as quickly and thoroughly as possible. Virgil uses that time to wash his face; Logan follows not long after. Virgil gets a whiff of the facewash Logan is using; it smells rather nice, something floral.

They do their respective routines in companionable quiet; Logan, waking up for the day, and Virgil, about to go to sleep.

“What’s on your agenda for the day?” Virgil asks, moisturizing his face.

“Research, research, and more research,” Logan says dryly, rubbing sunscreen onto his face. Their hands move in unison; moving in small circles on each cheek, up to the forehead, down the nose, the chin, down the neck. Mirror images, if not for their distinct physical differences.

“Probably should’ve guessed that,” Virgil says, rubbing the excess moisturizer into his forearms.

“Oh, you missed—”

And suddenly, Logan is not just in his mirror, but in his bathroom, reaching out a hand to smooth some more moisturizer into his skin.

“Right here,” Logan says softly, his fingers gentle on Virgil’s cheekbone. Virgil barely even breathes as Logan smooths away the smear of moisturizer.

“There,” Logan murmurs, but he’s still cradling Virgil’s face.

“Thanks,” Virgil rasps.

Logan smiles at him, just a little. “You missed right there when we first met, too.”

“Did I really?” Virgil asks. He can barely focus on anything else except the cool smoothness of Logan’s hand.

“Mhm,” Logan says. “There I was, thinking I was going crazy, and there was this African man planting a jacaranda tree into the tile, with a smear of sunscreen on his face…”

“And I had this note-taking Pole talking to me about preferring if I were a hallucination,” Virgil says. “Telling me you’d ignore me if you saw me again.”

“And then I immediately started questioning you,” Logan says, smiling. “And…”

He trails off. His hand is still on Virgil’s face. Virgil is standing so stock-still he could probably turn into a scarecrow, if only for the virtue of keeping Logan’s hand on him.

“And then I kept feeling this pull,” Logan continues quietly, looking Virgil in the eyes. He isn’t wearing his glasses; there is nothing between Virgil and those bright blue, captivating eyes. “This pull to come to you.”

“Me too,” Virgil says softly.

Logan licks his lips. He says, softly, “I do wonder why it is us, that keep feeling this pull to each other.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Logan affirms quietly. “Maybe there’s that call to those similar that we theorized about, that day. Maybe that’s what fuels this connection. Whenever I learned something new, I flashed to you. Always to you. I’m not sure if we’ll ever find out why. Perhaps there’s a level of…”

A level of what, Virgil doesn’t know, because he leans in and kisses Logan.

Logan freezes, and, with anyone else, Virgil would panic and pull back, thinking he’d been presumptuous, but he abruptly feels a thrill in his stomach and a yes in hid mind that may as well be in Logan’s voice, and Virgil’s shoulders relax at the presence of it, of that pull between them finally being eased.

Virgil wraps his arms around Logan’s waist, and Logan’s arms twine around Virgil’s neck, and they kiss, continents and oceans apart, able to taste the minty toothpaste on each other’s breath.

#my fic #my fanfic

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kanene-yaaay-o-retorno · 3 years

Text

The boy on the farthest table

Kanene’s Notes:

So, I’ve been reading all the fluff content with Dadzawa I could find and I am very surprised I didn’t manage to stumble in a Dadzawa running a Cat Café so I thought ‘h e y’ why don’t I make it??? SO here we are!!

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Dadzawa and Yamadad and their relatonship can be seen as romantic, if you wish.

* This happens in the same universe as This Fanfic Here and you can also find it on AO3.

* No warnings this time!! Only fluff and a bit of hurt/comfort.

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing the manga/anime Boku no Hero.

* Something around 2.500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Eat a delicious snack, sleep a bit, take care and drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

Aizawa doesn’t really care about his clients more than the strictly necessary amount. He arrived where he is because of the cats and the coffee. If people paid more because he decided to mix both together and open a business with that premise than better for him.

So, yes. Aizawa doesn’t care at all about his clients. Neither held any favorites above the others, don’t matter what Yamada tried to imply with his ‘discrete’ smug eyes and knowing grin as, for the second time today, the black haired worker narrowed his eyes at the boy sitting on the farthest table, lost in his deep thoughts as he stared intently at his notebook just like he has been doing for the past two hours, lazy scribbles fulfilling the lines in a tired, yet determined attempt to keep going.

The owner of the Cat Café didn’t really care about what his clients did as long it didn’t annoy his cats or him.

However, that doesn’t mean he kept himself completely oblivious of what happened at his establishment nor the persons who attended there.

Perhaps he wasn’t the most enthusiastic worker there – that is why him and Hizashi had an unspoken agreement that he would stay firm on his place making drinks and serving pastries, sometimes scaring some insufferable clients away, while the louder, social friend would focus in talking and getting the orders, – but he knew enough to not be a bad one.

He knew that the girl with yellow bright eyes and nuts and bolts shining in between her curls liked strawberry muffins, tended to not be able to stand still for much time, and visited on Fridays, so he always kept one baked sweet hidden for her on these days.

Just like he always recognized that tall, skeleton-like adult as soon as his form crossed the door. A client who came especially for the cats and the Jasmin tea, although always sneaked a couple and more glares to the cat-themed cookies, so he made sure to “accidentally” drop one with the donuts he always asked to go for “- a friend! He loves them but is often very busied with work… So, I thought I could try and treat him a bit after everything he already did to me!” And also, who, in the next day, came back to attempt to pay for the free cookie but was, day after day, defeat by Hizashi’s stubbornness and convincing abilities, leading the loyal client to make sure to put a generous tip on the Tip Jar as a revenge, making sure to stare intently at the pouting worker during the whole process.

Or the young girl with red eyes full of curiosity and a tongue full of questions which him and Yamada took turns to answer, eliciting shy smiles, bright excitement and a glare full of gratitude from her older brother, who used the free time to study while she ate and played with the kittens, sometimes even falling asleep when his two friends – an extremely quiet boy with a gigantic sweet tooth and an electric smiley girl who always convinced the younger one to help her to gather the biggest amount of sleepy cats to nap on the blond teen before he wakes up in the middle of purrs and laughter - accompanied them.

