#ANYWAYS! nearly 3.8k but we made it

[honeyywoods]

IT’S HERE!!!!!!!!!!! THE FLOWER LANGUAGE FIC IS DONE AT LAST!!!!!!!!! I’m treating this as sort of a draft-but-not-draft before I upload this to Ao3 so if u have any criticism/comments PLEASE share!! I really appreciate it :)

some part of me came alive (the first time that you called me baby)

Davey loves flower language. Jack loves Davey.

(title from First Time by Hozier)

———————————

Davey loved flowers.

Well, Jack wasn’t so sure it was the flowers themselves. What he did know, however, was based on an experience he’d had a couple weeks back while selling with Davey in the flower district.

It was late May, the weather finally warming to bring the leaves onto the trees. A Saturday, when Davey was free from school and could sell the morning edition. He’d suggested that they sell in the flower district on West 28th - citing something about the nicer weather and incoming summer leading people to want to look at the blooms - and Jack had agreed without thought or complaint, because he’s pathetically easy when it comes to Davey.

So the pair embarked, discussing weekend plans and Davey’s homework and Jack’s newest painting project at Medda’s.

It was fine. It was normal. Except for the fact that Jack couldn’t force his eyes away from Davey - shining eyes, freckles beginning to show from their winter hiding, mouth moving a mile a minute as he regaled Jack with the newest book he’d been reading and hands moving everywhere from his tote strap to his hair to the air in front of him. It was incredibly endearing, albeit extremely distracting to Jack.

“-Are you even listening?” Suddenly jerked Jack out of his reverie, and he nodded a bit mechanically before he registered that he, in fact, had not heard a word Davey had said for at least the past minute. “‘Course, Dave, sounds real swell.”

Davey narrowed his eyes suspiciously, giving Jack a once-over, but then continued talking. Though it was exceptionally difficult to focus when Davey was next to him, Jack attempted to keep up with the conversation and even respond a few times.

His degrees of success were varying, and several times Jack caught his gaze drifting back to Davey’s lips, felt his brain starting to disengage in Davey’s words in favor of thinking about how gorgeous the other boy was.

This was very much not fine or normal, Jack decided. This was torture at the highest level. He found himself practically sighing with relief as they approached West 28th Street.

Davey’s idea for the morning was right, as always. The place was packed with people - vendors selling all sorts of flowers in colors and shapes Jack hadn’t even known existed, people lazily perusing the stands, commuters bustling to and fro. Jack was, in all honesty, surprised that nobody had thought to sell here before. It looked like something out of a painting, and suddenly Jack’s fingers itched for a canvas, a sketchbook, anything to capture the scene before him.

“Oh, this is amazing!” Davey exclaimed immediately, his eyes alight with an almost childlike wonder. “Look at this! They have everything!” A grin spread across Davey’s face as he took in the sights of the market. Despite his initial enchantment with the place, Jack quickly becomes more enthralled by Davey himself, his excitement leading a smile onto Jack’s face as well.

It wasn’t often that Davey allowed himself to get excited about things given his constant responsibilities, so Jack was grateful any time he got to see Davey let loose and be so authentically happy. Jack knew it was sappy, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

They continue into the market, passing several stands with blooms everywhere; erupting from the sides of carts, packed on shelves, or in pots lining the street. “All flowers have meanings, you know.” Davey mentioned, and by the way he was fidgeting with his bag strap Jack could tell he was eager to talk about it.

“Yeah?” Jack responded, his interest piqued. Davey hummed an affirmative ‘mm-hmm’, his grin widening. “Yeah! You can send ‘em to different people depending on what they mean. It’s real fascinating.”

Jack nodded along, intrigued, and a smile works onto his own face as he listens and watches. “Well, I know about roses. You give ‘em to your sweetheart.” Jack can’t help the smirk that works onto his lips, eyeing Davey carefully. The other boy chuckled, scanning over the roses they were passing thoughtfully.

“Not necessarily. Yellow roses are actually just about the worst thing to give your sweetheart,” Davey explained in that tone that Jack has learned to mean he’s very enthusiastic about something “they mean friendship. And black ones mean death, as you could probably guess. Pink or red, though, are fair game for lovers. They can mean a lot of things, but usually love and passion are among them. There are loads of other flowers you could use, though, and I think roses are sort of cliché anyways.”

Jack snorted a laugh, unbelievably fond of Davey’s rambling. “What, did the flowers tell you that themselves?” He teased, entirely joking and if anything just to get a rise out of Davey - which it did. A flush not unlike the ruddy roses around them appeared on Davey’s cheeks, starting high and sweeping down his face. “It’s flower language! It’s a little older, from the beginning of the century, and it’s..it’s like saying things without actually saying them.” He explained, bumping Jack’s shoulder in feigned frustration.

“Sounds like you know your way around these here flowers.” Jack raised his brows, impressed, and Davey had just shrugged. “I read about it a lot. There are more books than you’d think on it, and lots of artwork to go with the flowers. I think you’d like some of them.” He suggested, and Jack’s heart started doing a funny little skip. God, what was wrong with him?

“Alright,” Davey’s voice continued, “We should split up for now so that we’ll have better odds of selling. Meet back…” He trailed off, narrowing his hazel-green eyes to a squint as he scanned for a landmark, and the way they shone in the morning sun reminded Jack of sunlight dancing on water. Then, Davey seemed to get an idea, eyebrows raising and eyes widening as he pointed to a statue of a man on a horse. “By that statue at eleven.”

“Gotcha. See you then, Dave. Stay safe.” Jack responded with a nod, turning to take a few steps. “And if anythin’ happens, you come find me, okay?” He added reflexively, even though he probably didn’t need to. Davey scoffed, and Jack was reminded that he was somehow a completely different guy than when they’d met, and yet somehow still the same. “Jack, you know I can fend for myself.” He insisted, and Jack turned back to face him, a slightly pleading expression working onto his face. “Please, Dave, I just…I just wanna know you’re safe.” He implored, and though Davey sighed he was smiling softly.

“Of course you do. I’ll be fine, Jackie, but if anything happens you’ll be the first to know.” Davey agreed, looking at Jack with those goddamn green eyes, bright and kind and perfect. Jack just nodded, not trusting that his voice wouldn’t crack with Davey looking at him like that.

The two went their separate ways, Jack heading to the opposite side of the street and walking up farther so that most of the foot traffic would be coming in Davey’s direction. That being said, there were a fair number of people on both sides of the street, and Jack imagined he could finish selling quickly enough.

Jack isn’t sure how much time had passed, but by the time he spots Davey again he’d sold near half of his papes. Which is fortunate, given that he was now thoroughly distracted.

He was fully aware that he’d had a bag full of newspapers that need to be sold, aware that he was gawking like an idiot in the middle of the street, but none of that was important. Nothing was more important than the sight in front of him.

Davey seemed to have taken a break from selling, his hat in one hand as he stooped slightly to look at one of the flowers in front of him. And, oh, god save Jack’s soul because his dark curls were mussed and fluffy from his hat and he had that smile on his face, that barely-perceptible-to-anyone-else upward turn at the corners of his mouth, eyes soft and curious. His fingers lightly brushed the petals of one of the blooms, and then he jumped with a start and turned to the seller, who seemed to have started talking to him, no doubt putting on his best schoolboy manners.

Just then, Jack became aware of a man walking towards him with purpose, clearly intending to buy from him. He was neat and clean, with a trimmed mustache and beard, the kind that indicated that he had somewhere to be. Of course someone like this would be trying to buy from him when Jack was most likely to make a complete fool of himself.

Bumbling through the sale, Jack managed to intrigue the man enough to buy a pape from him by what could only be a miracle. At least twice he caught himself looking over the man’s shoulder, watching Davey who’s now engaged in an animated conversation with the clerk. Against his efforts, he’s unable to keep his expression from melting into something soft and fond.

“Dame caught your eye, there, lad?” The man asks, his voice teasing, and Jack curses himself for his blatant behavior.

“Something like that,” he mumbles back absentmindedly, just as Davey tips his head back in laughter, the smile on his face all the light Jack could ever need.

And it’s then that Jack knows, without a doubt, that he is well and truly fucked.

That night, he’d gone to Medda’s with his inspiration at a high and the sole intent of finding out anything and everything that she knew about this ‘flower language’ of Davey’s - which was, evidently, quite a bit, as Medda seemed to know at least something about everything - and he’d been given a hard-covered book filled with intricate black-and-white sketches of flowers alongside their supposed meanings.

“Why the sudden interest?” Medda asked with a curious raise of her brow, even though her mouth is turned up in a knowing half-smile. Jack tried desperately to keep himself from blushing. “Just, ah- got some inspiration for a new piece. On the side.” His hands ran over the spine of the book distractedly, and he barely registered Medda’s unconvinced ‘mm-hmm.’ “Really, ma, it’s nothin’.”

When Jack looks back at her, Medda had this look in her eyes, the kind that he knows sees right through him. “Well, whatever it is, I hope David likes it.” She said casually, and it may as well have been a smack in the face.

“That ain’t- aw, hell, d’you think he will?” Jack didn’t have the capacity to pretend to Medda, so he gave in, shrinking in on himself nervously.

“I think,” Medda started, a warm smile on her face, “That you could win anyone over like that. Not that you need to, not with him.” She’d chuckled, even as Jack dismissed the implication.

Jack had taken the book and spent the majority of his (albeit limited) free time over the next few days. Using old newspaper scraps, he’d scribbled out sketches of the flowers he wanted to use, studying their shapes and colors as he went.

He remembered Davey saying that roses were cliché, so Jack avoided them entirely. Instead, he gathered a hand-sketched bouquet of all colors - blues and purples and reds and pinks.

As he searched, Jack became amazed by the sheer array of meanings that people had come up with for some flowers. Seriously, ‘a foe is near’? If Jack had to warn someone about a foe being near, he sure as hell wouldn’t use flowers to do it.

In the end, Jack had practically a whole garden to choose from. After cleverly asking Les to ask his brother about his favorite flowers - as well as from a firsthand conversation with Davey - Jack had learned that irises were Davey’s favorite, and that a man named Oscar Wilde within the last few years had popularized green carnations as a sort of code for men who courted other men.

The last fact was a particularly heavy one. Jack, of course, knew that he was queer, but that didn’t make it easy. It seemed to be the same way for Davey, who had spilled everything one night when Jack had made some stupid joke about girls. Jack had assured him that it was alright, of course, that his secret was safe and that nearly all of the newsies didn’t have enough time to care about that sort of thing.

From there, it became one of those things that neither of them mentioned, but it wasn’t a bad thing. To Jack, at least, it seemed less like a weight and more like a comfort - to know that someone else was going through something similar alongside him.

Somehow, even though he knew it was risky and dangerous, Jack had wanted to include their experiences in the painting somehow, and Davey’s explanation about the green carnations was perfect. The artistic vision was officially complete, if only in his own head.

Canvas was all but unobtainable, so Jack opted instead to use the thick, quality paper from one of his sketchbooks to ensure that the piece would last. He’d headed back to Medda’s with his paper tote full of the flower scraps, and spent the entirety of the next Sunday painting away.

In the end, the painting was covered in an array of flowers and assorted flora: little bluebells, ferns, orchids, and more, with a couple of irises as a centerpiece.

The green carnations ended up sneaking onto the painting as well, tiny and unnoticeable to anyone who wasn’t looking for them.

Then, all that was left was to give it to him. Unfortunately, this proved to be a much harder task than Jack had initially thought. After putting in all of the work that he had, he was beginning to have second thoughts.

Well, perhaps ‘second thoughts’ wasn’t the right term. Rather, Jack started to worry that Davey wouldn’t even like the painting, or that the point would fly over his head, or a million other ways that it could go wrong.

Jack spent several days fretting and nights staring at the painting while on the rooftop before Crutchie had eloquently told him to ‘man up, get over himself, and tell Davey that he’s criminally obsessed with him before he beat him.’

The next day, Jack had caught Davey on his way to school and asked if he could come to the lodging house that evening (“not for long,” Jack had added to assuage Davey’s worries about being out late on a school night).

Which was how Jack came to be standing on the rooftop of the lodging house with one David Jacobs. Jack asks about school that day, Davey asks about selling, and it flows so naturally that Jack almost forgets what he’s here to do.

Almost.

“Hey, I gots something I wanna show you.” Jack eventually manages to say, beckoning Davey over to his bedroll and retrieving the painting tucked underneath his pillow.

“Remember a couple’a weeks ago when we were in the flower district?” Jack starts, wringing his hands together in uncharacteristic nervousness. “You, uh, you told me all about flower-speak - that’s what it’s called, right?”

Davey half-nods, half-shrugs, tilting his head inquisitively. “Flower language, yeah. And yes, I do, why do you ask?” He asks, stepping closer but stopping as Jack holds the piece of paper protectively to his chest.

“Well, I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about it, and you’d said them flowers could say anything, so I asked Medda about it. She gave me this book with all sorts’a flowers an’ what they mean. So, uh, long story short, I made ya this.” Jack rambles, his face becoming gradually warmer as he speaks. He can feel his heart pounding in his throat, his ears, everywhere through his body.

Here goes nothing.

Jack finally turns the painting around, holding it out for Davey to take. He might imagine it, but he swears he hears Davey gasp, a tiny hitch in his breathing before he reaches out to take the painting. Davey holds it gently, fingers curled delicately around the edges as if he were holding a famed masterpiece. Swallowing his nerves, Jack opts to continue.

“I figured it’s like you said. ‘Sayin’ things without actually sayin’ them.’” Jack quotes, thinking back to what Davey had said that first day. “And I, well, I thought I’d tell ya..some stuff.” Jack’s hands can’t seem to settle, moving restlessly from rubbing the back of his neck to running through his hair to picking the hem of his shirt. He can’t bring himself to look up at Davey.

Davey doesn’t say a thing. He’s alarmingly still and quiet, and Jack is about to comment on it when he finally looks up and sees tears falling from Davey’s eyes.

Jack swears he feels his heart plummet into his stomach. Had he gotten it wrong? Did those flowers mean something else, something awful? Or was Davey really just that upset by the thought of-

His spiral is cut off by the sudden press of lips against his own, by a long, elegant hand gripping his jaw. Jack can’t help but gasp into it, before closing his eyes and responding in earnest. Davey’s lips are salty and wet with tears, and he’s sniffling and gasping himself every so often, but Jack doesn’t think he’s ever had a better kiss, simply because it’s Davey.

When they separate, Davey is looking down at him, his eyes teary and red but just as gorgeous as always. He seems to find his voice after a second, though it still quivers noticeably.

