#making this tag for the rice incident | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jiminiecrickets · 7 months

Text

jeon jungkook ♡ series masterlist

wc. 2.3k

tags. smut | dom top!m!reader, exhibitionism, handjobs, edging, begging, name-calling, high and dry

jungkook's eyes shine at the sight of the meals the waiter unloads from his arms. he leans forward eagerly, peering down into the clay pot dishes and bright, fresh greens. he wiggles beside you, so much excitement leaking out of him that you can practically taste it. you smile as he brings his hands together to clap quietly, thanking the waiter so genuinely that the man can't help but return his smile.

"wow, you really went all out," jungkook comments, rearranging the dishes for the best dish-to-plate distance for both of you. he nudges your shoulder with an endearing crinkle to his eyes. "is this an attempt to gain my favour? what'd you do?"

"i didn't do anything," you protest. "i can't spoil my man a little after a hard day's work?"

he giggles, lifting your plate to spoon a portion onto it. you sneak your arm under his elbow and steal his plate, giving him a generous mound of fried rice and a few rice paper rolls. "you never spoil me, you stingy rat. i know something's up. did you chip my favourite pyrex container? bend my steak knife? lose my charger?"

"you live with me," you snark, "so those are technically my things. and no, that didn't happen. i'm not a clutz, unlike somebody here."

"i bought them – therefore, they're mine. what's so hard to understand?"

"they're under my insurance, so therefore – they're mine. fuck you."

he smirks. "you'd like to, wouldn't you?" a corner of his lips quirks up as he places your plate in front of you. "by the way, you don't need to say 'so' and 'therefore' one after the other like that." he hums as you set his plate in front of him. he leans over and pecks your cheek. "what a dummy. ah, at least you're handsome... you need to get out of the house more often."

he's such a brat. he's also incredibly clingy, which makes it difficult to do any work from home when you do finally give in to his wishes. every fifteen minutes you get a surprise visit from your boyfriend with another bowl of sliced apples. even tonight, in this fancy restaurant with too-dim lights and black-and-gold décor, he chose to shuffle in shoulder-to-shoulder and thigh-to-thigh in the u-shaped booth rather than sitting across from you like a normal person would.

he even sat there originally, raising your hopes that he would act like a prim and proper date. he then slid over the smooth leather seats while you ordered, laying his head on your shoulder and beaming up at the poor waiter, who was definitely not being paid enough to suffer through jungkook's lovey-dovey antics.

not ten minutes go by without incident. jungkook props his chin on your shoulder. his cologne smells light and fresh, like clean linen. he points at a slice of duck meat. "i want."

you put it on his plate. he pouts at it, hooking his shoe behind your calf. slowly, it slides up the back of your leg. "no, hyung-ah! want you to feed me. ahh..."

you glance around, warm in the cheeks and not from the heat of the busy restaurant or from the starchy suit. he blinks up at you expectantly, mouth open.

his eyes are just a little too lidded to not remind you of situations far dirtier than this. you clear your throat and shove the duck meat into his mouth until he almost chokes. he pulls away from your shoulder, and so does the creeping hand across your belt.

he grumbles as he swallows. "you coulda killed me, hyung. why'd i have to fall in love with such a mean guy?"

"because i'm handsome," you say nonchalantly, "like you said. apparently, it's my only good trait."

he hooks his arm through yours with a soft whine, food forgotten. you spoon another slice of duck into his mouth – you're paying for all of it, regardless if it goes into his stomach or the bin. he would definitely appreciate it a lot more. "hyung! that's not true. i love you for other reasons, too."

"mm, is that right, darling? name one." you slide a mouthful of glass noodles between his teeth. he winks when he notices how closely you're watching, making sure to be extra slow when he drags his lips over the spoon.

how he can make that attractive, you have no idea.

"well," he hums after swallowing, "you have a big dick!"

you nearly knock over the table in your haste to slap a hand over his mouth. your face burns. you hiss, "shut up! shut the fuck up. please, we are in public."

he waits until you lower your hand. he smiles innocently. "make me, hyung."

he goes right back to eating, unhooking his arms from yours and tucking his feet under himself. he wraps his lips around the chopsticks, glancing slyly in your direction to see if you're watching. you are. his lips shine slightly with oil from the fried dishes, plump and pink from the chilli powder. they curve up into a smirk as you place a firm hand on his knee.

popping a piece of chicken in his mouth, he lets out a soft moan, eyes closing gently as he savours the taste. "so good, baby. see? i knew you had some good qualities – you always manage to choose the best dishes on the menu, even if you've never tried it before. open your mouth for jungkookie, please. here comes the aeroplane."

he lifts the chopsticks, hovering a palm under it. you maintain eye contact as you accept it begrudgingly, doing your best to slam mental understanding through to him. you're in a restaurant that celebrities frequent – if you two are seen doing anything so much as a hair too risqué, you'll be kicked to the curb and your faces will be blacklisted forever behind reception. he's already pushing it, practically sitting on your lap.

his hand brushes over the front of your pants when he draws back. the glint in his eyes tells you that it's no accident.

fine. you'll play his game.

your hand slides up his knee to his thigh, squeezing in warning. you knuckle the edge of your hand into his soft bulge, concealing the movement with a shift on the booth seat. you feel his knee jerk, nearly hitting the table.

he clears his throat and continues eating, taking your nearly-empty plate and giving you another portion of every dish. how kind of him.

his trousers are beltless – ruins the lines of his jacket, he argued – and you glide your fingers over the front, finding the cold of his zipper easily. you palm his cock, hiding your smirk behind a quaint little appetiser as his hips shuffle discreetly.

he's always loved this game, touching when he shouldn't and where he shouldn't. you try to be mature about it, knocking his hands away or kicking his feet under the table when they get too close to their mark, but he's your baby, and you don't punish him nearly enough for any of your stern lectures to truly take root in that pretty little head of his.

you drag his zipper down.

your fingers slip into the gap under the button top, tracing gentle lines along his cock. it twitches with interest.

his pants are high-waisted, which makes it easier to hook your fingers into his boxer shorts – you have to personally thank whoever made loose-fits popular again – and fish out his cock. when he feels your fingers wrap firmly around him, his head snaps towards you and his eyes widen.

you smile sweetly back at him. what did he think would happen? you turn back to your meal, and after a still moment, he follows, his movements stiffer than before.

you stroke him lazily. you don't have to do much to get him riled up – the setting seems to pluck at his seams. he shuffles around so often that you barely have to move your hand; he does it for you.

you lean in, lips by his ear. "quit moving so much, baby. you'll get caught."

jungkook's throat bobs harshly as he nods, quiet and obedient as he stares down into his plate. as a reward, your fist quickens, and his breath hitches, eyes shutting briefly as your finger slides over his wet tip, smearing his precum down the length of his hard shaft.

"what's wrong, darling?" you ask with faux innocence. "you haven't touched your dinner in some time. want to order something else? a drink?"

he shakes his head, sucking on the ring through his lower lip. his cheeks are beginning to tint pink, and his wide eyes dart around the restaurant. eventually, they fall on you. "n-no, thank you, hyung," he replies in a small voice, lifting his hands and placing them palm-down on the dark table. he raises the spoon to his mouth.

he's so good for you! your heart melts a little. maybe it's the weight of being caught with his dick out – literally – but he's been quelled, his sneaky feet and sly glances left behind entirely.

it's bad for your ego. you have him in the palm of your hand – just a few fingers and you have infamous college bad-boy jeon jungkook melting into a hot, sticky puddle.

your hand pumps him steadily under the table. if he was in his right mind, he might recognise it as the classic pop 4/4 time signature, which you do for your own amusement. he lets out a shaky sigh, listing heavily against your side. you rest your cheek against the top of his head and tighten your fist, scraping along his veins rapidly to a bouncing beat, and his knuckles turn white around his chopsticks.

you glance over them in amusement. "going to stab me with those, jeon?"

he loosens his grip and holds them properly, rather than like a stake he'd enjoy driving into your heart. he shakes his head, uttering a weak "uh-uh" as he turns his face into your shoulder. his breaths are hot and heavy, unsteady and stuttered.

you bite back a satisfied smile. "not such a tease now, are you?" you murmur into his ear. "i wonder how long you can hold it..."

he chokes out a tiny whimper. "no – no, please, hyung, please don't make me—"

"well, what else are you going to do? come all over the bottom of this table, all over your trousers and your shoes, like a needy whore?"

he jerks into your fist with a swallowed gasp. he doesn't even bother to try and look as if he's eating dinner – he's just trying not to moan too loudly.

poor thing. you stroke his hair kindly.

his cock is soaked. you can hear your wet movements under the table. he whimpers into your shoulder, a death grip on your forearm as he humps your fist.

"h-hyung," he gasps softly, his voice cracked and hoarse. "hyung, ah, ah, i c-can't—"

"mm, darling? want me to stop?"

all he does is whine quietly.

"excuse me, sir?"

you look up into the concerned eyes of a waiter – the same one who served you earlier. he gestures to jungkook, whose hair covers just enough to hide the sex-addled haze of his blown irises. his red cheeks, however, are not. "is he alright?"

you chuckle, nodding. "yeah, he'll be okay after an ibuprofen and a big glass of water. not a big drinker – you understand." you gesture to your wine glass, which is half-finished. you probably won't drink the rest of it; you've got something far tastier to get yourself drunk on tonight.

the waiter nods with a sympathetic smile. he bows slightly. "right! sorry for interrupting your dinner, then. have a good evening."

you smile as he leaves. you turn back to jungkook, who finally parts his lips to let out a breathless, near-silent moan. your hand had never stopped. his fist tightens in your jacket.

"you're doing so well, darling," you whisper, his precum dripping down your knuckles. his cock pulses hotly with each quick, dragging stroke. "you're doing so well for me. doing so well for hyung. you want to be good for me, yeah?"

he nods quickly, panting softly. "y-yeah, yeah, hyung, wanna be good f'you. 'm good jus' f'you."

the way he's slurring his words could pass him for drunk if it really came down to it. he wraps his arms around you, and you can feel his tremble even deeper now – it's not just his thighs or his hands. he's trembling all over.

he's trying so hard for you.

you twist your voice into something sweet and gentle. "that's right. you've done so well tonight – look, we've finished all of the food we ordered! want to go home now, baby?"

he nearly whines aloud, gazing up at you with dark, desperate eyes. he gulps hard. "y-yes, yes please, let's go home, let's go let's go—"

"okay, okay," you laugh, gently tucking him away into his pants. he shifts in discomfort. you give him your jacket as you slide out of the booth, and he grabs it gratefully and folds it over his arm to hold over the visible tent in his pants. "i just need to pay and we're all set. want to wait in the car?"

he flushes and nods, taking your hand in his own. "yeah, if you wouldn't mind..."

"of course. anything for my darling."

#top male reader #x male reader #male reader #dom male reader #bts x male reader #dom reader #top reader #bottom bts #bottom jungkook #jungkook x male reader #kpop x male reader #bts x reader #kpop x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut

363 notes · View notes

spidercookie18 · 6 months

Text

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒖𝒏 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝑯𝒊𝒅𝒆

The Lost Boys 1987 AU set in modern time. None of the boys died, and all the Emersons/Star/Laddie/Frog brothers are vampires. This is explained later…

Tags: Halfing vampire, swearing, talks of abuse/abuser/manipulation , mentions of loss of family, also scenting, use of y/n, afab, use of she/her. Warnings: This chapter discusses abuse/abusers Summary: Y/N, left to her own devices, goes through the boys belongings in the cave, David takes this as an invitation to do the same to her house. Word Count: 8.6k Previous chapter here: Next chapter here:

“No one should suffer what I suffered. I still dread those scenes when man killed man. I lost my parents, most of my family, by running away.” — Milkha Singh

Chapter Three

You woke up some time later, your hand immediately moving to your neck to make sure your vial was still there; it was. You sighed in relief, then looked to see the color of the blood inside. It was black, like obsidian, “that’s not good…”

Your eyes opened to an unfamiliar view; your body ached horribly as you tried to sit up. You saw a dim bit of light shine through near what you could only assume was a cave; it was probably midafternoon with how hard you slept. You looked down at your body and tried to remember what happened before you passed out. “Oh yeah… David,” your mind wandered to the night before. “That explains the bruises, and…” you looked down at the jackets wrapped around your naked form, “the lack of clothes.” You brought the collar of the jacket to your nose and inhaled. You smiled; it smelled like David…

Come to think of it, you smelled like David.

“Ugh,” you crinkled your nose at the smell, it was oppressive. You felt around for your bag, hoping David didn’t leave all your stuff up on the hill.

No luck. No phone, no gun, no clothes… you looked around the chamber and didn’t manage to see anyone. There was a wheelchair by the bed with a Chinese take-out container and a small metal bucket, “that better not be for me,” you hissed. Your mouth felt dry, and your stomach ached, you wondered just how much come David had made you swallow last night after you passed out.

You groaned as you moved to get out of the bed that was covered in miscellaneous blankets, “at least the sheets smell clean.” They had probably been washed recently, but you didn’t take the boys for avid housekeepers; someone else must have been making them wash their fabrics. You stepped your bare feet on the cool ground below you.

Above you, Marko was the first to hear you shambling around; he was a much lighter sleeper after the… incident, and he elbowed David who groggily woke up. Marko pointed down at the bed and the two of them watched as you poked your head out from the curtains to look around.

“You get back in that bed,” David said sternly. You looked around. His voice, no longer dark and distorted, echoed off the walls, but you couldn’t see him.

“David?”

“You are not to leave this cave; do you understand me?”

“David, I need to go home.” You called to him, stressing the urgency of your situation.

“Well, I obviously can’t take you right now, can’t I?”

You grumbled, annoyed at him, and continued to look around, “I’m hungry.”

The other boys began to wake up at the commotion, “you have rice, eat your rice.”

“I have to pee.”

“Well, that’s what the bucket is for isn’t it?”

The boys snickered.

You furrowed your brows in frustration, “where’s all my stuff? Can I have some clothes?”

“You’ll get it back later.”

You sniffed the jacket again, “David, I need a shower.”

The boys were laughing now.

“No. You don’t,” David replied. He’d worked so hard to scent you all night, he wasn’t going to let you undo all that so easily.

“David, I need water.”

“Just eat your rice! I’ll get you water later.”

“Fucking vampire asshole,” you grumbled under your breath.

“I can hear you.” David retorted.

“Yeah, I know! That’s why I fucking said it!”

The boys had all busted out laughing at David’s frustration with his new mate, and how unafraid you were to yell at him. “Bahahaha!” “Oooooh, she told you!” “Get er’, David!”

“Everybody shut the hell up and go back to sleep! And you stay in this damn cave!”

He growled, huffed, then went back to sleep.

Angrily, you turned back to pick up the rice, “what, no fork?”

You eyed the bucket meanly, no way in hell I’m going to be using a ‘bucket’, you thought.

You angrily shoved the bucket off the chair, and it clanked and rattled as it rolled away. You picked up the paper container and ate the rice with your fingers and walked around the cave.

There was little light, but you had just enough vampire blood in your vial to see the cave for what it was. For being an actual hole in the ground it wasn’t horribly filthy. Sure, it was dirty, and cluttered, it’s a cave; but there weren’t decomposing bodies and spoiled food all over the place. It was about as trashed as you’d expect four eternally immature a-holes to keep it though. Littered with beer cans, cigarette butts, miscellaneous trash, and dirty clothes. The cave smelled damp, like stale sea water, and when you walked near the dirty clothes it smelled a bit sour. You crinkled your nose and continued to look around.

Up in the ceiling you noticed some hair and you went to investigate.

“You can’t be serious…” how pretentious do you have to be to sleep like that?

“David,” you called to him, “psst!” He shut his eyes tighter, the fucker was ignoring you. “Ugh!” you groaned in frustration. They were obviously not going to wake up; if the bucket didn’t wake them, and you calling to them didn’t make them budge, then nothing would.

So, you walked around, turning the to-go container into your mouth and looked at all the boys’ things. There were electrical wires and roots coming out from the ceiling and walls.

Odd, you thought to yourself. You noticed stairs and pieces of concrete and structures that looked like they belonged to some building. Something must’ve fallen into the cave at some point you figured. You continued to walk around the space and noticed a very dark corner off behind where the boys were sleeping. You walked slowly up to it and there was an eerie whistling sound; the wind you hoped. The darkness of it that seeped into the main chamber of the cave made your hair stand on end, probably best to avoid that part for now…

You stepped away from it and looked back around the space. They had music and movie posters covered over the sharpest parts of the rocks and records hanging from the ceiling. It actually looked like the movie posters they keep outside of theatres. You wouldn’t be surprised if that’s where they got all their ‘art’ from.

There were, what looked like windchimes, or ‘art sculptures’ made of human bones and sticks. “Classy,” you chuckled. As you looked around you noticed there were several distinct areas of the cave that looked to be the boys ‘rooms’.

There was one that was all old pieces of fabric and thread, and lots of wine bottles. The fabric looked to be cut up jeans and probably stolen clothes, like silk, and lace, and fur. There was also a makeshift pigeon coop built into the side of the cave wall. Someone really loves these birds. You thought as you walked around the space, the pigeons cocked their heads at you and softly cooed. There was an old book, or maybe a bible sitting by a mess of pillows on the floor. The book title had been rubbed off over the years, but the edges of the paper look to be gold foil, so a bible was your best guess. The leather-bound book sat atop an old, rusted metal box. Moving the book, you opened the box and saw miscellaneous keepsakes. An old dirty coin with a man and a curly mustache on it, a red chili made of glass, a picture, and some notes and a dried white lily. One of the notes look like it said, “Siate buoni, siate gentili, siate giusti." The picture was of Marko, and about a dozen other curly haired blonds. They were all crowded in the picture, and he stood next to, what you thought to be his mother. You could barely tell it was him as he looked to be a young boy, but that devious grin… it was definitely Marko. You gently closed the lid of the box and put the book back on top.

The next space you walked into was filled with blankets and pillows and had children’s toys scattered about. Are they nannies? You picked up a small toy fireman and noticed the face all chewed off. “Yueh!” You threw it down in disgust. Little did you know, it wasn’t the ‘nanny’ or his kid that chewed on the toys, but Marko and Paul; the gremlins of the group. You threw yourself in the mess of fluff and stuff on the ground and admired the things this boy had hanging up. You sat back in the pillows and picked at the rice. He had shells, and feathers, and small bones, and sea glass hung up like a baby’s mobile. You watched the small objects circle lazily overhead; it was a very comforting feeling. As you wiggled around to get comfortable you felt something poke at you from the pillow beneath you. You sat up and moved the pillow from your back, there was a small wooden box. When you slid the lid off you had to keep yourself from crying. It was two silver rings, a picture, and baby socks. The picture was of Dwayne and a young woman, she was round as the Sun, and they both looked so happy. You could imagine how sad that tale ended but did your best not to think of it. You slid the lid back on the box and tucked it underneath the pillows. The comforting feeling quickly faded, and you left that alcove the second you got your bearings.

You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself and continued walking around the cave. You stumbled a bit in the dark and came upon the next room. This space, you noticed was full of very human nick-nacks. Surfboards, skateboards, hockey sticks, old glow sticks, CD’s, guitars, a heavily patched up bean bag chair, and a Rubik’s cube. You picked up the toy and turned it in your hand, it looked like someone had peeled the stickers off and stuck them back on to solve it. It made you chuckle. This ‘room’ looked smaller than the others, until you realized that half of it was up in the rafters. There was a second part of this space that was high above the ground, you put the rice on the floor and flew up there you saw some of the things this boy kept. There was an old tattered green and yellow winter scarf, some rocks that weren’t the same color as the cave rock, shoelace strings, broken and half broken sunglasses, rubber bands, acorns, and this one too had a box of keepsakes. You knew it wasn’t your place to go through their things, especially after what the last one held, but you couldn’t help yourself. You opened the lid of the shoebox and saw a picture, ticket stubs of concerts and movies, guitar picks, and scraps of newspaper. The paper scraps were of various things from a town in Wisconsin, nothing that made sense to you. The picture was of Paul and a young blond girl. He was in a hockey uniform, nose bleeding with a chipped tooth in his smile, and he held his arm around her shoulder. She looked like him, crazy, wild hair and big soulful blue eyes. It was probably his kid sister, you wondered what happened to her. You looked at the ticket stubs for movies from eighty some odd years ago, and concert tickets from the last few decades. It looks like the boys, or at least Paul, went to plenty of concerts.

With how little magic there was left in the vial you could feel yourself falling. You quickly put the box back in its place and you fell hard on the ground with an, “oomf.” You rubbed the plush of your ass where you landed and dusted off the jackets.

You continued to rub your bruised skin and picked the rice container off the ground. You looked over at the next space, it had an odd feeling as you stepped into it. It was full of boxes and old paper. There were dozens of boxes full of old VHS tapes, more boxes full of CD’s, cassettes, camcorder tapes, and newspapers. There was a small nest of blankets on an army cot between the boxes, a laptop and what looked like a picture album.

You smacked the bottom of the rice container to get the last bits of food into your mouth and picked up the album. You opened to the first page, which was a picture of David and the boys. It was in color, and there were a few faces in the picture that you didn’t recognize. Dwayne was holding a small boy on his shoulders, next to him, Paul and Marko were making faces at each other. There was an older man with glasses and a woman with short hair who were on either side of a teenage boy. Next to her, there was a couple of young gruff looking boys, and a young man and a young woman, both brunettes. Off on the far side there was David, he was in the picture, but he didn’t really look to be part of the group. You flipped the page, there was a picture of just David and the boys. They were all bouncing around and flipping off the camera. In the next picture it was the same line up, but all the boys looked serious; you guessed whoever was taking the picture had scared them into being good. You smiled down at the photos.

There was a picture of David and the brunet man from the first photo, and on the next page you saw David and the brunette girl; he was smiling, and she looked solemn. “Huh...” you kept flipping, and saw various pictures of places, that were marked with the location and date; they were from all over the country, and went all the way back to the 1840’s. In between the landscapes there was pictures of one or all the boys wearing different period clothes. There were even a few more pictures of David and young men and young ladies, but the pictures all looked the same. He was smiling, and they were not. You got sad, you set the picture album down and a photo slipped out; it was Marko in the front, and the boys all holding pigeons and laughing. “Okay, that’s pretty cute,” you slipped the photo back inside and set the book down.

You noticed the camcorder and picked it up, hoping it had battery. You turned it on, and it surprisingly had a little charge. Opening the camcorder, you noticed there was already a tape inside, you shut it and rewound the tape. After it was rewound, you pressed play. The pixilated footage came into frame and the date flashed August 21, 1987. Google what movie came out that day, you’ll get a kick out of it. It was the young boy and the brunet boy; they were cleaning in a house you didn’t recognize. They didn’t want to look at the camera, and rolled their eyes when the cameraman spoke, it was David. Surprise, surprise, you thought.

‘This is Sam, and Michael, cleaning their granddad’s crap, cause-‘

‘David, shut up,’

‘That’s Mike, he’s pissed cause we were supposed to go to the movies tonight, but he got grounded.’ You can see David point at the tall brunet, with his gloves on. Michael looked up from dusting to make a face and flip off the camera. ‘Hey, you better stop that, or I’m gonna tell your mom; you’ll get double grounded.’

‘David, are you gonna help us or not?’ Sam, the boy, asked. He was sweeping what looked like a kitchen.

‘Not,’ David scoffed, ‘I’m not helping no snitch.’ He walked closer to Michael, putting the camera in his face. ‘Mike, tell us why you got grounded.’