That being said, Aizawa liked to be informed and, above everything else, was good at getting the information he needed. He mastered the skill of analyzing details and understanding situations others used to ignore, making connections and arriving to conclusions that seemed foreign to others, that is why he continued to cast quick frowns and glances to the boy, doesn’t liking at all how his brain continued to run and turn, seeking for any answer or hints of what happened to him, only to get at nowhere. He was, obviously, just trying to assert the situation, which had nothing to do with the fact that the boy – always shining, always with such a bright smile every time he ordered anything – was alone on this Saturday. A not so rare occasion, since even though the café was a common place for him and his friends to meet – an occurrence impossible to ignore due how full of energy and joy and chaos and energy they all were, - he also seemed very keen to spend hours writing and studying on his own.

However, there was something different today. Something to do with how quiet, concentrated, calm, lethargic the teenager was acting the whole time, which worrie- no, intrigued him.

Because Aizawa wasn’t worried. Of course not. That would be illogical and preposterous. He wasn’t anything to the child, not his family, not a friend, not a relative, just the guy who grunted a one-word answer every time the younger tried to make small talk and pretend to not notice him and Hizashi trading cute cat videos and pics during the blonde’s breaks.

Hell, he didn’t even share more words than the necessary with the green haired boy. The longest interaction they ever had was when the younger one came to him on his first time visiting the place and asked for more cat toys, since all the available ones were already being used. Which maybe or maybe not led to Aizawa leaving his friend to deal alone with the orders while he took his time to show and explain the favorite toys of every cat the green boy pointed.

Which was, sure, only a revenge on his boisterous coworker since the aforementioned interrupted his morning nap by tripping on him on his way to the kitchen (and yes, it was Yamada’s fault for not looking at where he’s going and obviously not Shouta’s because he decided to ‘JUST FREAKING PASS OUT ON THE FLOOR. HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO SEE IT?’) and, not content with his actions, decided to lock the other out of his own establishment, only letting him come back after lunch and, consequently, at least five hours of sleep, leaving him on the care of Nemuri, who proceeded to tease him unmercifully for the whole length of yesterday.

Consequently, it was only a payback, of course. The gleam on the smaller’s eyes as he took notes on a well worn out notebook and the fact that, on the next Saturday, the boy distributed all the correct toys between his friends and their favorite cats were two completely ignorable things and therefore unrelated with the quick, barely visible smile appearing on the corner of his mouth on the respective day and every time he remembered that occurrence.

But, when a quiet sniff reached his ears, Aizawa almost felt his neck crack with how quickly he turned on the other’s direction, just in time to see the ending of the teenager’s action of wiping a few tears away. The one who definitely didn’t get enough sleep on his entire life to deal with it sensed his left eye twitch.

That. Is. It.

“Shouta…” Hizashi whispered behind the usual smile he plastered for the customer in front of him, nodding while writing down what she said and chipping excitedly for her to just wait a little bit to get her order, deviating his attention to his friend when she moved away to sit in one of the unoccupied tables, both taking the opportunity of having no more customers in the line to held some private words. “Do you want me to go there?” his voice was bathed in worry, because his coworker was emotional like that.

“No.” And Aizawa didn’t know why he was so fast to answer, however he was already washing his hands, mind running, seeking to remember how other people - besides his friends, who were barely humans, - worked. “You know I hate being the cashier.”

“Riight.” His way-too-smug-grin was fast to become a snicker when his friend aimed a kick on his shin, which he promptly dodged. “Hey! I didn’t even say anything!”

“Your thoughts are loud. I will be right back.”

His eyes were focused on the kid, who now was curled on his chair, chin resting on his knees as his arms firmly hugged his legs, making him look even smaller.

Aizawa grunted, part of him feeling inclined to just drop an entire gallon of water on his head to successfully wash all his problems way, or maybe shake all the bad, lying thoughts taking over his mind and resulting in a few tears to escape what, on its turn, made a strong feeling of protectiveness, which was immediately ignored, shines on him. But Shouta knew he couldn’t act on any of those two options because it wasn’t “socially acceptable” – nor very useful, but he ignored that part, - and “problems” and “people” tended to be more complicated to help than that.

The older sighed, kneeling on the spot before the front door where the sun passed through the window and made a perfect warm piece of floor for the big, - extremely big - messy pile of purple fluff lay and nap without a single worry in the world, not even stirring as the customers had to tiptoe around him to get in and out of the establishment.

Shinsou hissed when Shouta first petted him, although was fast to purr louder than a machine as the human began to scratch behind his ears, going back to his peaceful sleep. He was the most calm, chill and snarky cat he has ever seen. His hobbies consisting on getting on the highest shelves to watch the entire place with a judging, tired glare and napping on people’s laps, especially when they were about to head out, which made his customers to order something else and stay for at least more fifteen minutes, not having the heart to interrupt the purple’s sleep.

Needless to say, he and Aizawa got along just fine. Even with the animal’s habit of climbing him to nap on his shoulders and teaching the younger kittens to do the same thing, knowing very well the one with dark hair would never have the heart to put them away, the human knew he sustained a soft spot for him.

Nemuri and Yamada liked to tease him, affirming that Shinsou was his cat form and Shouta would never admit he agreed with them.

He also ignored the implications of that when he remembered Shinsou was one of the green haired bag of energy favorites.

“I have a mission for you.” It was the only mumbled warning the cat had before being carefully scoped on the human’s arms, melting on the embrace, hissing, yawning and then proceeding to melt even further. Shouta huffed, amused.

‘Brat.’

Another signal that the teenager was much more trapped in his mind than the normal was the fact he didn’t realize the adult coming closer, nearly jumping three feet in the air as Aizawa’s command hit him.

“Sit correctly.”

The teenager yelped, looking at him, at himself and then at him again, a strong shade of an ashamed red taking over his features. “O-o-of course, sir! I am sorry!” He bowed, putting his feet on the ground and straightening his back, a slight tremble on his movements making the adult frown.

“Don’t think too much about this.” And before any protest could come out of the other’s mouth, Aizawa laid Shinsou on his legs, leading the boy to freeze completely, eyes locked on the cat, who just blinked lazily at him and started to knead his thighs, low, rumbling purrs escaping, demanding the new human as worthy.