“Jack,” He murmurs, soft and rough - Jack would crawl through hell itself just to hear Davey say his name like that again - “This is…the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“Yeah, well,” Jack shrugs, looking away as he feels his face heat up. “I jus’ wanted you to see yourself…the way I do.”

Davey sits with the words for a moment. “And this is…” He trails off, pinning Jack with a soul-baring stare, his eyes vulnerable yet somehow still so piercing, “This is really what…?” Jack almost has to laugh at the thought of it: Davey, of all people, lost for words. The world may as well have been turned on its head.

“What, Mouth, cat got your tongue?” Jack can’t help but tease, preening to himself when Davey’s face goes delightfully redder.

“No,” Davey looks at him with a flustered little frown, “You do.” He swallows, appearing to steel his nerves, then, “You really…think all of this?” He asks, running a hand reverently over his painting. His tone is unsure, like he doesn’t believe him, and it baffles Jack more than anything. “‘Course I do,” He responds, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Dunno if you’ve picked it up or not, Dave, but I’m kinda head over heels for you.”

Davey blinks at him uncomprehendingly. “What?” He asks, genuinely baffled. “I mean, I..I kind of guessed from the flowers, but…what?” Jack groans quietly, tipping his head briefly towards the sky and whatever was watching down on him from up there. The flowers. Damn him to hell, and damn Jack right with him. It never failed to astound him how oblivious Davey was, despite being probably the smartest person Jack knows. “Dave,” he starts as he looks back at Davey pleadingly, his voice just that side of exasperated, “Don’t yank my chain here.” Davey just looks at him in confusion, brows furrowing as his brain works. “Jack, I don’t even- what are you talking about?” He asks, as if he really, truly doesn’t know.

As if he doesn’t know that he’s the light of Jack’s fucking life. Doesn’t know that Jack would move Heaven and earth to see him smile and hear him laugh, or that Jack would gladly listen to his voice for hours on end, talking about anything because he was instantly captured by Davey’s words.

It’s a combination of months of frustration and yearning that forces Jack to fist his hands tightly in Davey’s shirt collar, pulling him down hard enough that the other boy stumbles slightly, hands flying to Jack’s waist to steady himself as he makes a small noise of surprise.

Contrary to their first kiss, this one is harsh mostly on Jack’s part. He’s pressing up into Davey like he has something to prove, parting his lips and tilting his head eagerly. Much to his relief, Davey responds in kind, his grip moving down to Jack’s hips before his arms snake around Jack’s back.

This time, when the two separate, they remain just inches apart, caught in each other’s orbit. “I don’t know how ya don’t see it. I mean, I seem to make a fool of myself whenever you’re around. Can’t string two words together ‘cause I’m too busy lookin’ at you. Everyone who’s anyone was bettin’ on whether or not I’d die before I told ya.” Jack chuckles mirthlessly, scrubbing a hand over his face. He takes a deep breath, then looks back at Davey.

“But what I mean to say is I’m stupidly in love with you. Head over heels don’t even cut it.” Jack’s heart pounds rapidly, waiting for a response. Davey’s face is nothing short of awestruck.

“Me too. I didn’t even- I didn’t think you would ever feel the same way.“ The admission has Davey playing with the corner of the painting, his face still pink. “I meant what I said, too. Nobody has ever done something so thoughtful and sweet for me before.” He continues, leveling Jack with a half-lidded gaze. “You’re a real charmer, Jackie.” Davey murmurs, his voice low and soft.

Jack’s brain sputters and stalls - it’s criminally unfair how easily Davey can do that to him - and it takes a minute for him to recover from Davey’s whole everything. “Oh. Y-yeah?”

Davey giggles, honest-to-god giggles, and Jack thinks he might drop dead right then and there. “Well, not everybody would research flower language for the person they’re sweet on, much less paint something so stunning for them.” He points out, one hand leaving Jack’s waist to hold the painting out once more. “I’m absolutely gonna get you back for this, by the way. You aren’t the only one who gets to be sweet to his partner.” There’s a sureness in his voice, the kind that makes Jack’s heart swell with the implication that Davey wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with Davey.

Jack takes Davey’s other hand from his hip, lacing their fingers together. “That a promise, sweetheart?” He asks, but it’s more of a genuine question than a tease.

A squeeze of Jack’s hand, and a gentle smile from Davey. “It’s a promise, darling.”

[dyaz-stories]

you know my tongue is a weapon || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: Shoko suggests a study night, but Gojo's bored and he doesn't want to study. So, instead, he offers to play a game, when all the others have left to get some food: every time he gets an answer right, he gets a kiss.

As you soon find out, Gojo can be very good at studying, as long as he gets something out of it.

word count: 3.8k

genre: college!AU, mostly fluff i think

cw: kissing, making out, semi-public kissing, unresolved sexual tension, reader is insecure and is therefore an unreliable narrator, dry humping ig, fem reader (the word girl is used once)

a/n: first time writing for jujutsu and for gojo! any feedback is appreciated, and i hope you enjoy yourselves :)

soundtrack

prequel

Exam season is never a fun time to be on campus. Stress fills the air, the hallways, the always full libraries, even the coffee shops where people usually meet to relax between two classes. It’s the only conversation subject between sleep-deprived students, looming over their head threateningly at any time of the day and night. It’s stifling, a weight on their chest that never quite wears off.

As for you, well, you’re doing alright.

Oh, for sure, it’s a lot of work, and you’re not thrilled about it by any stretch of the imagination, but academia is your thing, so you don’t find it nearly as crushing as others do. You’re more terrified of the time period that comes afterwards, while you’re waiting for the results like Judgement day.

In the meantime, you’ve given up on trying to find a spot to study in the library, and you’ve been doing most of it in your small student room. You haven’t stepped outside in days when Shoko texts you to suggest a study night. You suspect that she hasn’t started working and intends to cram, but you take her up on the offer nonetheless.

You show up at her place right on time — you always are — with your notes and some snacks. You wait quietly after knocking, trying to make sense of the chatter you hear on the other side of the door. She had mentioned she would ask a few other people if they wanted to join, which you had assumed would be fine, but faced with the reality of it now you can feel a lump growing in your throat. Academia might be easy for you, but people… aren’t.

When the door opens to reveal Gojo Satoru, piercing blue eyes meeting yours through white locks of hair that he pushes out of his face a second later, you fully consider turning around and leaving.

“You made it,” he says, shooting you a wide grin.

“Hi,” you squeak in reply.

Gojo is a… friend. Ish. Kinda. You think. Well, he’s a friend of Shoko’s, anyway, so the two of you have hung out, socially, before. Up until last summer, you assumed he didn’t even know your name.

“Thank God you’re here,” Shoko says, appearing from behind him to grab your hand. “No one here wants to work. We need to whip these imbeciles into shape or something.”

“I’m working,” Nanami sighs from the table in the living room, where he’s sitting alone.

“I was just waiting for everyone to be here, Shoko,” Geto says, his voice soft and even, as he approaches the table.

You set your bag down, giving Nanami an sympathetic smile, and he pushes his glasses higher on his nose. When he nods at you, you’re pretty sure it’s a silent way of saying ‘thank you for not leaving me alone with them’.

“What are you guys starting with?” you ask, pulling some books out of your bag.

Everyone here has different majors, but with some classes in common. You’re not sure how efficient this enterprise is going to be, if you’re completely honest, but as Gojo lets himself fall on a chair with a dramatic sigh, you suppose it can’t be worse than if he was left to his own devices.

“I’m doing literature, algebra and physics tonight!” Haibara announces, perhaps a tad too enthusiastic. You don’t want to crush his hopes and dreams, but—

“You’re never going to get through all that in one night,” Nanami says with a frown.

“Don’t listen to him”, Gojo intervenes, “you can do anything you set your mind to.”

There are stars in Haibara’s eyes when he looks at him, but you notice the glances Gojo is stealing at Nanami, and the way his smile widens when Nanami grits his teeth in annoyance. You bite your lip so you don’t let out a chuckle.

“Do you want to start with literature with me?” you offer. “Nanami, you’ll have to handle algebra because I’m not taking any algebra classes this semester.”

The corner of Nanami’s lips curves to form a smile.

“It’s good that someone here is taking this seriously.”

“Ugh,” Gojo mutters. “Fine. Hey, Suguru, do you know what tests I have next week?”

Nanami buries his head in his hands with a pained groan, and you laugh again, lump gone from your throat now, as you move your chair to come sit next to Haibara. Gojo’s eyes follow your movement silently. When you lean over the same textbook as Haibara, shoulders brushing against his as you push a lock of hair behind your ear, his expression turns thoughtful. It’s only when Geto drops a book in front of him that he snaps out of it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do shots instead?” he asks, tone sour.

“Man, don’t tempt me,” Shoko whines as she sits down as well. “The shots will have to wait.”

Truly, Gojo thinks, sadder words have never been spoken.

Nanami calls it quits right before 10 pm. He’s tried to leave a few times by then, usually because of one of Gojo’s quips, but Shoko’s managed to keep him around until then. It doesn’t help how delighted Gojo gets by his reactions, and you can’t blame him for abandoning you. You don’t doubt for a second that he would have been much more productive without everyone else around.

“If they pass their exams, we should give ourselves all the credit for that,” he comments at your intention, right before walking out the door. “Good luck with them.”

Then he’s gone, before Gojo can start to protest about why he is not getting any encouragements, even though he’s suffering so much, and everyone is mean, and nothing about this is fun, and—

Haibara, despite his best intentions, falls asleep on the couch less than thirty minutes later. It was just supposed to be quick nap, but by midnight he’s still down, and you can’t bring yourself to wake him up. Plus it’s not like you were making a lot of progress with him anyway, so he just might be better off sleeping.

It’s not long after that that Shoko starts to get real antsy. So far, she has kept on track despite Gojo’s attempts at distracting her, but you can tell she is starting to get incredibly bored. Somehow, that doesn’t seem to be Gojo’s case, even if the way his leg bounces underneath his chair tells you he’s itching to do anything other than sit here doing nothing.

“Fuck it,” Shoko says, finally giving up. “I’m going to get something to eat.”

Geto frowns.

“Now? Alone?”

“As if anything would happen to her,” Gojo says, spinning a pen between his fingers. “She’ll be the scariest person out there.”

Geto rolls his eyes.

“I’ll come with you,” he tells Shoko, and she shrugs. “Do you want to come too, Satoru?”

Gojo lets himself fall down on his chair, looking at Geto with his head hanging behind the back of the chair.

“Nah,” he says after a few seconds of intense deliberation. “Can’t abandon the teacher here.”

You feel your face heating up.

“Oh, I mean, I’m sure I’ll be fine. If you want to go, you should—”

“It’s fine,” he handwaves your protests away. “I’ll finally get some work done without Shoko here to constantly distract me with—”

He bursts out laughing when Shoko throws her pen at him.

“We’ll be right back,” she announces, standing up. “You,” she points at Gojo, “play nice. And you,” she gives you a severe look, “don’t hesitate to hit him. I’m not joking.”

She leaves the room, escorted by Geto. Haibara doesn’t even stir when the door slams.

“Alright,” Gojo says, not wasting a second to reach for your chair so he can pull you closer to him, “it’s my turn to get my own personal tutor.” His fingers brush against your leg as he pulls you in, and you know, from how his eyes seem to drink in everything about you, that he doesn’t miss your quiet gasp nor the way your breath quickens. You’ve noticed this before, too. If he likes annoying Nanami, he seems to delight in your reactions at least as much — though he tries to make you laugh or to fluster you rather than piss you off.

“Um,” you say, with the eloquence that characterizes you around him, “what do you need help with?”

He tilts his head to the side as he studies you. You find him breathtaking, you always do, but you think you’ve gotten better at hiding it, so even if it feels like he’s looking right into your soul, you give him an easy smile.

Somehow, he is the one who ends up averting his eyes.

“How about philosophy?”

Right, the two of you share that one class on the history of ideas.

“Sure,” you say, already grabbing a book and thumbing through it. “I’ve taken quite a few notes for that class, actually, I can give them to you if you—”

“That’s boring,” he interrupts you. “We should do something else.”

You put down your book, intrigued, and something twists in your stomach when you see the look he’s giving you. He’s like a cat with a mouse, with exactly the same hunger in his eyes.

“What—” you clear your throat when your voice cracks. “What are you suggesting?”

“Well,” he leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and putting his chin in his palm, “I need an incentive to work, you know?”

You swallow. Sure.

“So how ‘bout I get a kiss for every right answer I give you?”

And you almost choke on air.

“What?” you manage to croak. Blood is rushing to your face, and it feels like your brain is short-circuiting. Your heart’s beating faster, hammering in your chest, and you feel your palms grow sweaty.

“C’mon,” he teases, reaching out to pull on a lock of your hair and twirl it around his finger, and you know, you know, he knows he’s got you right where he wants to, “help me study.”

“Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he all but purrs.

“Satoru,” you say, “what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” he blinks innocently. “Just trying to find a fun way to study.”

You examine him carefully, try to figure out what, exactly, is going on behind these beautiful eyes of his. You’ve had— moments, with him. He fell asleep on your shoulder in the car once. He held your hand through a busy festival, teasing you about not wanting you to get lost, and later helped you get on his shoulders so you’d get a better view of the stage. The one time you agreed to accompany Shoko to the club, you remember his hands on your hips, his breath against your ear, the ghost of his lips to your neck. But nothing actually happened between the two of you. You’d told yourself that it was all a distraction for him, that he didn’t want more.

This isn’t exactly confirmation. You don’t doubt that it’s all in good fun still, and knowing you, and how hard you tend to fall, you should walk away while you have the chance.

But you really, really want to kiss him. Want to know what it would feel like to taste his lips, to have his body pressed against yours, to feel his hands all over you.

You always take the smart decision. This is not the smart decision. But…

“What if you get it wrong?” you ask.

Satoru blinks.

“You can, uh, spray me with a water bottle?”

You let out a brief laugh.

“Isn’t that a dog thing? That feels unethical, Satoru.”

He preens at your use of his name.

“You should take your chance,” he drawls. “Shoko says it’s really cathartic.”

You’re not sure you need catharsis, but you feel a little lighter now. It’s all a joke to him, clearly, and from what you’ve seen in the past couple of hours, he hasn’t seriously studied once. He’s not going to get the answers right. You don’t think he’s even trying to.

“Fine,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes, reaching out for a water bottle and positioning your chair so you’re facing him. “Who came up with the notion of civil disobed—"

“Thoreau, 1848, but the essay was republished with that name in 1866.”