‘Knock it off David,’ Michael turned away from the camera, and David quickly followed him.

‘Come on Michael, tell uuuuusss,’ he said, sing-songy. The brunet was blushing fiercely, and he kept trying to keep his face out of frame.

‘David I’m serious,’

‘I’m serious too, Mike. So, say it.’ Michael stared at the vampire behind the camera, he was still blushing and stuttered at what he wanted to say.

‘It’s cause I caught you guys making out!’ Sam yelled, angry and annoyed.

‘Sam!’ The older brother shouted.

‘Oh, we were doing a lot more than making out, eh? Mike?’

‘DAVID!’ Michael yelled at the blond, who was laughing, clearly amused with himself.

‘Oh, I’m gonna barf!’ Sam yelled; his face was one of disgust. He made a spectacle of being grossed out, not because his brother was making out with David, but because he caught his brother making out.

‘You’re a boy kisser ain’tcha Mike?’ David was back in Michaels personal space.

‘Guys please, not here,’ Sam fake cried.

David held the camera low and pointed it up to capture the kiss between him and Michael. When they finished, the boys were giddy, and Michael dusted the camera lens as a joke. They smiled at each other-

‘EW! MOM!’

Off in the distance you heard someone shout at David. The next thing you knew, the video cut to capture David cleaning the kitchen, side by side with the Emerson brothers. David leaned back to give Michael a kiss on the cheek and the screen flashed black with a red depleted battery symbol.

You smiled at the thought of David being happy, but you wished you could have seen more of the video. Maybe you’ll ask the boys for the charger later.

You looked back around the space and opened a box that was written in a language that looked familiar. There were letters, and paintings, and documents; none of which you could read, but it looked like the paintings were of places they’d been. The letters looked like they were written in various languages, German, French, Italian, and maybe Russian? But you weren’t sure.

The dated paper looked like they went back to the mid 1800’s. You kept thumbing through the pages and there was a picture of a blond boy, standing between an older man and woman, “is that… David?” He looked so much younger than he did now. Still clad in leather, like a cowboy attire, but he looked different…he looked human. You felt melancholy looking at all of the things David and the boys had held onto throughout the centuries.

You walked back to the bed and looked all around the cave as you moved. You heard a soft vibrating, and you looked up, “oh, fuck me.” One of them- probably that asshole David- stuffed your bag up in a ceiling light. “Why is there even a light in here?”

Do they even get electricity?

No, stupid question, it’s a freaking cave.

You sighed at your things way up and out of your reach, “at least he didn’t leave all my stuff out there.”

David really didn’t want you leaving before he woke up; so, defeated, you crawled back into the bed. You looked back over at the sliver of light on the ground, it had begun to turn an orangey color and you’d hoped that the Sun would be setting soon.

You laid back in the bed and tasted your dry mouth. Well, maybe I’ll die before they wake up, you laughed at the morbidity of your situation. You were frustrated at how dehydrated you were getting, especially after a rough night like the one from yesterday. You turned on your side and tried not to think of the aching you felt in your flesh and bones.

Your body was still exhausted from the night before, and with little food, and no water, you were passed out again within an hour of waking up.

David was the last one to wake that night; he was always the first up, and usually way before the other boys. But tonight, he was the last one to stir. Marko and Dwayne loomed over your half naked form, they notice that the rice was all gone, and the bottoms of your feet were black. Paul woke a little after Marko and Dwayne had, being the ‘youngest’ he tended to sleep in.

“You just know she touched all of our stuff,” Dwayne said.

Paul yawned and walked over to where the other two were, “ew, she still smells like David,” he pinched his nose at you.

Dwayne shook the edge of the bed with his shoe, and you moaned weakly. “Oh good, she’s not dead.”

“So, she just smells like that now?” Paul sneered.

“Paul, go get her some water,” Marko instructed.

“Dude, why do I have to get it?”

“Because you know where to get it, stupid. Now hurry up.” Marko barked at him. Paul groaned and took off. Being the second in command, Marko was the boss when David was unavailable. While he didn’t care for you, he knew you were important to David, so he wouldn’t let you be hurt while he was in charge. Paul returned a short while later with a few water bottles and some candy, he handed Marko the bottles and threw himself against the ratty couch to eat his snacks. Dwayne went to sit by him and hit his shoulder, demanding sweets.

“No Dwayne!” The boys argued and Marko sat you up.

He gently nudged you trying to get you to wake up. He kept pushing the bottle against your hand, but you wouldn’t grab it. “Come on,” he was annoyed that he had to baby you, he hated dealing with humans, they were always so weak and couldn’t do anything they could. He tilted your head back and poured the water into your mouth, you gently swallowed. He did that a few more times and finally you woke up.

You groaned and took the bottle that was being pushed to your hand.

“Marko?” you groggily looked at the curly haired blond that sat by you.

“Good, you can take care of yourself now, right?” He said walking away, not waiting for an answer.

You sipped the water and looked over at the boys that were on the couch wrestling over a bag of gummy worms.

“Paul! Fucking share!”

“Get your own!”

What a bunch of scary vampires, you chuckled. Marko walked over to the alcove where the pigeons were, and you could hear the birds coo happily. So, I guess those really are his birds, you thought. You looked around the cave and still didn’t manage to see David. You zipped up the leather coat that was under the wool one and walked through the curtains to the den. Paul and Dwayne looked over at you, “uhm…” Paul didn’t know what to say to you as you walked over to them.

“David’s not up yet,” Dwayne said pulling the bag from Paul, who’d moved his hands to his nose.

“Oh…” you looked around the cave, they’d lit some candles, and some trash cans, so it made it easier to see and move around. “Can I go home yet?”

The boys looked at each other, then over to where Marko had gone. “David said no,” Marko called, as he walked back to where the other boys were sitting on the couch.

“Hey, stay over there,” Paul said to you. He was pointing to the bed, still covering his nose with one hand.

You sniffed the jacket, “oh, yeah. I guess it’s worse for you guys, huh?” They nodded unanimously, “so is there a place around here that I can wash off then?”

“Please don’t make us say no,” Paul begged.

You sat back on the bed with a huff, and the boys talked anxiously amongst themselves. “Can I have my stuff back yet?”

“Knock it off,” Marko shouted, “you know we can’t do that.”

“Okay, well then wake up David, so I can leave.” They didn’t even turn to look at you. “Hello?” No response. “Look, I really need to go!”

“I said knock it off!” Marko screamed at you.

Fine, I know how I can get them to listen to me…

You sat back on the bed, and covered your hands in your face, and sobbed meekly. Paul looked over at you, “dude…you made her cry.”

“She’s faking,” Marko retorted, and you sniffled louder.

Paul and Dwayne restlessly moved around in their seats, “dude, she’s really crying.”

“No, she isn’t,” Marko said, unyielding.

You sobbed louder, “dude, you’re gonna get us all in trouble!” Paul said shoving Marko by the shoulder.

“She’s fucking faking it Paul, look!” Marko stomped over to where you were in the bed and pulled your hands away. To his horror, you were actually crying. You looked up at him with huge tears running down your cheeks.

“Oh, you’re so fucked,” Dwayne laughed from his place on the couch.

You started bawling loudly.

“No! stop! shut up, shut up!” Marko tried shushing you.

You pulled away from him, “DAVI-”, you started to yell, and Marko put his hands over your mouth. You scream cried into his hands and he looked up worryingly.

“Just stop crying, ok? Why are you crying? Please stop crying!” Marko didn’t know what to do, but he knew if he didn’t get you to stop your screeching, David would kick his ass.

Dwayne and Paul looked at each other, “dude, bail?”

“Bail.”

And the two of them ran out of the cave. “Oh, thanks a lot guys!” Marko yelled, still covering your mouth. He looked back at the mess you had become, you kept sobbing violently into his hand, trying to break away. “If I take my hand off, will you please stop screaming?” You nodded, still crying. Marko slowly took his hand off your mouth, and you sniffled quietly. “Okay… now, why are you still crying?”

“B-b-because you haaate meeeeeeeee,” you sobbed.

“I don’t hate you, okay? Please just stop already,” Marko would’ve said anything to get you to stop before David woke up.

“Yes, you dooooooooo, you’re always so m-m-m-mean to meeee,” you whined.

“I’m mean to everyone okay!”

“You won’t even let me have cloooooothes!”

“Because David said you can’t have your stuff back!” He was screaming his whisper.

“I ju-ju-just want to gooo h-h-hooome,” you hid your face in your hands. The cuffs of David’s jackets swallowed your arms.

“Okay, okay! I’ll go get David so he can take you home.” Marko couldn’t get you to stop crying, so he would let David deal with you. You were his mate anyways, so he’d take whatever the consequences of waking him up were to get rid of your shrieking. He flew up into the roost and shook David awake.

“This better be an emergency,” David growled, not opening his eyes.

“You deal with her!”

David’s eyes shot open, and he noticed your whimpers and sobs below. “What the shit Marko!” David flew down to the bed, he threw open the curtains and rushed to your side.

“Daaaaviiid,” you held your arms open for him as you sobbed. You looked absolutely pathetic at this moment.

“Shh, shh I’m here sweet thing,” he said, holding you against his chest. David pulled you atop his lap and turned to look at Marko, “you have ONE job while I’m asleep. Look after the pack. Can’t you do that?!” David shouted at Marko.

“David…I-”

“Just, go!” David’s voice was booming in his chest, you actually felt bad for Marko.

“Fuck this shit!” you heard Marko huff as he left.

David pulled you off his chest so he could look at you as he wiped the tears from your face. “Sweet thing, what happened?”

“David…I’m sorry,” he looked so worried, your mind went to the picture album; your heart ached at the thought of him being alone all these years, but you felt horrible for how you got Marko in trouble.

“Y/N, what happened.”

“Don’t be mad at Marko… he tried to take care of me,” David looked at you, his ears twitching at your words. “I just… I needed to go home, and they wouldn’t let me.”

“Y/N what did you do?”

“…I needed them to get you.” You held up the necklace, “it’s my vial, I just… I couldn’t tell them, and Marko wouldn’t get you.”

David’s eyebrows lowered, “so you started crying…”

“I’m sorry, but I really do need to go home!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Don’t fucking scare me like that,” he sighed, “ever again. And you will apologize to the others. Especially Marko.” He held you by the shoulders and looked into your eyes, disapprovingly.

“Yes David,” you said meekly.

“What’s wrong with your vial?”

“I think last night really drained me, and since I’m connected to it…” you shrugged.

“And you still won’t take my blood?”

You looked up at him with doe eyes.

“Fine… I’ll take ya home.” David stood up from the bed. He rubbed the back of his neck, “where did Dwayne put…” he looked around.

“David?” You called to him as you peeked through the curtains.

“Well, you need your stuff don’t ya?” David said, looking around, “where the hell…”

“Oh, I thought you did that?”

“Huh?”

You pointed to the round ceiling light hanging high above you both. David chuckled, he flew up and grabbed the bag and brought it back down for you. “Thank you,” you pulled your wrinkled dress from the bag, turned, and pulled the jackets off yourself. David was putting on his boots when he looked up to notice you changing, he sucked air in through his teeth, and you rolled your eyes at him, “shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything, sweetness.”

“Mmhm.” You pulled the dress over your body. You smoothed the fabric over your form and put your hair up with a clip from your bag. David watched as you moved the clip from your mouth to your hair. From the corner of your eye, you watched him adjust, “oh, you’re just insatiable aren’t you,” you laughed.

He walked over to you and placed his hands on your hips, “can I have you again later?” He placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“We’ll see,” you kissed back. He groaned as you pulled away from him, and carefully led you up the entrance.

You looked around at the ocean as the waves crashed upon the rocks by the cave entrance. You noticed something off to the side, it was the lighthouse you’d passed last night, and you quickly oriented yourself. The horn in the tower sounded and you jumped, startled at the sound. David chuckled as you clutched your heart, “fuck, that scared me.”

He patted your head and scooped you up in his arms. David flew you up the stairs and placed you gently down next to the bikes. “I can walk, David,” you giggled.

“You really trust those stairs?”

You looked back at the warped and mangled old wood that led down the cliff, “fair enough,” you shrugged.

You followed David behind some rocks where his bike was and got on the bike behind him. He pulled your hand from his waist and kissed your fingers, he smiled against your skin and put your arm back down around him. “You’re really layin’ on the charm ain’tcha?” You rolled your eyes at his cutesy behavior.

“I told ya, I want ya.” He put his boot out on the ground and revved the bike, he made a quick turn and you both sped off down to town. The town bustled with bodies, and you looked to the sidewalks where people walked in tandem. It was still early in the night, you saw the orangey, reddish glow of the sun over the waves. David swerved through traffic, this time it was less frightening, especially now that you expected it. You trusted he wouldn’t let harm come to you, that his words weren’t just talk. He turned onto your street and slowed to a stop in the driveway next to your truck.

You let David get off first, then followed up the steps of the porch behind him.

You were starting to like him; he was firm, but fair, and he treated you with a kindness you had long since forgotten. You thought of him and the other boys, you enjoyed watching them all together; they were idiots, but they loved each other. The thought of them all together made you smile; you pulled your keys from your bag and unlocked the door; David held the screen door for you as you walked through the threshold. You turned to look at him and his puppy dog eyes as his boot scratched at the floor in front of the door.

You laughed heartily, “you can come in David,” he lit up and bounced through the entrance. You wiped a tear from your eye and turned on the light. David looked around at all your things, the whole house smelled like you, he took a deep breath and reveled in the smell.

You rolled your eyes at his behavior, “don’t break all my shit,” you walked off to the bedroom.

He picked up a throw pillow from the couch and pressed it to his face, inhaling you for a moment, then he sauntered off to find you. He found you kneeling on the floor with your closet doors open. You pulled a wooden box from the back of the closet and opened the lid. David subconsciously growled as the air from inside the box hit his nose, “I know, I’m sorry.”

You picked up a few herbs from inside and then held a nearly empty test tube up. The liquid inside was a falu red, it was beginning to grey with age, or maybe it was already grey, David thought. He eyed the blood inside, there was an old scotch tape label on the side of the glass that read, M. Ressequie.

You turned to David now, your voice grave as you spoke, “you might want to leave for this,” and waited for him to move.

“I can handle it,” he stood, looming over you.

You sighed, “okay…I’ll try to be fast,” and popped the lid off. David felt like he was going to be sick. He swayed and stumbled into the wall, his cheeks turned a greenish sick, and he felt his mouth go dry.

The stench was powerful, it was more than anything he’d ever come across. He’d smelt Max’s blood before, and that was so strong, in and of itself… but this. This was malicious, he felt a pang in his bones, down to his core he knew something was wrong with that blood.

You grabbed another vial from the case and moved quickly to fill the small glass before you. You filled half of the empty vial with the blood and threw in a concoction of herbs from another vial. You put the glass on the ground and capped the test tube, the air started to clear of the smell, and David grasped his chest. You pricked your finger with a needle and squeezed a few drops into the vial. You prayed over it, in a language David did not recognize, and the mixture in the vial turned black, then glowed a bright red, there was the sound of something sizzling and bubbling. Then, with a loud CRACK the blood stopped glowing. You capped the vial and took off the necklace around your neck and tied the new one on. You quickly put everything back in the box and shoved it deep into the corner of the closet.

You shut the doors, your hands pressing against the wood, as if you took your hands away something would push them open and bring the sickening smell back. Your chest heaved, you hated doing the ritual, and you felt terrible that David had to witness that.

David.

You turned to look at him. He had slumped down against the wall, still holding his hand over his heart.

“Are you okay?” You crawled over to him.

“No…” he looked off past your gaze, to the other side of the room, “why… why was it like that?”

“I told you to leave.”

“What the fuck…” he whispered out; he’d finally regained enough of himself to look back at you. He had a panicked look on his face as he threw his arms around you. He held you tightly against his body, and you felt the wind be knocked clean from your lungs.

“D-David,” you choked out, trying to wiggle free from him.

“My sweet thing,” he placed his hand to the back of your head as he held you, “I’m so sorry,” David whispered against your ear.

You felt your heart break.

You’d tried so hard, for so long, to try and not think of all the things that you lived through with that monster. But watching this vampire crumble at the mere scent of his blood was nauseating. You didn’t know if you felt comforted or anguished that someone else knew the horrors that you’d lived. The scent of his blood alone let David know how monstrous the vampire you ran away from was. You tried not to cry as he held you, but you felt your mask slip, and you sobbed; pathetically, quietly, begrudgingly against his shoulder.

He held you silently as you wept, squeezing you tighter, as if he were worried, that you’d slip away from him. After a moment he pulled back from you and pressed his forehead against yours. “Never… never again,” he whispered, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you as your pained tears turned to ones of joy.

David decided in that moment, he would do everything he could to keep that monster from you. You were a part of their pack, even if you weren’t bound to him by blood, he would keep you safe; he would keep everyone safe. He slowly let you pull away from him, and he wiped the tears that ran down your face. You sighed, and took in the sight of David before you, he still looked at you in awe, and sadness. And you smiled kindly at him, holding his hand in yours, he smiled back.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

You and David turned to look at the front door. “Who the fuck?” Your moment was ended abruptly, and David wanted to tear through whoever was dragging you away from him.

You walked over to go see who it was, and David slowly stood, still eyeing the closet doors with agitation.

You opened the front door to see your neighbor, Nick, standing on your front porch with something behind his back.

“Nick?” You peeked through the front door and the screen door, “is everything alright,” you asked.

“Heey, Y/N, yeah, I got your mail again,” he tapped the newspaper against the door.

“Oh, it’s just the paper, you don’t have to drop that off every time,” you smiled politely.

“No no, I wanted to bring it to you personally, I tried to come by earlier, but… you weren’t home? Your truck is here so I thought…” he tapped the screen door with the paper again, and you opened it to grab the paper.

“Yeah, it’s just been one of those long, crazy days.”

“Oh, I hear that,” he stuck his head out, trying to peer into the house behind you, “say, who’s bike is that?”

“Oh, sorry about that, I know the noise is a lot for the hour,” you chuckled, closing the door a little, you didn’t really want to tell him David was inside. Nick was already so weird around you, as things were. You didn’t want him knowing he wasn’t the man walking around inside your house.

“That’s my bike,” David walked up behind you, placing one hand on the doorframe, and the other on the door, practically engulfing your body in his. He was in no mood to deal with some guy sniffing around his new mate, especially not after what just happened. He sized up Nick, giving him an unfriendly smile.

Nick stood on your porch, bathed in the light that came from behind you, he didn’t like the look of David, and he was even more upset at how he spoke to him. “Oh, Y/N, I didn’t know you had...company,” he stared back at David.

“I don’t, David is just my friend,”

“Wrong,” David said, placing his chin in the crook of your shoulder, “is there anything else I can help you with…” David smiled sickly at him. The word accentuated as David’s tongue pressed off his teeth, his lips up in a sneer. David narrowed his eyes, “Nick?” He said, using the man’s name as an insult.

Nick looked at how David hung off you and looked back to your face. You pulled your body in from the doorframe. Nick stopped smiling.

You tried to ease the tension, it was damn near palpable, “thanks again for the paper, Nick.”

“Anytime Y/N,” he looked back at David.

“Byeee, Nick.” David said singsongingly, he chuckled as he pulled you inside and slammed the door in Nick’s face.

You turned to look at David, “you don’t have to be such an asshole about it.”

He snatched the newspaper from you, “please, it’s not like you want him around,” the paper rustled as he moved it around in his hands. He meandered off towards the bedroom as you yelled at him.

“Yeah, but that’s not the point David.”

He flapped the paper open and held it in front of his face. “Oh, sharks are going to the playoffs this year,” David said casually as he flipped through the pages.

“David, you can’t force people out of my life.”

“But you don’t want him in your life.” He sat back down on your bed.

“He’s just a neighbor, people need neighbors.”

“You think he’s happy being just neighbors with you?” he flipped a page. “I could hear him getting hard from the bedroom.”

“Do you think I can’t handle myself?”

“Hm, looks like we’re getting rain on Thursday,” he said, ignoring you.

“David!” You pulled the paper from his hands.

“Well see, now who’s being rude?”

You frowned at him, “David…” you pouted.

“Sweet thing, I don’t want males sniffing around you.” He cupped your face in his hands, “don’t you have girl neighbors?”

You pulled away from him, “that’s not cute.”

“You don’t think I’m cute?” He walked to you.

“David! I don’t want to be caged!” You pushed him away.

“Sweetness…” he turned you to face him. His finger under your chin, trying to get you to look at him. You turned your head to avoid his gaze. “My job is to keep you safe. I’m not trying to ‘lock you away’,” David bent down to look in your eyes, crooning his neck. “I just want to keep you safe; I won’t lock you away, you know that right?” He placed a soft kiss against your nose, and you huffed, giving in.

“Knock it off,” you brushed off your nose.

“What? I can’t kiss you now?” He was trying to be playful to get out of being yelled at. He nuzzled against your cheek.

“You’re still in trouble,” you said to him, wrapping your hands around his neck.

“Mmhm,” he said against your skin. He kissed down your neck and let his hands trail down to your ass.

You yelped, “David!”

He chuckled, “I like when you say my name.” His lips scraped against your skin. You whimpered for him; David was pleased with your reaction. From the corner of his eye, he saw something move, he stopped kissing your neck and looked over through the window. He saw Nick, in his house, peeking through his blinds, “mother fucker!” David threw the window open and shouted at the man,” you like to watch huh?!” David was fuming, “WATCH HOW I KICK YOUR FUCKING TEETH IN!” Nick scurried from his place at the window and yelled when the lightbulb in his house exploded. You stood, confused at what David was doing.

He slammed the window, locked it, shut the blinds and then the curtains. He turned around, he was pissed, “David? What happened?”

“Do you know that fucking asshole watches through the window!”

“Who?”

“Nick,” he hissed out the name.

You scoffed, “you can eat him later,” you turned to walk into the bathroom. “I’m going to shower before we leave,”

“No,” he grabbed your arm, “you’re gonna wash my scent off.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point,” you tried to pull your arm from him, and he pouted. “Daaaavid, I stink! I need to shower.”

He let you go, and crossed his arms in a huff, “fine, I’m just gonna have to put it back on you again later…”

You turned on the bathroom light and started to strip, “that’s fine by me.”

He perked up, he was watching your every move through the shower glass; how your hair fell down and clung against your wet skin. How your hands rubbed over the plush of your breasts, the curve of your ass when you bent down to wash your legs. He growled, he could feel his pants tightening and his mind wandered to how he was going to scent you again that night. He pushed his hands down his jeans to adjust and looked around the room.

David wanted to touch you, but he knew he very well couldn’t with the shower turned on; so, he rummaged through your things while he waited.

He opened your drawers and sorted through your jewelry, and socks, and... your panties. He of course, picked his favorite one and threw that on the bed, planning on making you wear it the second you got out of the shower. He looked through your kitchen cabinets, and your laundry room, your fridge and freezer, he touched all the nick-nacks on your shelves and books on your bookshelf.

David noticed you had little miniatures of different famous buildings, the Lurve, Big Ben, Taj Mahal, the Pyramids, the Colosseum, a Japanese shrine, the Statue of Liberty, even a few rocks that were labeled with different countries. He picked up a red one that read ‘Grand Canyon, 2004’. He looked at all the things you had and practically picked up and set down each and every one of them. He looked for a photo album, or letters, or paintings, like he kept. He wanted to learn your idiosyncrasies and the things you kept hidden.