A barely suppressed squeal flew from the younger, who already seemed ready to cry again, although for different reasons.

The cat café’s owner hid his amused smile by catching a kitten who approached with curiosity, petting him and proceeding to flop him on the soft, green curls. Ojiro meowed, purring and immediately attempting to eat his new environment.

“I…” His wide, wobbly smile increased further as Shinsou butted his head on the teenager’s palm, his voice, a whisper, lapsing for a beat. “I love them.”

There was no way for the adult to hide his snort at his words, but the Problem Child seemed unfazed with his reaction, turning to him with shiny eyes and smile.

“Thank you so much, sir!”

After a nod, Aizawa turned away and came back to his spot behind the counter. And if talking and taking orders when Hizashi uses part of his break to “discreetly” take a few pictures of a beaming boy smiling to the camera and pointing the cats on him to send to him later, is much more bearable than before? It has absolutely nothing to do with the young figure on the farthest table sporadically giggling as he plays with an Ojiro who is fiercely convinced he can win the battle against the red laser.

[…]

“Excuse me, Yamada-san. I’m sorry, but my order was 476 yens and you only charged me 200.” Aizawa knew the boy was going to lose the fight the moment Hizashi only grinned and locked the cashier, completely ignoring the two pieces of paper on the other’s hand.

“Don’t worry about it, little listener! Don’t worry! Take this as a thank you for letting Shinsou and Ojiro sleep on you for one hour, okay?”

“B-but sir! It was no problem at all!” The way he moved to prove his point made Aizawa picture a small, energetic bunny. “I really like them and I was going to stay here longer anyway!”

“Now, now, young boy.” Hizashi pointed a finger at him, trying and failing miserably to see or sound at least a tad chastising. “Refusing a ‘thank you’ is a serious offense, I wonder if I will need to give you a free blueberry muffin to go because of that…”

“No!” Aizawa huffed, turning away from them and heading to the tables, taking the opportunity of how low the business was to clean and prepare them for the next customers, stopping right on his tracks, mid step as a wide, pleading glare found his. “Aizawa-san,” he shook the 276 yens at his direction, puppy eyes staring right on his soul, “please.”

The dark-haired one scoffed, looking away from the powerful graze. “Don’t bring me into this. Fight your own battles, problem child.”

Hizashi laughed at the pout he received in response, having pity on the loyal customer. “Okay, okay. I give. You can pay for this.” Aizawa glared at him, one eyebrow up in a non convinced expression. His friend winked, big grins as the younger turned to him, much more smiley. “With a hug.”

Problem child seemed surprised, especially when the flamboyant employee jumped across the counter and stopped in front of him, arms open in an invitation. “Only if you’re comfortable, of course.” His voice was softer. “I can always accept 100 yens if you really want me to, little listener.”

He didn’t understand the magic thing his friend always managed to do. The way he succeeded to dance around someone’s barriers, finding openings and walking through them, asking no permission to get closer yet always attentive when to stop and retreat or to talk about every or anything. The same magic he showed when they were teenagers.

Tsuyu meowed and Aizawa kneeled down to give her attention for as long as the embrace lasted, pretending to not notice the two hugging behind him, the taller lightly swaying them while the younger relaxed, melting on the touch.

A few seconds later the anxious bunny was bowing, thanking them and getting out with a gleam on his face, hugging happily the notebook next to his chest and petting Cloud before going away. Shouta came back to his spot, Yamada followed and the green hair disappeared on the corner.

“We’re not adopting the Problem Child.”

“But he already even has a nickname! Shoutaaa, it’s meant to be! And you’re already soft for him as well, don’t deny it.”

He scoffed. “Shut up. You try to say no to those fucking puppy eyes next time.”

“You fought well,” Hizashi patted his shoulder, his own gaze getting a dangerous, gleaming light. “Dadzawa.”

The rarefied clients distributed across the café jumped when, between laughter and dramatics cries of pain, the blonde fell on the ground, a half pleased, half evil smile presenting itself on the shorter’s face in a flash before his impassive expression took over and he calmly continued with his usual chores, pointedly ignoring the ‘It was so worthy it’ snickered by his friend, still laid on the floor.

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belpheroo · 4 years

Text

home again home again

Pairing: Mammon x MC Rating: T Summary: A follow-up to the last day. MC Adjusts to life back in the human realm, but Devildom just can’t stay away.

As Lucifer had promised, when she returned home, no time had passed. It was as if that year, that time she spent in Devildom, belonged wholly to a time and a place outside of the realm of her human reality.

He had warned her some memories might soften, fading around the edges until she would start to question whether they had happened… but given her celestial heritage, perhaps she would have a different experience. She was no magic user like Solomon, but Lilith’s blood was magic in itself and that blood was in her veins, no matter how small.

She left her bags packed on her floor, venturing out her bedroom door and into the hallway. It was twilight, just like when she left, warm amber sunlight shining just barely over the edges of the window frames.

A clock ticked. Her cat mrrowed curiously from their sleeping spot. Her college texts laid on the small kitchen table, notebooks and pens scattered where she had left them.

Quietly, deliberately, she moved through her small kitchenette, putting on her electric kettle and taking down a familiar mug and a familiar bag of tea. She ripped open the package, set the bag in the mug and waited.

And waited.

And waited for it to feel real.

---

A week went by and then another. Her morning classes came and went. She found herself falling behind her friends, not even listening to their chatter as she focused out on the people passing by on their street and across it.

“Who are you looking for?”

One of them had asked, smiling and cheeky.

“You have a date?”

There was no shock of white among the crowd, no familiar voice.

“... no, I’m just… people watching.”

By the time she got home and set down to study she noted all the doodles in her margins were of tiny lesser demons, with their top-hats and little horns.

She sighed, dropping her pencil in defeat and picking up her phone to check Devilgram. In front of her eyes, the screen displayed one sentence in a grey box:

Out of Service Zone

Mammon had said it would work, that it would still connect… but it seemed he was wrong. Instead, she navigated to her saved chats, flicking through lines of conversations and messages going back the course of the year. It was easy to get lost, to read and to laugh and think of those past conversations and of her boys, somewhere in a realm between worlds.