You stare. Gojo gives you a lazy smile.

“Now where’s my kiss?”

“Um,” you say. You feel incredibly awkward now. He’s leaning back against his chair, with eyes that have not left you once since he’s suggested that idea. You— have to move, now, don’t you?

Very slowly, very hesitantly, you push yourself to your feet. Satoru doesn’t move at all, and you don’t know if it relieves you or stresses you out even more. The position is quite uncomfortable, too, with you standing and him sitting down. You don’t know that you’ve ever towered over him like that. Gingerly, you put a hand on his shoulder, and then you’re leaning over him, and then you’re kissing him, and then you’re moving away as fast as you can. This was just a peck, really, a press of your lips to his that lasted a second, tops, and that you’re already trying to forget about.

You’re not a teenager anymore, and you know this shouldn’t be getting to you that much, but it’s— it’s Satoru Gojo. You’ve worked very, very hard not to think of him like that, because you didn’t want to let yourself get hurt. And now, you’ve let yourself be dragged into this so easily? Ugh. You wish you could slap yourself.

“Okay,” you say, voice more high-pitched than you’d like, but still understandable, which you’re grateful for. “Next, um, can you explain what philosopher kings are?”

Surely—

“Of course,” Satoru pretty much sing-songs. “Plato thought that cities should be ruled by trained philosophers, because only a philosopher would know and act for the good of a city.” There’s a brief pause, before he adds, “Aristotle thought that was bullshit, though. For the record.”

And then he waits. You narrow your eyes at him.

“When did you study for that?”

“I never study,” he answers lightly.

Instead of standing up this time, you scoot your chair closer to him, and you lean forward. Satoru chuckles, but humors you — even if the temptation of leaning further back to make you come to him, because you’re just adorable when you’re flustered, is great. This time, when you kiss him, though, he presses forward before you can move away, his nose brushing against your cheek as he chases after you. And oh, what a sight you are after that, wide eyed, lips parted, hands tightening on your notes.

“Next?” he asks.

“Right,” you say. You’re— not sure what’s happening here, to be quite honest. Should you stop this? You— don’t think you want to, but you’re also not sure what this charade is all about. “Um. Spinoza thought that free will—”

“—could only be reached through knowledge, and that most people never obtained it.”

Okay.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a physics major?”

He raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely amused.

“Determinism’s a pretty big deal in science, actually, but let’s not change the subject here.”

You bite your lower lip, and his eyes track the movement like he’s starving for you.

You’re feeling hot all over, anticipation burning inside of you, and this time, you can’t pretend that he hasn’t done this on purpose. That he wanted to kiss you. You can’t quite reconcile the way you see yourself with that thought — how could Gojo Satoru want you, of all people? — but you find that it doesn’t matter.

You lean towards him once more, and this time, you let yourself kiss him. Really kiss him. You press your lips to his, soft at first, but when you don’t move away immediately, you feel him pressing against you, one hand coming to cup your cheek. His teeth pull at your bottom lip, and you let out a involuntary gasp. He doesn’t waste the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth, and you keep inching closer to him, hands coming to his shoulders for support. You can feel yourself melt into him, and you curse your common sense when it leads you to break away from the kiss.

It doesn’t deter Satoru, though, because as you do, his hand slides under your knee, and next thing you know, he’s pulled you into his lap. His face is deliciously flushed, pink hue under the pale skin. He looks up at you, long fingers tightening around your thighs.

“We should waste less time like that,” he says.

Shoko likes to say he’s insufferable, and you can see why. Everything all seems to come so easy to him, and you’re defenseless against the way your heart races. When his eyes are on you, it feels like you’re the only person in the world. You’re not usually the type to indulge in that idea, but, ah, what’s the harm, as long as you know how to come back to earth later on?

You shake your head as you take him in.

“How are you even doing that?” you ask, mildly peeved.

“Haven’t you heard?” he grins widely. “I’m a genius.”

You roll your eyes at him. You’ve heard about that, of course, about how he maintains stellar grades without breaking a sweat. You just hadn’t seen that in application until now. In class, he’s usually asleep, or taking great joy in bothering the teacher. You’ve never seen him try to get something.

“Well, where’s my question?”

You sigh, putting your arms around his neck. You left your notes on the table, meaning that you might be less prepared than he is, actually.

“Descartes famously said—”

“Cogito ergo sum. C’mon, rational doubt is at the heart of science. I’m starting to think you’re just trying to kiss me.”

You do want to kiss him, but you have the self-control to shrug.

“Well, if you don’t want to—”

His mouth is on yours before you can think of how to end that sentence. He kisses you hungrily, hands gripping your hips as he tries to pulls you closer to him. Your chest presses into his, and you tighten your hold around him, fingers running through his hair. He grunts when you pull on it slightly, tilts his head back a little more to give you better access to his mouth, and when his tongue brushes against yours once more, you can’t help but to rock your hips against his. The friction makes you gasp into his mouth, and one of your hands falls down to his shoulder, fisting his shirt as you try to find better support.

“Fuck,“ you hear him mumble underneath you, right as you feel him grow hard. He pushes up against you. His fingers dig into your skin, one hand slipping under your shirt to run over your skin, leaving a trail of fire behind. It moves higher, brushing against your bra.

Against your better judgement, your hands travel down his body, tracing over his muscles. You feel him twitch under you, and when you roll your hips once more, with much more intent than the first time, he groans.

“Satoru,” you whisper, though even you don’t know if it’s a plea for him to stop or to keep going.

His eyes widen, and you feel him lift you up easily, pushing you onto the table. You lean back slightly, resting your weight on one hand. He’s red all over now, from his ears to his neck. His pupils are wide, his lips swollen, his hair messy. He looks like sin.

You don’t want to think about what you look like.

“C’mon,” he says. “Last question.”

“Haibara’s in the living room,” you point out. Even you know where this is leading.

“He’s dead asleep,” he merely shrugs. He’s mesmerizing, but you note that the glimmer of amusement that always dances in his eyes. This feels— serious.

“Um,” you say, licking your lips and watching how he bites his as his grip on your waist tightens once more — like he’s holding himself back. “Confucius—”

And then, the front door opens.

Gojo clicks his tongue and reluctantly steps back as you jump down from the table, beelining for the bathroom — you know that kiss is written all over your face.

You glare at yourself in the mirror. Your body’s still tingling, and you’re aching with want, now that release has been denied to you, but you know better. You’re supposed to know better. You take a few seconds to comb through your hair with your hands, and when it no longer looks like someone’s, well, kissed you senseless, you cautiously step back outside.

“We got you some fuel,” Shoko announces loudly, before getting shushes by Geto. He points in Haibara’s direction, who’s started snoring slightly.

“Thank you so much,” you say sweetly. “I’ll— Why are you wet?”

Gojo deadpans as he looks at you but, well, there’s water dripping from his hair, down his chin, and onto the shirt your hands were fisted in just a few minutes earlier, so, you think the question is valid.

“He was splashing water on his face when we got here,” Geto supplies helpfully. “Gojo runs hot.”

“And now it’s all over my floor,” Shoko mutters. “Next time, just wait ‘til the bathroom’s free, huh?”

Gojo looks like he has something to say just on the tip of his tongue, but he glances at you and seems to swallow it back.

“If anything, I made it cleaner,” he proclaims, leaning back on his chair. “Shoko, how long has it been since you cleaned in here? We really need to find you a partner who’s willing to do that stuff, otherwise you’ll keep living in fil—”

Shoko’s pencil case lands right in the middle of his face.

“You absolute brat,” she spits out, “I can’t believe you’d have the nerve to tell me something like that when you rely exclusively on Geto to—”

The bickering continues, but you tune it out. Under the table, Satoru’s knee brushes against yours. It’s almost hesitant at first, before he leans his leg against yours, when he realizes you’re not moving away. This isn’t the smart choice, either, but, ah, you’re always, always the smart girl. Is it so bad to have a night of fun? Is it so bad that you want to know what it would feel like to have him, even if it’s just once?

He’ll break your heart, the voice of reason says in the back of your mind, but then Satoru looks back at you, checking to see if you’re laughing at how he’s making fun of Shoko and, well.

You think you’ll let him.

Any and all feedback in the form of asks, reblogs, comments, tags is highly encouraged and appreciated~ If you enjoy my work, interactions are what keep me writing and motivated!

I haven't written anything in months and I think it shows but, well, I have to restart somewhere lol, so I hope it was still fun for you and you enjoyed yourselves here for a little while. Thank you for reading <3

prequel

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Bloody

PART TWO: RABBIT HEARTED

Also on AO3

Part One // Mini-series masterlist

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Bounty Hunter!Reader

WC: 3.8k words

Chapter Summary: During your journey, tension rises between you and the ghoul... but not the kind you expected. You'd built a solid enough rapport, but you found that you both wanted so much more than just that. And so, you let him get a taste.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, THIS FIC IS 18+, Dead dove: do not eat, canon typical violence, the ghoul being the ghoul, swearing, drug mentions/use (chems), enemies to lovers, animal hunt at the beginning of chapter, nudity (both sexual and non-sexual), masturbation, oral (fem receiving), fingering, dirty talking, sorta dom/sub dynamics, a little bit of chasing, outdoor shenanigans, a little bit of degradation, not really any aftercare in this one but pls always practice it irl, aaaand for now that’s all i can think of but lmk if another tag is needed.

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A flash of brown fur slipping through the underbrush immediately made you still. You kept your eyes peeled for the smallest movement, breathing as quietly as possible… and there it was, a little rabbit. Nose twitching, ears standing at attention, eyes dark and wide. 

Slowly, you raised your crossbow – which you had luckily been able to recover along with part of your pack, another little courtesy of the ghoul – and aimed at its throat. A slow breath expanding your lungs as your finger came to rest on the trigger.

A reedy squeak as the makeshift bolt pierced through, and it slumped on its side. You smiled to yourself victoriously, bending down to retrieve the carcass, hooking it next to the other one already hanging from your belt. It wasn’t much, but it’d get you through the next day if you rationed it well.

The ghoul had, of course, made you the one in charge of food. You’d been hunting for yourself for as long as you could remember, so it wasn’t an outlandish order, but that didn’t mean you weren’t huffy about it.

At the very least, it meant he wouldn’t keep you tied to him at all times.

A few days of strenuous trekking had passed, and while you were keenly observant of your surroundings, you had not attempted escape once. In fact, you never strayed too far, knowing he could find and retrieve you with ridiculous ease.

But it wasn’t just that. This was the closest you’d ever been to finding  Axl, and even if you knew you couldn’t — shouldn’t — fully believe the ghoul’s word, the fact that he had saved your life had to mean something.

Then again, he probably just wanted someone to keep him fed, but only time would tell. For now, you had to keep pushing forward, taking the days as they came.

Tired, you stalked over to a rock outcropping that overlooked the sandy wasteland below. The silence was only vaguely punctuated by a breeze that made you all too aware of how your tattered clothes clung to your sweaty skin. 

It was spring, so the sun wasn’t at its most brutal, but walking, and climbing, and hunting for hours every day still took a toll on you. Not to mention, nearly being brutally killed.

Oh, how you yearned for at least a bucket of clean water to wash yourself off.

The last time you’d been able to do so was when you’d stopped in Filly to restock on some supplies. You were running dangerously low on caps, which prompted the ghoul to offer you a loan.

“We could figure out the interest later,” he’d said with a wink. “I can be a generous fella, believe it or not.”

But you had declined, already knowing well what loans in the wasteland entailed. Perhaps you could take an odd job or two at your next stop, but that depended on how long the ghoul would be willing to linger.

In the meantime, you chose the temporary reprieve of sunning your bare skin and letting the breeze caress it. It wasn’t like you were in a huge rush, anyway, and you desperately needed some time to yourself. You glanced around and kept your ears open to make sure you were alone.

Deftly, you stripped and laid your clothes out so they could also get some sun. You kept your old, wide-brimmed straw hat on to shield your eyes as you looked out at the horizon for a lingering moment. 

You closed your eyes, letting yourself forget the world was an unfair shithole… save for small instances like this one, feeling something akin to peace. You weren’t sure how much time passed, briefly entering a meditative state.

Then you heard it, heavy footsteps emerging from the sparse treeline.

“Jus what the hell is takin’ you so lo— Oh, my. Well, lookie here…”

Your entire body froze, every single one of your nerve endings tingling with awareness. Still, you didn’t try to cover yourself — if anything, as an act of defiance, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing how he rattled you. Plus, nudity wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary in today’s society.

“See something interesting?” You asked casually, glancing at him over your shoulder.

You were startled by the hunger in his gaze, a sly, brazen smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes snagged on the sweat dotting the small of your back, the smooth expanse of your legs, and the curvature of your ass. 

“Nothin’ I haven’t seen, darlin’,” he drawled. “But, boy, if that ain’t a sweet lookin’ peach…”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms below your chest. He let out a low whistle at the sight, hairless eyebrows raising. You could feel your heart hammering against your ribcage, threatening to break through.

“Can a lady not have some privacy?” You asked, raising an eyebrow in return and trying not to squirm as his eyes continued to roam.

He huffed in amusement. “You out here in your birthday suit like we at a fuckin’ meat market, what’s the difference if I’m watchin’?”

A small, traitorous thought slipped into your head then — the difference is, I don’t know if I mind too much that you’re looking at me like that… but that can’t be right.

Desire was not uncommon in the wasteland. You’d seen it glinting dangerously in the eyes of strangers as you’d passed, leering grins and rapacious hands sometimes following. You’d heard the sounds of it coming from abandoned places, in little nooks and crannies that were just right for a tryst.

It was a marvel, at that moment, that even a monster could be affected by it…  while also managing to affect you in return.

You had experienced it only a handful of times, but it had rarely been fulfilled. Somehow, though, the ghoul’s gaze had left a fiery imprint on your skin, clinging like an afterthought. Or perhaps a promise.

Instead of insisting he leave, you began redressing, not too quickly as to seem desperate, but also not too slowly as to make it seem like a seduction. You strapped on your pack and your crossbow last, walking past him without a word, bumping your arm against his.

His chuckle trailed after you as you made your way back towards the small camp you’d set up in an abandoned building. While you’d been off hunting, he’d scoped out the place to make sure there were no fiends or mutants lurking about. 

Down in the basement, he built a fire as you skinned the rabbits, only preparing one of them for cooking. You already knew he mostly preferred his meals… raw.

He ate quickly, ravenously even, as you waited for your strips of meat to finish cooking. Then you heard him inhale chem – RadAway, by the looks of it – from a canister, coughing a few times before letting out a long, relaxed sigh.