No luck on the photos, or the letters…where would she keep them. A lightbulb went off in that sick little mind of his, and he made his way back into your bedroom and stood in front of your closet.

He grunted in annoyance. He didn’t want to go in there, not after the reaction he had to Montgomery’s blood, but if there was one place you’d kept something important, it was there. He slowly opened the closet doors, careful not to make a sound, and looked at all the things that were inside. He looked at all your clothes, and shoes, your hats, dresses, scarves, bottoms, and tops.

She’s got a lot of nice things, David thought to himself.

He quietly pushed aside the hangers and reached for a small box that was on the top shelf of the closet. He opened it, “bones?” He quickly put the box back where it was, simply because it wasn’t what he was looking for. I wonder what she does with them. David thought of how Paul, and one time Marko, thought it was funny to make art with bones.

There was a box of bullets next to the bone box, and he chuckled thinking about the big gun in your little hands. His eyes scoured the closet for something of interest, then stared down at the wooden box you had shoved to the back of the closet. He hated that he was afraid to touch it, he peered into the bathroom to make sure you were still busy. You were humming away, sudsing up your hair, enjoying the warm feeling of the water; blissfully unaware of how your vampire mate had just ransacked your home.

David knelt down on the floor and pulled the box towards himself. He took a deep breath and prepared himself for what was inside. To his surprise, it was much bigger on the inside than he had thought, “stupid magic.” He pushed around the vials and herbs to the side and saw some papers clipped to the lid, it was a picture of you and some people. The picture was an old dingey brown, and the date written on the back said 1972. The people in the photo all looked like you, David felt a pang in his heart, was this her family?

He set the photo back down and continued to sift around in the box, he pulled out another picture, it was you in a letterman with a few people laughing around. They all had letterman jackets, and he recognized your truck in the background, he smiled at how happy you looked. Rummaging through the rest of the pictures he noticed one had a cigarette burn though one of the faces. It was you, and a man, you had a black eye that was poorly covered up by makeup, and the man held you around the waist. David figured that it was a photo of you and Montgomery, he wished you hadn’t burned a hole in the photo so he could know what he looked like. But still, he hated the way you looked, so pained in the image. He looked at the test tube, it was nearly empty.

What was she planning on doing after the blood ran out?

…Would she just have died?

David felt angry looking at all the things.

He wanted to throw the vial away, he wanted to fill it with his blood, so you would not be bound to that monster anymore. But he knew better, he didn’t even dare touch the glass with his hands. He was used to blood magic, hell, that’s what feeding was for them. But something like this was beyond what he was used to. He heard the shower squeak off and scurried to shove all the things back in the box. He quickly shut the lid and shoved it back into the corner where he had found it.

“David,” you called to him.

“Yes darlin?” he was worried you’d caught him.

“David, I’m hungry,” you shouted.

He sighed in relief; he shut the closet doors and quickly made his way to your bed. He threw himself against it with a huff, “ahh, yeah? What do you want?” He looked over at you as you walked through the doorway, you had the towel wrapped around your body and the water beaded as it dripped down your hair. His head lifted off the bed, and he smiled at you.

“David?” You batted your eyes at him.

“Yes sweetness?” David smiled. Maybe he wouldn’t have to wait to get you back to the cave to taste you, he thought with that sweet look on your face.

“What’s that?” You pointed at something on the bed above David’s head. The sweet look on your face turning into a sour one. He whipped his head around to look at what you were pointing at and chuckled nervously. It was the lacey panties he had picked out for you.

“Oops.”

110 notes · View notes

ggukkiedae · 3 months

Text

COOK WITH ME, YEAH? EP. 2 || my best friend for almost a decade

uploaded on january 22, 2024 to the bangtantv youtube channel and weverse. dialogue in italics are spoken in english

content warning: briefly touches on the sopa incident (which you can find in the yoonmi.dreamies tag) and growing up as a child in the entertainment industry

Click Below to See the Video

miya: “hi everyone! it’s the second episode of cooking with miya, and i thought it was just about right, since last episode was with my other half, that i would bring in probably my closest other best friend outside of bangtan in today.”

she pulls out a jar from her fridge and plops it on the table, a heavy thud sounding out

she then opens the freezer and takes out half a pound of pork belly.

miya: “this friend, we’ve tasted each other’s cooking, but we have never actually cooked together despite us being friends for almost a decade now—“

she was cut off by the sound of beeping and someone yelling “i’m here!”. she laughed and shouted

miya: “i’m in the kitchen! looks like he arrived just in time.”

a figure in a hoodie and a coat popped into view, initiating a handshake involving foot taps and spinning her around as well before they ended it in a hug

she laughed and made him turn to face the camera

miya: “everyone, it’s donghyuckie oppa! but you guys know him better as nct’s haechan!”

haechan: “hi, i’m nct’s haechan! hold on, i’ll just hang my coat up”

the video cuts to them standing next to each other, haechan has his hands behind his back

yoonmi excitedly looks at him

miya: “you came earlier than i thought! i only started to defrost the pork belly now”

haechan: “knowing you and me, we’ll get distracted long enough while doing food prep”

miya: “true”

haechan: “i brought you something”

he takes his hands from behind his back, and offers her a paper bag. she looks inside and laughs

haechan: “what? why are you laughing at my gift?”

miya: “you brought me soju and beer?”

haechan: “you said we’re making a korean dish today!”

miya: “i’ll get the shot glasses”

she pulls two shot glasses out of the cabinet before filling them with soju and placing the the rest of the paper bag’s contents into the fridge

they clinked their shot glasses together before downing them and setting the shot glasses aside next to the bottle

miya: “have you ever drank while cooking?”

haechan: “i can’t say i have. what are we making?”

miya: “kimchi jjigae!”

haechan: “really?”

miya: “yeah, do you wanna cut the meat or the kimchi?”

haechan: “you don’t like handling meat, so i’ll do that”

miya: “oh? oppa is acting nice for the camera?”

haechan looks into the camera with a playful smirk, making her laugh

cut to them on the dining table, yoonmi has tofu, a bowl and a large container, haechan is next to her, but his side of the table has a chopping board, a bowl, some vegetables, and the meat

miya: “you can cut the meat however you like, just marinate it in rice wine later after”

haechan: “the point of that is?”

miya: “flavor and defrosting”

haechan: “right. is this the part we answer questions?”

a caption appears: cooking with miya invites miya’s friends over to bond with her while they look back on their friendship using questions initially suggested by army and questions miya herself found most frequently on social media posts of them together

she laughed as they both started on their tasks. the very first question popped up

when did you meet and what were your first impressions of each other?

haechan: “we met in 2014”

miya: “that’s right, jinki oppa introduced us! i think that was around january?”

haechan: “january 22, you were such a baby back then!”

a caption appears: coincidentally the day this video is uploaded is their decade as friends

miya: “so were you! i remember that day, we had lunch, then we ended up talking until late after dinner”

haechan: “i still remember jin hyung herding you into the car like a baby sheep”

she laughs before focusing on lifting the kimchi carefully and cutting it into pieces

haechan leaned back a bit and thought for a moment before leaning back forward and mincing garlic and while speaking

haechan: “i think my first impression if you was ‘wow, she’s a lot shyer than she seems’ because i knew you as an idol before i knew you as a person”

miya: “you knew me?”

haechan: “you were the first girl in a boy group ever, and you were known for being a shawol, of course i knew you”

he looked at her like he was offended, before grabbing the scallions he was going to cut up next and whacked her with it, making her scrunch her nose and shake her head at him

she dipped her gloved hand into the kimchi container and smeared it on his cheek before she grabbed an extra bowl to scoop kimchi juice into

he yelped and gave her an appalled look while she just laughed

the video cuts to them properly working

miya: “okay, okay. as for you, you seemed like a very funny guy from the start! that didn’t change, you’re still funny, but you’re also pretty sweet”

haechan: “of course i am”

miya: “oppa, you’re just playing the of course game at this point”

what are your names for each other in your cellphones?

miya: “hyuckie oppa with a sun emoji”

haechan: “princess yoonmi with a wave and a crown emoji”

miya: “wait, really? not hannah unnie?”

haechan: “yeah, you’re one of the three princesses in my phone”

miya: “me, hannah unnie, and your sister”

haechan: “exactly”

describe each other in one word

she started opening the tofu pack to slice it

haechan, who originally started slicing the meat once done with the vegetables, paused to look at yoonmi

he tilted his head in thought

haechan: “i think in one word yoonmi is sea”

miya: “what? why?”

haechan: “the sea is calming, mostly, but also because the sea can be both gentle and rough. it cannot be held back, and neither can you”

she looked at him, eyes looking a little more hydrated

he didn’t meet her eyes, so she smacked his arm with the back of her hand

miya: “… i’m never forgiving you if you make me cry in the middle of food prep with only one shot of soju in my system”

he cried out in false exaggerated pain, making her laugh

haechan: “crybaby. what about me?”

miya: “hyuckie oppa is the sun”

he raised his eyebrow at her

haechan: “you couldn’t be any more original?”

miya: “no, hear me out! yes, you’re a ball of energy and a warm person, but remember that the sun constantly shines, even during the night when we can’t see it. you’re just as great and hard-working even in moments when nobody is there to watch you, and i admire that”

haechan: “no wonder you’re a really coveted lyricist”

she hits him on the arm once again before the video cuts to them on her couch, another shot of soju being taken

the caption indicates they’re waiting thirty minutes for the meat to marinate before starting

what’s your favorite memory together?

she sat up excitedly, making him jump in surprise

miya: “i know mine!”

haechan: “already?”

miya: “yeah, oppa, do you remember that time in junior year when we were assigned to work together?”

haechan: “you mean the whole year?”

she gave him a pointed look for his sarcasm, making him laugh

she put her shot glass down and crossed her arms at him, so he chuckled and patted her knee

haechan: “go on”

miya: “it was the music theory class”

haechan: “right, we did a presentation on the utilization of negative space in music, but you were on tour while we were preparing”

miya: “i think i video called you more than i did my boyfriend back then because of how stressed we were”

he snorted at that, grabbing the bottle and pouring them another shot each

she opened a bag of chips, offering some in exchange to him handing her the shot, which they both downed immediately

haechan: “why’s that your favorite memory?”

miya: “i think that’s the time that i realized that, aside from spemding time together as friends, i like working with you in both career related and non-career related things”

he ruffled her hair, making her yelp and fix her hair while pouting at him

haechan: “awww you love me”

miya: “sure, let's go with that. and what’s your favorite memory?”

haechan: “easy. shinee world iii. i think that’s what solidified our friendship when we watched the shinee hyungs together. before that, i kinda thought you were just being my friend for the sake of not disappointing onew hyung”

she looked at him surprised, and he just gave her an apologetic smile

she turned her body to face him more, eyes wide in surprise

miya: “what? no way, i was just shy!”

haechan: “i know that now, but not then, so that’s how i felt! but we had a lot of fun, and we even had an impromptu dinner after both nights, so that was when i was assured that we were genuinely friends for real, and i knew we’d continue to be friends”

he filled their shot glasses while he was talking

she opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again, taking the shot

he gave her a look before taking a bit of chips for himself

haechan: “say it”

miya: “i said this in the intro, outside of bangtan, you’re my best friend”

haechan: “me? not haeeunie? or mark? or jisung?”

she rolled her eyes while he looked at her in fake surprise

miya: “oppa, you know this, we talked about this! hannah unnie is like a sister, and mark oppa’s my boyfriend, that’s different! but, if we leave mark oppa out of this, i’ve spent more time with you than i have any of my other friends, especially since we were classmates for two years and always put together for group projects”

haechan: “that’s good because you’re my best friend outside the group as well, especially after everything we’ve been through together”

yoonmi nodded, and pictures of them through the years appeared on screen

what was it like growing up together?

yoonmi snorted and looked at haechan

he looked back at her tilting his head

haechan: “what?”

miya: “i don’t think either of us grew up for a while”

he laughed, but nodded in agreement

haechan: “it feels like we stayed fourteen and thirteen, right? mostly because i started training at fourteen and you debuted at thirteen”

miya: “twelve and eleven if we go by that logic”

haechan gave her a look, but she just shrugged and looked at the camera

miya: “international age and before our birthdays”

haechan: “wait, you were eleven internationally when you debuted? that’s crazy!”

miya: “i was a mature looking kid”

haechan: “but you look exactly the same now”

she smacked him with a pillow, he laughed while defending himself

the video cuts to them sitting more calmly

haechan: “what was i saying? right, we were thirteen and twelve for a long time, then suddenly it just felt like we were mentally both teens and adults, just ageless, in kids’ bodies, didn’t it?”

miya: “it did. it's like a limbo of some sort"

haechan: "i've been told often... this actually goes for both of us, it's a topic we talked about just the other day, but i've been told i have a mature mindset despite having a childlike personality"

miya: "that's right, we get that a lot. although we are maturing now, there are just some things that don't change, and somethings that do. it comes with experience. you can't go through as much as we have and not have some sort of change or growth in the way you think"

haechan: "exactly! when you see the world, as cheesy as it sounds, and get put in multiple situations whether good or bad, your mind adapts and learns, changing the way you think. yet, we both started work at very young ages, which did cut our experiences of normal childhood quite short. that's what makes it feel like we're exactly the way we were back then"

miya: "taemin oppa, he was the one who warned me about how this would feel, but i didn’t think it would be that prominent. it’s different with kookie oppa, you know? he was like the big brother i was in it with. with you, and the other dreamies, actually, it just felt like there were finally people who got almost exactly how i felt”

haechan took his shot then poured them another one

she leaned back, seeming like she was reminiscing

haechan: “you were also the only person aside from haeeunie who never got annoyed with me in the early stages of our friendship”

miya: “and you were the first to see me as an equal and not as a little kid… even somi and daehwi thought of me as a baby back then”

he raised his shot glass to her

they clinked their glasses together and threw the shot back

haechan poured her a glass of water while she looked at her phone for the time

miya: “time to cook”

the scene cuts to the montage of them actually cooking

haechan fries the meat a little while yoonmi fries the kimchi

he pours the meat into the kimchi, considering the kimchi was in the bigger pot

they add in water and all the vegetables

the montage ends with a cut to them standing by the counter, waiting for it to boil before the next step

she reaches into the fishbowl of questions for the next one

are you guys okay after the sopa incident in 2017?

haechan: “put it back in the bowl”

haechan was quick to joke by holding the fishbowl of questions back towards yoonmi

she just laughed and placed the question on the counter

miya: “honestly, going through something like that isn’t just going to disappear from our memories”

haechan: “i like to think i’m mostly better now, but i’ve become really cautious and always double check with the people i’m with if the other people around us are who they’re supposed to be”

miya: “me too, and i get nervous if can’t find something that i know should be just there”

they look at each other, yoonmi dropped her head

haechan: “then we both had an eventful last quarter after that”

miya: “i think we traumatized our therapist”

they laughed and decided to take another shot

haechan: “but we’re mostly okay now”

miya: “we are, yeah. thanks for sticking with me then, oppa”

haechan: “thanks for staying friends with me, yoonmi, really”

he picked the next question and read it out while she added the kimchi juice to the pot

will you two ever release a song together?

haechan snorted and looked at yoonmi who just smiled with a sigh

he took over and added some gochujang and ssamjang into their soup, stirring them in while yoonmi took a step back

haechan: “we want to, but we haven’t actually talked about it, right producer and composer-nim?”

miya: “it’s always been an idea, but we’re either always busy or just not thinking about work when we hang out”

haechan added some soy sauce into the pot while yoonmi added in a small amount of fish sauce

haechan: “but it would be nice. you saw those videos of yoonmi working with dream that one time, right? it’s been almost three years since then, i wonder how her recording style changed. jungkook hyung said she’s stricter now”

miya: “so maybe i am just a bit more of a perfectionist now, but so are you!”

he laughed at her, pointing at the fishbowl

haechan: “our collab is to be determined. last question?”

if you could go back and tell your younger selves on mmc anything about your friendship, what would it be?

haechan: “keep sweets on hand at all times. not only does she crave sweets like a monster, but she needs it for her blood sugar”

miya: “hey!”

haechan: “i’m right, you know i’m right!”

miya: “… little me, be prepared to fight for your life with this one”

the doorbell rang, and there’s a sound of a door opening. yoonmi smiled and walked off camera, making haechan wrinkle his nose at what he saw.

haechan: “lee mark just kissed yoonmi”

she popped back into frame, mark with her, and jisung and hannah making her way to haechan’s side

hannah: “at least you were a distance away”

yoonmi laughed before making the three introduce themselves to the camera

haechan and yoonmi then cheered before he spoke

haechan: “we invited these three today to try our kimchi jjigae, and they’ll enjoy it if they know what’s good for them”

the scene then cuts to a montage of the three guests setting the table while yoonmi and haechan prepared the side dishes and the presentation of their kimchi jjigae

once the cut of the jjigae being placed on the table is taken, it goes to a wide shot of the five of them clapping and cheering

jisung: “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you two cook together before”

haechan: “we haven’t, this is a first time thing”

hannah: “it already looks better than when yoonmi and i tried to teach mark to cook”

mark: “hey! in my defense, i was distracted”

hannah: “by what?”

mark: “i’d rather not say”

haechan: “yoonmi, 100%”

jisung: “true”

yoonmi shakes her head and just claps once to get everyone’s attention and to save her boyfriend

miya: “okay guys, get your fill and try what hyuckie oppa and i made”

everyone happily fills their small bowls with the stew before trying it

sounds of approval fill the room

jisung’s eyes widen as he looks at the two cooks, mark pats their heads, and hannah is just happily eating her food

mark: “it’s amazing, you guys”

jisung: “hyung’s right! i think the others will like this”

hannah: “i don’t expect less from you two, this is great, this is a perfect from me”

haechan and yoonmi laugh in delight and high five before she turns to the camera

miya: “that brings an end to episode 2 of cook with me, yeah? thank you to my lovely boyfriend mark oppa as well as two of my closest friends hannah unnie and jisungie for coming over today to try our food. thank you to my best friend haechan oppa especially for cooking with me today. if any one of you would like to try what we made at home, the recipe will be in the description! see you next episode!”

the five of them wave to the camera, then the video cuts to black

after a few seconds, the screen is split into three, each showing mark, jisung, and hannah in once again what looks like yoonmi’s home office with a question along the bottom of the screen

what do you think of miya and haechan’s friendship?

jisung’s answer is shown first

jisung: “haechan hyung and yoonmi are interesting. hyung is loud and very full of jokes. he’s mischievous. yoonmi, is more on the quiet side, she’s a lot more reserved than hyung, but it works because they balance each other out. if i’m being honest, they are beneficial to each other in the way hyung brings yoonmi out of her shell while she helps him relax and ease his tension”

hannah is shown next

hannah: “honestly, those two are closer to each other than i am to yoonmi, which would surprise most people, but it makes sense to me. they’ve been friends longer than any of us have even known yoonmi, and both these sunshiney people who make the people around them endeared by both their friendship and their individual personalities. it makes me happy to know my twin flame gets along with someone i see as a sister”

last is mark’s cut

mark: “i actually really value their friendship. i like seeing them interact because i know from that that they have each other’s backs. i’ve known them both for so long, and i’m glad to say they have another person to turn to when they need it. it’s nice, you know? yoonmi deserves all the good things in the world, and, if for some reason the i’m not there to give it to her, there’s someone else i trust with my life to be there with and for her. haechannie, on the other hand, drives himself forward so much, so it reassures me to know he has someone to remind him to sit back for a bit and just live”

-end-

taglist: @sunflower-0180 @seaoffangirling @yourwonderbelle @1-800-enhypennabi @kamiiyou @strwberrydinosaur @uraveragefangirlsposts @caratinylyfe @1-800-minji @one16core @kimhyejin3108 @chansols @akshverse @toriluvsfics @billboard-singer @stopeatread @allthings-fandoms @jammingjaem

drop an ask or a dm if you wanna be added or taken out of the taglist 🥰 requests are also open!

#yoonmi.cwm #yoonmi.dreamies #miya #yoonmi #kim yoonmi #bts 8th member #bts female addition #bts female member

45 notes · View notes

fluffyhare · 2 months

Text

Like Real People Do ♡ (Casper x Avery)

☁️ Summary: Casper moves to a new town. A peaceful morning longboard ride along the boardwalk leads to a chance encounter~! This story is written in first-person (Casper's) perspective.

☁️ Warnings: Light tickling (accidental + clinical setting), mild injury (no blood or gore), death mention (no actual death). Loneliness/insecurity mention.

☁️ Author's Note: This is my first fic (ever, lol, not just with these characters) so I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know if the tags/warnings are wrong and I will fix them. I am so thankful for the support and love I have received for my characters, it means so much to me.♡

This is a series now!

Part 1 *you are here

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

If you just got here and want to know more about my characters, you can read my comic starting right here!

"Alright, go ahead and lie back," the doctor instructed as she pulled the extender out from the examination table. I did so, swinging my legs up and planting my socked feet on the extender. Goosebumps rose on my arms as the cold vinyl was easily felt through my thin t-shirt. My eyes traced the borders of the sterile white ceiling tiles, my lips pursing as I prepared to be examined. "I'm just going to feel your belly, okay?"

“Just,” I thought.

"Okay," I sighed, and then locked my teeth together. Perspiration formed between the vinyl and my clammy palms, and a familiar heat began to creep from my ears across my cheeks. Invisible under my soft layer of pudge, my stomach muscles knitted together. As she leaned over the table, I avoided the doctor's eyes, as if one glance would betray some emotion a little too complex -- a little too personal -- for a routine checkup.

She lifted my shirt to the bottom of my ribcage, prompting a shiver as the cold air rushed over my bare skin. Her icy fingers began to unceremoniously probe my stomach; starting above my bellybutton, she pressed and prodded in a seemingly random pattern. Toes curling, I tried to steel myself, to compose my face in a mask of indifference, even as I felt my blush deepen. My belly trembled as her fingers traveled down each side, then lower, pressing into the spots just inside each of my hip bones. I twitched, my composure faltering. Mercifully, I was able to quash my giggle into a sound more akin to a cough.

“Did that hurt?”

“Ah, no, it's just… sensitive,” I answered, cleaning my throat to lend more credibility to my coughing.

“Okay, good. You can sit up now.”

I sat up – a little too quickly – cursing myself as my head spun.

“Well, you're very healthy. We'll keep an eye on that low BP, just make sure you stay hydrated, exercise, yadda yadda, you know the drill,” she prattled as I prepared to leave, jamming my feet into my shoes without untying them.

I checked out at the front desk and got in my car. Once safely in the driver’s seat, a relieved sigh rolled from my chest. In the privacy of my sun-bleached and beat-to-hell Versa, I could admit, at least, in my mind: while I enjoyed being ticklish, it did make doctor visits a challenge at times.

Back at home, the rest of my Saturday proceeded without incident. My new job offered weekends off, a pleasant change from the unpredictable schedule of my previous position. Since I had just moved to Port Oleander, though, I didn't have anyone to spend them with. Most of the time, that was okay; I was pretty introverted, but I did get lonely sometimes. Well… more often than I liked to admit.

Standing over the sink, I ate dinner – leftover chicken with rice and green beans – while watching YouTube on my phone. I took a shower and brushed my teeth. In bed I watched the ceiling fan spin in the dark, trying to follow the tips of each blade with my eyes, until it gently hypnotized me to sleep.

+++

When I awoke, the room was dark and still. Rolling over, I grabbed my phone and checked the time, blinding myself with the backlight I had forgotten to turn down. Four a.m.