She knew it wasn’t a good idea to get too caught up, not when there was work still to be done. With a heart, no less heavy, she moved to set the device face down on her desk when she noted the screen had illuminated, the pale blue-green color showing against the table surface.

She held her breath as she turned it over.

Signal Found Reestablishing Connection…

…

Connection Reestablished

The access was slow, nothing had changed on the screen, no new notifications or chats. She waited, eager to see the little pink birds that would soon dot her screen. She wondered how they all had been doing, whether they missed her and how things were.

She had expected a few notifications, maybe even none. It had only been a week now. Instead, she opened the message center to a proverbial flood of little bird notifications. It was enough to make her laugh, the joy in her chest bursting forward as she opened the main chat group “House of Lamentation”. There were all the same questions she had for them- how are you? What have you been doing? Do you miss us?

Before responding though, her eyes caught to one of those messages with a little gold eye icon. The messages she was not supposed to be included on but for whatever reason her settings gave her access. She hadn’t seen this title before… the chat subject line simply her name followed by Absence Support Group

She clicked it.

Asmodeus: As discussed! This chat is for the support of all of us who miss our dearly departed exchange student.

Asmodeus: This is a judgement free zone <3

Satan: When you say it like that it sounds like she’s dead… couldn’t we all just text her when we miss her?

Asmodeus: Judgement. Free. Zone. ~<3

Levi: Unless your name is Stupid Mammon.

Mammon: HEY

Mammon: NO

Levi: sTuPiD mAmMoN

Belphie: Great. Another chat for me to mute. Zzz

Beel: Has anyone else texted her? I texted her. It isn’t open.

Asmodeus: Hmm? Yes, she hasn’t opened my pics either.

Mammon: PICS?

Asmodeus: Oh yes <3

Mammon: THE HELL KINDA PICS YOU SENDIN’ MY GIRL, ASSMO?

Asmodeus: Judgement Free Zone <3 <3 <3

Mammon has been muted for One minute.

Levi: You have GOT to show me how to do that!!!

Beel: I text her when I am thinking of her.

Beel: Yesterday, I got up for a snack. I stopped at her room and knocked to see if she wanted any.

Beel: I had forgotten.

Mammon’s muted minute had been up even, judging by the time stamps, but there was still a prolonged pause before someone else responded.

Satan: I remembered I lent her a book. The Corpus Hermetica. She left it in my room sometime before she left… her bookmark was still in it.

Beel: Are you using it?

Satan: I-- yes.

Belphie: I took a nap in her old bed the other day. The sheets don’t smell like her anymore.

Levi: … I’ve been playing her really crappy low leveled character in Memoirs of the Samurai-Ninja, Warriors of Dynasty 6. So she doesn’t get even MORE behind in events.

Mammon: Oi, back up. Belphie, you did WHAT now?!

Mammon has been muted for Two minutes.

Asmodeus: No judgment zone!!

And it went on like that. Day after day. One of them would post a thought or a feeling or a moment that struck them, that reminded them of her. It shocked her a bit when the dots of something typing began to appear, then disappear, then appear and… then disappear. And this carried on for a long time before finally a new message appeared.

Mammon: So. I’m totally NOT super completely upset but the other day I was doing some a m a z i n g modeling work and the camera lady asked me where my “human friend” was.

Mammon: Threw even me, THE Mammon, off his game.

Asmodeus: Because they called her your “friend” instead of your “girlfriend”? <3

Mammon: No!

Mammon: But she is. 😈

Belphie: What if she gets a human boyfriend?

Mammon: EH?! No way! No human boy can compare to ME.

Satan: Well, you are here. She is there. Do you really expect her to wait for you?

Mammon: …

Belphie: Maybe she’d wait for one of us. But Mammon?

Mammon: H-hey! What happened to the judgment free zone?!

Satan: Would explain why she hasn’t called.

Belphie: Or texted.

Mammon: …

She felt her heart sink. She didn’t have a human boyfriend! She’d just had absolutely no SIGNAL since she had gotten back to the human realm! Panicking, she hurried to the phone section of the D.D.D and pulled Mammon’s contact up.

Hurriedly she pressed the dial, listening to the faint tone as it rang.

And rang.

The connection was in and out again, sometimes the ring distorted with feedback. The call dropped and quickly she re-dialed again.

“C’mon… c’mon! Mammon! Pick up!”

Click.

The ringing stopped. The timer flickered on. Call Ongoing 00:03.

“Mammon?! Are you there? Can you hear me?”

There was a voice, but it was choppy and undecipherable.

“My D.D.D. isn’t working right! I can’t understand you, but if you can understand me I-- I wanted to call and say-- um. I wanted to say--!”

The line was quiet.

“I miss you all so much! S-so… please convince Lucifer to let me visit! Or come visit me!”

The phone made a sound, a strangled static burst. The battery flickered even though it had been nearly full just moments ago.

“The connection is draining my stupid phone! Ugh, I’m sorry! Tell everyone I said hello and I miss them!” she paused, words stuck on her tongue as she tried to get them out, “And Mammon… I miss you most! And I love--”

The phone made a ding sound as the battery finally and truly died. She dove to her bag, digging out the charger and desperately trying to plug it in. The first time in weeks she managed to get a call in and the human realm to Devildom signal was that bad?!

“Stupid phone. Stupid stupid stupid…”

There was a faint smell, like sulphur or burning wood. She made a face, looking over the device for any sign of damage and finding none at all. That was odd… but still she could smell an ever growing scent like something had caught fire.

Standing up, she turned half towards the hall and abruptly dropped her phone in sheer shock, the device clattering loudly.

Mammon was breathing heavily, steam coming off his body in waves. He was in his devil-form, all horns and wings.

“Wh...what… was that… last bit?” he panted, leaning against the hallway wall, “I didn’t… hear all of it!”

“You came all the way here just to finish a phone call?” she said teasingly, knowing full well what it was he really came for.