You watched him sidelong, still trying to figure out the riddle of the man whose name you didn’t even know.

“So… are you ever gonna tell me why you’re looking for Axl?”

“I already told ya, girl, it ain’t none of your goddamn business,” he said slowly, not looking at you as he settled back against the wall. 

You scoffed. “Don’t I have the right to know at least a little bit more about who is herding me along?”

“Y’ain’t got the right to much of anythin’ ‘round these parts,” he said. “Ain’t you a surface dweller?”

You nodded, inclined in part to get defensive over your knowledge of things, but at the same time… It had been so long since you’d had the opportunity to confide in someone else. Not that he was ideal for it, but you had to admit that having company was quite nice.

It highlighted your loneliness, too, and you had to believe that he wasn’t all too different from you in that respect. You stared at the licking flames in front of you, your mind wandering further away.

“My father was a courier for one of the vaults. We only had each other, so he didn’t like leaving me anywhere. Not even when the vault’s overseer offered to take me in so they could care for me,” you said with a slight shake of your head. “He taught me everything I know, even how to fight.”

“Sounds like he was a smart man,” the ghoul commented idly. “Not leavin’ you to rot in them underground prisons.”

You smiled ever so slightly, pleased and surprised to hear his small praise for your father. You felt yourself relax, having been prepared for a fight. Finally, you were able to start eating, making sure to do it slowly as you were distracted down memory lane.

“He was, and I’m grateful for it,” you said. “Shitty as it can be out here, I like the open air, the sun, even the damn rad rains that leave me sick the next day.”

He grunted at that. “What ‘bout ghouls? You like us, too?”

You looked back at him, your smile turning cryptic. “Not all of them.”

A flash of teeth, tongue darting between them. “Well, ain’t much a mean motherfucker like me can do to convince ya.”

“I’m sure you’ve got a few tricks up your sleeve.”

“You betcha, I do. Gonna ask me for a demonstration, smoothie?”

At this, silence, coiling tight like a viper readying to strike. You stared at each other, challenging, willing one another to break first. To what end, though? Your stomach flipped at the possibilities.

Before you could think it through — knowing deep down you ought to shut it down completely — you said, “Not tonight.”

You quickly looked away, hands trembling slightly from an influx of adrenaline, your heart racing once more. You painstakingly put away the rest of your rations of rabbit, stomach still feeling hollow. Though you were distracted by the stirring of something unnameable within you, all too similar to curiosity. 

He was loose and languid, in a better mood than most of the time. Bantering like this was more fun than you’d thought it would be, only making you want more. It seemed he was full of surprises, which meant you couldn’t be too unguarded, no matter how much he might make you laugh. 

Or how he seemed to be drawing you in slowly, like a moth to a flame.

———————————-

Those confusing feelings followed you into sleep, plaguing your dreams with images that had you restless and whimpering. Your body felt hypersensitive and warm all over, but still, you didn’t wake.

The ghoul, who didn’t really need to sleep, was privy to all this. He watched from his spot against the wall, the way you tossed and turned, little noises in your throat. He knew it wasn’t nightmares, not with the way your thighs would rub together. You weren’t exactly a peaceful sleeper, but that was the first time it was due to something else — Something he himself had caused.

All the rest of that day, he’d been stuck thinking of the moment he’d found you. The instant lure of your soft skin, the challenge in your eyes, and your raised chin. Distantly, he remembered the myth of an ancient goddess ordering hunting dogs to tear their own master apart, merely for looking at her naked form. 

Wouldn’t that be an interesting fate? he thought to himself, not at all put off by it, especially if the goddess happened to look just like you. 

Throughout the darkest hours of the night, he’d tried palming himself to ease the building ache, but to no avail. So, as quietly as he could, he’d relieved himself listening to the sounds you made, his eyes closed. Imagining his face buried in your cunt, head nestled between your trembling legs. It didn’t take long at all for him to finish.

In the morning, by the time you’d woken up, he had returned to his usual self. He made you share your rations, arguing that you’d go hunting later, anyway. Barely gave you any time to reorganize your pack before he was dragging you out of the basement to check the perimeter for anything salvageable.

Neither of you addressed the previous evening, but there were still lingering looks, excuses to be in each other’s space, and twice as much bickering. The fuse between you two was short, you knew it, but it was all a matter of who lit it.

“How many more days north?” you asked as you’d finally set off, a long day of walking ahead of you.

“A week, then we shift west for another week,” he said, walking behind you as usual. “I better not hear you start complainin’. You slow me down, I’ll leave your ass behind, perky as it may be.” 

You couldn’t help but feel your face heat up a little at that. “How do you know I won’t drop you first?”

“Oh, I know. You need me, sweetheart,” he drawled confidently. “In more than one way.”

You rolled your eyes but had no retort, since he wasn’t altogether wrong. Then your mind pivoted in a more devious direction, wanting to test another theory. It was a foolish risk to take, one that made adrenaline tense your muscles, rabbit heart jackhammering inside your ribcage. You glanced coquettishly at him over your shoulder, and by your grin, he immediately knew something was up.

“And if I ran?” 

“Don’t go actin’ stupid now, I think you know the consequences of that, too,” he said, his tone somehow both a warning and a dare. 

You hummed pensively, covertly making sure your pack was securely strapped to you. You let the silence hang until you rounded a corner up the path, and then your legs were pumping as hard as they would go. A broad, exhilarated smile on your face, nervous laughter bubbling up your throat. 

You heard his yell, followed by his heavy footfalls, approaching much faster than you would’ve liked. A shot burst against a tree trunk as you passed, but you knew he was just trying to scare you. Wincing, you kept running, winding left and right in a zig-zag pattern. 

Not that you were actually planning on going anywhere, but you had always had a thing for pushing the limits. No matter how much trouble it might get you in. 

Spurs clinking growing louder, then the swish of something being thrown. The lasso encircled you, tightening around your midsection before yanking backward. The world around you pinwheeled, disorienting you for a moment.

Your pack braced your fall some, but you exhaled sharply as you landed. Chest heaving as you panted raggedly, your vision suddenly filled with the ghoul smirking down at you.

“Well, I guess stupidity can’t be helped, huh?” He drawled, propping his revolver pistol on his shoulder and crouching down. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d wager you were just tryin’ to get me all riled up…”

“Me?” You said innocently, betrayed by a teasing grin.

And oh, if that wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back. He grabbed you by the shirt and lifted your torso to meet him halfway, your faces inches apart. 

“Think I’m playin’ around, sweetheart?” He husked.

You shook your head and  licked your lips, drawing his eyes there. You saw the hunger in them again, flaring to life brighter than before. You felt a pulse deep in your core, the flint striking to start the fire.

You bit your bottom lip, keeping yourself from squirming, and he grunted.

“Hm. No, I don’t think I’ve convinced you well enough, actually.” He tilted his head to one side, eyes returning to yours. “I think I oughta give you more proof.”

His grip on your shirt tightened and you realized too late what he was going to do.

“Wait!” You gasped, but the thin fabric had already given away, messily ripping in half.

You glared up at him. “That was my only backup! Couldn’t you at least let me take it off?”

“Fuck if I care,” he said with a shrug, a low sound in his throat as he pushed the rest of it off of you. “It was in the way.”

He withdrew his hands only to slowly tug his gloves off, dropping them unceremoniously on the ground along with his pistol. His hands were warm and callused as they roamed over the expanse of your abdomen, heading upwards. 

“Don’t you dare,” you warned as he reached your bra, but he only tugged it down, revealing your breasts. 

The sound he tried to conceal made your spine tingle, shoulders drawing together, pushing your chest out.

“Goddamn, sweetheart. Such a nice pair of tits,” he husked, pulling a shuddery sound from you as his hands cupped them.

A little bolt of electricity shooting down to your pussy as he pinched your nipples, hard. Brows furrowing with the combination of pleasure and pain. 

“Take this fuckin’ thing off before I rip it off with my teeth,” he growled, a desperate edge beneath his biting tone. “Matter of fact, take the rest of your clothes off.”

You did quick work of unsnapping your bra and wiggling out of the straps of your pack. He shrugged off his coat and moved back to sit against the base of an old, gnarled tree, watching you closely as you kicked your boots off. The shift of your hips as you pushed down your pants, surely teasing him by keeping your cotton panties on.

“Those too,” he grunted, one hand on his pistol, the other palming the prominent bulge in his pants. 

You let them drop with the rest of your things, slowly approaching as he beckoned you, patting his thigh. He pulled you down onto his lap when you were close enough. Raising his hips as you settled, pushing his bulge against your cunt.

“Now look at me,” he said as your mouth slackened, grasping your chin. His thumb swiped over your bottom lip, pushing it down, fighting back the ravenous urge to kiss you. “I ain’t gonna take you today, but I will get myself a taste.”

The tip of your tongue darted over the pad of his thumb. A lazy drag of your hips against him made your breathing hitch, but still there was mischief in your eyes. “Are you sure you’ll be able to resist?”

“Oh, I’m positive, honey. I don’t fuck brats,” he said, grinning roguishly. “Not ‘til I tame ‘em first.”

One of his hands came to rest between your shoulder blades, pushing you forward. The other hand cracked down against your ass, making your body jerk. Then he had his mouth on you, lips closing around the hardened peak of your left nipple. 

Your hands gripped his shoulders as you moaned, clenching around nothing as he nipped at the sensitive flesh. He continued sucking and licking at your chest, the hand that had spanked you tracing lower. The tips of his fingers reaching your cunt from behind, teasing the entrance.

“My… you’re soaked already,” he rasped against your skin, moving to give your collarbones some attention. “Y’like the idea of being punished, don’tcha? Filthy girl.”

He felt your walls flutter at that, cunt sucking a little more of his fingers in. 

“Please,” you gasped mindlessly, knowing you would beg if it came down to it.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” he gruffed, making you yelp with a bite to your shoulder. “On your back.”

It was said as an order, but he manhandled you onto your back, on top of the coat he’d shrugged off earlier. Rough hands pushed your thighs apart, putting you on display for him. A ragged sound, and his fingers were parting your soaked, glistening folds. 

“What a feast,” he rasped. “And it’s all for me, ain’t it, sweet thing?”

“Yes,” you said, nodding quickly. “All yours.”

“Atta girl, that’s what I like to hear.”

With that, his head dipped and you felt the first exploratory drag of his tongue. A puff of warm air against your cunt as he groaned, the tip of his tongue circling around your clit teasingly.

Your hips bucked, gripping the fabric of his duster beneath you for dear life. His tongue dipped into the source of your ache, the taste of you pulling another long groan out of him.  

“Fuck, such a sweet little pussy you’ve got. And I think it likes me, too,” he said before smearing his saliva and your fluids all over, making a mess of your inner thighs. “Jus’ keeps getting wetter and wetter for me.”

“Keep going, please,” you panted, looking down at him through fluttering lashes. “Feels s-so good…”

“Oh yeah? Does it now?” 

You keened as you felt two of his fingers pushing inside of you. His other hand pressed flat against your navel, keeping you from bucking away from him. He couldn’t help himself, his tongue flicking against your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you.

He felt you start to tremble, your thighs threatening to shut around his head. He started going faster.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck…” the expletive fell from your wanton mouth like a plea, for mercy or… otherwise. “I-I’m… I’m gonna…”

He grunted his approval, feeling you clamp tight around his fingers. His fingers curled, hitting that textured spot inside you that had stars dancing in your vision. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you practically cartwheeled over the edge, ripples of ecstasy numbing all other senses. 

It was the hardest you’d ever orgasmed, and he helped you ride it all the way through. Languished in the cradle of your thighs for a moment longer as your loud moans tapered out into soft whines. When your soul started to slip back into your body, head still swimming, he pulled away and stood up.

He angled his hips away so you couldn’t see the mess at the front of his pants. Heart pounding in his chest in a way that made him feel alive and whole again, erasing the last two hundred plus years from his mind for a mere moment in time. 

But he gave no indication of it. Nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just entirely shattered you, he walked towards your clothes and tossed you your underwear. 

“Clean yourself up and get dressed,” he said, his voice still ragged as he commanded you. “Quickly now, we ain’t got all day. I’ll let ya rest when we get to the next spot.”

Dazed and wobbly-legged, you did as told, wondering how you were supposed to hike for hours after that. He watched you stumble to get your canteen, water dripping down your chin as you drank.

Chuckled to himself with self-satisfaction, the taste of you seared into his mind.

“Maybe you are starting to change my mind ‘bout what I put in my mouth,” he said as you finished dressing. “But who knows? Maybe I’ll need to try again to confirm.”

------

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part twenty-two] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex (mdni)

word count: 3.8k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

Shanghai was only an hour behind Tokyo so you were able to hit the ground running as soon as you landed. Unlike Japan, the itinerary didn’t allow for a day to rest and reset. Check-in at the new hotel wasn’t until later in the afternoon, but they let you drop off your luggage with them so you wouldn’t have to lug it around the city with you.

You passed your bags off to a woman who promised you they’d be safe in the closet behind the desk- not that you were too worried about your collection of t-shirts and Vera Bradley duffle bag that was nearly two decades old- before joining the Hans by the seating area a few paces away. The lobby was dressed with dark woods and jade tiles, accented with plush white furniture and expensive-looking plants. It was easily the most sophisticated place you’d ever been, and that was saying something considering you’d been on a fucking yacht a few weeks ago.

You felt extremely out of place in your travel sweats and beat-up sneakers. Even looking at the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling made you feel like you didn’t belong. You knew the Hans had a reservation under their names, you knew that you were being paid for, but you still felt like you could get kicked out for loitering at any minute.

“First things first we need to find a currency exchange place and then we can grab a bite to eat,” Dom explained. You tried not to wince as his voice echoed around the room. You were still getting used to these ‘family meetings’. “Are you guys hungry?”

There was a collective nod and then you all followed Mr. Han out of the hotel onto the bustling street. He used his phone’s GPS to navigate through the twists and turns of the city. Jisung grabbed your hand instinctively, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles like he always did.

Guilt bubbled up in your chest as soon as the warmth from his palm spread to yours. You hated the way you couldn’t even enjoy a simple gesture, something that was so commonplace for your friendship, without feeling like your stomach was turning itself inside out.

Jisung noticed, of course he did, your hand tensed as soon as he took it and even if it was barely perceptible he was too observant, too in tune with you to miss it.

“You okay?” he asked, eyebrows creasing together in worry.