I mopped a sweaty hand over my face. For no reason I could discern, I had been waking up three hours before my alarm every day for the past month. With no hope of going back to sleep, I would scroll on my phone, waiting until it was time to get out of bed. Today felt different, though. While I would generally awaken groggy and irritable, today, I was restless and alert.

Summer was hot and humid in my new city, so I pulled on a pair of cargo shorts, my most breathable binder, and a loose t-shirt. “It’s supposed to be nice today. Maybe if I ride my longboard, I'll run into some other skaters and make a friend or something,” I thought, then blushed in spite of myself. Not very many people skated anymore, especially not in my age group, and even if I did run into someone… would they want to befriend a visibly queer person like me? Would I even be safe? Oleander seemed generally more open-minded than my hometown, but since moving there, I had already been the recipient of enough sour looks to make me gun-shy.

I shook my head to stop the spiral.

“All I can do is try.”

+++

Yellow streetlight bathed the boardwalk pavement as I made lazy, wide carves down the vacant street. Aromas of coffee, food and ocean spray enveloped me as businesses began to open. The smooth pavement was a refreshing change from the rough sidewalks where I had grown up, and with my wheels gliding like marbles on glass, I barely needed to push. Clean, cool air filled my lungs and whistled through my short hair, pulling negative thoughts from my mind. It was more than a plank of wood with some metal and wheels attached; it was a magic carpet, and I lived to fly.

I thought it was a glass bottle catching the light as it bobbed in the surf, but as I looked closer, I became more convinced that it was not a single object; it didn’t just shine, it glittered, as if someone had spilled a container of sequins in the water. Unlike debris, though, the sparkly mass did not follow the swell of the waves. Seeming to act of its own accord, it moved toward the coast and then back, vertically upward and then down, hovering just above the water. Squinting in the pre-dawn light, I could have sworn it had a smokey, blurry haze around it, too. There was something distinctly alive about its movements. Transfixed, I watched it move almost playfully as it bobbed and weaved along the coast.

I surfed along the boardwalk, watching the sky lighten in shades of red and orange as it prepared to welcome the sun. It was my first time visiting the boardwalk since moving to Oleander, and as I coasted, I came to a pier that stretched way out into the water.

“That might be a cool place to watch the sunrise,” I mused. Angling my feet into a turn, I felt my wheels roll over the wood slats, gently vibrating my feet up to my hips. I was surprised at how soft the wood felt; it rattled a bit, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The pier was dotted with awnings and folded-up stands, but no vendors had opened yet, and I was glad for the lack of pedestrians to avoid. I pushed hard as I cruised down the pier, feeling the cool salt spray on my bare arms and face. As I looked out across the water, something caught my eye.

By the time I looked up, it was too late. I slammed my foot down to brake, but the slick wood did nothing to stop my forward momentum. My arms pinwheeled as my stomach connected with the guardrail at 10mph. It was only then that I realized just how high the end of the pier was. Shock and vertigo seized my body as I flipped over the rail, hands grasping uselessly at empty air. The next few moments of my experience proceeded as a flashback.

I was nine years old, crying on a beach chair at the public pool. I had jumped off the high-dive for the first time, my skin stinging and red as my dad wrapped me in a towel and sat beside me. He rubbed my back. “You were brave for jumping, angel, but you gotta be careful how you hit the water next time, okay? Water is just like concrete if you’re too high.”

“I wonder if I’ll see him again,” was my last thought as I plummeted into unconsciousness.

+++

The first thing I became aware of was a high-pitched whistle, followed by a musty scent, like wet stone and paper. I opened my eyes to a small, circular room.

Across from me, just beyond the foot of the bed I was lying in, was a red door. The walls were white-painted brick and featured bookshelves that practically exploded with books. “This isn't a bedroom with some books,” I thought, dazed, “it’s a library with a bed in it.” From every available wall space hung scientific illustrations of all kinds. Above my head, a tall window flooded the room with sunlight.

I tried to sit up, causing pain to radiate from my stomach. I was hurt, and this wasn't a hospital, meaning I was in someone else's home… in someone else's bed.

My mind scrambled to fill in the blanks. I woke up too early, again. I was skateboarding. I could smell pancakes and coffee. I wanted to watch the sunrise from the end of the pier. My feet tingled as I recalled my wheels rolling over the wooden slats; it seemed to go on forever. Did I make it to the end? Wait… what was that in the water?

Whatever happened next must have led to my injury. Did someone attack me? I couldn't remember seeing anyone on the pier, but maybe I was wrong. Did I fall?

Immediately, I checked my clothes. They weren't wet, which meant I didn't hit the water, but my back felt a bit damp… perhaps from sweat. How long was I unconscious? Frantically, I jammed my hands in my pockets, looking for my phone. Not only was it gone, so were my wallet and keys. Fuck!

With some difficulty, I kicked my feet out from under the heavy quilt and tried to stand. For the first time, I noticed that the bed had a small table beside it. All my effects were there, along with a glass of water and some over-the-counter painkillers. I urgently checked my phone.

“Six P.M.?!”

I had been sleeping in a stranger's bed for at least eight hours. No, probably even longer. I thrust everything into my pockets and made for the door, feeling a flash of fear that it might be locked. Mercifully, it wasn't.

The door opened with a creak that was loud, but did not travel as the hallway was incredibly small. Stairs led both to and from the tiny landing, going so far in each direction, I could not see where they terminated. Whipping my head around, I looked out the window. I could see nothing but sky. Was I in a tower?

I heard movement from above me. Whoever it was that brought me here was coming back. I started to descend the stairs, as quickly as my aching stomach would allow.

“Wait, stop, please!” A man's voice called down the spiral corridor.

I didn't stop, though. Racing down the steps, I practically tripped over my own feet as I scrambled to escape. Maybe he didn't kidnap me – he did leave all of my belongings, after all – but I wasn't sticking around to find out. My heart thundered in my chest as sweat broke out all over my body. The stairs seemed to go on forever, and I could hear the stranger behind me the whole time I ran, begging me to stop.

“Please, you'll hurt yourself! Please stop!”

When I finally reached the bottom, I threw open the heavy door and gasped as I was met with a cold spray of seawater in my face. Far in the distance, across miles of ocean, I could see the coast. Desperately looking from side to side, I saw that the tower was surrounded completely by water. There was no escape.

“Please… don't go any further. There's no way off this island. Please, I don't want you to get hurt.”

A hand on my shoulder made me jump. As I spun to face the stranger, all the blood drained from my face.

I was stricken by how tall he was, dwarfing me by at least a foot. His skin – if you could call it skin – had the appearance of thick white smoke trapped in a bottle, seeming to billow and roll beneath the surface. Most strange of all was his head. I could see the faintest outline of a human-shaped face, but it expanded outward from the sides and top, forming rolling peaks like a cloud. In the center were two large eyes, the irises and lashes of which were both stark white. Despite the creature’s fantastical appearance, he wore a simple blue button-down shirt and slacks.

Suddenly, I felt sure that I had died on that pier. Perhaps I fell. Perhaps I was still falling even now, synapses grasping at straws, presenting a frenzied hallucination before death. I could feel my grip on consciousness slipping, like flat shoes sliding on ice.

“Please don't hurt me,” I whimpered, fighting the pressure behind my ears and eyes.

“My dear, you being harmed is exactly what I am trying to prevent.”

“What are you? Am I dead?”

“I'll explain everything, okay? Please come back inside,” he pleaded, offering me his hand. My strength was fading fast. Deciding that the risk of trusting this stranger was preferable to collapsing in his doorway, I took it.

+++

Like the bedroom I had awoken in, the lighthouse kitchen was filled with sunlight as I sat at the table. Riding above the ever-present scents of sea, stone, and paper, the dining room air was thick with bergamot and lavender.

“I know it's summer, but I drink hot tea year-round. Would you like some?” he asked.

I suddenly became aware of just how thirsty I was, having been unconscious for so long, followed immediately by a frantic jog down the longest staircase of my life.

“Please,” I croaked.

I watched the back of the cloud-man’s head as he prepared the tea, my brain immediately connecting the loud whistle I had awoken to with his old-fashioned kettle.

He took a seat across from me, porcelain clattering softly as he placed the teacup and saucer in front of me. I sipped, relieved at the familiar and comforting flavor of earl grey.

“Listen… I'm… very sorry. It's really my fault you ended up here… that you got hurt.”

I looked up from my tea, brow furrowed. His eyes were pained as he stared at the vinyl kitchen floor.

“I was collecting sea glass and I lost track of time. When it's dark, humans can't really see me, so I usually do it at night,” he glanced up at me, the faintest hint of blue tinting under his eyes, “when I saw you watching me, I was just going to disappear into the water… but then I saw you hit the end of the pier. You hit it so hard. I got to you before you fell into the water, but you were already unconscious. I didn't know what to do... so I brought you here, to my lighthouse.”

His face was a mask of apprehension and regret. I had no memory of hitting the guardrail, but it did explain the bruise across my stomach.

He continued, “I’m not a medical doctor, but I've read many of your medical textbooks. I… examined you, while you were unconscious, to make sure you weren't seriously injured. Professionally, of course!” The blue tint under his eyes deepened and spread a bit as he stole another glance at me. Was he blushing?

I offered a humorless laugh. “Well, I'm glad you didn't take me to the hospital, my insurance doesn't cover that, and god knows I can't afford it. I've fallen off my skateboard before, it's no biggie. I'm sore, but I don't think it's, like, serious,” I supplied casually, trying to comfort him.

He perked up, just a little.

“I'm really very sorry, and I'm sorry if I scared you, too. I know that seeing me must have been quite a shock. I've read many of your books, and watched you on TV and on the computer, but I've never met a human before.”

Reality began to settle on me. I still wasn't totally convinced that I wasn't flailing in midair, moments from death and hallucinating vividly, but if this was real… then this was the coolest shit that had ever happened to me.

“Even – and perhaps, especially – if am about to die, what's the harm in playing along?” I thought.

“What… are you?” I asked.

He brightened a bit more, even managing a shy smile now.

“I believe in your language, the closest word to describe me would be ‘elemental.’ I learned that from one of your Dungeons and Dragons books. And, I do actually have a name,” he gained a bit of confidence here, giving a little hand flourish, followed by a bow, “Doctor Avery Nimbus, at your service.”

I giggled, and as I did, Avery’s face lit up; his grin was so big, it curved his eyes into half-moons. For a moment, I could swear the room was brighter, and a warmth spread through my chest.

He proceeded, “And you are…?”

“Well, my name is Casper. I'm just your regular ol, garden-variety human.”

“Casper, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said, extending a hand across the table. I clasped it gently, his large hand almost completely enveloping mine. His skin had an interesting texture, too; it was cold and soft, much softer than human skin, and I could feel the swirling tempest beneath it, like storm winds against a window pane. He held my hand for just a tick longer than I expected. By the time I looked up, he was already looking away.

“Ah… it's starting to get dark, now. I should take you home,” he said softly.

I frowned. I had so many more questions. A pit grew in my stomach as I thought of returning to the mundanity of my life after this experience, but I couldn't just drop everything, could I…? Besides, I was afraid of overstaying my welcome. I had been sleeping in his bed for hours.

“How do I even get home? You said there's no way off this island, and I didn't see a boat out there…”

Avery beamed again. This time, there was a sly twinkle in his pale eyes.

“Allow me to show you.”

+++

I gasped as Avery hoisted me into his arms, easily carrying me princesses-style despite my extra pounds. The night wrapped around us like a star-studded cloak, Avery's body nearly invisible in the darkness. He stood on the rocky edge of the tiny island, the crashing waves spraying us with salty mist.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Oh, god… as I'll ever be,” I whined, my hand clutching the fabric of his shirt.

“Then here we go~!”

With that, Avery leapt upward with incredible force, propelling us into the night sky. My stomach dropped as I squealed, memories of the drop-tower ride at my hometown amusement park flooding my mind. I hated that ride, but my brother always made me go with him. Avery was trembling, though, and it took a moment for me to realize it was because he was giggling.

“I always love takeoffs,” he tittered, and then began to walk across the air in slow, bouncing leaps. The cool night wind caressed my cheeks as I leaned into his chest, blushing and grateful he couldn't see it in the dark. Looking down on the city below us, I could see where the black of the shore met the twinkling yellow of the boardwalk lights. In that moment, I forbade any further notion of this being a hallucination; even if it wasn't real, I was going to live as though it was.

+++

My feet kissed the ground just outside of my door. Looking up, I stared into the glittering blackness of Avery's face, the bits of ice in his cloud-head catching the lights around the apartment courtyard.

“Will I see you again?” I asked.

“If you like, certainly.”

“Can you come back tomorrow night?” I blurted out, blushing brightly -- and now, there was definitely enough light for him to see it.

For the first time, Avery laughed a real, genuine laugh. It was a symphony that started as a tinkling of giggles, crescendoing into a hearty boom that rattled my chest like a thunder clap, tickling my ears and making them flush.

“Absolutely, dewdrop.”

#tickle fic #tickle fluff #tickling community #casper and avery #like real people do #fluffylore #writing #my fic #romance #tickling #ocs #my ocs

29 notes · View notes

coopigeoncoo · 1 year

Text

Hot Dish, Chapter 1: The First Course

Chapter Links: One, Two, Three

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+

Tags: Sexual content, Exhibitionism, Chikan, Heavy Petting, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Safe Sex, Consentual Sex, Swearing, Romance, Soft Shigaraki, Posessive Shigaraki, Domestic fluff, Mutual Pining

---

Down on his luck and scrambling for survival, Shigaraki Tomura was just looking for a place to score a hot meal.

Instead, he ended up scoring a hot date.

--- "You want gravy?" You asked, waggling the ladle of onion sauce enticingly, some of it sloshing over the edge of the spoon and falling back into the pot with a wet squelch. Tomura glared at the chunky sauce disdainfully before closing his eyes and sighing.

"Whatever."

"Gravy it is!" You cheer, pouring the sauce over the meat patty before passing it to him. "There you go! A hunk of meat for my favorite hunk."

--- A slow, domestic romance between a volunteer at a soup kitchen and the newly destitute leader of a notorious villain organization.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

Chapter 1: The First Course

It was the busiest time of year at the soup kitchen. The weather had recently turned bitter cold and the promise of a warm meal and a respite from enduring the brutal weather was too good of an opportunity for people to pass up. You had started volunteering during high school, looking for a way to beef up your college applications, and found a great deal of personal fulfillment helping out others in your free time.

Now in college, you still made time to regularly volunteer even though your budget would greatly benefit from you picking up more shifts at your part time job instead. But you were driven to altruism by that stubborn organ beating in your chest; reminding you of how much you loved the regulars, your friends in the volunteer group, and the feeling of contributing something meaningful to society.

As much as you enjoyed the work, there were definitely plenty of things about it you wish you could change; the biggest being the terrible feeling you got when the time came to shut the door and cut the line off because you'd reached maximum capacity for the night. Having to turn people away, hungry and cold, always gnawed at your conscience and you desperately wished that you had a Quirk that could somehow stretch your food supply farther- make every bite more filling or every pot bottomless.

But you didn't. So as soon as the last pan of curry was placed up onto the chafing dish you waved to get the attention of the volunteer at the door, a massive literal bear of a man, who then began to make apologies to the people queued up outside as he closed up the entrance.

"Looks like Scruffy Hot Guy didn't make it in today," Kiyomi, your long time friend and fellow volunteer, teased with a gentle elbow to your ribs.

"Oh, hush!" You chide her sharply as you scoop up rice.

"Relax! It's not like I'm going to tell the guy you think he's- what were your words? 'Brooding and mysterious'?"

"I deeply regret telling you that," you grumble irritably as you slide a plate in front of Kiyomi for her to ladle a serving of curry onto. Laughing at your expense, you watched as she gave the curry a stir, counting the remaining chunks of chicken and mentally calculating how to divide them up fairly amongst the remaining guests in line. The next few plates were distributed without incident, people quietly thanking you both as they received their entrees and continued down the line as you and Kiyomi chatted together.

You were dishing up one of the final scoops when a deep, growling voice interrupted you.

"That ain't enough rice," the man in front of you grumbled in complaint. He was unbelievably tall, his head nearly scraping the spotty and discolored ceiling tiles as he crossed his arms across his chest, flexing his basketball-sized biceps in an obvious bid to intimidate you. You had never seen him before, but that wasn't terribly uncommon as people generally filtered in and out as they moved around the city looking for new job opportunities.

"Excuse me?"

"I said that ain't enough damn rice. That might be enough for a small thing like you but I need more."

"I'm sorry, sir. Everyone gets the same dinner serving size to keep things fair. Further down the line we have protein bars and fruit that you can supplement your meal with-"

"I don't want protein bars!" The man yelled. "Damn things taste like sawdust!"

You were about to offer another apology and attempt to diffuse the situation when another voice spoke out from behind the irate man.

"Take the food or get out of line."

"What did you say?" The man screamed, spinning around to confront the man behind him.

"Scruffy Hot Guy," Kiyomi gasped in delight. Sure enough, the object of your idle gossip appeared from behind the screaming man; somehow managing to appear both disinterested and profoundly irritated by the goings on in front of him.

"I'm hungry and you're holding up the line. Move, " he practically growled from behind his facemask, his red eyes narrowing in warning. The large stranger threw his head back, clearly amused by the willowy man's implied threat.

"Oh, yeah? Tell you what, why don't you just give me your portion then? No way a stick like you needs to eat much."

You didn't clearly see what happened next. There was no scuffle or physical altercation, just Scruffy Hot Guy hooking a finger over his facemask, preparing to pull it down, as he disappeared behind his aggressors' wide frame. The next thing you knew the large man was reeling back, white as a sheet, as he tripped over his feet in his hasty scramble to the exit.

Scruffy Hot Guy stepped forward in the line, now occupying the space in front of you as he adjusted his facemask back into position and pulled the sides of his hoodie forward to obscure his face as best he could.

"That was amazing," you breathed, scooping up a slightly larger helping of rice onto his plate now that there was one fewer person in line. "What did you even do to that guy? A Quirk thing?"

"Nah," Scruffy Hot Guy shrugged, scratching at his neck uneasily under your scrutiny. "I just showed him my face. Guess I must be pretty ugly."

"I sincerely doubt that," you laugh as you push his plate down the line towards Kiyomi. "But even if you were, I'd still give you my number if you asked for it," you said, staring directly into his eyes and raising your eyebrows imploringly. His eyes widened, obviously stunned by your flirtation. The skin above his facemask burned a brilliant red, temporarily coordinating with his eyes in a very fetching way.

He mumbles something under his breath as he quickly averts his eyes, hunching his shoulders as he shuffles down the line; grabbing the completed tray from Kiyomi’s hands before loading up his coat pockets with protein bars and trail mix packets and sliding into an open seat on the far end of the room.

Kiyomi shakes her head, laughing at your rejection as she preps the final plate of the evening.

“What?” you huff in exasperation. “You can’t blame me for shooting my shot! I’ve been waiting weeks for an opening!”

The last person in line, an old woman who came around every week or so, tsked disapprovingly. “The Gods take the time to craft a man with a butt like that and you wait weeks to make a move? Are you really that stupid?”

“Hey!” You screech indignantly while Kiyomi throws her head back, cackling. “I’m not stupid! Just…cautious. You never know what someone is really like, you know?”

“True enough,” the old woman hummed, gently rummaging through a pile of overripe bananas. “But I take it that you have a better idea of what sort of man he is now?”

You spared a glance over to the far side of the room, where Scruffy Hot Guy was slowly savoring his meal; his hood pulled low down low to obscure his face while he ate.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

Scruffy Hot Guy hadn’t seemed to be particularly receptive to your first advance, but he also hadn’t outright rejected you either. So you’re currently stuck occupying some sort of weird flirtatious limbo; unsure if you should continue your pursuit or abandon your efforts entirely.

Deciding to play it by ear, your life cycled through your normal routine until your next shift at the soup kitchen.

“Well, well, well! Look who it is!” Kiyomi crowed in delight as Scruffy Hot Guy stepped up in front of you again. “Our very own Hero has returned to us!”

“Please, Kiyomi,” you scoffed as you slid a grilled fish onto a plate. “He’s better than a Hero; he’s a good person.”

“Aren’t they pretty much the same thing?”

“Not always,” you mumble, using your tongs to scrape at some fish glaze that had burned at the bottom of the serving dish, entirely missing the interested gaze of Scruffy Hot Guy quietly assessing you.

"Oden today," you said as you ladled broth into a large soup bowl, chunks of fish cake floating up to the top.

Scruffy Hot Guy peered at the bowl, seemingly unimpressed by the offering.

"Not a fan?"

"It's fine," he mumbled, placing the bowl down gently on his tray, careful not to spill a single drop despite the bobbing radish slices sloshing the broth about.

"If you have an allergy or something there are some leftovers from yesterday I can reheat for you."

"No, nothing like that," he shook his head gently, pausing to spoon some seven spice on top of his bowl. "I usually try to pack some of the food away for later. But soup doesn't travel very well."

You hummed thoughtfully as he finished his meal selection and took his seat. Once the line had died down you ducked back into the kitchen, snagging a disposable coffee cup and lid before making your way back to the cafeteria. Silently, you deposit the empty cup next to Scruffy Hot Guy's tray before continuing on past his table to grab a tub of dirty dishes to haul back to the kitchen for cleaning.

"Thank you," he said quietly as you passed behind him, carefully spooning a hardboiled egg into the cup you'd left him.

"Of course."

"We have to stop meeting like this," you sighed dramatically, passing him a bowl of stir fried vegetables.

"How else would we meet? It’s obvious we run in very different social circles."

"What makes you say that?"

"Really?" Scruffy Hot Guy scoffed.

"I'm serious!" You pouted, looking critically down at the parts of your ensemble visible around the disposable apron you were required to wear. You took a lot of pride in your appearance, a good portion of your slush fund spent on building your wardrobe and keeping your nails finely manicured. Friends had joked about your high maintenance appearance in the past, but you personally likened yourself to a painting; already beautiful to start with but an absolute masterpiece with the right frame to accentuate your features. Finding no obvious flaws in your appearance, you narrow your eyes at him peevishly.

"Are you saying you'd be ashamed to be seen with me?"

" What," he sputtered, his voice pitched somewhere between shocked and indignant.

"Don't you 'what' me, mister! I'll have you know that I'm hot enough to roll with any crew."

"That's not the issue."

"It's not? So you think I'm hot then?" you pry coyly, fluttering your lashes. Choking on air, he slams his bowl of vegetables down onto his tray and quickly bumbles away as you laugh.

"Where’s the bun?" Scruffy Hot Guy asked, staring down at the lump of meat you were serving up.

"It's hamburg steak, not a hamburger."

"So it's a burger. With no bun."

"Right. No bun, but there is gravy. You want gravy?" You asked, waggling the ladle of onion sauce enticingly, some of it sloshing over the edge of the spoon and falling back into the pot with a wet squelch. Scruffy Hot Guy glared at the chunky sauce disdainfully before closing his eyes and sighing.

"Whatever."

"Gravy it is!" You cheer, pouring the sauce over the meat patty before passing it to him. "There you go! A hunk of meat for my favorite hunk."

Cheeks rosy above his facemask, he mumbled something intelligible before calmly stepping away. Smiling widely, you spun on your heel to face Kiyomi.

"He didn't run away!"

"He didn't run away," she confirmed, laughing as you pumped a fist in victory.