“Please! A… transport like that… is ah- nothing! To the Great Mammon!” he was still out of breath, but catching it quickly, “Now. What did you say?”

There was nothing suave in his question, nothing concealed or charming. There was something more desperate in his eyes, something needy. Her lips curled into a fond smile as she found the words came so much easier the second time.

“Mammon, I love you.”

“... of course ya do.” Mammon said, crossing the space between her both until she was snuggly in his arms. He was warm, warmer than usual after his trip, but that smell would HAVE to go.

“You need a bath.”

“Tch… then give me one.” he grumbled in reply.

Who would possibly say no?

#obey me mammon #obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #mammon x mc #obey me fanfic

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handmadecp · 3 years

Text

Bike Tool Pouch

Hi Guys, sorry it’s been a few weeks but life and Covid got in the way for a bit after the Large explorer bag. But I finally got some free time to sit down and make something. This time I purchased a pattern from Tony See at Dieselpunk.ro ( ‘ro’ standing for ‘Romania’..I think. ). The pattern is actually for a Bag with either carry handles or a shoulder strap, but I want the main body of this pattern to alter it into a Pouch / saddle bag for my bike to carry a few tools and maybe a spare inner tube etc and I gotta say....it has turned out great. See for yourself and join me in this short build along to see me put this lovely little pouch / saddle bag together. It’s a fairly easy build and I would recommend it to a more ‘adventurous’ beginner. As usual as I am hoping to peek the interest of a few of you to give it a go yourself I will add that Leather crafting can be expensive and can become addictive...in a good way. But Leather, especially in the UK is very expensive, so maybe pick a small project as your first one to keep costs down whilst you learn. That being said, this is an amazing hobby and very satisfying when your skill level increases and you start to see better results. I almost forgot, I have been getting into making videos of me building these projects and I show them on my new YOUTUBE Channel called Shamancraftprojects, I hope you will drop by for a look, My filming and editing skills will improve with time, but they are fun to watch. If you do would you please ‘Like’ Subscribe and click the Bell and click on ‘ALL’ so you will know when I put a new one up. Thanks. Ok,, lets get into it.

Pic 1: Turned out great, not very difficult to make and recommended for adventurous beginners. I keep getting asked How long it will take,...well, how long is a piece of string ? ..I took 3 days to make this but that’s with normal life getting in the way, so it all depends how long you can give it your attention for really. Let’s crack on.

Pic 2 : As always the patterns are printed out in ‘sections’ which have to be cut out and taped together to make the full pattern, this bit came in two halves which I’ve taped together across the middle with decorators paper tape. All other pieces are treated the same way and then any holes are punched out as per the markings. I have shown this many times in past projects so if you have any issues go check out my archive, I’m sure the information you want will be in there.

Pic 3 : I have used a Walnut water stain dye by fiebings, I use this color a lot, it’s one of my favourites and for me personally it gives leather the color most people expect leather to be..traditionally speaking that is, but feel free to dye your projects any color you wish it’s your project. Once all the patterns were transferred and the parts were cut out of the leather, I first hand stitched the top flap onto the main body as seen here using a saddle stitch.

Pic 4 : For all those out there who have followed my projects from the beginning, six years ago...wow time flies, firstly..thank you and please tell your friends,...anyyyhoooo..for all of you regulars you will remember that I enjoy hand stitching and the saddle stitch is my ‘go to’. My stitching has definitely improved thanks to practice and also to the advice given to me by many people..thanks guys if you are seeing this for all your help and free advice and from videos on youtube. Here you can see the stitching in a nice consistant line, if your stitching is ‘wobbly’ check when you do it how you cross your needles over on the first stitch, if your left needle goes behind the right needle keep doing that...and continue crossing them the same on every stitch. If your fingers hurt a lot, do four or five stitches lightly and ‘then’ pull tight...that’s approx five stitches for one pull...less stress than pulling on every stitch.

Pic 5 : Here I’ve cut a couple of the ‘skirt’ pieces ( just what I call them ) that will stitch to the end pieces to enable them to be connected to the main body as you will see later and also the front strap that will ‘pop’ over a ‘Sam Brown’. on the left are the two pieces that will eventually hold ‘D’ rings.

Pic 6 : On the main Pattern the straps are intended as carry handles as you will see if you watch the Build Tutorial Video put out by ‘Tony See’ at Dieselpunk.ro. But as I’m making it into a Tool Pouch I have used the part of the strap that will be stitched to the main body but I have cut it in half and shortened the strap to take a buckle. In this pic you see the strap cut in half and positioned ready for stitching after a buckle is fitted.

Pic 7 : if you zoom in you will see here that the strap was cut in half, however, since doing this I realise that cutting it isn’t necessary if you just remember to make one end shorter whilst leaving it longer on the other end so you can cut it to the required length later. Also here you can see the shorter ‘button’ strap is fitted. If you would like to see the build in more detail I have a four part build video with audio on Youtube ‘Shamancraftprojects’. titled ‘Bike Tool Pouch PT1, PT2, PT3, and PT4. I also have a shop now on ‘Folksy’ where I sell a lot of my projects, this one is for myself but I will be making more of these. I no longer have a shop on ETSY and for anyone wondering why, after being on it so long, they were taking 3/4s of my money on each sale and ripping me off in other smaller charges, seemed like more every week, so I’m now on ‘Folksy’. That being said..lets carry on.

Pic 8 : Stitching the ‘D’ring holders and ‘skirts’ on to the end sections starting on the smaller underside piece then fold the top over and stitch the upper one ‘over’ the under one.

Pic 9 : Here is what I call the ‘skirt’ as it stitches around the edge of the end section on one side and then stitches to the main section on the other side, hence the two rows of holes.

Pic 10 : Here I am putting on the ‘Skirt’, (mainly because I can’t remember what it’s called hahaha ) ...onto the second of the two end sections. It’s a simple thing to do, you just find the center mark on the two pieces which are marked on the pattern, so make sure to look for them on your pattern and to mark them on your leather as these are the starting points for the stitching.

Pic 11 : Once the ‘skirt’ is attached the next step was to attach the ‘D’ ring holders on as seen here. I bought the ‘Kit’ of buckles,rivets etc from Dieselpunk.ro also.