“Just feeling a little sick is all,” you replied. It wasn’t a lie, you did feel nauseous. You just hoped Jisung couldn’t tell there was something else you were holding back.

“Do you need to sit? We can stop for a bit and meet the others later.”

“No, I’ll be fine,” you assured him. “I don’t want to get lost.”

“We have our phones, we won’t lose them,” he pressed.

“I probably just need something to eat, and we’re stopping for lunch soon. I’m ok, I promise.”

He looked like he didn’t quite believe you, but dropped it anyway.

You waited in line behind the rest of Jisung’s family at the currency exchange place where you traded your yen for yuan. You didn’t have much on you, since most travel sites warned against carrying a lot of cash on your person when in a new place. The Hans always insisted on paying for you too so it wasn’t like you needed it either.

After everyone had gone through the queue, you stopped for lunch in a square with about a dozen street vendors peddling different kinds of food. They were all swamped with customers, businessmen and women dressed in suits waiting to get their meals before inevitably having to return to the office. There were families wandering around too. Mothers struggled to wrangle their small children in strollers or their arms as they stood in line at the various stalls, calling for the older kids who were playing in the fountain.

You and Jisung chose a kabob cart to try while the other members of his family split off to get their own thing. You let your best friend order for the both of you as always while you scouted a spot to sit. The square was full of tables and benches scattered about. Some were shaded by trees, others offered unobstructed views of the skyline across the water. You opted for one that was surrounded by a couple of other close tables so everyone could sit somewhat together.

“Thanks for finding a place to sit, y/n!” Dom exclaimed as he approached you with Minho right on his heels. “Perfect amount of shade and sun.”

“I had to fight off some pigeons for it,” you joked, earning a laugh from the older man.

“I commend you for your bravery, pigeons can be quite brutal.”

“Especially city pigeons,” Minho added, coughing awkwardly when you made eye contact with him.

“Minho was attacked by pigeons once,” Dom said suddenly. You didn’t have time to ask any further questions before Jisung was returning with your food, giving you an apologetic look. 

“You weren’t boring her, were you?” He shot an accusatory glance at his father.

“No more than you usually do,” Minho answered smugly.

“Minho, please don’t start. We just got here, and since we’ll all be staying together I’d rather not have to listen to the three of you bickering all week.”

“What do you mean we’ll be staying together?” your best friend asked worriedly, voicing exactly what you were thinking. “Did you mess up the reservations again?”

Minho’s smile had also fallen and he was wearing an expression of concern similar to his brother’s. Dom sighed, running a hand across his forehead.

“I was going to wait until your mother returned with Felix to explain, but no. We’re all staying together in the penthouse of the hotel for the week. You all will get your own rooms and such, but we figured that since we’re on a family vacation we should spend time together as a family. We can have meals together, we can cook- or rather, Jisung can cook for us, and we’ll all be sleeping under the same roof.”

The two boys nodded in understanding, though neither looked thrilled. You knew that if Felix were around he’d have some smart comment to make, but since he wasn’t, there was just silence.

“Don’t look so thrilled,” Dom chided. “Minho, you’ll get your own room and so will Felix. That should be exciting to you at the very least.”

“Wait, really?” he asked, eyes much brighter than they had been a moment earlier.

His father nodded with a hum, just as Felix walked back up to your group with Nikki trailing a few paces behind him. Both of them had their hands full of food that they dumped on one of the empty tables and started dividing between each other.

Felix looked up when he noticed the silence and tilted his head in confusion. “What’d I miss?”

-

After lunch, you traveled together to the Oriental Pearl Tower. The number of fucking landmark towers in the world was… too goddamn many in your opinion. There seemed to be one in every city you’d been to, and you thought it was a little excessive.

You debated going to the top of this one just so you wouldn’t be a downer, but both Jisung and Minho were quick to shut it down.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Minho grumbled under his breath, still loud enough for everyone to hear.

“He’s right,” Jisung agreed. “It’s not worth it to make yourself miserable. I’ll stay down here with you, baby.”

You pouted, but didn’t put up much of a fight. You knew Jisung didn’t give a fuck about the tower so you let him keep you company at the bottom.

“We should stay in tonight,” he suggested, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. “Since you’re not feeling well and everything. I can cook you dinner back at the apartment and we can watch a movie or something.”

“Do we not have plans tonight?”

“Do you ever look at the itinerary?”

“I think you already know the answer to that,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

Jisung just chuckled. “Brat. But no, we don’t really have plans. They’re kind of up in the air. Everyone can do their own thing if they want to. I think I heard Felix and Minho talk about going out, but I don’t think we should.”

“If you want to, you should!” you urged. “Don’t stay in because of me.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’d much rather spend time with you than those idiots?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Ji...”

“I’m just being honest! We can go out with them tomorrow night, or the night after that! I just don’t want you to overdo it. Especially since we’re going to be out all day tomorrow.”

“Fine, you win,” you gave in. “Promise you’re not just staying in because you feel like you have to?”

“I promise.” He held out his pinky as if to seal it. You looped your own pinky with his despite the gesture being a dramatic formality and grinned. “I don’t really feel like being a wingman anyway.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, they’re trying to pick up girls tonight?”

“Emphasis on the word ‘trying’,” Jisung scoffed.

“Come on, they’re handsome guys,” you said, though you didn’t quite know why you were defending them.

“Sure, but it’s their personalities that are their downfalls.”

“You’re so mean!”

“You’ve met them!”

You opened your mouth to respond but came up short. Jisung smirked knowingly and you both burst into laughter.

“Well, what are your parents doing tonight?” you asked once you caught your breath. “Are they also going out on the town?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I can cook dinner for the four of us if they decide to stay in.”

“That sounds nice,” you mused, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder.

“It could be… my mom would love the opportunity to get us alone. I’m sure she has loads of questions for you.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!”

“It is a bad thing! It’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not. My mom would do the same thing if the roles were switched.”

“Okay, but that’d be easy. Your mum already knows me and she loves me.”

“She wouldn’t if we were dating.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because she knows you’re a whore.”

“What the fuck? No, I’m not.” You gave him a look. “Okay, well does she know her own daughter is a whore too? Arguably a bigger one than me.”

“Weird way to say I get more bitches than you, but alright.” Jisung rolled his eyes at you and gave you the finger, but you just laughed. “I don’t think she knows that I’m a little slutty-”

“A little!?”

You ignored him. “But even if she did, she still wouldn’t like me dating you. She’s very protective of me.”

Your best friend stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. “I feel kind of betrayed. I thought your mom and I were pals.”

“You are. As long as you keep it in your pants around me.”

-

The penthouse at the hotel you were staying at was even bigger than you imagined it would be. There were four bedrooms, the primary and three guest rooms on the other side of the apartment. Your luggage was already waiting for you in the foyer along with some toiletries and towels.

“Y/n and Jisung should have to stay in the middle room,” Felix had exclaimed as he claimed the room at the very end of the hallway.

“What, why?” Jisung demanded.

“Because it wouldn’t be fair if only one of us had to share a wall with the two of you, that’s why.”

Jisung clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. His parents were right across the living room and they could probably hear every word. Not for the first time, you were mortified by Felix’s inability to keep his mouth shut.

“What the fuck, bro,” Jisung muttered.

“You asked.”

You and Jisung did end up taking the middle room. It turned out to be the biggest of the three so you lucked out. You’d still have to share a bathroom between the four of you, but it was nice to have your own space to get away. It wouldn’t be like Tokyo where you could never let your guard down.

Jisung took you with him to the market to shop for ingredients for dinner. The market was overwhelming but beautiful. It was full of life and vibrant color. The stalls were pushed so closely together under an array of tents that it was difficult to tell who was selling what, but somehow Jisung figured it out. He led you by the hand through the crowd, being sure not to lose you. Watching him speak to the vendors, asking questions about the cuts of the meats and getting advice on what was in season… watching his fingers linger over the different fruits and vegetables, trying to gauge which was the ripest and best for the dish he was planning in his head. It was refreshing to see your best friend in his element. He hadn’t had the chance to cook in forever, and you could tell he was excited to.

It was a chance to show off in front of his parents too, you realized. You could tell he wanted to impress them. He’d cooked for you at least a hundred times, but this was an opportunity to show his parents everything he’d learned in school and prove to them that the degree they were paying for was worth it.

By the time you got back to the hotel, Minho and Felix had already gone out for the night. You had no idea when they’d be back, but that was the least of your worries right now. You were much more concerned about the questions from Nikki that Jisung had warned you about.

Should you study? You still had the stack of flashcards in your backpack. You might be able to squeeze in some last-minute cramming before dinner.

“She’s not going to quiz you,” Jisung said in the elevator on the way up to the room as if he could read your mind.

“How’d you-”

“You’re biting your lip like you do when you get nervous.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

You shrugged. “I just don’t want you to be worrying about me when you’re trying to focus on dinner.”

“I always worry about you,” he said casually. “But I know how to multitask.”

You helped Jisung carry the groceries inside and put them away. He’d gotten a lot of food for the rest of the week in addition to what he needed for the night.

“Do you need help cooking?” you asked, suppressing a smile.

Jisung whipped his head in your direction, panic in his eyes, before realizing you were joking. “Hilarious.”

“Who said I wasn’t serious? I could be your sous chef!”

Aware of his parents in the next room over, Jisung smiled weakly and shook his head at you. “You’re very cute, but we both know you’d set this kitchen on fire.”

“Whatever, I’ll just sit over here and watch.”

You seated yourself at one of the barstools tucked underneath the island and rested your head in your palms, watching Jisung do his thing.

He finished sorting the groceries and then washed his hands before searching the kitchen for a cutting board and various cooking utensils that he’d need. Back at home, your best friend had a collection of ridiculous aprons that he’d don as he cooked. Your favorite was one that you’d gotten him for his birthday one year. It had your face on it and said “she loves my meat”. One of his roommates had spit his drink all over their rug when Jisung opened it at his party, and you considered that a job well done. It was the apron Jisung wore the most, and you knew it was secretly his favorite, even though he’d never admit it.

He hadn’t packed any aprons for this trip, though, so he was stuck with the t-shirt he was wearing with nothing to protect it- not that he’d need one. He wasn’t very messy in the kitchen. The aprons were more for show than anything else.

Jisung filled a pot with water and set it on the stove to boil while he chopped vegetables. He was so fast that you could barely see the blade moving.

He’d whipped up a meal in under an hour and served it to you and his parents like you were in a restaurant. He circled the table with a bottle of wine, offering it to each of you as if he were your server.

“How about a nice red for you, miss,” he suggested, holding the bottle out to you so that you could read the label.

You giggled. “Do you recommend it?”

“I’ve never had it,” he admitted, not breaking character. “But the chef says that it pairs perfectly with beef.”

“The chef that looks just like you?”

Jisung winked. “That’s the one.”

“Well, in that case, I trust his judgment. I’ll take a glass.”

“Excellent choice.”

“I’ll have what she’s having,” Nikki said once he’d poured you a glass. She was smiling warmly at her son, completely enamored with you and Jisung’s little display. Your heart swelled with pride at the realization. Maybe you weren’t so bad at acting.

“Excellent choice,” Jisung repeated as he filled his mother’s glass. “And for you, sir?” he asked, addressing his father.

“Do you have whiskey?”

“I believe I do,” he answered thoughtfully. “Let me go check.”

You already knew he did. He’d stopped in a liquor store on the way back to pick some bourbons that he thought his dad and brother would like.

You watched him disappear back into the kitchen and went back to your meal, smiling to yourself in satisfaction.

“I know I’ve mentioned this before,” Nikki whispered quietly, “but I’m so glad you were able to join us on this trip. It’s been so lovely to get to  know you, and I’ve never seen Jisung so happy.”

Your cheeks grew warm at her comment. The feeling of pride in your chest threatened to be replaced with guilt as it bubbled up in your stomach, but you pushed it down.

“Thank you for inviting me,” was all you could muster.

“We’re happy to have you,” she assured you, grabbing your hand firmly.

“What are we talking about?” Jisung asked loudly as he reentered the room, handing his father a glass of whiskey, neat.

He shot you a look that asked if you were ok and you nodded minutely.

“We were just talking about your wonderful girlfriend,” Nikki explained, “and how happy we are to have her with us on vacation!”

“Mom,” Jisung groaned.

“She didn’t embarrass you entirely,” Dom interjected, coming to the defense of his wife. “She didn’t even mention airplane stickers!”

“Wha- airplane stickers?” You looked to your best friend for an explanation, but he had his head in his hands.

“I cook you all a nice dinner and this is how you repay me!” he cried.

“I’m sorry, I’m confused. What are airplane stickers?”

“They’re what Jisung thought menstrual pads were when he was little.” Dom clapped his son on the back affectionately as Jisung groaned even louder.

You brought your hand to your mouth. “You didn’t.”

“I’d never seen one before!”

“We came home and there were ‘airplane stickers’ all over our windows,” his father continued.

“Aw, babe,” you rubbed his thigh comfortingly, but you knew he didn’t miss the devilish glint in your eye that told him you’d never be letting this go. “That’s kind of cute.”

“It’s kind of humiliating,” he corrected you.

“That too, but you didn’t know any better. I’m sure lots of kids do that.”

Jisung ignored you and stood from the table, collecting your plate along with his. “Anyway, I’m going to start the dishes. Does anyone have any for me to take?”

-

Jisung’s parents invited you to watch a movie with them after dinner, but you politely declined, retiring to your bedroom instead. Jisung flopped on the bed as soon as the door was shut behind you and screamed into a pillow.

You chuckled as you unclipped your bra and pulled it off from beneath your shirt, joining him on the bed moments later.

“And they wonder why I never bring anyone home!” he hissed.

You rubbed his back soothingly. “It could’ve been worse.”

“How?”

You paused. “I don’t know.”

“Oh my god.”

“Come on, it’s not so bad. I could’ve told one of my stories about you.”

“Half of those are illegal.”

“Exactly.”

You managed to coax your fake boyfriend out of sulking and took turns getting ready for bed and showering in the bathroom before settling in your room together for the night. You flipped through channels on the tv together, but nothing good was on, so you decided to spend time reading your books instead.

You didn’t even realize how late it had gotten until you heard the front door open, signaling Minho and Felix’s return. You traded looks with Jisung who then checked the time on his phone and showed you that it was past one a.m.

His parents had likely gone to bed hours ago, but you could still hear them talking like everyone wasn’t trying to sleep.

They’re drunk, you and Jisung mouthed at each other at the same time. He rolled his eyes but you just smirked.

“That’s gonna bite them in the ass come morning.”

“Yeah, and we’re going to have to be the ones to deal with it,” he muttered.