"Soooo," you drawl sweetly. "Am I ever gonna get a name out of you?"

Scruffy Hot Guy visibly stilled, obviously deeply uncomfortable by your current line of questioning.

"No need to answer if you don't want to. I won't pry. I can just call you by the nickname Kiyomi and I gave you," you offer in concession, laying a generous serving or rice gratin next to a small pile of lettuce leaves.

"What name is that?"

"Scruffy Hot Guy."

A sound that could be best described as some sort of plaintive wail escaped Scruffy Hot Guy as he scratched nervously at his throat.

"You should-," he paused to swallow thickly. "You should call me Tenko. It's better than- than that."

"Tenko it is, then. Hot Guy Tenko."

"You're insufferable," he growled.

"Well, misery loves company so how about you and I suffer together over coffee sometime?"

"Don't turn my insults into propositions," he chided, selecting a small pouch of dressing for his wilting salad.

"Sorry, no can do. I'm nothing if not persistent."

"Persistent? That's a considerate way to frame that bratty attitude of yours."

"Oh? What would you call me instead?"

"I would call you what you are," Tenko says, the space between his eyes crinkling with malicious glee. "An absolute Pest."

"Tenko!" You gasp, a gloved hand raised above your chest in mock outrage. "Save the cute nicknames for when we're in private!"

Tenko grunts irritably as he rolls his eyes and steps away from you.

Kiyomi whistles sharply, waving a hand to fan at her face. "Goodness, that was intense. When's the wedding going to be?"

"Spring next year. I want a long engagement so I can save for my dress," you grin, sending a wink at Tenko when you catch him trying to sneak a glance back at you. He glares back before dropping his head and digging into his meal.

The past few months had been the absolute lowest point in Tomura's life. His Master had been brought low and imprisoned in Tartarus, the League was fractured and forced underground, and all of his available resources had been drained during the frantic scramble for survival those first few weeks he spent on the lam. His life of ease and luxury had been erased in an instant; falling to ashes around him like he had dusted it with his Quirk himself. The summer months outside hadn’t been awful, but he had been forced from his favorite hiding spots once the weather turned colder.

These days, he spent the majority of his waking hours holed up in various arcades; lifting near empty play cards from unminded purses and pockets and taking hits from unstubbed cigarettes he pulled from the ashtrays to keep his hunger at bay. Whatever prizes he managed to win he would deliver to Toga during their brief meetups; small things like cell phone straps and plush animals that meant nothing to him, but that she would cradle to her chest with a delighted squeal like they were precious treasures.

When the League had split, Twice had tearfully supplied them all with maps of the areas he was familiar with. They were bizarre, scrawling things, folded up like origami cranes and written in a mix of precise pencil notes and wild glitter pen scribblings. The maps turned out to be just as useful as they were visually abrasive, though. He’d taken the time to write out common Hero patrol schedules, potential hide outs, the stores that sold the cheapest burner phones, and places to grab free meals. That was what brought him into the soup kitchen that first day.

He hadn’t been expecting a lot, because little was all he seemed to be capable of receiving these days. Little food, little sleep, little peace, little comfort. But he definitely hadn’t been expecting you.

You threw Tomura through a loop like you pitched for the Major Leagues; with a devastating and seemingly effortless force that left him awestruck and barely holding onto the metaphorical bat.

There had been plenty of women before. They were always there, buzzing about the fringes of wherever people of power congregated. But interactions with them were simply transactional, trading calculated touches and honeyed words for money or influence; things Tomura was awash in for years and freely utilized to sate his desires.

So flirting was a bit of a new experience for him.

He didn’t know what to do when you smiled at him; guileless and simply pleased by his presence. When you flirted with him it was out of some misguided, but sincere, desire to be closer to him. There was no angling for his money because there was no longer any money to be had. The mere idea that you found him somehow valuable and worthy of your attention was as flattering as it was bewildering and left Tomura floundering more often than not.

Tomura didn’t understand your interest. He’d seen himself in the mirror and held no illusions about his appeal. He was pale and lanky; crusty and scarred. He’d seen his partners hide grimaces when his shirt came off, their fingers giving his flaking skin a wide berth as they hesitantly set a course across his back and shoulders.

And as distasteful as his body was, Tomura knew his personality wasn’t much better.

There wasn’t a single thing about himself that should draw your attention. But he still desperately, recklessly, wanted it just the same.

“Shit,” Tomura whispered, dropping his head forward to thump against the window of the pachinko machine he was seated at, the wild pinging of the steel balls synchronizing distressingly well with the frantic beating of his heart.

You had been pulling on your regulation hair net when a flier on the bulletin board in the volunteer lounge caught your eye.

“Oh, no,” you moaned miserably. “We have a Hero Day coming up?”

Various groans of confirmation came from the other volunteers, each sounding as excited at the prospect as you were.

“Who is it this time?”

“Mt. Lady and Uwabami. They got into a spat at some televised fundraiser so their PR teams are shoving them together here to kiss and make nice for the cameras,” Kiyomi explained as she slipped the strap of a plastic apron over your head.

“Great. Just great,” you sneered as you hip checked the door open and made your way to the dining room.

“So, is today finally the day?”

“Is today the day for what? ” Tenko asked, waiting impatiently for you and Kiyomi to finish serving his tempura.

“Resolving this obvious tension between us by going out on a date together?”

Tenko narrowed his eyes, an inscrutable look on his face. “And where exactly would I take you to? A different soup kitchen?”

“Nah, this one’s pretty nice, don’t you think?”

Tenko sent a brief look off to the right, where a wet mop was propped up in the corner near the section of floor missing a large chunk of linoleum. “Nice. Sure. ”

“Well, nice enough for a first date at least.”

“If this place is first date worthy I can’t imagine what sort of place you’d consider for a second one.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see then, won’t you?” you replied with a wink.

“I guess I will,” Tenko said as he slid his tray down the line before looking back over his shoulder. “Well? Are you coming or not?”

Eyes wide, you spin around to face Kiyomi who’s silently mouthing the word ‘Go’ while shooing you away with frantic hands. Tugging off your gloves and hair net, you dashed out from behind the counter, skidding behind the last patron in line who called out as you passed:

“Get it, girly!” he cackled as you made a brief detour to dump your used sanitary into a trash can.

"I'm working on it, old man!" You hollered back, sliding into the chair opposite of Tenko while the other occupants of the table scrunched their chairs and trays towards the far end of the table to give you two some semblance of privacy.

"Hero Day?" Tenko sneered down at the flier on his tray that was advertising the fast approaching special event.

"Yeah," you sighed. "It gets really busy here on Hero Days, so we like to give the regulars a heads up. The Hero agencies usually donate larger quantities of better quality food, so the bigger meals draw in folks who would normally hit up other soup kitchens."

"So they bribe desperate people with food to act as props for their social media campaigns?"

"Yep," you agreed as you passed Tenko his plate, which he slammed down over the faces of Uwabami and Mt. Lady grinning up at him from his tray.

"Disgusting, " he spat as he stormed away to his usual seat.

The force of everyone's collective will power wasn't enough to stop Hero Day from arriving at the soup kitchen. The entire crew of volunteers had arrived unreasonably early that morning to clean the facility from top to bottom in preparation for the arrival of Mt. Lady, Uwabami, and the veritable fleet of sidekicks and photographers they would both bring. Once the janitorial work was completed and the entire front room smelled overwhelmingly of bleach, everyone migrated back into the kitchen and began assembling and bagging up sandwiches to be handed out to the scores of hungry folks who would be drawn to the large event but unable to make it inside before the line cuts off and the doors close.

You were stacking large boxes of finished sandwiches against the back wall when one of the volunteers, a middle-aged man with a bat mutation, paused in his work of spreading mayonnaise across slices of wheat bread when his ears twitched.

“They’ve arrived,” he warned quietly as he resumed his work. “And they don’t sound particularly happy.”

Kiyomi snorted. “What else is new?”

Another ear twitch. “Oh. Now they’re arguing with the Program Director. Things are getting heated. Someone should go up there and back her up.”

Everyone was quiet at the idea of having to go toe-to-toe with two Heroes and their sycophantic entourages.

“Not it!” Kiyomi called out, thrusting her hand into the air. The rest of the volunteers quickly followed, tossing their hands into the air to opt out. You had been halfway across the room, carrying a large box of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that prevented you from raising your hand.

“Real mature tactic there, everyone,” you snapped irritably as you set the box down and made your way to the door.

“Have fun!” Kiyomi said cheerily as she waved. You stuck your middle finger up in return and made your way up the hall to the dining room.

The scene you arrived at was chaotic.

Your Program Director, a usually sweet and accommodating woman, was red in the face and absolutely screaming at a sharply dressed man in an ash gray suit. Mt. Lady and Uwabami were seated as far from each other as physically possible in the moderate sized room, shooting icy glares at each other while their makeup teams toiled to get them camera ready. The tables in the dining room were already half full despite it being a couple of hours before you were set to open; the seats occupied by people in ill-fitting clothes with dirt smeared artfully across their faces while they passed the time tapping on the screens of expensive, top of the line phones. You hurry to your Director’s side, making excuses to the man in the suit and guiding her away from the altercation with a firm hand on her elbow.

Her eyes begin to water as her adrenaline crashes, and you grab a handful of scratchy napkins from a dispenser for her to dry her face with as she sobs.

“What’s going on here,” you ask gently, rubbing soothing circles on her bicep.

“Mt. Lady was worried about how the PR photos would turn out so she decided to hire some extras to pose for pictures with her,” she sniffed, dabbing at her face with shaking fists.

“ Some extras? We’re already at half capacity with all these people here!”

“I know .”

“And she’s just going to give away food to people she’s paying who can already afford to eat? While actually hungry people line up outside?”

The Director nodded miserably while you scrubbed a hand down your face, furious.

“I fucking hate Hero Day.”

There wasn’t a force on Earth that would force Tomura into the soup kitchen on the day when it would be swarming with Heroes and their worshippers, but his stomach was still making a strong case for itself despite his iron-clad will. Being able to obtain regular meals made missing one even harder because the gnawing hunger tearing through his gut was an unfamiliar pain that demanded his full attention. One hand held a nearly empty can of coffee, all he could afford with change he found on the ground today, while his other hand was buried deep in his coat pocket, systematically bending each of Father’s fingers into a fist before carefully straightening them out again and setting about to bend them once more.

He continued fiddling with his macabre fidget toy as he watched tiny snowflakes drift past the covered bus stop he was currently tucked away in; the plexiglass walls doing nothing to trap in heat but they did stop the blustery wind from chilling him down to the bone. A soft knock next to his head drew his attention away from the falling flurries as he quickly spun to investigate the sound; finding you standing outside of the bus shelter, waving gently.

Snowflakes had settled onto your eyelashes and they glittered fetchingly under the sickly yellow glow from the streetlight overhead.

"Mind if I join?" Your voice was muffled and distant through the plexiglass, but Tomura heard you clearly enough. He nodded his assent and you beamed at him, quickly jogging to the entrance while pulling a large shopping trolley behind you.

"Brr!" You exclaim as you settle next to him, closer than he should have allowed but still not as close as he wanted. The trolley was situated in front of you both, and your thigh ended up brushing against Tomura's when you leaned forward to root through it. He inhaled sharply at the innocent contact, his skin tingling with something other than chills where you pressed up against him.

"Are you hungry? I've been making the rounds with sandwiches and fruit and have some leftovers. I've got ham and swiss or turkey and cheddar."

"Whatever's fine," Tomura said as you passed him a sandwich and an oblong apple that he immediately pulled down his mask to take a bite of. It was mealy and so cold it caused his teeth to ache, but he polished it off in record time and dropped the remaining core into the plastic bag he extracted the sandwich from.

He examined you from under his lashes, tugging down his hood to obscure his face as you did a quick tally of the remaining supplies in your trolley.

"You're not at the soup kitchen today?"

"Nope. Not my usual shift anyway. I go in and help prep for the Hero Day visits, but me and the other volunteers leave early when the camera crews roll in. We split up and pass out food on the streets instead."

"Didn't want to stick around for some autographs?"

"Hardly," you snorted inelegantly, tugging your gloves further down onto your fingers. "We can't pass up on the donations the Hero Agencies offer up, but I refuse to participate in their meaningless virtue signaling. If they actually wanted to help out they would just volunteer normally like the rest of us," you sniff in irritation, grinding a scratched off lottery ticket under the heel of your boot.

"But instead they roll in with a cavalcade of reporters, serve up a couple of meals, and then wait for people on social media to tell them how thoughtful and good they are for putting on a show. It's like a fireman showing up to a house fire, spitting on the flames, and then having people applaud them while the house is still burning."

"Like, Heroes have the money and the influence to actually help people, to really make a difference. But instead they just waste their resources on meaningless stuff and- ugh, I don't know. I guess I'm just frustrated because I can't imagine a scenario where I would prioritize acquiring fake internet points over providing a living, breathing person with a meal."

Sighing in frustration, you cross your arms and lean against the wall, your head tilted back to observe the falling snow like Tomura had been doing when you arrived.

"Think we'd be better off without them?" Tomura asked, peeling off a section of bread crust and popped it into his mouth.

"Hmm? Without who?"

"Heroes. Do you think they're necessary?"

You're quiet for a moment, thoughtful. Obviously weighing your words carefully before replying.

"It's hard to say, I suppose,” you begin hesitantly. “This is the way the world's been the entire time I've been alive; so I don't have anything to really compare it to. But I believe that things could be- should be , better than they are now. I want there to be change, but I don't know what the best course of action for that sort of thing would be."

Tomura hummed, a sound of acknowledgement if not agreement, as he finished off his sandwich and pulled his mask back into place. His meager disguise once again in place, Tomura leaned his head back and joined you in watching the snow flutter to the ground. The small flurries had all but disappeared and were replaced by fat, puffy flakes; dramatic bits of fluff that stayed airborne for longer than seemed possible before they settled delicately onto the ground.

"I really love night time snow. It's so romantic, don't you think?"

"Can't say I've ever given it much thought," Tomura said, attempting to keep his voice level and casual and you slowly and cautiously slid towards him on the bench, the distance between you narrowing at a glacial pace that had Tomura nearly writhing in anticipation. You came to a stop achingly close to Tomura, the remaining gap an open invitation for him to reach out, to touch, to accept whatever beautiful and intangible thing you were offering up to him.

If Tomura were a good man, someone with a noble heart or a modicum of self-restraint, he would have tried to resist the temptation echoing in that sliver of space between you. But he was, at his core, selfish and greedy; traits that had only been compounded by the past few months of hardship. With so few things to his name, what he did possess became infinitely more precious and jealously guarded. And here you were, entirely of your own volition, offering to become one of his rare possessions; to lay down willingly in his hoard- a priceless jewel amongst common trinkets for him to admire.

The back of Tomura’s hand made contact with you first, gently skirting up the outside of your thigh. You gasp, a sudden, breathy sound that sends a large cloud of condensation exploding into the air in front of your face as his hand continues its journey up the side of your body. When his hand reaches your shoulder he carefully extends two fingers and sends them walking over your shoulders, a measured, unhurried march as they make their way across your back. Once his arm is fully behind you he extends his thumb and wraps your bicep in a three fingered grip and pulls you towards him, the distance between your bodies erased as the grooves and divots of your bodies mold and settle into one and other.

“Oh, Tenko,” you breathe, nuzzling into the cradle of his shoulder. “Can we stay like this for a while?”

“Of course,” Tomura says as he runs an index finger across the swell of your cheek, smirking as you lean into his touch. “I’m not planning to let you go.”

Tenko had slid in through the soup kitchen doors a few minutes prior and you couldn't help the feeling of exhilaration that roiled in your belly and bubbled up your sternum as he drew closer to you in line. The shift in your relationship was a recent and exciting novelty. Every interaction was littered with relationship firsts; delicate threads of moments that would weave into precious memories you bundled your heart into to keep it warm in Tenko's absence.

He was next in line, paused before Kiyomi as she placed a nearly expired rice ball donated from a local convenience store on his plate.

"You sure you want onigiri tonight?" Kiyomi asked, grinning fiendishly at Tenko as she added a couple of pickled plums next to the rice ball.

"Are there any other options?"

"Well, you do have the option of this hot dish right here!" Kiyomi cackles as she elbows you roughly in the side, sending you stumbling out of place. You grumble, rubbing at the impact point with your forearm so you wouldn't have to change your gloves.

"I hope that you aren't offering her up to everyone in line," Tenko warned, his gaze steely as he narrowed his eyes at Kiyomi. She swallowed thickly, shaking her head rapidly from side to side.

"No! Of course not!"

"Good," Tenko said as he reached out for the plate you were holding out to him, running two fingers softly across the exposed band of skin above your glove, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake.

"I've never been one for sharing."

Ever since that night at the bus stop Tenko had been staying late with you at the soup kitchen, awkwardly holding a mop in a pincer grip as he unenthusiastically pushed it around the edges of the room while you and the other volunteers closed up shop. Once the doors were locked and you’d waved good-bye to your fellow workers, you and Tenko would set out into the city together. On days when you had a lot of homework or a looming exam he would escort you to the train station, both of you shortening your gaits to draw out the precious few minutes of time you could spend together. But when your schedule was more flexible you would wander around aimlessly; examining the garish holiday displays set up in store windows or settling on a park bench for extended bouts of people watching.

Today found you both wandering through a pop-up market, weaving through crowds of harried shoppers and visibly distressed men trying to point their girlfriends and wives to vendors hawking less expensive potential Christmas gifts. You were comparing the prints of a few different scarves when you noticed the first flurry drift through your line of sight. With an excited squeal, you turned to find Tenko, sliding your arms around his waist and bouncing happily on the balls of your feet.

“It’s starting to snow again!”

“So it is,” Tenko said, a smile present in the timbre of voice. Tilting your head back to gaze up into the inky sky, you sighed happily as the tiny flakes multiplied and spun around in dizzying patterns above you.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you liked snowy nights,” Tenko said, observing your dreamy smile with soft eyes.

“Yeah. It’s as close as us city dwellers can really get to seeing a sky full of stars. When I was a kid I would pretend that all the snowflakes in the sky were shooting stars, each of them racing as fast as they could to grant my wishes,” you admit bashfully, slightly embarrassed by your past whimsey.

Tenko hummed thoughtfully as he gazed at the icy flakes darting through the sky.

“They’re going to need to go faster than that if they want to beat me,” he said, dropping his head down to nuzzle into your neck. “Because there isn’t anything in this universe that wants to grant your wishes more than I do.”

“Is that so?” you giggle as Tenko buries his face under your coat collar, his chilly cheeks and warm puffs of air making your skin break out into delighted tingles.

“Yes ,” Tenko sighed against your skin, mask bunched up over his nose as he layered kisses across your collarbone.

“Well, that’s pretty convenient since all I find myself wishing for these days is you.”

“You should wish for something better.”

“I don’t think there is anything better,” you say as you comb your fingers through the loose strands of hair falling across Tenko’s forehead. “Not for me, anyway.”

Tenko’s arms tightened around your waist to an almost painful degree, like he was trying to pull you through his layers of flesh and sinew and into his chest; tucking you tightly into the space beside his heart, caged safely behind his ribs.

And you were happy to let him try.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura shigiraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #tomura x y/n #tomura x reader #tomura x you #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x female reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x self insert #pigeoncoos🕊

114 notes · View notes

cutepresea · 8 months

Text

Second half of chapter 25, maybe this one won't have the same issue as last week's where it didn't show up in the tag for a few days

Starting where it left off, Genjuro and Shirabe show up on a boat, bringing ingredients for sushi

Shirabe prepares the rice, while Tsubasa cuts the fish then prepares the sushi

They all try some of it, but then they take out a longtooth grouper. Tsubasa makes more sushi out of that and feeds it to Chris. Chris wakes up and starts crying, making Tsubasa assume she used too much wasabi

But no, Chris is just really happy to taste it for the first time (again). Tsubasa says that next time, they should go to an actual sushi restaurant.

...A jingle starts playing.

Tsubasa turns to the viewer.

"I, Tsubasa Kazanari, often visit Tokage Sushi which offers familiar seafood dishes as well as the rare longtooth grouper now available for a limited time"

"And cut!"

...It was all a commercial, nobody was in actual danger.

Apparently the restaurant had an incident in the past where Noise appeared and word about it somehow escalated into rumors that Noise would come out on the conveyor belt if you went there. They had been a sponsor company for Zwei Wing since their formation, so they decided to return the favor and produce a promotional video for them to help boost their reputation

(Elfnein and Carol are seen collecting the Autoscorers as the conversation is happening)

So Chris was used in the commercial because "Kanade and Maria were filming something elsewhere" but also, Tsubasa thinks back to a conversation with Shirabe beforehand.

Tsubasa doesn't get why so much effort is being put into the sushi. It's just going to be a prop for filming anyway

But Shirabe says they're making it properly anyway, because it makes her so much happier when she can make someone smile with her food

So yeah, the other reason was that Tsubasa wanted to be made happy seeing Chris smile

Chris handles that as well as you'd think

It ends with Tsubasa noticing Chris blushing and thinking she has a fever

#senki kanshoku symphogear shirabe meshi #senki zesshou symphogear #symphogear #shirabe tsukuyomi #genjuro kazanari #tsubasa kazanari #chris yukine

15 notes · View notes

babycatlix · 4 months

Text

i was tagged by @chanstopher, @chanrizard, and @snug-gyu, thank you for thinking of me lovelies! 🩵

january – 65 sets most popular: baby aussie boys ft. baby jeongho favorite: sunshine cutie 💛 – remake

february – 38 sets most popular: gym rat lix favorite: comforting channie hyung 🥰

march – 20 sets most popular: i wanna spin with you 🥰 – MANIAC Tour ATL favorite: the sunscreen incident

april – 16 sets most popular: felix for M.O.V. favorite: MANIAC in tiny 🥺

may – 18 sets most popular: a baby in blue… or purple…? 💙💜 favorite: silly baby lix 🫣

june – 31 sets most popular: a baby with a baby 🥰 favorite: cutest ending fairy 💙

july – 10 sets most popular: shhh… they’re communicating 🥺 favorite: cuties at dinner

august – 24 sets most popular: baby seunglix favorite: 7 ways to hug (or not) a ray of sunshine ☀️

september –13 sets most popular: D-4: Ponytail Lix favorite: D-6: Favorite Dance Move

october – 10 sets most popular: skz family’s youngest member favorite: Yongbok – Age 3: Loves her umma 💙

november – 14 sets most popular: That™ shuffle move favorite: sharing some rice crackers 🫓

december – 29 sets (as of posting) most popular: sir, i think those guns are illegal… favorite: chan doesn’t just annoy hannah 😂 OR yeeting jiniret

i love looking back on what i've done over the year. i'm not sure what happened this year, but it might've been my laptop, but i didn't make nearly as many sets as i did last year. but i started off strong in january, had a pick-me-up in august and now in december.

anyway, i shall tag: @changbeens, @yonglixx, @haenglixie, @quokki, @juiceofmoons, @ggthydrangea, @winterfloral, @agibbangs, and @dinoboos, no pressure of course! 🩵

#tag game

9 notes · View notes

procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 2 years

Text

Vikings + modern food

A/N: first of all, I am SO honored to be ur first choice for your first request.