Pic 12 : Next I attached the end pieces to the main body, I used a clip to hold the two edges together leaving the four holes I neded to stitch, as seen here on the main body one end is already done, the outside holes are to be stitched to the end sections.

Pic 13 : Here, I’m stitching an end section to the main body using the saddle stitch.

Pic 14 : Another view showing the outside stitching now incorporating the ‘left over’ outside holes as I go around the outside.

Pic 15 : Once done they should pull to shape like this.

Pic 16 : Now the buckles and ‘Sam Brown’ need fitting.

Pic 17 : The Buckles and Sam Brown are fitted, very easy to do even for a beginner and I think a Beginner ...once they can stitch, should be fine making this. ‘Stays will be fitted later to hold the straps better.

Pic 18 : Here I’ve fitted the ‘stays’. Now to make some straps to attach the bag to the Bike.

Pic 19 : As I’ve said, straps are no problem to make, I just cut two small ones and riveted them to the bag and then fitted buckles to them and riveted the straps to them as shown here.

Pic 20 : Plenty of strap here to connect it to the frame of the Bike.

Pic 21 : Ta daaaa, I always wanted one of these on my bike to carry tools, spare inner tubes, puncture kit, gloves, hat etc. There’s more room than at first appears in this neat little bag. I recommend this project for beginners, but practice the saddle stitch first. You don’t have to use veg tan but I would recommend using a firm material that will last. I can re water proof this bag and treat it with balm now and again to keep it in good condition, I coated this in Effax Leather Balm. Hope you have enjoyed this small project, after the explorer bag I wanted a quick easy project and this fit the bill nicely. More to come, watch this space. I hope some of you will have a go yourself. ‘till next time...Stay Crafty, Stay Safe.

#bike bags #saddle bag #leather tool pouch #pouch

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cagestark · 4 years

Text

A Hole in the Head//2

Everybody was so kind to me last night. Here’s a thanks <3

Read here on AO3.

The next morning finds Peter lounging in bed. When he stretches and twists against the silken sheets, his ass smarts from the sound spanking Tony gave it the night before. His morning wood aches at the reminder. After his punishment, Tony had rolled on a condom and fucked Peter on his hands and knees, the backs of his thighs giving his sore ass a pounding. He’d made Peter cum from his cock alone and then pulled out, shed the condom, and demanded that Peter suck him off. This cock just made you cum, baby, he’d said, fingers tangled in Peter’s hair. Treat it real good. Thank it, thank me.

The bedroom door opens. Peter sits up, breathless at the sight of Tony’s figure in the doorway.

“Thank God you’re here, sir,” Peter says. “I really don’t think I showed your cock enough gratitude last night.”

Tony steps into the room and Barnes appears following behind him.

Peter’s mouth goes dry. God, in the afternoon light that streams through the window, Barnes is even more handsome than the dining room chandelier had made him out to be. His jaw is sharp and shadowed, lips full and downturned. The low brow disguises pale eyes and gives the impression that Barnes is always one disappointment away from murder. Nothing turns Peter on more.

“Oh,” Peter breathes, putting a hand against his bare chest in the semblance of modest astonishment. “Two gifts? I get two cocks to worship?”

Tony’s mouth has to work hard to keep its flat, unimpressed line. Barnes gives no outward reaction—a tough nut to crack, but Peter knows that the harder the work, the larger the payoff. “No gifts, Peter. You can show my cock gratitude later, though I doubt you’ll still feel moved to. I’m showing Barnes the panic room in the closet. You know it’s noon, don’t you? You shouldn’t lay in bed all day, pumpkin.”

Without any further acknowledgement of Peter’s existence, Tony ushers Barnes into the large walk-in closet.

Sighing, Peter slips from the bed, arching his back and stretching again just for the pleasant ache. He grabs fresh boxers to don after he showers and then takes up residence in the in-closet doorway, watching the two men. The panic room door is in the south wall, hidden by a line of Tony’s suits which have been pushed aside.

“Are we resetting the access code, sir?” Peter asks.

Both men turn. Tony, used to seeing Peter in various states of undress, is more than likely just pleased he isn’t naked and doesn’t bat an eye. Barnes however is not used to it. Those stony eyes drag from Peter’s bruise-ridden collar bone down over his trim chest and abs, catching on the tent in Peter’s boxers (and yeah, it jerks just under the weight of that cold gaze) before following the line of his legs all the way down to the bare feet, toenails shiny with polish.

Barnes takes it all in—and then he looks back at the panic room door and his eyes don’t touch Peter again.

“Yes,” Tony answers Peter’s question. “We’re going to set it to something easy for Barnes to remember—”

“It’s not my panic room,” Barnes interrupts, voice raspy. “If anyone is going to forget, I’d rather it be me instead of you or the kid. Just leave the code as it is, Mr. Stark; I’ll remember it.”

Tony’s eyebrows lift above the rim of his tinted glasses.

A complicated man, it’s a fine line between the authority that Tony’s likes having challenged and the kind that is likely to get a man in trouble. In his subordinates, he requires obedience (with only certain exceptions for creative flare). In his lovers, Tony loves the struggle. The intellectual challenge that comes with banter, the power-struggle of dominating a partner who doesn’t bend easily, the joy of breaking a brat. It’s one reason why Peter and Tony are so sexually compatible—both their needs are met in the other. But Barnes, Peter wonders, holding his breath. What kind of challenge is he presenting to Tony?

After a moment that likely only lasts a few heartbeats, Tony’s head tilts in concession. He brushes onwards so seamlessly that Peter doesn’t even get the chance to analyze what it all means. “If you insist. 774337 opens the door. It locks from the inside automatically upon being closed, and there is a mandatory twelve hour waiting period before the door will open. The only override requires both my thumbprint and Peter’s, so don’t go in there for shits and giggles unless you enjoy solitude.”

“Will that override work if you’re dead?” Barnes wonders.

“Yes. The scanner isn’t picky about if the thumb is attached to a living person, nor if it comes from the left or right hand. It has prints for both. Should I be killed, feel free to exhume them; they won’t be doing me any good.”