He had a point. You hadn’t thought about that. And you didn’t think a hungover Minho or Felix would be pleasant to deal with.

You tried going back to the page you were on in your book, but were distracted again when you heard their voices approaching. They were in the hallway now, saying goodnight to each other.

Then, you finally thought it had gone quiet when you heard a third voice. A female voice. You couldn’t make out what she was saying but you could tell immediately who responded.

“Yeah, this is my room.”

It was Minho. He’d brought a girl home with him.

“No fucking way,” Jisung whispered, verbalizing what you both had to be thinking. “He actually did it.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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[wheels-of-despair]

@funsonmunson-again's Birthday Week Writing Challenge Oliver Soon-to-be-Munson and the Best Birthday Ever The Eddie: Janitor!Eddie The Prompt: #6: write me something domestic. use your eddie of choice, reader pregnant or not, just give me something for my ovaries to combust to. show me dad!eddie Words: 3.8k? It just kinda... happened. 😳 Contains: Oliver's first birthday with Janitor!Eddie and Teach. Notes: I did some bad math and figured they'd get Oliver in about 1994, so this is meant to take place that summer, while they're just fostering him. Then somebody dropped new Eddie Age info and I was too far into it to recalculate. Disregard if this conflicts with the official timeline. This contains no I Love You's - because I don't know if they're there yet at this point, and those firsts aren't mine to write anyway. (But I'd love to read them, hint hint.)

"Ollie's got a birthday coming up. Any ideas?"

"Hmmm," Eddie hums, crawling into bed after a long day. He settles his head on your chest and wiggles the rest of his body so close, he's nearly on top of you. You smile and wrap your arms around him. You both lie there and think quietly for a moment.

"I don't think we should do anything too big," he says thoughtfully. "Just something normal. If his mom gets him back, we don't want his next birthday to be drastically different."

"Good idea," you agree, twirling a strand of his hair in your fingers. "What's considered normal these days?"

"You're asking me about normal?" he chuckles.

"Nevermind," you laugh. "What was your most memorable birthday?"

"The year it was just me and my mom," he answers quickly. "Dad was in jail. Mom made me a cake and gave me a little red matchbox car. It was all I played with for months."

"Aw," you coo, scratching his scalp gently.

"Then Dad got out and stomped it 'cause I left it in the floor." You kiss the top of his head and hold him a little tighter.

"What was yours?" he asks.

"We were never really big on birthdays. Just dinner and a present or two. Cards from relatives. Very low-key."

He hums and nuzzles into you. You let out a sigh.

"I kinda feel like we should just ask him, but I think it would put too much pressure on him. Poor baby's still afraid to ask for seconds at dinner. Even if he had something in mind, he probably wouldn't tell us."

A sad silence falls over the room. You want to give your sweet boy the world, but you don't know if he could handle it just yet.

"Wayne used to take me to the movies," Eddie says.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Dollar Days at The Hawk."

"The Hawk?"

"There used to be a theater on Main Street, before the mall moved in and turned it into a ghost town. When times were slow, and there was nothing good out, they'd show old movies. A double feature for a dollar. It was old black and white stuff, mostly. The first time Wayne took me, it was pirate movies. That's what kicked off my pirate era."

"Pirate Eddie, huh?"

"Oh yeah. Talked like a pirate for almost a year. Badly. Every stick was a sword. Surprised Wayne didn't make me walk the plank." You chuckle, and you can feel him grinning into your chest.

"I bet you were adorable."

He scoffs. "Pirates are not adorable! They're rough and tough!"

"If you say so, baby." You kiss the top of his head again with a grin.

"Anyway, that was our thing. My birthday's a movie dead zone, so there was usually a Dollar Days promotion going on. I don't think we ever saw pirates again, though. It was mostly westerns after that."

"Was there a Cowboy Eddie era?"

"You bet there was, little lady," he drawls. You cackle and quickly quiet yourself, hoping you hadn't woken up Ollie. "I was gonna move out west and live like the good ol' days. I wanted a ranch with horses and cows and a good dog and a pretty lady."

"Well, one out of five's not bad, I guess." He looks up at you in confusion. "You got the lady, at least," you tease with a wink.

"That's all I need," he whispers. You give him a kiss on the forehead, and both return to your previous positions.

"So, making Oliver a cake and taking him to the movies?"

"Sounds good to me."

"Good morning, birthday boy!" you smile from the stove, where you're keeping an eye on the bacon.

Oliver has finally wandered in, still in his pajamas. He's hugging his teddy bear with one arm and rubbing his eyes with his free hand. This child is the cutest little thing you've ever seen.

"Happy Birthday, bud," Eddie says, coming in from the living room.

"Thanks," Oliver says shyly, looking at the floor.

"What do you think: Breakfast first, or a present?" Eddie asks the boy with a mischievous grin.

Oliver's eyes light up, but he shrugs.

"What do you think, sweetheart?" Eddie asks you.

"I think I'm not quite done over here yet, so you should probably start with a present. That alright with you, Ollie?"

He nods, and you grin at him.

Eddie ducks back into the living room and returns with a neatly wrapped box, which he sets on the table with an exaggerated grunt. Oliver looks from the gift to Eddie to you, silently asking permission.

"It's okay," you encourage him with a smile and a nod.

He sits at the table and carefully unwraps it, almost like he's afraid of what's inside.

What's inside are ten Hardy Boys books.

The school library had a few random volumes left over from the 50s, and Ollie always had one checked out. They were his favorites; he would read the same four or five mysteries over and over again.

You'd never seen a child so happy about getting a book. His jaw dropped, and he reached out and ran his finger along the spines. You'd found a boxed set of the first ten books at a thrift store. They looked almost like new.

"They're really mine?"

"Of course, bud," Eddie assures him.

"For keeps?"

"Yup," you chirp.

First, he hugs his books. Then he hugs Eddie. Then he runs over and hugs you. (You step away from the stove when you see him coming, not wanting him to get too close to the hot pans.) And then he returns to his books, staring at them like he's afraid to take them out.

Eddie seems to sense this, and pulls his chair closer.

"Have you read any of these yet?" he asks.

"This one," Oliver points to a spine, "and this one. I think."

Eddie pulls out the first book Oliver pointed at and reads the summary on the back.

"Yeah, that's my favorite!" Oliver says in amazement when he sees the cover of the book Eddie holds, which is facing him. He excitedly pulls the rest out, one at a time, and carefully inspects each cover.

While he's busy poring over every detail of the cover art, Eddie gives you a smile that almost makes you forget the breakfast you're supposed to be cooking. The ding of the oven timer brings you back to reality.

Turning back to the stove, you hurriedly pull out a pan of biscuits and start turning off burners. Eddie gets up and pulls down a stack of plates for you.

"Alright bud, ready for breakfast now?"

Oliver nods, carefully putting his books back into their box, in the correct order. He tries to pick it up off the table, but struggles until Eddie swoops in. He's just a little guy, after all.

"Wanna put these in your room for now?" Eddie asks. Oliver nods and follows him to the bedroom; Eddie with an armful of books and Ollie with his teddy bear. By the time they get back - the books had to go on a shelf, obviously - breakfast is on the table. Bacon, and eggs, and biscuits made from scratch. The only person who was a bigger biscuit junkie than Ollie was Eddie, so you had two very happy and full boys that morning.

"What time's the thing?" you asked inconspicuously, washing the last of the dishes.

Eddie, who's on drying duty, looks down at his hand. He'd written down the showtime when he double-checked the paper that morning. "11:20."

"You wanna get Ollie dressed while I hop in the shower? If I go out smelling like bacon grease, every dog in town's gonna be chasing us."

He laughs and kisses your forehead, hanging up the dish towel and heading for Ollie's room. You drain the sink and make your way to the bathroom, smiling when you overhear Eddie teasing a fun birthday adventure while trying not to spill the beans.

After you're all dressed (and de-baconed), you hop in the car. Ollie watches curiously from his booster seat in the back.

"Where are we going?"

"Do you really want to know, or do you want it to be a surprise?" You turn around and give him a smile while Eddie drives. "It's okay either way. It's your call, bud."

Oliver shrugs.

"Do you want a hint?"

He thinks about it, then nods his head. A nod instead of a shrug. Progress!

"We're going to the movies."

Confusion clouds his little face.

"Have you ever been to the movies before?" you ask with a smile, hoping that it's disguising the panic you suddenly felt. Had he really never been before? Is this going to be overwhelming for him? Why hadn't you thought of this?!

"Like when we rent tapes?"

"Not exactly. We're going to a theater."

His face is blank.

"It's a big room in the mall, with lots of seats and a huge screen."

"Muuuch bigger than our TV," Eddie adds.

"And we watch the movie there?"

"Yup, on the big screen."

"Why?"

You look at Eddie helplessly, and he chuckles at you.

"Because it's fun," he says. "My Uncle Wayne used to take me on my birthday when I was little. We'd get a bucket of popcorn, and a drink, and then go sit in a comfy chair and wait for the lights to go down. They show you previews of other movies coming out soon, just like on the tapes we rent. And then they turn the real movie on. You've never seen anything like it. It's so big! It doesn't even matter what the movie is. It's just a cool thing to see, and a cool place to be."

"Especially when you're there with your favorite people," you add, looking at Eddie with a smile. He reaches over and squeezes your hand.

"So, sound like fun?" you ask, turning your attention back to Ollie.

He nods. You'll take it.

Oliver is understandably nervous when you arrive at the theater. It's his very first time, after all. He clings to your side from the minute you help him out of the car. Eddie buys the tickets at the box office out front, and sticks them in his front pocket. You walk Oliver around the lobby to look at the posters while Eddie waits in line to buy a bucket of popcorn and a drink from the counter inside.

Ollie's eyes linger over the candy counter when you come to meet Eddie, but he doesn't say a word. That's alright. You'll hook him up later, you think with a smirk. Moms have their ways.

("Their ways" meaning you bought candy at the dollar store a few days ago and hid it in the bottom of your purse. You feel no shame about this. Movie theater candy is highway robbery. Just the facts.)

With a bucket of popcorn and a gallon of soda, Eddie leads the way into the theater. He picks a spot in the back, away from everyone else, and you all get settled in. You check your watch.

"Ten minutes to go. Probably a good time to hit the bathroom," you note. Eddie nods.

"Wanna hit the head before the movie starts, buddy?" Oliver shrugs. "C'mon," Eddie says with a smile and a tilt of his head. They leave together, and you guard the popcorn.

They come back just in time. Oliver sits between you, munching on popcorn and looking around. There's not a whole lot to see in here; it's a morning matinee, and the movie's been out for a while, so there's only a handful of other people. Then the lights go down, and Oliver tenses.

"It's alright, it just means the show's about to start," Eddie whispers to him. Oliver looks to you, and you nod in agreement. He sits back in his seat and pulls his knees up, resting his chin on them. You and Eddie share A Look over his head.

And then the screen comes to life. Oliver's eyes widen. You and Eddie are both trying to watch him without being obvious about it, and failing hilariously. You watch him all through the previews, completely transfixed by the clips on the giant screen in front of him.

When the theater chain's roller coaster intro came on, you thought Oliver was going to lose his mind. His eyes were the size of saucers, and his jaw was dangerously close to coming unhinged. You and Eddie grin at each other. This was the show you came to see.

And then the lights dim more, and the movie starts. Oliver perks up at the Disney logo, which he is very familiar with. You and Eddie's traditional Friday night plans of "dinner and a movie" looked a little different these days, but you loved them just the same. Maybe more.

A song blasts through the speakers scattered throughout the theater. Oliver leans forward, seemingly possessed by the music, inching closer and closer to the empty seat in front of him as each new animal appears. By the time the lions show up, he's standing, grasping the top edge of the chair in front of him with both hands, like it's all that's keeping him from falling into the movie.

You cover your mouth and look over at Eddie, who is grinning so hard, it looks like it might actually split his face.

After a few minutes of letting him soak it in, you reach forward and hook your finger through his belt loop, pulling him back to his seat gently. He lands on his chair with a light bounce, but doesn't seem to notice. You and Eddie share another grin, and start digging into the popcorn.

You've never seen any child pay such close attention to anything for so long in your life. And you've spent quite a lot of time around them. But Oliver remains focused throughout the entire movie, from the opening sunrise to the final scene where the good guy triumphs. He didn't even get scared during those freaky hyena scenes.

When the lights finally come back on, Oliver sits back in his seat and breathes for the first time in an hour and a half. He looks up at Eddie, then at you.

"Well, what'd you think?" you ask.

"This was the best birthday EVER."

The cub's ruling may have come a little early, because the day was still young.

Oliver had been too captivated by the movie to eat anything, and you and Eddie had only eaten half the popcorn, so you brought the bucket home with you. You looked back at him, munching on a handful and staring thoughtfully out the window. You wished you knew what was going on in his head…

But you soon found out. After he'd eaten his fill of popcorn and had time to process the mind-blowing event of going to the movies for the first time, and he started talking. And he didn't stop.

He told you about his favorite scenes, and his favorite characters, and what his favorite song was, and that he knew all along that the good guy would win in the end. He'd memorized so many details from the movie, after only one viewing, you were extremely impressed. You and Eddie nodded along happily, laughing and gasping in the appropriate places of his passionate re-telling.

By the time you got close to home, Oliver had nearly talked himself out. His blinks were becoming longer, and he leaned his head back against the seat. Eddie, who'd been keeping an eye on him in the rearview mirror, took the long way around instead of his usual shortcut. Oliver was asleep when you pulled in the driveway.

Eddie handed you the keys and opened the back door to unbuckle Oliver and pull him out. You led the way up the front steps and unlocked the door, holding it for your beautiful boys. Eddie carried Oliver into his room and came back out with a grin.

"You think he liked it?" he asks, causing both of you to burst into a fit of hushed giggles.

"Wayne'll be here in an hour and a half. Wanna get stuff ready, or lay on the couch for a few?" Eddie asks. You look at each other for approximately three seconds before heading to the couch.

You doze for about an hour, then get up and start working on Oliver's birthday dinner. You've got a salad to make and a cake to ice. Eddie's got grilling to do. After all the vegetables are washed, Eddie goes to wake up Oliver. When they return to the kitchen, you send them both outside with a pan full of vegetables wrapped in foil. Eddie might not be great with the baking, but the man can grill anything.

A few minutes later, Wayne knocks twice, then lets himself in as you're starting to frost the cake you baked late last night.

"Hi, Wayne!"

"Hey, darlin'. You need help?"

"Nope, just finishing up. You need a drink?"