Second of all, disclaimer, I do not hate ppl with lactose intolerance, it’s just very funny to me when my brother knowingly consumes sth with excessive amounts of milk and then sprints to the toilet five minutes after finishing his food

Third of all, this was so fun to write and also i've been hoarding this imagine like some goblin creature bc i was so excited to post it. had to do it early after reading heart of winter (we need more bragi)

Tagged: @alicedopey, @bragisrunes (message/comment if you want to be added to any taglist)

Masterlist | based on this request | requests are OPEN!

Here are some foods I think you could achieve in 800 AD in Kattegat:

Pizza, if there are tomatoes from the Mediterranean

Italian noodles (I think you could defo manage Alfredo sauce and chicken, and noodles are just flour + water + egg maybe)

Some steak with sauteed onions and all that other good shii

Maybe, possibly, if the trade gods are feeling generous, soup dumplings and other Chinese foods (the biggest problem here would be the spices and the rice, since a lot of Chinese food has pretty simple ingredients)

Sashimi

Tuscan salmon (again the Mediterranean ppl have to pull up with them tomatoes)

Ice cream if it’s snowing for long enough and you have Tupperware to bury your fruits with you

Hummus if the middle eastern ppl pull up to Kattegat with Tahini and chickpeas

Things you could definitely not achieve (I am saying this having done 0 research):

Smoothies (blender)

Choco/vanilla ice cream

Anything vanilla/chocolate flavored

Sushi (nori + rice)

Several tier cakes

Anything involving huge (or any) amounts of refined sugar, food coloring or artificial flavours

Anything that has to be tempered or cooled down at an exact temperature

Anything that requires an airfryer, thermomix or other fancy cooking utensils I can’t afford (rn)

Anything fried (how temperature? How so much oil? Maybe if u go to the blacksmith ig)

Mexican food (cries in guacamole and fajitas)

Ragnar

Very suspicious but tries it

You made Linguine Alfredo for the whole fam (Ragnar+Lagertha+Bjorn+Gyda+Athelstan)

Is lactose intolerant

Major L lol

Bjorn laughs when he comes back after one hour of shitting

Lagertha

Appreciates the Alfredo

Does not appreciate shitting husband

When Ragnar declares that it’s worth the risk

She declares the toilet (i think? maybe a hole in the ground?) is worth cleaning

Regardless, she asks you to teach her how to make pasta

Makes very good viking pasta afterwards

Bjorn (as a child bc I stanned him back then :’) )

Stans you for making his dad violently shit

Also stans pasta alfredo

Asks you to cook more, and promises to set the table for you

When your making spaghetti Bolognese, he hands you cream and asks you to sneak it in

You almost do

Gyda

She’s shyer about talking to you, but asks you to make more modern foods

Will help you get the ingredients and cook

If you use a fish she caught for cooking, she’ll cry with happiness

Is the most capable in making modern foods

Fascinated by ice cream

Makes Bjorn taste test everything she cooks before serving

He does it under one condition: trigger Ragnar’s lactose intolerance

Athelstan

Also very skeptical

Loves stuff that’s a fusion between modern and old

Suspicious of your cooking after the Alfredo-incident

He would love Tuscan salmon though

And soup dumplings

Why? It’s a form of bread + soup + warm. That’s why.

tagging @demon-of-the-ancient-world here for obvious reasons

Aslaug

Big fan of Chinese food

She tried modern food to prove to Ragnar that she would not loose control over her bowels bc of a large amount of cream

When she finds out about chopsticks it’s over for you

She eats everything with chopsticks

Thinks it’s more elegant than anything else

Defo a utensils gal

Ubbe

Grew up with the infamous story of the Alfredo incident (we’re going with that timeline in his case too, but not for the other characters)

Regardless, he’s ready to sacrifice his dignity to try something new

Very not lactose intolerant, and rubs it in Ragnar’s face

Loves a medium raw steak

Asks you to cook for him, but you’ll be able to teach him instead

Hvitserk

You give him pizza as a surprise

Looses his shit (not like Ragnar, in a more metaphorical sense here)

Making bread with toppings and baking it and eating it warm? Genius, why didn’t he think of that.

I just know he would gobble up that spicy salami pizza

Is okay with simpler toppings too

Loves everything you make for him, creates scary fusions

Sigurd

Skeptical. Extremely

He likes bean stew and boiled chicken

But not for long

Sucker for spicy foods

Also likes dumplings a lot

Will take them with him in the steamer for a picknick date

Ivar

Can absolutely NOT eat spicy food

Which Sigurd so laughs about

Eats slightly seasoned curry while tears are streaming down his face (manly tears)

Does not take milk to numb it down

You know those wontons with the spicy sauce that are hella good?

Yeah, he loves them without the sauce.

Clocks Sigurd in the jaw when he pours the sauce over Ivar’s not spicy ones

Heahmund

Idk if this is my hc or just personal distaste for this man and his weird ass voice showing through

Cannot handle spicy food (more homoerotic bonding ground for him and ivar yay!)

Does not like modern food (loser)

Secretly is lactose intolerant

Would probably die from a whiff of peanuts

Sticks to boiled chicken and beans (no salt!!!)

Alfred

Didn’t he go to the Vatican or something?

Got a taste for them Italian dishes

Idk if they already had pasta but that’s not the point

Alfred is a man of the world (at least at the dinner table)

Eats everything and anything you make

Yes, he sends hvitserk on a diplomatic mission to find new food

But only bc hvitserk begged him

Would shake his ass in front of his entire court for the mysterious loaded nachos you’ve described to him

Judith

Supports everything Alfred does

Tries his food with him

Oh man, if Sigurd and Judith ever met, they would have a spice eating contest

It delights her to mix two seeds of pepper into the food and watch some lord have a nervous breakdown

Could eat ghost pepper raw

As long as it burns her mouth, it’s good

Knows about the Alfredo incident in said timeline and uses it as a political weapon against the Vikings

166 notes · View notes

psychotic4ghost · 10 months

Text

:Siren & The 141:

A/n: Sorry but also not sorry for making you wait this long for the next chapter. I'm not against killing my characters so she could have lived, she could have also died. WC: 2.1K Masterlist prev pt next pt

🚨 Warnings 🚨 Mentions of a hospital, possible death, more warnings at the bottom of the story as to avoid spoilers, if you require warning tags, please check the bottom before fully reading.

Chapter 9 - Bated Breath

Time moved incredibly slow for the 141. Everyone sat in silence around the hospital waiting room. Simon sat in a corner completely alone. They did grab the intel they needed and a team of specialists were working on it. But the 141, they all sat motionless.

Simon’s eyes burned holes in the linoleum floors beneath his feet. Gaz paced around the waiting room. Price was sitting with his elbows on his knees and he hung in his hands. Soap sat almost the same as Price but his head was up resting in his hands as he stared into nothing.

“John Price?” A shorter woman asked as she entered the waiting room. Every man in the room stood so quickly, it startled the nurse. She cleared her throat, “She is in recovery. Unfortunately, her left arm was not salvageable. But the rest of her is intact and she will make a full recovery. The doctor will speak with you, Mr. Price, later on about what she can and cannot do.” She bowed her head and left the way she came.

Soap had tears streaming down his face and he and Gaz shared a deep hug. Price cautiously approached Ghost. He started to put his arms out for Ghost, offering a hug but before he could fully raise them, Ghost wrapped his arms around Price. Silent sobs left Ghost as he rested his head against Price’s shoulder.

“She’s gonna live, Simon. She’s okay.” Price soothed as he rubbed Simon’s back, reassuringly.

Mykie wouldn’t return to the base for some time. Price had a safe house set up for her a few miles from the base for when she got out of the hospital. Simon wouldn’t leave her hospital bed until she woke. He guarded her like his life depended on it. The nurses grew worried for the large masked man, often asking Price questions about him when he would visit.

“Eat Simon. You can’t protect her if you're starving. You need your strength…for her.” Price demanded as he set down a plate of chicken and rice for Simon.

“I’ll work on it.” Simon mumbled. He was already a man of few words, but since the incident, he spoke even less. It seemed like Price was the only one he’d speak to. Soap and Gaz would visit as much as they could.

Some of the nurses reported to Price that they would hear Simon mumbling and whispering to Mykie every so often. He would plant small kisses on her hands and forehead. Very rarely, Price would find Simon sleeping with his head on Mykie’s bed and her small hand clasped in his large one. Price would bring Simon new changes of clothing every day. He made sure he brushed his teeth and took breaks to use the restroom and do everything a human needed to do.

“Simon. You don’t want to stink when she wakes up, do you? I’ll watch over her until you finish your shower. I won’t leave her side, you have my word.” Price pleaded with the burly man. “Shower. That’s an order Soldier.” Price demanded. Everyone was tired, but Simon and Price were taking the worst beating. Simon watching over Mykie and Price watching over Simon.

Simon let out a defeated sigh as he stood from his chair next to Mykie’s bed. He took the clothes and towel from Price and locked himself in the small bathroom attached to Mykie’s hospital room. He didn’t take long. Just long enough to wash his hair and his body. He brushed his teeth, replaced his deodorant and hastily sat back down in his chair.

“Thank you.” Price sighed. “I’m heading back to the base for the night, do you need anything?”

Simon shook his head. Price clasped his hand over Simon’s shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze before leaving the small room.

“Mr, Riley?” A small rap at the door sounded as the doctor announced her presence.

“Yes?” Simon looked up from Mykie’s face to meet the Doctor’s. He finally took his baklava off and was now sporting a plain, black surgical mask. He kept his hood up for comfort.

“Ms. Jamison should be waking up soon. Her vitals have been looking really good and her wounds are healing better than we thought. She won’t be able to leave just yet and she will need a lot of therapy. Now, we’ve seen how you’ve been reacting and as someone who cares, I would suggest you get some therapy too.” The doctor informed Simon cautiously.

Simon nodded. He couldn’t find words that fit his feelings and thoughts. He just nodded before the doctor turned to leave again.

Another day passed slowly. Night was approaching when Simon, who had learned every pattern of her heart beat on the EKG, perked up at the sudden change. Her heartbeat elevated ever so slightly as her eyes slowly fluttered open. The first thing her eyes found was his face. His unmasked face. Simon had thought of exactly what he wanted her to see and hear when she awoke. The moment her heart monitor rose, he lowered his mask and hood so she could see him and only him.

“Si…Simon…” She croaked out. Her throat was dry and rough as she spoke.

“Don’t speak. I’ll get the nurse.” Simon said as he planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’ve missed you so much Myke.”

Simon quickly pressed the call button. Nurses were in the room in a moment. They all wanted to be there before the shock could set in for Mykie.

“Simon, please keep rubbing her hand.” The same doctor from before requested. “I’m Dr. Faulkner. It’s nice to finally meet you Mykie. I want you to keep your eyes on me and don’t move for me okay?”

Mykie nodded. Confusion slowly spread over her face.

“What I’m going to say can come as a shock, okay? Just keep your breathing steady for me, can you do that?”

Mykie nodded again.

“You were in an accident. You are doing really well in your recovery. However, we were not able to save your arm. I know it feels like you have both arms right now, but the phantom feeling will go away with time.” Everyone watched her and her EKG as she heard the news. Mykie looked down slowly, trying to register what the doctor was telling her.

“It’s gone…” Mykie croaked out. “Wh-why?” She asked, small tears formed in the corners of her eyes and she looked back to the nurse.

“There was an explosion. I ran in to get you. You still had it then. But I guess where it was cut, it destroyed your nerves, Mykie. They did everything they could.” Simon spoke up. It was the most he had spoken in the week and a half Mykie was out.

“H-he…That man. He set the bomb. He tried to throw it at me. It barely rolled past the door…he did this…he…” Mykie broke down remembering the events that took place before the bomb went off. Tears streamed down her face. Simon didn’t hesitate to lunge from his chair and wrap his arms around her.

“He’s dead, Mykie. Price made sure he can’t hurt you ever again okay?” Simon whispered into her ear. She tried to reach for him with her left arm but, to her disbelief, it really wasn’t there.

A month had passed since Mykie first woke up. She had been relocated to the safe house. She had bounced back a lot faster than anyone expected her to. Most of her more shallow wounds had already healed. Her black eye was now gone. And according to her physical and psychological therapists, she was making record time in recovery.

“Looks like you are handling this very well, Mykie. Why is that, do you think?” Her therapist asked during one of her sessions.

“I’m not sure. I know it takes most soldiers a good amount of time to recover from losing a limb. I just…I’m really not sure. I know I have really good support from my team and that could be helping.” She took a stab in the dark. Even she wasn’t sure why, she wasn’t lying to the therapist, she really didn’t take the fall as hard as she thought she would. She did tend to get agitated or even upset when she would forget she can’t hold certain things or when she would drop stuff. But Simon was with her most of the time.

“I see. Well, you are still required to come to our meetings for the next few months, but I can say for today, you’ve been doing exceptionally well.”

“Thank you, Dr. Richards.”

Her visits were getting shorter. She would only stay longer if her emotions or phantom feelings got worse. She, of course, still felt a phantom arm more often than not. But it was something she was learning to get used to and block out.

“I got us some take out. Got you egg drop soup.” Simon shouted into the small house as he threw the keys to one of the military jeeps down onto the island in the kitchen.

Mykie came rushing out of her room and the news of soup. “You got it?! Did you get egg rolls too?” She asked as she slid to a stop at the island.

“Of course.” He nodded as she hastily grabbed the food from the bag.

Simon had decided to use some of the sick hours he had accumulated over his years in the field. He had never used a sick day before so this was something new for him. He didn’t hate it though, as he got to spend more time with Mykie. He slung off his surgical mask and started chowing down with Mykie.

“How’s the therapy been?” He asked before stuffing his mouth with orange chicken.

“Not too bad. Dr. Richards said I’ve been doing really good. Especially within the short time frame I’ve been seeing him. He said it usually takes quite a few months until most Amputees come to terms with it. And Dr. Valentino said my prosthetic is almost done. Just need to do one more fitting now that I’m more healed.” Mykie rambled with her mouth full of fried rice.

“That’s good. Mykie…I have some bad news.” Simon said with caution as he pushed his now empty plate away from him. “Price wasn’t sure how to really go about this, so I figured I should be the one to tell you.”

“What? Tell me what, Si?”

“You’re going to be honorably discharged from the 141.” Simon watched with his own pain as Mykie stood straight from her chair, her right arm was planted firmly on the counter top.

“What?! I’ll be fit for duty the moment I get my arm! What do you mean a fucking discharge? I’m fucking fine! I can still fucking serve!” Mykie’s ears turned red as her anger flooded through her.

“Mykie…”

“No, fuck this. I can’t believe he would fucking do this.”

“Mykie! It wasn’t his choice. You know Price wouldn’t want you to leave. He isn’t the one making this call.” Simon rested his hand over hers. She was trembling with rage.

“Who is? I wanna have a fucking talk.”

“Mykie. No. Look, I’ve sat in countless meetings fighting for you. Fighting to keep you on the team. Price fought too. We both came with binders of information to back you. But…they couldn't be swayed. Lovie, I’m so sorry.” Simon tightened his hold on her hand.

She slowly lowered herself back into her seat. Disbelief was written all over her face. “What do I do?” She asked, dumbfounded.

“We’ll figure it out, okay? I’m not going anywhere and if there is one pro, You aren’t banned from the base. You can still come visit. And Price made sure you could still stay here.” Simon pulled Mykie into a soft embrace. She didn’t protest, she fell against his side.

“O-okay…”

“Let’s watch a movie, yeah? I’ll clean up just go get into some comfortable clothes. Don’t forget to ask for help if you need it.” Simon pushed Mykie back into her sitting position. He gathered their plates and bowls. Simon washed the dishes as Mykie slipped on some booty shorts and one of Simon’s hoodies. It engulfed her body, falling just above her knees.

“Can you tie it?” Mykie asked as she entered the kitchen, wiggling the left sleeve with her shoulder muscle. The explosion took most of her arm. Her shoulder blade and a small portion of her upper arm was left. About three and a half inches remained.

Simon looked down at her as she began to helicopter the sleeve and let out a chuckle. “Stop fucking moving and I will.” Simon dried his hands and tied the left sleeve into a knot. “How can someone so badass act like a toddler too?” Simon mocked as he scooped her up in a bridal style hold.

“Gotta learn when to let loose, Simon Riley.” She giggled as he carried her to the couch, her feet swinging the whole way.

Addition warning tags: limb loss

#call of duty #cod #mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley call of duty #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #simon riley #mw2 simon riley #oc #im sorry for making you wait

11 notes · View notes

catierambles · 1 year

Text

Public Relations Ch.4

Pairing: Clark Kent/Superman x Charlotte Danvers (OFC)

WC 2363

Warnings: None

@kingliam2019 , @greensleeves888

two in one day? whuuuuuuuut. lemme know if you want to be tagged

The next few days passed uneventfully, Clark sending her that list of places and they settled on a diner he liked to frequent in downtown Metropolis. She was sitting at her desk going through emails when she got the notification of another one coming in from Melissa and she opened it up.

“It’s good.” She had prefaced the link and Charlotte clicked it, bringing up the Daily Planet website and the article attached.

Charlotte Danvers: Only human.

By Clark Kent

By now everyone has heard about what happened at Danvers Tower more than a week ago, its details, both sordid and otherwise splashed over headlines in print and online. Sadly, most publications seemed to focus on the sensational aspects, rather than the full truth. They led to the incident in question, yes, but one wrong decision in her personal life does not justify someone trying to end that life. The press has lost sight of this and Ms. Danvers was raked over the coals as it were, metaphorical stones thrown at her in an effort to somehow diminish the fact that someone she honestly cared about tried to take her life, betraying her trust in the worst way imaginable. How does the old adage go? Those in glass houses? None of us are above reproach. None of us can honestly say we have led a life free of regret or questionable decisions. Charlotte Danvers is a victim in this situation, and to continue to make her so instead of standing by her denotes a severe lack of character and integrity.

I spent the better part of a day with Charlotte Danvers, and the woman I spoke to was not the amoral seductress others have made her out to be. She was kind, warm, and inviting. She spoke with me honestly and candidly on a wide array of topics. Those who worked directly for and with her had nothing but good things to say about her. A lot of terrible things have been said about Charlotte Danvers in the days prior, but let’s try to focus on the positives, shall we? Let’s talk about the woman herself outside of what the other press would have you believe about her.

Charlotte found herself smiling as she read the rest of the article. He was complimentary, but not overly so. He didn’t put her on a pedestal, nor did he attempt to pull her down. He was honest, completely and truly, and she admired that. She read the article a couple more times before printing it out and making a note to have it framed as she did with most articles that were written about her that she actually liked. Going into her phone, she pulled up their text message thread and typed in a message, sending it to him.

Thank you

His response a short while later of a simple heart emoji made her smile again and she reached over, pressing a button on her desk phone.

“Hey, Melissa? Who owns the Daily Planet?” She asked.

“Uhh…Bruce Wayne, I believe, but let me double-check.” Melissa said and a small, somewhat mischievous grin pulled at her lips.

“Please do.” She said and went back to her emails before her phone came to life next to her.

“Yep, Bruce Wayne owns The Daily Planet as a subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises.”

“So he doesn’t actually personally own it.”

“Not that I’ve found.” Melissa said. “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

“Annoy Bruce Wayne and get into the communications business in one fell swoop?” She asked, “Have Acquisitions reach out to them about passing the reins and see if they can put together an offer for me to review.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Melissa said, “Oh, I’m ordering from the Greek place down the street for lunch, you want anything?”

“Chicken shawarma rice bowl, extra tzatziki?”

“You got it, I’ll let you know when it’s here.”

“You want me to foot the bill?”

“Nah, you’re good, Charlie. It’s just the two of us, I got it.” Melissa said.

“Thanks, Mel.” Charlotte said, “Let me know what Acquisitions says.”

“You’ll know as soon as I do.” Melissa said and the line went dead. Picking up her cell phone again, she sent Clark a winky face emoji, getting question marks in return.

I have something in the works. You’ll know if it pans out.

Why am I scared all of a sudden?

That made her laugh.

You’re fine, nothing will change. Much. Maybe.

That doesn’t make me feel better.

It’s still in its infancy, babe. Like I said, you’ll know if it pans out.

Babe?

Shit, she hadn’t meant to put that and it was way too soon for pet names.

So tell me about this diner.

He allowed her to switch topics like a champ and they texted off and on for the rest of the day, making plans to have them meet at her place and they would head into the city together. He didn’t have a car (of course), so she told him that she would have someone pick him up if he didn’t want to use his own personal method. Her house backed up against a forested area far outside the city limits, so he had a private landing zone away from prying eyes if he so chose. In the end, he agreed to have someone swing by to get him and gave her his address. They settled on a time and she let her driving company know that they would be sending someone out to get him at around 7 pm and bring him to her residence, giving them his contact information so they could notify him when they were on their way and when they arrived.

She worked on various things until about 5 when she decided to call it quits for the day, shutting down her computer and letting Melissa know that she was leaving so she could have someone come around front. It’s not that Charlotte couldn’t drive herself to and from work, it was just easier this way and she didn’t have to think about parking. Packing up her things, she left the building, bidding those she passed a good night, and got into the car waiting out front, thinking about what she was going to wear. Everything that immediately came to mind was far too fancy for the setting so she ran through what casual clothes she had hanging up, deciding at last on a simple pair of jeans, a hoodie, and sneakers.

She wished the driver goodnight as they pulled up in front of her house and she got out, heading inside and starting to get ready. The work makeup would need to come off and she debated on how extensive she wanted to get with it and if she wanted to subject him to the sight of her without makeup so soon. Best not to give the man nightmares. Foundation, powder, eyeliner, mascara, and lightly tinted lip gloss it was.

She was just putting the finishing touches on her hair, deciding to just pull it back into a simple bun at the back of her head when she heard the doorbell ring through the sound system. Heading downstairs, she opened the front door, smiling as she saw him standing on her doorstep, getting a smile in return. He had also changed out of his work clothes, opting for a button-up flannel shirt, jeans, and boots, the top couple buttons of the shirt undone and showing a rather attractive view of chest hair, the sleeves rolled up his forearms.

“Come on in!” She said and stepped aside to let him in, watching as he looked around and snorted in amusement at his whistle.

“Wow, this place is big.” He said, looking up at the vaulted ceilings and at the sweeping staircase that was branched off at the top in different directions.

“A bit too big, sometimes.” Charlotte said with a shrug, “But it gives a good first impression. Want the tour before we head out?”

“Absolutely.” Clark said and she started showing him around, working from top to bottom, but only vaguely pointing at where her bedroom was located and not actually showing him it, lest he got the wrong impression on a first date. He was especially impressed with her library and study, along with the full bar in the home theater.

“And here, right off the garage, is the indoor pool and jacuzzi.” She said as they walked into the room and he looked around, “The water of the pool is heated so it’s good year-round.”

“Big windows.” He said, noticing the large floor-to-ceiling windows that made up one exterior wall facing the forest.

“They frost over like the ones in my office if I want some privacy.” She said and he nodded.

“I meant to ask.” Clark said and she gave him a questioning look. “World of Warcraft?” There was a moment of confusion before she remembered and she looked down at the stitching on the front of her hoodie briefly.

“I like to play it in my downtime.” She said, “What little I actually have, and BlizzCon is always fun.”

“Never played it and never been.” Clark said with a small, amused smile.

“For the Horde.” She said and he snorted, understanding the reference even though he didn’t play the game. “And through here, is my pride and joy.” He followed her as they left the pool area, heading into the garage and he stopped as she turned on the overhead lights, his jaw dropping slightly at the sight of the cars she had. There wasn’t a modern sports or high-end luxury car among them, all classics and mostly muscle cars, but there were a couple of vintage sports cars as well.