Feeling sick, Peter storms into the closet and rifles for the first set of clothes he can find. “I don’t want to listen to this,” he says around the knot in his throat. “Ned’s out of school, so I’ll be in the entertainment room.”

“Okay—hey. Come here.” Peter reluctantly lets himself be pulled into Tony’s arms. They hug, not a hairsbreadth between them, Peter breathing in the scent of cologne. If he shuts his eyes, he can see Tony collapsed on the floor beside their bed, his blood black in the moonlight, chest open and wet and gaping. Squeezing his eyes shut, Peter tries to think of something else. But Tony knows. He always knows. “It’s okay, Pete. Barnes is here to keep the both of us safe. But you’re the priority.”

“I don’t have to like it, sir,” Peter snarks.

Tony tilts his chin up for a peck. Peter’s eyes open to see Barnes standing by the panic room door and yes, he’s watching them. Closing his eyes, Peter threads his fingers through the hairs on the nape of Tony’s neck and goes up onto his toes to keep their mouths connected, spreading his lips and coaxing Tony’s tongue from his mouth to suck on it, feeling the older man’s groan reverberate through his chest. When they part, the both of them are breathing hard.

Barnes is taking slow, even breaths. Three counts in, four counts out. He’s leaning back against the panic room door watching Peter with a flat, unimpressed look. Peter rolls his eyes.

“Tony, he’s even more boring than Steve,” Peter complains to his lover in a stage whisper.

“—what do you mean she just wants to—Ned, on your right, coming up the- oh, nice shot—just wants to be friends? She was the one asking you for dick pics. Am I missing something?” Peter says into the comm of his headset. He sits cross-legged on the floor, back pressed against the sofa. “Are friends swapping nudes now?”

“Not my friends!” Ned insists, voice tinny from the cheap headset he uses. Peter has offered to buy him one multiple times, but Ned insists that the old one is well broken in. Junky, Peter thinks. “I told her I wanted to take it slow—nice, good game, bro—but I didn’t mean this. This is like, all slow, no burn, you feel me?”

“Oh, I feel—fuck!” When the television goes dark for the loading screen, a figure can be seen standing behind him. Peter wrenches the headset clear off and goes for the gun in the end table drawer, but as soon as he turns, he sees that it’s not (Beck, it’s not Beck, Beck’s dead!) some assassin. At least, it isn’t an assassin who is there to kill him. It’s Barnes. “Jesus Christ! Do you mind? Announce yourself when you enter a room, knock or something.”

Peter picks up the headset. On the other end, Ned is freaking out. He knows vaguely that Peter’s boyfriend is in shady business (and that’s putting it lightly), knows about what happened last Spring regarding Beck just in the vaguest of terms. But still, he’s a good bro, he’s got a good imagination, and he worries.

“Sorry Ned, it’s nothing. Just some asshole Tony has keeping tabs on me these days.” He glances over his shoulder but Barnes’s face doesn’t even change. Maybe his eyebrows are a little higher than they were, but nothing in his expression reads displeasure or anger. Just boredom, with maybe a hint of amusement. Peter isn’t the best at reading the nuances of expression; he prefers more straightforward body language.

Rolling his eyes, Peter turns back to the loading screen and immediately mutes the other players in the lobby so he doesn’t have to listen to any twelve year olds argue over whose mom gives the best blowjobs.

“Whoa, dude, you’ve got a bodyguard now?” Ned asks. “That’s sick.”

“You want him? I’ll loan him out to you. Twenty dollars.”

“Is he hot?”

“You’re straight, Ned.”

“Yeah, but you aren’t. I need data!”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Yes, he’s hot.”

“On a scale of one to ten?”

Peter turns to appraise the older man. He feels anxious butterflies in his stomach that flap their condor-sized wings when he meets those fathomless eyes that show him absolutely nothing. He makes a show of raking his gaze over Barnes from head to toe, the messy hair that’s an obscene length, the cut jaw, the wide shoulders and trim waist. “Body, ten. Face, ten,” Peter admits. Barnes lifts an eyebrow. “Personality…four.”

Any amusement drains out of the other man’s face.

“Ouch,” Ned mutters, though Peter can hardly hear it over his own laughter.

In four long strides, Barnes passes around the couch Peter sits in front of. He puts one combat boot on the cords coming from the back of the PS4 and Peter has just long enough to cry out an indignant hey! before the foot twists and jerks, pulling the power supply from the game console. The television goes dark.

“What the hell are you protecting me from right now, bodyguard?” Peter asks, pulling his headset off. “Having a good fucking time? Congratulations! I sure dodged that bullet!”

“We need to talk,” says Barnes. God, that voice. It’s lethal. He imagines how it’s rough cadence would compliment Tony’s smooth tones, the both of them above Peter, taking him apart, talking a stream of the most toe-curling filth. He blinks the image away.

“I’m way more likely to do what you want if you just ask, asshole,” Peter growls.

Barnes laughs, a mirthless sound. “As if, kid. You think I’m stupid? Tony and I spent the whole goddamn morning discussing you and the best way for me to manage you. He made it absolutely clear that you view the simplest requests as challenges, so this is not me asking you to talk. This is me talking. And this is you sitting on your ass like a good little boy and listening to me. Got it?”

Peter stares, gobsmacked, for one endless moment. Equal parts aroused and furious, watching the scales tip back and forth in his mind, wondering which side will win. “He told you how I treat requests, huh? Did he tell you how I treat demands?”

Barnes’s eyes narrow—but then Peter is up and vaulting over the couch. He doesn’t expect escaping to be easy (not by a long shot, Peter knows better than anyone how well trained Tony’s men are, how in shape they are) but he doesn’t expect it to be so difficult either. Barnes truly is the Winter Soldier. He takes chase immediately, more instinct than conscious decision, leaping the couch in one graceful movement. Peter can feel the thud of footsteps behind him before he’s even out the door. There’s no chance he can outrun this maniac.