"Eddie's got the cooler outside. Uh…" You look up from the cake to see Wayne rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, just like Eddie does. "You got wrappin' paper?"

"Yeah, hall closet." You point, and he shuffles over and pulls out a roll of blue striped paper.

"Scissors?"

"Scissors and tape are in the top drawer closest to you," you point again. "You need help?"

"I can wrap a damn present, girl."

"Then why didn't you teach Eddie how?"

"Boy wouldn't sit still long enough." You both grin, and he pulls something out of his flannel pocket and drops it on the table, turning his back to you and getting to work.

You slather the last of the frosting on your cake as Wayne walks the roll of blue paper back to the closet.

"I, uh… I didn't have any."

"That's okay. I've always got plenty, appropriate for any gift-wrapping occasion. Help yourself, any time."

"Thanks. Uh... all I had was newspaper, and I didn't have time to make it to the store and back… I, uh, didn't want the boy to feel like he was an afterthought." Your heart swells, but you can already hear Wayne's "don't go gettin' all emotional on me, girl", so you take an alternate route.

"Wayne, you know it's what's inside the paper that counts," you say with a wink. He chuckles, and Oliver peeks his head inside the door.

"Eddie says to bring him some dang meat."

"Tell him to hold his dang horses," you laugh, reaching into the fridge for a plate of burgers and hot dogs. Oliver relays your reply out the door, and you can hear Eddie cackle from his place by the grill. Wayne stuffs the little package back into his pocket and reaches for the dang meat. You pick up your salad and follow him out the door, which Oliver holds for you like a gentleman.

While Eddie cooks his dang meat, Oliver tells Wayne about his day so far: breakfast, books, the coolest movie ever. Wayne grins, then pats his pocket with a questioning look at you. You nod. He pulls out his present, and hands it to Ollie.

"Another present?!"

"Yup. Happy Birthday, little man."

Oliver looks at you, and you nod, giving him the go-ahead. He tears off the paper to reveal two matchbox cars: a red one, and a blue one.

"What'd you get, buddy?" Eddie asks, leaning over to see. He freezes when he sees the two little cars.

"I figured you needed two so you could play with your-- with Eddie," Wayne corrects quickly.

"Thank you!" Ollie says with a grin, holding his cars closer to inspect the details. Eddie shares a look with Wayne, then looks to you. You give him a warm smile, knowing exactly what this reminds him of.

Dinner went great. You had burgers, hot dogs, roasted veggies and corn on the cob, salad, and potato chips. (Eddie insisted that having a cook-out without potato chips was against the laws of America. Wayne and Oliver backed him up on this. Who were you to argue with the laws of America, as decided by the people?)

You brought out the cake and stuck the candles in it. Eddie insisted that everyone sing "Happy Birthday" to Ollie, and proceeded to dramatically air-guitar his way through it. Oliver laughed so hard at Eddie, and at Wayne rolling his eyes at Eddie, he had to hold onto you for support. He finally caught his breath and blew out his candles. While Eddie was removing the candles and preparing to cut the cake, Ollie looked up at you with his big eyes. You leaned down closer, sensing that he wanted to tell you something.

"Do you want to know what I wished for?" he whispers.

"If you tell, it won't come true," you whisper back. He looks thoughtful for a moment, then grins.

"Cake?" he asks.

"Cake!" you repeat.

"Cake." Eddie says, placing a piece in front of Oliver, then handing you one across the table.

"Cake?" Wayne asks, not wanting to be left out.

"Cake!" Eddie says, giving Wayne a piece, then settling down with his own.

After everyone was properly caked, Wayne went home to get ready for work. You and Eddie performed a hasty clean-up (thank you, aluminum foil), and you put away leftovers while the boys played on the living room floor with their new cars. Ollie's favorite color is blue, so Eddie laid claim to the red car. (Even though you heard Ollie tell Eddie he could have the blue one if he wanted, like the sweetest boy in the whole world.)

You leaned on the counter and watched them play, racing and doing daring stunts and making hilarious sound effects as they recklessly 'drove' over any surface in reach. You could watch them for hours, but that would interfere with a certain birthday boy's bedtime.

Ollie never complained when you told him it was bedtime. Maybe because bedtime here meant he got to wear clean pajamas and crawl into his own bed with a full belly and his favorite teddy bear, and have a bedtime story read to him by people who loved him.

He was struggling to keep his eyes open when Eddie finished tonight's chapter of the fantasy book they'd picked out together. You tucked him in while Eddie turned on the nightlight.

"Good night, baby," you whisper with a kiss to the top of his head.

"Good night, buddy," Eddie said quietly on his way to the door.

"'Night," Oliver mumbles sleepily, "was best birthday ever."

It really was.

Bonus: Oliver's wish was that he could stay with you and Eddie forever. I can tell you that now, because it already came true. 😉

Double Bonus:

[skzoologist]

word count: ~3.8k

warnings: there is a crime scene there described, mentions of past abuse

genre: angst, with a hint of crack

a/n: The last of the event's requests, done at last. This was requested by an irl friend, and since I know her very well, I made a few changes to it. Now it's focused on certain characters more and turned into angst, because we love that in this household. And my previously hidden fixation over DBH is newly lit and I only need to look at the word count to know I am absolutely fucked. But I love the world of that game too much, and look, police SKZ??? I cannot be the only one who loves the concept this much, I just know it 😔 No, police!Chan doesn't have a hold on me, what are you talking about- Anyway, Darling, hope you enjoy reading this, there's plenty of main course with a hint of fine wine there!

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

He was at the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

It was that simple.

He’d merely wanted to take a brief walk around the neighbourhood, to freshen up his mind and wind down from a stressful day of work. Nothing more, nothing less.

And yet, he somehow found himself crouched in front of a window at a house that wasn’t even his, mind you, and just bearing witness to a scene that made the breath still in his lungs. Not a single coherent thought passed through his mind, body operated purely by instinct as it stayed there, motionless, as if he himself had been turned into a statue.

The room he’d been peering into was bathed in vermillion, splashes of it everywhere: on the expensive furniture, the once shiny floorboards, even the glass he’d been peeking through. And amidst all that stood an android, his clothes pristine and untouched, looking as if he’d been put there from a completely different scenario. The light on his template was a calm blue, creating a serene light in the dimly lit crime scene.

Before he could even think about what to do next, the nearby android turned towards him, movement precise and calculated. Not a single hair was out of place on his head, expression as neutral and calm as it could be. Their eyes met, one a pair of deep cerulean, another a pair of darkness, wide and scared, pupils shrank down in utter fear and anxiety.

He knew he couldn’t run anymore, with how he’d been seen. It would only take the police to check that android's memories to see his face and pin all of this on him, while the real culprit would be left to run free and commit another crime with no shackles to restrict them.

Not a chance he would let that happen!

“Sir, don’t move and put your hands where I can see them.” - an unknown male’s voice called out to him, sending him nearly into a heart attack.

Shaking, but knowing he quite literally had no choice now if he wanted to stay alive, he slowly lifted his hand up above his head and turned around, the movements choppy and shaky. The sight in front of him made the blood freeze into his veins.

A police officer was standing there, pistol drawn and pointed right at him, the man’s presumed partner having his hands on his own holster, housing another gun, ready to be pointed at him as well. His eyes instantly glazed over, panic being the only fragile obstacle between his tears and the wide world.

Because those two weren’t simple officers, no. They were well-known for their amazing skills, tackling hard cases and solving them swiftly, as if they were mere child’s play to them. Captain Bahng and Officer Kim were highly praised and sought-after individuals in their fields, their Department quickly gaining fame and the trust of the people.

Which was why he prayed that they would believe him and how he had nothing to do with the dead body in this random house, even if there was only a slim chance of it ever happening.

“Sir, we’re going to need an ID and a clear explanation on what happened here.” - the senior officer said, his voice now much closer as he’d been inching towards the scared boy ever since. “I- I’m Han Jisung, I uh, I live down a few roads over there and please believe me when I say I don’t know what happened here. I was just taking a walk when I noticed the strange spots on this windowhereanddecidedtocheckandsawitwasbloodand–” - his words became a jumbled mess, his breath short and much too fast to be considered normal.

The officers noticed it too, how his eyes seemed unseeing, his whole body shaking and going into a panic attack. The captain quickly put his pistol away and approached Jisung swiftly, only after a quick glance at his partner, who nodded back and followed him closer, stopping a few metres away, hand still hovering over his open holster.

“Sir, I need you to listen to my voice and breathe with me. Take a deep breath in, then, breathe it out. In, out. Yes, like that! Breath in, then let it out.” - the captain instructed, a small smile dancing on his lips to appear at least a tiny bit friendlier.

Jisung followed along as best as he could, his body and mind retreating from the verge of an attack slowly, but surely. His breathing stabilised, only hitching in his throat every once in a while. Only small tremors could be seen running along his hands, the digits twitching occasionally.

“Good, you did good. I’m terribly sorry Sir, but we cannot let you go, given the circumstances. My partner here, Officer Kim, will keep an eye on you while I go in and investigate. I would be grateful if you would comply.”

While he was still a bit out of it, Jisung nodded his head so fast, it was a miracle his vertebrae were still intact. That small smile ever so slightly widened on the captain’s face before he glanced back at his partner and stood up, having been kneeling in front of Jisung this whole time. The other policeman once again curtly nodded, his eyes drifting down towards the scared boy and quietly prompting him to stand up. Jisung thankfully read the silent command and followed along, watching as Captain Bahng took his pistol out again and carefully opened the door.

The android was still standing there, the blue light of his LED spinning as it was processing new information, his eyes falling upon the new arrivals’ forms.

They felt strangely alive, causing a shiver to run up Jisung’s spine.

“Ah, you must be the android the caller mentioned before. Seungmin, can you question him while I take a look around?”

“Looking after a potential suspect wasn’t enough? You’re working me to death over here.” - the officer’s voice was light and teasing, drawing a sigh out of the older one.

Despite their playful banter, Seungmin did as he was told, calling over the android and asking it about everything, down to the tiniest of details. Jisung merely stood there in silence, mainly because he was still shaking in his boots, praying to any god out there that he would not land in jail.

All the while Chan’d been walking around the room, gloved fingers hovering around potential clues and traces. The body laid next to a table that stood there emptily, a shattered bowl and spilled food found nearby, a few of the latter’s pieces still sticking to the wall above and painting the beige surface a light brown. The puddle of blood around the body was spread wide, as if no blood was left in it anymore. Arches made with those same vermillion blotches could be seen around, staining the furniture and walls, as if the murder weapon was flung around after each stab in a morbidly graceful spectacle. Seemingly no injuries were on the body as it laid there, back facing the ceiling, forcing the policeman to leave it as it is, until the investigators came around and took photos of everything in their original state.

The house itself was big, having two stories with several rooms on each floor, all spacious and well furnished. The now dead owner must have been well-off, although that didn’t come as a surprise, the neighbourhood being closer to the heart of the city. But now as it stood there, empty, it only posed more problems, making the investigation harder with its endless potential hiding spots for easily missable vital clues.

It took the captain a good ten minutes to scan the first floor briefly, his eyes stopping at an opened magazine. Curiosity drove him forward, something in his gut telling him it was important. His fingers hovered over the marked page, the big letters in the middle confusing him, creating a slight furrow in his brows.

“Hey, Seungmin. What’s the android’s model?” “BI-800, why?” “Then where is the HS-900 model one?”

Seungmin hummed, also appalled by the situation. The two officers quietly discussed things, but Jisung saw.

The android’s light flashed in an ominous red, yet in the blink of an eye it was gone, only that usual, serene blue could be seen in its place. It made Jisung question his sanity, if he was so freaked out he was starting to hallucinate now.

“I’ll check the upper floor, stay here and watch the doors and these two. That android has to be here somewhere too, if the house owner actually bought one.” - Captain Bahng said, voice firm and turning serious.

And so the other three waited on the first floor in silence, the atmosphere so heavy, it was basically palpable. The air itself turned chilly, as if something was in the making, yet none of the humans knew about it. 

Officer Kim was already in his stance, ready to take action in a millisecond if needed, eyes sweeping over the place in a calculated manner. Jisung was just standing there, fidgeting with his hands, the skin around his nails on the verge of bleeding from the constant abuse. All the while the android just stood there, eyes fixated on the stairs, never once looking away.

As if he was waiting for something.

A few minutes later a quiet thud could be heard, barely registering in the humans’ ears. Both of them snapped their heads towards the stairs now as well, waiting for something, anything to happen.

Yet, Jisung felt the urge to look at the android who stood next to them again, as if it was an insatiable itch itself that had to be satiated.

The light on his temple was blood red, never changing its colour, no matter how long the human looked at it.

Not even a moment after this discovery did a male run down the stairs, so distressed he nearly tripped down the oak steps. Somehow he found his balance and successfully righted himself, just in time to land safely and for Seungmin to slam into him, pushing him down onto the ground. Chan wasn’t far behind, looking dishevelled and a bit out of breath, no doubt the unknown male’s doing.

That same male was writhing in the officer’s hold, trying his best to break free while shouting, begging to be released. But the small splotches of blood, both red and blue, begged to differ, putting him on the prime suspect’s pedestal, no matter how hard he cried and pleaded with the policemen.

It all happened in the blink of an eye, and Jisung somehow saw it all unfold with perfect detail, his body jerking backwards into faux safety.

The android disappeared from next to him, no, he ran there with calculated and efficient steps, a pistol drawn from one of the holsters sitting snugly in his hand, pointed right at the weapon’s rightful owner’s head. All movement ceased when a click could be heard, the gun merely the pull of a trigger away from firing.

No words were exchanged, yet the android’s demands were obvious. Their hold on the suspect lessened, allowing the male to scramble out and hide behind the robot, tall form now small and timid. His fingers were desperately clinging to that typical outfit all androids were forced to don, hold so tight his knuckles turned white. Tears were still endlessly flowing from his strikingly blue eyes, forming wet trails on flushed cheeks and long hair.

In a strange twist of fate, those strands were the exact same shade as the blood that could be seen smudged on his clothes and face, mixed with a few splotches of terrific blue.

The same blue that started spreading on the android’s white uniform, the puddle seemingly appearing out of nowhere and growing ever so slowly. Yet, he didn’t seem bothered by it, remaining in the same position and putting a comforting hand on the male clinging to him.

“Listen, I know it’s scary and you have every right to be scared, but if you lower the weapon, we can help you. Just–”

Chan’s voice was interrupted by a simple ‘No’, the word cold and firm. It left no room for discussion, planting fear in the policemen’s minds and locking their limbs into place. Nausea took its place in their guts, as if it had been waiting for this exact moment to rear its ugly head. 