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah.” She said, a smile in her voice and she went past him, going up to one and running her fingertips up the gleaming black hood lightly. “This one is my favorite, my baby. 1967 Pontiac GTO with a V8 engine, growls like a beast and has enough power to push you back in your seat and then some. She was the first one I collected and restored.”

“You restored her yourself?” He asked, standing at the front of the car and she nodded with a sound.

“You should have seen her when I found her, rusting away in a junkyard, poor thing. The guy sold her to me for next to nothing, probably thinking I was going to just strip her down for usable parts. It wasn’t an easy restoration by any means, the chassis needed replacing, and the engine was completely shot. Lots of late nights, but I got her back to fighting weight and prom pretty.”

“She’s gorgeous. What about this one?” He asked, moving off to a cherry red convertible with bold black lines down the hood.

“1970 Chevelle SS 454 LS6.” She said, “Only about twenty were ever produced. I only drive her on special occasions, but I do make sure to drive her. Beauty like her doesn’t deserve to be put on a shelf and never taken out.”

“My dad would have loved to see these.” Clark said.

“I’d love to show him one day.” Charlotte said with a smile and he looked down, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets.

“He died some years back,” Clark said, “When a twister ripped through my hometown.”

“I’m sorry.” She said, “I didn’t know.”

“I could have saved him, but he…” Clark stopped, sniffing slightly. “He stopped me. He didn’t want me to out myself just for the sake of him.”

“He was trying to protect you.” Charlotte said and he nodded, looking at her as she stood in front of him, a sympathetic smile on her face. “You know what? Forget the diner, let’s order a pizza instead.”

“You sure?” Clark asked and she nodded.

“Yeah, I have a rather extensive movie collection, if I do say so myself. How about you pick one out and we watch it in the theater?” She suggested, “But before we do that. How would you, my good Sir, like to take one of the cars out for a spin around the neighborhood?”

“Oh, I couldn’t…I couldn’t possibly…”

“I insist. Whichever one you want.” She said, “I know it’s blasphemy, but they’re all automatic transmissions, made sure of it myself. Was never comfortable with manual, personally.”

“Are you sure? Absolutely sure you want me behind the wheel of one of your babies?”

“Clark, you have literal superhuman reflexes. I’m not worried about you crashing one of my cars.” She said and he looked over her collection.

“I would love to.” He said and she gave a sweeping gesture.

“Pick one out.” She said and he walked down the row before stopping at one. It was a deep sapphire blue with white racing stripes and like the Chevelle, was also a convertible.

“This one.”

“The 1965 Shelby Cobra, only about a thousand were ever produced.” She said, “Excellent choice, Sir, let me get that key for you.” She went over to a box on the wall, pressing her thumb onto the scanner and opening it as it unlocked, looking through the keys hanging on hooks inside before pulling one out. He caught it as she tossed it to him and he opened the driver’s side door, getting into it and settling down behind the wheel, putting the seat belt on. She got in on the passenger's side and put on her own belt and he hesitated a moment before sliding the key into the ignition and turning it. The engine came to life with a growl and settled into a purr and he groaned, dropping his head onto the steering wheel and making her laugh. Opening the glove box, she pulled out a remote and pressed the button, the garage doors sliding back like aircraft hangar doors. The cars were all parked at an angle facing the now open door so all he had to do was put his foot on the gas and drive out, heading up the ramp and turning down onto the street, the doors closing behind them.

#henry cavill #clark kent #superman #public relations fic #my writing

22 notes · View notes

spield · 3 months

Text

WIP Whenever — tagged

tagged by @im-immortal// Thank you!!

Currently working on an uncovered (hidden by Google Docs lol) chapter of infinite universes; from the the sun and the moons universe. ItaSaku-focused.

Mamoru personally doesn’t celebrate his birthday. This fact does not stop his mother, his fathers, and his siblings from throwing him a party every year. To meet him halfway, they keep it small, just their immediate family members and a few of Mamoru’s closest friends. His mother makes sure to ask the ladies of the house to cook his favorite meals (even after all these years, Shisui-tousan has never let her live down the karaage incident) but makes sure to take care of dessert. Sometimes, his youngest father joins her but most of the time he just takes care of the ingredients and leaves her to her devices. Though this tradition is not limited to his birthdays, Mamoru finds that the dango his mother makes for his day to be special. Not in the ingredients she uses or its presentation, but in the amount of time and almost fondness with which she painstakingly mixes the rice flour with water, rolls it to bits, and daintily colors it with finely chopped flowers of her namesake and matcha powder. She starts early in the morning on the day of his birthday. Always up before sunrise ready to take on the close to a hundred dango she has to make. As a child, Mamoru remembers sneaking into the kitchen, his feet light and avoiding every creaking wood in the house just to steal one of his mother’s dangos. Of course, kaa-chan always saw him coming (still does to this day) and would welcome him with a fond smile before handing him the first dango of his birthday, and saying; “You are just like your father.” With his cheeks stuffed with sticky rice, he smiles and then asks about the father he never met.

tagging @birklurks @thekatthatbarks @kuriquinn @bouncyirwin and anyone who wants to participate!

#spield writes #infinite universes #itasaku #uchisaku

4 notes · View notes

penthepoet · 6 months

Text

Incidents that have Happened So Far in my SMT Tabletop Campaign

this post and the next are dedicated to @wounddread who was lookin through the SMT: The Goetic tag yesterday. thank you so much bestie, wishing you best of luck on your stories!!!

a PC eating six gallons of soup, which is biologically impossible

another PC getting run over by a car (he got better)

the PCs finding out that in the other world they go into, they turn into monsters! The main party is made up of a banshee, an Arthurian White Stag, a phoenix, a qilin, and a Chernobyl Devil [mix between a Jersey Devil and a male cockroach]

me having to wholecloth make up an NPC on the spot from a sassy fried rice cook the players got attached to

one of the NPCs losing her shit at her sister's funeral and trying to crawl into her sister's coffin, with the PCs trying to calm her down

one of the PCs just got psychically bound to one of the villains [the smug little snitch one], and it is already going very well. This is the same villain that ran somebody over with a car because they didn't like his hairstyle.

the players got a Deck of Many Things and I cannot tell you the amount of shit that's transpired from that [two Knights, a castle they get to clear out and make their own little hideout, nightmares of alternate timelines, etc.]

#smt: the goetic

3 notes · View notes

kristalbeals16 · 3 months

Text

Is It Wrong To Let Kids Play With Toy Guns?

The present reduce to black, so viewers missed the bizarre ending to Stollman’s manifesto: "There’s no approach I may harm anybody with this empty BB gun." The following 12 months, in response to the KNBC incident, State Senator David Roberti of California proposed a invoice, which quickly passed and was signed into law, that required the front of every toy firearm to either be painted in vivid colours or be fitted with a shiny-colored safety tip. Every toy gun in my childhood neighborhood was scarred at the barrel. We had learned to pry off the orange plugs with Swiss Army knives, but doing so required a number of deep cuts to the good part. A couple of years later, my father purchased me a replica Civil War-period doubled-barreled pistol with functional hammers that swung down if you pulled the trigger. Forged out of black steel and wood, it had a sensible heft, a vast improve over the gouged plastic guns, especially when a neighbor discovered the hammers could burst a Chinese Bang Snap.

The SpyraThree has new modes that allow you to select how severely you wish to take your water battles. If you buy one thing from a Verge hyperlink, Vox Media might earn a commission. See our ethics assertion. Sypra has made a reputation for itself by creating powerful, digital water guns, the primary of which launched on Kickstarter in 2018. Now, the company’s adding a third water gun to its lineup, aptly named the SpyraThree, and it contains extra modes for once you need to take your battles tremendous significantly or are just on the lookout for some informal summer season enjoyable. Before we get to those, let’s go over what makes the Spyra more than just your standard Super Soaker - and why it may well command its eye-popping worth tag of $179.00 per gun. Like the SpyraTwo (which you'll still purchase for round $5 much less), the SpyraThree features an digital firing system that can spray folks from around 30 toes away, and may ship water almost 50 toes whenever you charge up a "PowerShot." It additionally refills itself.

Since then, some analysis has evaluated the relationship between toy guns and gun violence. A 2019 examine revealed in JAMA examined the impact of gun violence in video video games on youngsters's habits with real guns. Researchers discovered that kids who performed these games had been more likely to touch an actual gun. Not solely that, they dealt with guns longer and pulled the trigger extra occasions than their friends who did not play these video games. In her pediatric follow, Nina Agrawal, M.D., a child abuse pediatrician with experience in trauma-informed care working in class health with Children’s Aid Society and a 2022-2023 Richard Nathan coverage fellow with the Rockefeller Institute of Government, routinely talks with patients and caregivers about gun entry and security. However, she points out an necessary incontrovertible fact that she believes deserves consideration in the talk about toy gunplay: Children are often unable to differentiate between real and toy guns.

" He warned mother and father of the risks airsoft and different replica weapons could pose to their children’s lives, how all sensible toy guns could be treated as actual by legislation enforcement. " he wrote, before providing suggestions for how to make sure their safety: comply with officers’ instructions, drop the gun immediately and don’t run away. Rice didn’t seem to have time for any of that, nor did John Crawford III, a 22-year-old father of two who was shot by the police in an Ohio Wal-Mart just three months earlier. At the time he was killed, Crawford was holding an MK-177 pellet rifle. A concerned shopper known as 911 and stated that Crawford had been pointing it at youngsters (however later recanted this assertion). The surveillance video that has been released to the public does not show Crawford pointing the rifle at anybody, nor does it corroborate the testimony of the police, who stated they shot Crawford after delivering several verbal warnings.

Actually, a 2019 evaluation found that lower than half of children might correctly establish a real gun when it was shown alongside a toy Orbi Gun. The good news is that in the case of criminality, research doesn't indicate toy guns make kids more violent. A 2018 study discovered that imaginative play with a toy gun was not more likely to be a risk factor for later criminal habits. Dr. Spinks-Franklin notes that aggressive pretend play is part of normal development and does not point out that a toddler will develop as much as be violent. That said, there are some recognized dangers associated with toy guns, together with physical injury, mistaking actual guns for toy guns, and mistaking toy guns for real guns. Toy guns can and do pose a danger of physical damage, especially amongst BB guns and airsoft guns (referred to as non-powder weapons). In a 2020 examine revealed in Journal of Pediatric Surgery, researchers found that among hospital admissions for non-powder weapon-associated accidents in children, patients had been predominantly male, lived in the South, were non-Hispanic white, and were low-income.

1 note · View note

frillyfacefins · 9 months

Text

What I Sacrifice at the Altar of Your Lips

Fandom: The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty Rating: Explicit Pairing: Wang Zhi/Tang Fan/Sui Zhou (WangTang-centric) Tags: Established Relationship, Feeding, Food Play, Feeding Kink, Hand Feeding, slight stuffing kink, foot play, Foot Jobs, foot kink if you squint, Dom/sub Undertones, Humiliation, Topping from the Bottom, or rather Tang Fan thought he could be in control and Wang Zhi doesn‘t think so, some food gets licked off a cock, Slight objectification, mainly of Sui Zhou, I mean he is there and he is central to the scene, bc he made the food and he intensifies the humiliation, but this is very much WangTang-centric, Tang Fan just wants to put sweet things into Wang Zhi ok Word Count: 7,366

Also on AO3

Summary:

Tang Fan really, really likes Wang Zhi‘s mouth. Wang Zhi really, really likes messing with Tang Fan‘s plans. (aka The WangTang Candy Feeding Fic)

See end notes for pictures of the cakes and candy described in this fic

The first time Tang Fan had told Wang Zhi that he had the most beautiful mouth he had ever seen, Wang Zhi had just given him one of those indulgent smiles, as if Tang Fan had just told him some adorable nonsense.

To be fair, Tang Fan had been pretty drunk that night. He didn‘t get drunk often – and never when he had to pay for the alcohol, because he needed to drink quite a bit more than most before he really felt it. But it had been right after the incident with the robbers, after Tang Fan had nearly died from poison and Wang Zhi and Sui Zhou had nearly died in the brothel. He had still been weak and had felt the wine stronger than usual, and he had felt so vulnerable and open that all sorts of things had come out of him. None of them had been lies, but he also hadn‘t necessarily meant to say most of them out loud, either.

A lot of things have happened since then, and the relationship between the three of them today is nothing like it had been then. Well, “nothing like“ was maybe too strong a word. They had already trusted each other at that time, but not as unconditionally as they did now; they had already enjoyed each other’s company, but they hadn‘t yet found their homes in each other‘s arms. There had still been a delicate dance, an attempt at friendship when each of them already felt an inkling that whatever was between the three of them was not quite that.

But all of that is behind them, and when Tang Fan compliments Wang Zhi now, he doesn‘t get indulgent smiles, but smoldering looks, bashful blushes, or delicate moans – depending on Wang Zhi‘s mood and state of undress.

Tang Fan still can‘t get enough of watching Wang Zhi‘s mouth. He has been thinking about it so much in the last few months while they were apart, when the most he could do was to tell Sui Zhou about the things he wanted to do with that mouth or make vague innuendos in his letters to Wang Zhi.

This time, they have come to Yinchuan, the biggest city in Ningxia in the western loop of Hetao, with a trunk full of ingredients from the capital that are hard to find this far north. Sui Zhou takes over the kitchen of the military governor‘s mansion the morning after their arrival and, assisted by some of the servants Wang Zhi took with him from the capital, whips up plates upon plates of water chestnut cakes, custard buns, fried glutinous rice balls with sesame, osmanthus cakes, mung bean cakes and sweetheart cakes. They have brought tuckahoe pies, sesame candy, and several boxes full of sweetmeats and roasted nuts and seeds. And of course there are rice noodles, dried mushrooms, pickled long beans, several varieties of really good tea, and other things that are not sweets in that trunk as well – but the sweets are far more central to what Tang Fan has been fantasizing about for months.

Wang Zhi has taken a few days off for them, but he still needs to tie up some of his responsibilities. He comes home in the late afternoon, not long before dusk, and he looks as exhausted today as he did when he welcomed them at the river port yesterday evening. Tang Fan is glad to see that he hasn‘t lost any more weight than the last time they have seen him, at least. The servants must have taken the lecture he had given them to heart, about making up for Wang Zhi‘s tendency to skip meals by feeding him more fatty cuts of meat and more strengthening tonics. Sui Zhou had later told him that he had overheard two of the maids giggling about how Tang-daren sounded like a mother trying to prepare her daughter for a wedding, with how insistent he had been that the military governor needed to be fattened up again after his first bout of away-from-home weight loss.

Sui Zhou feeds the both of them a light dinner tonight, congee, fish, pickles and some green vegetables. Wang Zhi notices immediately, of course, but when he asks Tang Fan if the journey on the river has made him sick again, Tang Fan only grins and tells him to wait and see.

And see he does – Sui Zhou has the servants help him carry in four trays of dessert before he dismisses them for the night. Wang Zhi isn‘t as good at keeping emotion off his face when he is around the two of them, and Tang Fan is delighted to see his eyes widen and his jaw going a little slack at the sight of the cornucopia before him. He sees Wang Zhi‘s gaze taking in all of the offerings, before the movement of his eyes stop and the tip of his tongue appears in the corner of his mouth for just a moment.

Tang Fan follows his eyes to the plate of osmanthus cakes. They are moulded in a round flower shape with some extra petals on top. He feels his own heart beat in his throat when he turns around on his chair, takes one of the pretty little cakes in one hand and turns Wang Zhi‘s face with the other hand cupping his cheek.

“I really hope you won‘t mind, A-Zhi…” he says softly, his eyes magically drawn to Wang Zhi‘s soft mouth, his perfect, plush lips more pleasing to the eye than any flower could ever be. “But I‘ve been thinking about feeding you sweet things for months now… Will you indulge me, baobao?”

Wang Zhi‘s eyebrows twitch upwards, then they move into a slight frown that also makes his lips pucker. Tang Fan does his best to look into his eyes and is rewarded for his self-restraint when Wang Zhi lets out a little huff and relaxes into the caress of his hand.

“You are such a strange man,“ he grumbles.

Tang Fan chuckles and finally holds the cake up to his mouth. “Yes, I am,“ he says. It‘s a good thing that Wang Zhi doesn‘t seem to have any dangerous or complicated missions to force on him right now – he might agree to anything, really, to be allowed to hand-feed Wang Zhi.

Wang Zhi grins at him for a moment, but then he finally opens his mouth and takes a small bite of the cake. The glimpse of his white teeth and the way his eyes close with pleasure and his lips press against each other as he chews make Tang Fan‘s head swim.

Wang Zhi opens his eyes again and takes another bite, this time making eye-contact with Tang Fan while his lips close around the tips of his fingers.

Tang Fan feels as if the wetness on his fingers is flowing down into his loins, and he has to adjust his sitting position a little.

Wang Zhi takes the last bite with an especially provocative flick of his tongue against Tang Fan‘s thumb. Then, when he has swallowed, he leans towards him, one hand on his thigh, and says: “Wouldn‘t you rather feed me something else, xiao gege?“

Tang Fan feels the blood leave his head to flow south and join that boiling pool at his center, but he stays strong. He doesn‘t push Wang Zhi‘s hand away, but he reaches for another sweet, this time a perfectly round sesame ball, and presses it against the soft cushions of Wang Zhi‘s lips.

“Come on now, Guangchuan worked so hard to make all of these lovely things for you, you have to at least try all of them…“ he whines, giving Wang Zhi his biggest puppy eyes. He can see Wang Zhi roll his eyes in the direction of Sui Zhou, who isn‘t really participating but who has conveniently pushed all of the dishes into Tang Fan‘s reaching distance. Then he lets out a little sigh and takes all of the sesame-covered rice cake into his mouth at once. He doesn‘t give up on the opportunity to give Tang Fan‘s fingers a little suck, but Tang Fan is so happy that Wang Zhi has apparently agreed to participate in this little game of his that his own growing need is hardly more than a pleasant background hum.

Tang Fan can hardly tear his gaze away from Wang Zhi‘s lips long enough to pick out his next offering. It‘s a sweetheart cake, and the wafer-thin pastry skin crinkles slightly between his fingers as he holds it out to Wang Zhi.

Wang Zhi doesn‘t go for the whole thing this time, but instead bites off about half of the little cake. The sound of the crust is impeccable, the crumble fine enough to rival any heritage bakery in the capital. A few crumbs cling to Wang Zhi‘s lips as he chews and suddenly Tang Fan really wants to know if the pastry tastes as good as it looks (he knows what Wang Zhi‘s lips taste like, of course, but oil enhances any flavor, right?).

There hasn‘t been time for them to enjoy each other in this way before. They arrived too late yesterday and both he and Sui Zhou had been too exhausted even for cuddles, and then Wang Zhi had spent all of today outside of his mansion. No matter how much Tang Fan thinks of Wang Zhi‘s lips, he always seems to forget just how wonderful they feel. They are so soft and warm, and his face fits against Tang Fan‘s differently than Sui Zhou‘s. His skin is completely smooth, there is no stubble, and while Tang Fan does love rubbing up against Sui Zhou‘s moustache, there is something so luxurious about that velvety softness that Tang Fan completely forgets what he was doing. He can taste the sweets Wang Zhi has eaten when those lips part and Wang Zhi licks into his mouth, and Tang Fan spends the next minute or two chasing the intense sweetness of candied wintermelon and the slightly bitter note of black sesame paste on Wang Zhi‘s tongue and lips and teeth. It should be disgusting, maybe, looking for the remnants of what he has been eating like this, but ever since the three of them have started this relationship, Tang Fan has discovered that a lot of things that sounded disgusting felt amazing when they involved his two favorite people in the world.

Like with most of their kisses, Wang Zhi is the one to pull away eventually. Tang Fan is as insatiable with kisses as he is with food – if nobody stops him, he would keep going until he‘d collapse.

Tang Fan‘s head feels so fuzzy with desire that if Wang Zhi had asked him now if he‘d rather feed him something else, Tang Fan might have given up on his well-prepared, long-anticipated plan. But this time Wang Zhi doesn‘t try and get Tang Fan to change tracks. Instead he just grins at him, then he takes his hand in his own and lifts it to his lips so he can pluck the rest of the sweetheart cake out of his hand with his teeth.

He lingers like that for a moment, his hand loosely curled around Tang Fan‘s wrist, never breaking eye contact while he slowly chews. There is something very feline about him in that moment, the way he is squinting his eyes a little, the relaxed way his beautifully cared-for nails are just lightly touching Tang Fan‘s wrist, the amused curve of his moving lips as he is chewing…

Tang Fan isn‘t wearing as many layers as he does most of the time – he didn‘t go outside today, after all, and he also didn‘t take his robes of office with him – so he is pretty sure that Wang Zhi will see what he is doing to him as soon as he looks down. It makes him feel strangely nervous, the thought that Wang Zhi is going to know any moment. He can‘t explain why, not even to himself, but when that moment comes – when Wang Zhi swallows, lets go of Tang Fan‘s wrist, and lowers his eyes just a little – he feels a wave of heat surge from his core to his head. He knows that his cheeks are flushed when Wang Zhi‘s lips curl into a knowing smile – first one corner of his mouth, then the other. Wang Zhi looks up at him again, through his lashes, then he slowly licks his lips.

“Why don‘t you get me one of those dried peaches next, Runqing?“ he asks in a tone as dark and sweet as the black sesame filling in the glutinous rice balls.

He eats the dried peach in one bite, his tongue swiping Tang Fan‘s finger, his eyes twinkling with amusement. His hand returns to Tang Fan‘s thigh as he tells him that he‘d like a piece of water chestnut cake next, and this time Wang Zhi sucks the gelatinous treat out of his fingers. He holds his hand in place after that and cleans his fingers with soft, tiny kitten licks.

Tang Fan feels as if he‘s floating, even though Wang Zhi hasn‘t touched any part of him other than his thigh and his hand. He meets Sui Zhou‘s eyes when he gets Wang Zhi the next treat he demands – a crunchy sheet of sesame candy – and Sui Zhou‘s eyebrows are slightly raised, as if he‘s not quite sure what is happening. This definitely isn‘t how Tang Fan had planned this; in his fantasy, he had just kept feeding a pliant Wang Zhi while he whispered sweet nothings to him. But while this isn‘t what he has planned, he is still definitely not mad about getting to feed Wang Zhi while he decides what he wants to have.

Wang Zhi eats the sesame candy, then he demands a candied walnut and then another piece of osmanthus cake. He is getting more demanding, and Tang Fan thinks that he can see a slight blush tinting the highest curve of his cheeks.

“I‘m thirsty,“ Wang Zhi says after he lets go of Tang Fan that time. There is the slightest trace of a whine in his voice now.

Tang Fan needs a moment to react – his mind feels weirdly hazy, as if it had been him eating all those sweets – but when he does, he immediately turns to Sui Zhou.

“Guangchuan, can you get us some tea?“ he asks. He notices that Sui Zhou‘s eyes are very dark by now and that only one of his hands is on top of the table. But unlike Tang Fan, Sui Zhou doesn‘t skip a beat before he nods and gets up. Wang Zhi watches him leave, then he turns back to Tang Fan with a wide grin.

“Don‘t you think Guanchuan would like to see you try the fruit of his hard work as well?“ he whispers. He is leaning toward Tang Fan, his hand rubbing up and down his thigh. “Or are you going to thank him in another way later? Something sweet for me, something bitter for you?“

Tang Fan tries to look scandalised, but even if his cock wasn‘t painfully hard he would never stand a chance to fool Wang Zhi.