But Peter has home field advantage. He knows the nooks and crannies, the ins and outs of the place. He doesn’t bother feinting the wrong direction, just puts all of his energy into sprinting down the hallway towards the kitchens and into the pantry. The pantry door can bolt from the inside, all he has to do is reach it and then he can use the secret stairs to go up to the second floor—

He doesn’t even make it that far. One arm, hard as steel, slips around Peter’s waist jerking him back into a chest like a tree trunk. If this were Tony, Peter might be tempted to go lax—Tony spent many months pursuing Peter (literally and figuratively). While they might chase each other sometimes, Peter knows that it’s just to reaffirm Tony’s dominance. But Barnes has no dominance over Peter, yet, and there’s no way in hell Peter is going to let him take it easily.

He throws his head backwards, but Barnes is so fucking tall that it just hits him in the solar plexus. Barnes drops to his knees taking him to the ground. Peter knows that any fight is almost always over once one opponent is on the ground, so he twists with all the strength he has, nails scratching at the clothed arm that pins him tight. One of his heels comes up to strike the assassin in the balls, and all the breath rushes out of him. He loosens his grip just long enough for Peter to slip away and down the hallway, out into the foyer, and then into the kitchen.

The door slams on the pantry before Peter realizes—Barnes isn’t giving chase anymore. He pauses, breathing as silently through his mouth as he can, reaching down to adjust his hard-on (Jesus, where had that thing come from? Get it together, Peter!). What’s his play? What’s Barnes doing? Has he given up so easily?

Peter creeps to the wall that has the secret stairs, slides open the panel and begins to ascend the steep spiral, tip-toeing so as to not make any noise. Upstairs, he slides open the panel that sits just outside his bedroom with Tony and waits, listening. No sound. Not that he’d be able to hear one over the blood rushing in his ears. He sticks his head out to look left and right like a child about to cross traffic—but the hallway is empty.

Creeping out, he slides the panel closed behind him. He can’t remember if he shut the panel in the pantry, but fuck it. Too late to go back now. Inside his bedroom with Tony is a window that opens up onto the rooftop. It’s easy enough to shimmy his way down the drainpipe and let himself fall the rest of the way into the azaleas. The gardeners hate him, but who fucking cares?

Opening up the bedroom door—Barnes is there standing out the window, looking out with his hands in his pockets like he’s admiring the view of the lawns and the in-ground pool. He glances back at Peter and gives him a smile like a shark’s. Pointing at the window, he says, “Hey, is this the one you like to sneak out of? Huh.”

Peter slams the door shut. Heart in his throat, he almost makes it to the stairs when a cord tangles itself around his shins and sends him careening to the carpeted floor. He looks down in horror at the device Barnes has just throw to trip him like Peter is fucking cattle.

“Did you just use a bolas on me?” Peter says, kicking his legs to free himself. By then, Barnes is on top of him, rolling him onto his stomach and putting a knee into his lower back. The pressure knocks the breath from his lungs.

“I spent too many years living in Russia to count, kid. In Siberia, the Yup’ik kids play with these like toys.”

“Thanks for the culture lesson,” Peter grits out. His erection grinds harshly into the carpet, and he’s more than tempted to squirm and revel in the friction. God, he’s so turned on. No one in his life has ever made him feel this hot save for Tony. “Mind getting off of me, now?”

“You done running?” Barnes asks.

“Get up and find out.” Barnes threads his fingers into Peter’s hair and pulls up. There’s no holding in the moan that slips free of his open mouth. “Harder,” Peter begs, half-joking. Barnes makes a noise in his throat (disgust? Amusement?) before letting go so suddenly that Peter’s forehead nearly kisses the floor.

“Listen to me, Peter.” Barnes’s voice is close as he speaks almost directly into Peter’s ear, but no matter how Peter shifts, he can’t feel the air from the older man’s breath. Tragic. “Tony warned me about everything. Your favorite ways to sneak out, your favorite hiding spots, all your tricks and games. He told me that you’d be like this, a runner, a fighter. Warned me that you might need put down in submission and shown who is in charge. Consider this in no uncertain terms: I am in charge. I am to keep you safe, and I’m going to do it, no matter what that means. We don’t have to be at each other’s throats as long as you follow the few rules that I have.

“Any move you make, you’re going to run it by me first so that I can take proper precautions to keep you alive. Whatever games you want to play aren’t going to phase me until they endanger you. Then you can expect me to put you down, just like this. Do you understand?”

Peter’s head feels fuzzy from the adrenalin of the chase and the euphoria of being caught. He can almost see himself pinned there on the floor like a bug beneath the larger man’s shoe, as if he is outside of his own body, but there is no more giddiness or fear. “Yessir,” Peter slurs. He drools on the carpet.

Above him Barnes withdraws from crushing Peter’s pelvis into the floor and Peter wastes no time in grinding his erection into the carpet, groaning as the sensation bursts across his sensitive skin, neurons sparking like fireworks.

“Jesus, kid,” Barnes mutters.

“How’s it going?” Tony asks, coming up around the last step of the stairs. He eyes Peter on the floor and his face twists, torn between sympathy and amusement. One of Peter’s hands reaches out, hips arching away from the floor and then back down in an absolutely obscene movement that can be mistaken for nothing besides what it is. “Aww, baby,” Tony purrs, eyes glittering. “Did big bad Bucky put you down? Been a while, huh?”

“To-ny,” Peter whines, far breathier than he’d like. But in this fuzzy place, nothing embarrasses him. When Tony offers Peter a hand, he can’t help but nuzzle against it, the contact burning in the best way. Tony helps him up onto shaky legs and Barnes reaches down to untangle him from the bolas.

“We’ll be—ah, indisposed for the rest of the afternoon, Barnes, thank you,” Tony says.

“‘s he coming too, Tony?” Peter asks, looking up the man—Tony! Tony Stark, Peter’s god, his idol, his master, his home and safety.

Tony’s smile wanes. He clears his throat, tucking Peter under his arm while one hand comes up to rub at his sternum the way he does only when the scar beneath his shirt aches. “No, kid. Just us. Bucky will be right outside though, won’t he? Keeping us safe.”

Barnes nods, his head bowed in deference to Tony as the man passes by, and it’s the last thing Peter sees before the bedroom door closes and Tony becomes the center of his universe.

#starker #winterironspider #nff #mafia!tony #brat!Peter

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