“You know that Guangchuan is getting as much out of this as I am,“ he says with a lopsided grin.

“Hmm… I guess that is true. But still –“

Wang Zhi is standing and leaning over him before Tang Fan can react, and suddenly he is captured in the space between Wang Zhi‘s arms and the table. Wang Zhi leans farther down and Tang Fan leans back reflexively. Wang Zhi grins down at him, then he looks at the table and selects something that Tang Fan can‘t see. The suspense is enough to make Tang Fan‘s cock throb even worse, but it doesn‘t last long before Wang Zhi holds a little green mung bean cake against his lips.

Tang Fan doesn‘t react right away – something in his head is yelling that this is not how he was planning for this to go, that he needs to take back control – and apparently Wang Zhi is not in the mood to wait until he makes up his mind. So instead, he pulls his hand away and lifts the cake to his own mouth. But instead of taking a bite, he just takes it between his lips and lets go of it with his hand. He grabs Tang Fan‘s chin and leans back down until the green skin of the mung bean cake touches his lips.

This time, Tang Fan obeys. The mung bean cake is silky smooth on his tongue, and the bright sweetness fills his mouth as he bites down. Wang Zhi doesn‘t involve their tongues in this kiss, they just move their lips against each other while both of them chew, but it still feels so intimate and passionate that Tang Fan can feel the first drops of sweat form inside his collar.

A soft cough tears him out of his reverie. Sui Zhou is standing by the table with a tea tray in his hand and only now does Tang Fan realise that he has already swallowed the cake a while ago, and also that his hands have somehow found their way to Wang Zhi‘s hips.

Sui Zhou‘s slightly amused look when he sets the tray down on the table makes Tang Fan blush furiously, but Wang Zhi just grins and stands back up from where he was nearly sitting on Tang Fan‘s lap. He sits back down on his own chair.

“Thank you, dage,“ he purrs as Sui Zhou carefully fills a tea cup and hands it to him. Wang Zhi receives it with one hand and takes a sip, but when Sui Zhou moves to return to his original seat, he stops him by hooking two fingers of his free hand into his belt.

Sui Zhou doesn‘t try to pull away, but he does give Wang Zhi a slightly confused look. “Do you need anything else, Zhi-lang?“

Wang Zhi takes his time with his tea, then he puts the cup down gingerly.

“I am a little worried that you might feel neglected, Guangchuan.“ Wang Zhi‘s voice has gone a little higher, not quite at the level he uses when he‘s trying to curry favor with outsiders, but still audibly different from the dark purr he used earlier. He lets go of Sui Zhou‘s belt, secure in the knowledge that he won‘t go anywhere until Wang Zhi tells him to, and runs his hand over his hip and down his thigh. Tang Fan nearly flinches when something touches his lap, and when he looks down, he sees that Wang Zhi has put his foot on his lap, his little black shoe dangerously close to his cock. Wang Zhi doesn‘t look at him as he continues. “You put so much work into this, you should get to play a little, too, don‘t you think?“

Sui Zhou looks at him with an amused twinkle in his eyes. “You know that just watching is perfectly fine for me.“

Wang Zhi lets out a little sigh and takes his tea cup to have another sip. “What a waste, though,“ he laments, punctuating it with the sound of his now empty, overturned tea cup. “Tell me, Guangchuan…“ He looks up at him with a grin, and Tang Fan is treated to a lovely view of his white throat and the graceful curve of his jaw. “According to whatever plans you made for tonight, which one of you is going to fuck me when I‘m properly full and heavy with those lovely treats you made?“

Sui Zhou doesn‘t answer with words, but his eyes do flick over to Tang Fan. Tang Fan is, once again, not sure why he is blushing, but he does feel another flash of heat boil over in his loins and shoot into his head.

Wang Zhi gives him one of those looks, the kind of look that says “you‘re lucky you‘re cute enough to pull this shit off“, then he clicks his tongue. “He is always so greedy, isn‘t he? First he wants to stuff my mouth, then he wants to stuff my ass…“

Wang Zhi’s foot taps against the bulge Tang Fan’s hard cock is making in his robes and Tang Fan feels like he‘s boiling alive, both with desire and humiliation.

Sui Zhou‘s face looks amused, which isn‘t helping Tang Fan at all. “I don‘t mind if he is greedy,“ he answers.

“You‘re really spoiling him to much,“ Wang Zhi scolds him, then his eyes linger on for a moment before he lets them run over the table again. Finally, he pulls his foot away from Tang Fan‘s lap and moves his hand back to Sui Zhou‘s belt.

Nobody tries to stop Wang Zhi from undoing Sui Zhou‘s belt or pushing his robes open. It only takes him a moment to untie his pants and pull out his hard, dark cock.

Tang Fan can feel his mouth water at the sight. He should be used to it by now, but Sui Zhou‘s cock is just so beautiful – too big to stand up on its own, elegantly textured with just enough veins to make exploring it fun every time, the head perfectly proportionate to the rest of it and wrapped up in just the right amount of soft, pliant skin.

Wang Zhi wraps a hand around that sheath of skin and starts moving it up and down slowly, nearly casually. Sui Zhou immediately goes into what Tang Fan likes to call his “good boy stance“ – his feet move a little farther apart, his hands move behind his back, his hips tilt slightly forward and his head goes down. He always looks as if he‘s trying to keep himself from grabbing the head of whoever‘s mouth is closest to his cock to violently fuck their throat. Tang Fan has managed to break that self-constrain many, many times, mostly by ruthlessly chocking himself on that beautiful cock, but with Wang Zhi being the one playing with Sui Zhou‘s cock now, it seems perfectly right that he would do his best to behave like an obedient toy.

Wang Zhi isn‘t even looking, though. His eyes are searching the table again, before he finally selects one of the soft white buns in the middle. He lets go of Sui Zhou‘s cock to pull the dough apart, then he smiles at what he finds.

“This should work nicely,“ Wang Zhi says, his voice back to that dark silky-softness. He scoops the creamy custard filling out of one half of the bun with two fingers and spreads it on Sui Zhou‘s shaft, then he does the same with the other half.

“Runqing, have a taste,“ Wang Zhi finally says.

Tang Fan immediately pounces, as if Wang Zhi had just cut a leash that had been holding him back. His knees knock painfully against the wooden floor as he drops off his chair and he has to catch himself on Sui Zhou‘s muscular thighs to hold his balance, but none of that keeps him from immediately swallowing that wet, red tip. He sucks up the bitter liquid that has already collected around his slit, then he uses his lips to push his foreskin back far enough to get a good, big lick of the hot smoothness of his cockhead. Only then does he pull off to go after the streaks of custard cream along his length.

He loses himself in cleaning the delicious sweetness off Sui Zhou‘s salty skin, but when he feels Sui Zhou‘s thighs start to tremble, he goes back to sucking his tip. He takes his hands off his legs and instead wraps one around his spit-slick shaft while the other one cradles his balls, the knuckles of his fingers feeling for the patch of skin just behind them. Drawing a climax out of Sui Zhou is the easiest thing in the world for Tang Fan at this point, and definitely one of his favorite things, too – he wouldn‘t have gotten this good at it otherwise. After the mung bean cake and the custard cream, Sui Zhou‘s cum tastes a little more bitter than usual, but for some reason it is exactly that contrast that makes a deep shiver run through Tang Fan‘s body, forcing a few drops out of his own straining cock.

He lets Sui Zhou‘s cock slip out of his mouth and turns to Wang Zhi to see if he is satisfied – and immediately feels another few drops spurt into his robes. Wang Zhi has put one foot on the stool, his elbow is on his knee and in his hand is another half-eaten custard bun with the filling nearly spilling out. Wang Zhi catches the cream with his tongue while he looks Tang Fan right in the eyes, then he licks the rest of it out of the bun and stuffs the empty dough into his mouth.

Tang Fan can‘t stop the whimper that spills over his lips, and the way Wang Zhi‘s eyes narrow makes it very clear that he heard it. Wang Zhi swallows the bun, then he turns to Sui Zhou, who is still in his good-boy-stance. He is heaving after his orgasm, desperately trying to fill his lungs with air after he most likely held his breath while he was spilling into Tang Fan‘s mouth. A gentle smile appears on Wang Zhi‘s lips that makes something other than Tang Fan‘s loins stir.

“Go clean yourself up,“ he tells Sui Zhou and gives him a pat on his hip, as if he was a horse who just went through a fast gallop.

Sui Zhou relaxes his posture and nods, then he slowly walks out of the room. It always makes Tang Fan proud that Sui Zhou needs to walk especially carefully after Tang Fan got him off. One time he had nearly toppled his armor after an especially intense after-dinner blowjob; it‘s one of Tang Fan‘s fondest memories.

When Sui Zhou reaches the door, Tang Fan starts to stand up so he can sit down at the table again – but Wang Zhi‘s hand on his shoulder stops him.

“You, stay,“ Wang Zhi says.

A mixture of dread and arousal makes Tang Fan‘s skin tingle. Wang Zhi is looking down at him with that cat-playing-with-a-songbird look on his face, his pose lazy and indolent like some young master lounging on a couch. Tang Fan has no idea how he keeps his balance on that stool but he is also not all that surprised – if Wang Zhi wants to lounge, who is that stool to tell him he can‘t?

Wang Zhi takes his hand off Tang Fan‘s shoulder and nods to the floor in front of him. “Come here.“

Tang Fan only has to adjust his position a little to kneel right in front of Wang Zhi, but it takes long enough for Wang Zhi to eat a few more pieces of dried fruit. He keeps his eyes on him throughout, which gives him the air of somebody snacking while watching an interesting show.

Once Tang Fan is in a position that is to his liking, Wang Zhi puts his leg down from the stool so that his knees are bracketing Tang Fan‘s body. He leans down – not far, because with their size difference, Tang Fan‘s head is at Wang Zhi‘s belly level when he sits down on his heels.

“Let‘s continue that game you wanted to play, shall we?“ he whispers, his eyes glinting with that intoxicating mix of hunger and amusement that Tang Fan can never get enough of.

Wang Zhi looks at his face for another moment, then he straightens again and pushes his sleeves back. He selects a sesame-covered glutinous rice ball, and then also a piece of sweetheart cake.

“But we‘ll adjust the rules a little…“ He holds his palms out, one sweet on each of them. “You choose which one I eat, by eating the other one. If you choose to give me the one I like better, I eat it and take off one item of clothing. Both shoes and both socks count as one item, pendants and hair ornaments don‘t count. If you ate the one I would have liked better, you take one item off. If I end up naked before you do, you get to fuck me. If you end up naked first, you can rub yourself off on my foot.“

Tang Fan swallows. This should be a game he is good at – he is great at interpreting people‘s clues even when he isn‘t familiar with them, and he knows Wang Zhi like he only knows Sui Zhou. And he knows what Wang Zhi likes and what he doesn‘t. But then again, that might become the actual issue with this game. Every sweet on this table is something Wang Zhi likes – that‘s why he asked Sui Zhou to make these specific cakes and desserts. So if Wang Zhi is telling him to choose the one he wants more right now, at this moment… There is no empiric way to know which sweet exactly he would like to eat more right now.

Also, there is nothing to keep Wang Zhi from just manipulating the game to get the results he wants. How would Tang Fan be able to prove that he felt more like eating one cake if Wang Zhi just lies about it? Or if he doesn‘t even have a preference and just goes with whatever will make Tang Fan lose?

He should maybe feel indignant at the implicit unfairness of this game, but… He doesn‘t. If Wang Zhi wants him to lose, then he will lose. Yes, he has been looking forward to slowly, carefully fucking Wang Zhi once he was completely stuffed full of sweets, but also… Getting to hump Wang Zhi’s foot until he spills on it (while Wang Zhi is watching him and maybe eating some more of the cakes) doesn‘t seem like such a bad outcome.

So instead of whining and pouting to make Wang Zhi show him mercy as he usually would, he just nods. “Alright, let‘s do that.“

Wang Zhi grins down at him. “Then choose.“

Tang Fan looks at the two pastries in front of him. The sweetheart cake was tasty and he definitely loved kissing it out of Wang Zhi‘s mouth, but he also knows that Wang Zhi really likes the taste of sesame…

He makes his bet, leans forward and takes a bite of the sweetheart cake. He doesn‘t even try to use his hands – he‘s been on his knees in front of Wang Zhi enough times that he can generally intuit which rules Wang Zhi wants to play by.

Wang Zhi holds the other half of the cake to his lips when he swallows, and Tang Fan looks up at him as he closes his mouth around it, giving back a tiny bit of what Wang Zhi had been dishing out by making sure that his lips touch his fingers. Wang Zhi just smirks down at him and takes a bite of the sesame ball. He takes his time to savor the glutinous rice cake, the hand that had been holding the sweetheart cake now cradling Tang Fan‘s cheek.

“Why don‘t you take off my boots, Tang Fan? You‘re in a better position for that than me,“ he says before he finishes the sesame ball.

One point for him. Tang Fan can‘t keep a grin off his face as he leans forward and takes off one boot after another. He can feel Wang Zhi‘s gaze on him, can hear the slow chewing as he kneads each of his feet for a moment.

Sui Zhou comes back at this point. Tang Fan gives him a quick look to make sure everything is alright on his end and gets another one of those amused eyebrow-raises in return. Wang Zhi looks over at Sui Zhou as well, then he fills another one of the cups on the tea tray and places it in front of him when he sits down.

Wang Zhi doesn‘t explain the new game they‘re playing and Sui Zhou doesn‘t ask. He is just watching, the intensity of his gaze making a deep shiver run over Tang Fan‘s back. It‘s an added layer of humiliation – the thought that if he loses, he won‘t get to do what he had told Sui Zhou he was going to do. Sui Zhou is not invested in Tang Fan fucking Wang Zhi, of course, but still, he would know that Tang Fan‘s plan failed… And he knows how much Tang Fan hates admitting defeat.

Yes, it‘s something different if Wang Zhi is the one defeating him. But still, it would be so much easier to just give in and deliver himself into Wang Zhi‘s hands if Sui Zhou wasn‘t there to watch him…

“Tang Fan,“ Wang Zhi says, a paper-thin trace of annoyance in his voice that makes Tang Fan‘s back straighten immediately. He looks up at Wang Zhi and sees that he is already holding out two new treats, and his ears start burning immediately. If they weren‘t currently in the middle of a game, he is pretty sure Wang Zhi would make him bend over the table and drop his pants for ignoring him like that.

Flustered and embarrassed, he doesn‘t take his time to decide which sweet he is going to take. The choice is between a dried hawthorn and a dried piece of mango, and he quickly snatches up the dried hawthorn.

He immediately regrets it when Wang Zhi‘s eyebrows pull together. “Shoes,“ he says before he pops the mango into his mouth.

The humiliation of being wrong burns through Tang Fan‘s body as he shifts into a sitting position. He takes his boots off and puts them down next to Wang Zhi‘s.

Wang Zhi uses the time until he gets back into his kneeling position to peel a few melon seeds. This time the choice is between an roasted almond and four melon seeds. Tang Fan takes the almond, and earns himself a friendly little nudge of Wang Zhi‘s socked foot against his arm while Wang Zhi crushes the seeds between his teeth.

Tang Fan takes a deep breath before he carefully tugs the socks off Wang Zhi‘s feet. His toes are as well taken care of as his fingers, and his soles and heels feel soft against Tang Fan‘s fingertips. Wang Zhi pulls his feet away far too fast, and then the choice is between a water chestnut cake and a custard bun. Wang Zhi has eaten two of each of these already, and Tang Fan assumes that at this point, he has to feel a little full, so he takes a bite of the custard bun.

The creamy taste immediately reminds him of the feeling of Sui Zhou‘s cock against his tongue, and for a moment he drifts back. He licks the custard out of the bun while Wang Zhi is holding it, trying to deal with the thrumming in his groin and the intense sweetness without getting any of the cream on Wang Zhi‘s hand. He is so caught up in this maze of sensation that he only looks up again when he realises that Wang Zhi‘s hand is empty.

He looks up at Wang Zhi to see an expression he can‘t quite read. That‘s rare, but he doesn‘t get to puzzle it out, because Wang Zhi eats the water chestnut cake and nods at him while he‘s chewing.

“Take off your socks,“ he says, and Tang Fan‘s stomach sinks.

It keeps going like this, and Tang Fan only gets it right one more time – at the choice between a tuckahoe pie and a mung bean cake; Tang Fan assumes that at this point Wang Zhi might like something that would make his stomach feel a little better and eats the mung bean cake himself. Wang Zhi takes off his belt for that. But after that Tang Fan loses his own belt, then his outermost layer, his second layer, and his upper middle garment.

In the end, he only has his pants left, while Wang Zhi is looking a little disheveled, with his bare feet and his loosened robes, but still very much covered.

Once Tang Fan had been stripped down to his middle clothes, Wang Zhi had started to rub his naked foot over Tang Fan‘s thigh. The fabric of his pants is so thin that he can feel Wang Zhi‘s warmth – even without socks, his body is hot enough to keep even his toes warm. Tang Fan‘s cock seems to know that he is this close to being allowed to come all over that silky skin, and it takes every tiny bit of self-restraint he has not to wriggle just enough to make contact between that foot and his crotch.

Wang Zhi presents the next choice and Tang Fan knows he has lost.

The choice is between osmanthus cake and sesame candy.

Even if his brain wasn‘t completely filled with fog, as if the boiling heat in his middle was sending steam up into his head, this would have been an impossible choice. He knows perfectly well that these are Wang Zhi‘s favorites -– and Wang Zhi knows that Tang Fan knows.

There is no reason at all for Wang Zhi to give him a point, not now that he has stripped him down to nothing but his pants. It‘s very clear where this is going.

So there is really no reason for him to stall anymore. Especially not with Wang Zhi‘s foot climbing higher and higher on his thigh…

Tang Fan grasps the piece of osmanthus cake with his lips and swallows it in two bites.

Wang Zhi grins down at him, and Tang Fan feels like he is about to come any moment now.

“Pants,“ he says, before he eats the sesame candy.

His foot pulls away so Tang Fan can obey his order. Tang Fan has to ball his hands into fists for a moment to keep himself from grabbing that foot and just pressing it to his crotch. He has no idea how he manages to open the lacing of his pants, with how much his hands shake when he opens his fists again, but somehow he manages to do so and to even stand up long enough to pull his pants off his legs.

He catches Sui Zhou‘s eyes the moment he pulls his second foot out of his pants. There is just a hint of a questioning quirk to his eyebrows, but it is enough to make Tang Fan blush from the tip of his ears to the center of his chest. Since Sui Zhou doesn‘t know the rules of this game, is he aware that Tang Fan just lost? Or is he just going to go with the flow like he usually does? (Unless things deviate way too far from the expected path, but he assumes Sui Zhou won‘t be very disturbed by Tang Fan rubbing himself off against Wang Zhi‘s feet. He‘s done worse.)

But then Sui Zhou‘s lips curl a little at the corners, and he stands up to move his stool a little so he has a better view of the two of them. Tang Fan can see him and Wang Zhi exchange amused glances, then Wang Zhi‘s eyes are back on Tang Fan.

“Kneel. Unless you don‘t want your ‘reward‘ after all?“

Tang Fan can‘t say that this is the fastest he has ever gone to his knees, but it has to be up there. He definitely knocks his naked knees on the hardwood floor with a painful CLUNK, but at this point he is so hard that he can‘t really care about anything farther down his body than his cock.

Wang Zhi lets out a little “Tsk“ that just makes him harder. It‘s ridiculous at this point, but he just feels like he‘s overflowing with desire and love for this man… He crawls closer, close enough for Wang Zhi‘s foot to really, finally reach his cock, and he lets out a high-pitched whine and closes his eyes when he rocks against the softness of Wang Zhi‘s sole.

He relishes the feeling for a moment, gently rocking against that firm little foot, before he opens his eyes again and looks up at Wang Zhi‘s face.

“Would you…“ He feels his cheeks heat again, but he bravely soldiers forth: “Would you eat another piece while I do this?“

He hears a snort come from his right, where Sui Zhou is watching the two of them. He doesn‘t look over, though – he‘s trying to give Wang Zhi his most intense puppy-dog eyes.

Wang Zhi smirks only slightly, then he takes another custard bun. Tang Fan whimpers with need when he sees Wang Zhi bite into the soft dough, then he wraps a hand around Wang Zhi‘s foot and his cock. Since Wang Zhi isn‘t protesting his use of his hand, even though this position makes him bend his knee, Tang Fan goes ahead and starts to thrust into the tightness between his own hand and Wang Zhi‘s sole. Wang Zhi curls his toes a little, which makes them rub over the head of Tang Fan‘s cock with every stroke, and soon Tang Fan is nearly crying with pleasure.

It‘s really no surprise when he comes after less than ten thrusts, just when Wang Zhi uses his tongue in a truly obscene way to lick the cream out of the bun. Somehow Tang Fan has the presence of mind to cup his free hand over his cock to avoid soiling Wang Zhi‘s clothes, but he definitely coats most of his foot in sticky, hot cum. Somehow it makes the situation his poor dick is in feel even better – still trapped between his hand and Wang Zhi‘s sole, but now warm and wet – and he floats in that heavenly feeling for as many moments as Wang Zhi will allow. He gets pulled out of his post-orgasmic bliss by a little pinch at the tip of his cock and quickly lets go, but not without noting down in a special little corner of his mind that Wang Zhi is apparently able to scissor his big toe and the next one as if they are fingers.

That is definitely useful knowledge to have…

He kneels there for a few moments, still panting, his cock slowly deflating. Wang Zhi looks at his foot critically for a moment, and Tang Fan is nearly sure he‘s going to be told to lick it clean, but then Wang Zhi says: „You can use your pants to clean me up.“

Tang Fan quickly does just that – just because he likes it when Sui Zhou comes in his mouth doesn‘t mean that he likes the taste of semen very much, especially when it is already cooling. He still gives Wang Zhi‘s foot a little kiss, though, when he has cleaned him as much as he can without water.

“I ran into two of your servants earlier, on my way to the kitchen,“ Sui Zhou says suddenly. “They were taking hot water to the bathroom… The tub should be ready by now.“

Wang Zhi lets out a deep, happy sigh, then he leans back a little and pats his belly.

“I am going to feel like a dumpling getting boiled, with all this filling… But still, a bath does sound very nice right now…“

Tang Fan‘s head still feels very light, so even though both the way Wang Zhi is patting his belly and the reference to dumpling filling are lighting up diffuse little ideas in his mind, he feels very little motivation to give those ideas any attention. They have time for that later. Their visit has only just started. For now, he lets Sui Zhou help him up and then smiles as Wang Zhi steals a kiss from both him and Sui Zhou, before he leads both of them out of the dining room, still barefoot.

__________FIN___________

Research Notes:

Reference for all the desserts

Water chestnut cakes Custard Buns Fried glutinous rice balls with sesame Osmanthus Cakes Mung Bean Cakes Sweetheart Cakes Sesame Candy

If you liked this fic, you can share it on twitter or mastodon

I also have a currently ongoing complete rewatch thread on twitter with tons of screenshots, have a look if you love Sleuth!

Comments are always appreciated <3

#tsomd #the sleuth of ming dynasty #sleuth of the ming dynasty #tang fan #wang zhi #sui zhou #sleuth of ming dynasty #the sleuth of ming dynasty fanfiction #fanfic #the sleuth of the ming dynasty

1 note · View note