He couldn’t lose his partner like this, Chan would rather take his own life with his own hands before that could ever happen.

Jisung didn’t know how he was still standing there, with dry pants no less, but he just couldn’t take his eyes off of the scene playing out right in front of him. He watched it all with bated breaths, nearly lightheaded from the lack of air his unmoving lungs failed to provide him with. His eyes were starting to water as he forgot to even blink, his body unwilling to function and let him look away, to spare him from this horrid scene.

Just as the android’s finger was starting to pull the trigger, his hand suddenly dropped down, entire body turning limp. His supposed partner clung to him for dear life, holding his body up and breaking out in another wave of fresh tears, loud sobs leaving his lips now.

A noticeable puddle of blue liquid could be seen on the android’s clothes, staining the red-haired male’s hands and the floor beneath. The machine himself was turning unresponsive, now dull, dark blue eyes slowly being hidden behind long lashes and closing eyelids, the LED on his temple turning dim, as if life itself was bidding its quiet goodbye.

Loud wails and pleas could be heard, the broken male sobbing his heart out while holding onto the android as if he himself was his lifeline, his everything. The shutting down machine’s deep violet hair was stained with his own blood, the liquid inevitably getting there with every gentle stroke the strands got.

It was utterly heartbreaking to bear witness to.

“Tell him to go into emergency mode. Right now.” - Chan’s voice cut through the air, startling both Jisung and the mourning male.

When no answer greeted him back, the captain repeated himself, somehow even more serious and firm than before.

“If you do that, we might be able to save him. But he needs to save every power he has remaining, if you want him to live.” - he continued, a determined glint in his eyes.

The red-haired male curtly nodded, taking hold of the android’s face and asking him to go into emergency mode in a hushed whisper. In a matter of seconds the order was followed, only the dim light of his LED telling them he was still alive, merely resting.

“What-, what now?” - came the question from the still crying male, glistening eyes looking up at the officers.

It was ironic, how these law enforcers were his only hope now, when they were the exact ones who chased them there.

“We get into the car and go to our base. That’s the only place he can still be saved.” - Seungmin said while Chan was already out the door, starting up the car so they could leave faster.

Jisung watched them leave, the red-haired, tall male never letting go of the android he lifted with ease. The officer noticed it as well, his eyes widening for a split-second before righting his expression and motioning for Jisung to follow them as well.

“Wait, I’m going too?!” “Well we can’t exactly let you go after all you’ve seen. Don’t worry, no harm will come to you.”

The poor witness didn’t quite believe the policeman, sweat already gathering on his forehead once more as endless possibilities of what could happen to him ran through his head. Still, he silently followed the other two, glancing back to see Officer Kim follow them out of the house.

Once they were all in the car -the android still held in the crying male’s grip-, the car sped off as the siren was turned on and cars passed by, the speed limit having been broken long ago.

“It’s all my fault. He was just defending me, but that disgusting man hurt him in his last moments. Please don’t send him to the factory or the disposal site, I’m begging you.”

Chan glanced back at the sobbing man through the rearview mirror, eyebrows furrowing a bit more as he didn’t have a grasp on the full story just yet. He had his hunches, but those were just that: hunches. He needed evidence, and the words of a desperate person were a strong start.

“We won’t, just tell us what happened.” - his voice lost its harsh edge, trying to be as soothing as it could in the tense situation. “I–... I’m an android too, and that dead body belonged to our so-called owner.”

“That explains so much.” - Seungmin commented after the silence was growing too long, his voice soft and contemplating. “He bought us together, me and Bae hyung, loving how pretty we looked. He always flaunted us around, never letting me out of the house, saying how I was a decoration only he could see. So he only sent Hyung out, making him do every chore that was outside the house. And whenever Hyung left, he…” - the red-haired android gripped tightly onto his own thigh, expression pained and untameable anger swimming in those azure orbs of his.

Jisung couldn’t help but feel empathy, doe eyes watching closely with every drop of attention he could squeeze out of his tired body and mind.

“I was abused at every given moment, strange and unknown emotions forming within me along the way. And whenever Bae got back and we were left alone, he patched me up, even though he got no command for it. It left a foreign warmth inside my chest, something that only grew as time went by. He always looked out for me silently, even though he wasn’t even how he is now, not back then. It’s my fault he became like this, just like it’s my fault we’re in this mess. He always said ‘Hyunjin, you are too reckless’, but I never listened to him. And look where that got us.”

The deviant, now known as Hyunjin, let out a silent sigh, hugging the other machine closer to himself, as if it was even possible.

“Long story short, I supposedly messed the food up I made for dinner and got yelled at, harsh words and harsher slaps thrown my way. And before I even knew it, that man took a knife and lunged at me, but Bae hyung appeared in front of me and took the blow, taking that same knife and killing him. He told me to hide upstairs while he himself tried to hide every evidence of my existence in that house. Seems like he failed, but it’s a miracle in itself he hid so much in so little time, with that injury of his. And after all that, he cleaned himself and met you guys, or, well, saw you looking in through the window.” - Hyunjin said, the last sentence directed at Jisung as he turned towards the now surprised boy. “And how do you even know that??” “We only need a touch to transfer data and memories, didn’t you know?” - the android said, a somehow simultaneously sad and teasing smile dancing on his cherry red lips.

Jisung’s cheeks reddened in embarrassment, his eyes looking out the window as he heard the officers stifle a laugh -well, only one was trying to stifle it-. The police department where Captain Bahng and Officer Kim were stationed came into view, the building only a few streets away.

Yet when they’d reached it, they didn’t park at its designated parking lot, no. Instead they went to the underground one, the sudden darkness that was only illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights invading Jisung’s eyes. The words ‘Employees only’ were written in bold, big, red letters on a sign above, explaining why the quokka had never seen this place before.

Parking took only a minute at best, the car being haphazardly stopped right in front of the elevator doors. Everyone hurried out of the vehicle, Chan already at the elevator, waiting for it to arrive.

Once inside, the captain pressed a finger to a specific spot on the panel and pressed one of the newly appeared buttons. The doors closed and down the elevator went, confusing the poor pedestrian who was accidentally swept into all of this.

It took a minute or two for the ride to stop, but once the doors were open, Jisung’s breath caught in his throat once again. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t just choked to death already, but he wasn’t about to complain.

There was an entire underground base underneath the seemingly average police station, fully kitted out with the best of the best technology and equipment. It felt as if he was in a movie somehow, seeing how secret agents of the government worked in the shadows, making a part of him deep inside giddy with excitement.

The few people who were there had already been looking at their leader, waiting for instructions patiently.

“Felix, I need you at the med bay ASAP. Minho, you go ahead and keep an eye on this witness. Changbin, go and get the spare parts ready and transport them to the med bay. Jeongin, start working on covering our tracks.” - the commands were swiftly given out, each and every member already moving before their orders were fully finished.

All Jisung could do was silently watch as everything happened around him, the androids whisked away and out of his sight. He hoped the injured one would survive, his heart felt for both of them. But he couldn’t say anything, too stunned from everything around him and where he was, the nerd inside him now freaking out fully and freely.

“Are these the drugs kicking in, or am I dreaming right now? I can't believe I'm in a secret base of all places, wow.” - he couldn’t help but mutter out, still not believing what had happened to him in the last few hours. “What drugs?” - came the sly voice beside him, causing him to physically jump in place, a hand placed over his frantic heart. “Fucking shit, don’t do that dude, I nearly died from a heart attack!” “Then you shouldn’t joke about drugs in the presence of police, idiot.”

Jisung’s skin burned as he looked away from the laughing male, the floor suddenly becoming much more interesting.

[thepsychewrites]

Ignite Pt. Three | N. Romanoff

I appreciate you not killing me…

Natasha Romanoff x f!Reader

Summary: Loki’s army of Chitauri are waiting for you and the rest of your super-human team to fight against them as the Attack on Midtown Manhattan begins. Is it too much for you to handle? Or will it be the place where you finally prove yourself worthy of being called an Avenger? It doesn’t help your nerves that Natasha seems to have a knack for holding your hand.

> Word Count: 3.8K

> Warnings: Descriptions of blood and major injuries, pretty long fighting scenes (sorry I couldn’t help it), pretty angsty stuff here my friends, mild language, basic Avengers type ish, some tension from Natasha.

A/N: Hi pals, this part was fun, albeit challenging, to write, and I like how it turned out. We get a little bit of tension coming from Natasha and reader… ooooo. Also- just a disclaimer- this series is mostly mcu movie accurate, however, not all events will happen in the exact same way, duh. Just wanted to say that so there wasn’t any confusion lmao. Anyway, I love you guys, stay safe and pls enjoy part three <3

EDIT: Now in Second Person POV.

Pt One | Pt Two 

—————————

You want to know what the absolute worst way to be woken up from an otherwise peaceful sleep is?

An explosion.

An ear-splitting, room-rattling, heart-stopping explosion.

You jolted awake, your eyes wide and darting from corner to corner. It came from outside, way far behind you towards the rear of the helicarrier. You were quick to get your ass up, stumbling around while you threw on your suit and mask, before getting the hell out of the room.

Running through the corridors as fast as possible, you noticed your fingertips sparking.

Damn nerves.

You clenched your hands into fists and kept on, hurrying through the air craft until you could find out what was going on. Your black boots clanked against the floor grates which made it that much harder to hear what was happening around you. All you could make out was gunfire and yelling.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You mumbled taking a sharp left, nearly getting lost within the dark hallways. You noticed a door coming up on your right, taking your chance you practically barreled through it, finding yourself in an empty storage deck.

At least it was empty.

It was empty up until Thor and Bruce, apparently angered as he wasn’t Bruce- but instead the Hulk, came crashing through the wall, throwing you to the floor with them and nearly taking your head off in the process.

“Ow!” You exclaimed angrily, rubbing at your arm where Thor’s hammer grazed it. Thor looked over at you like he was going to genuinely apologize, but got cut off by a guttural roar. You both scrambled to your feet, meeting the Hulk face to face as he stood a few yards down the room, panting heavily.

“Oh shit.” You exhaled.

Thor was quick to throw himself against him, not being amused when he was easily tossed aside into equipment by the wall. He huffed from the ground.

“Y/n, a little help, perhaps?” He groaned, writhing in pain from the forceful impact.

Your heart nearly flatlined in that moment. “I’m not too sure I’m useful here.” Hulk turned to face you, a vicious growl crawling from his throat.

Think, Y/n, think.

You can’t light a fire under his ass- it probably wouldn’t do anything, but if it did then you’d burn him alive!

There has to be something, think goddamnit…

Shit.

Oh no.

“There’s this one thing, but I’ve never tried it on a human before-” You called, hoping Thor would get his act together and take him down before you had to.

Hulk flashed you a menacing grin, his large legs squaring up and pounding against the concrete floor as he started for you.

From your peripheral, Thor hadn’t budged.

You caved.

“Bruce, I really hope this doesn’t kill you. And if it does- I’m sorry!” You shouted, closing your eyes while you steadied your breathing.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Thud!

You carefully opened your eyes, your mouth falling open at the sight.

Hulk was lying face down on the concrete, barely a foot away from you.

“What- what did you do?” Thor asked, his body now right next to yours.

You sighed. “Oh, you know, just suffocated him to the point of passing out. No biggie.” 

A large hand clapped against your back, nearly causing you to stumble over. “Ah, splendid! Hopefully it’ll keep him down for awhile, he was starting to piss me off. Mind keeping an eye on him?”

You didn’t have time to answer before he was already gone, leaving you all alone to babysit Hulk. Letting out a tired groan you moved to sit gently in front of him, watching his back as it moved up and down, a clear sign that he was still alive.

It was a little over ten minutes later when his skin slowly began to grow patchy, spots of tan peeking through the green. You noticed him twitch once, then twice, then huffing loudly as his limbs began to shrink down. His hands stretched out, keeping his body upright as he pushed against the floor for support. His head hung low and you could see parts of his neck contract in spasms. Your brows knitted together as you watched, ready to jump to his side if or when he needed. His breathing was labored by the time he was Bruce again, his hands still clutching at the dusty floor beneath him.

“Dr. Banner?” You called lowly.

His head snapped to where you sat, his eyes growing wide.

“Y/n? Are… are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He started asking, maneuvering to crawl closer.

“No, you didn’t hurt me.”

“Then why are you bleeding?”

You narrowed my eyes at him, not even realizing you were bleeding until you followed his line of sight, bringing your fingers to your forehead where a thin trail of blood ran down your temple. You shook your head.

“It wasn’t you. I fell.”

He didn’t seem convinced, but didn’t push any further. “Was that me?” He asked, nodding at the giant Hulk-sized hole in the wall.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Banner.”

His eyes softened. “Bruce. You can just call me Bruce.”

You nodded in agreement.

He stopped for a second and analyzed the storage room, spending extra time looking at the smashed boxes and Hulk-fist-sized dents on the walls. “Who stopped me?”

You were hoping he wouldn’t ask that.

At least I didn’t accidentally kill you.

“I did. I sort of… suffocated you.” You admitted, an uneasy look smeared on your face.

“Suffocated me? How?” His tone surprised you, it was less on the angry side than you expected. He seemed more curious than anything.

Your eyes trailed down to your boots. “I took away the oxygen in the space that surrounded your head. I can do it to put out fires, and that’s how I normally use it. You’re the first person I’ve ever tried it on.”

“Oh. Well- I appreciate you not killing me.”

“Sure thing. Let’s just hope I don’t have to do it again- like ever, ever again.”

——

After Bruce gathered his bearings and found some form-fitting clothes to put on, the two of you made your way back up to the main deck where you found Natasha and Tony waiting at the center table.

“Finally. You two okay?” Natasha asked, looking more at Bruce than at you. She looked a little beat up and frazzled herself, and it made you wonder if she had a run in with Hulk. You didn’t expect Bruce to remember, and you didn’t expect Natasha to tell him if they did. Bruce gave a slow nod, expressing that he was alright.

“Y/n?” She called. “How about you?”

“Oh yeah, yeah… I’m fine.” You assured, laying it on thick in hopes she’ll believe your false words.

She seemed to. 

For now.

“New plan. Loki got out during the chaos, we think he’s headed for Stark Tower. Y/n, you’ll be with me on the way down. Our ride is waiting for us, so we need to go. Like, now.” Her arm jutted out and her hand encased yours, tugging hard to get you moving. You gave Bruce a parting tight-lipped smile before you and Natasha disappeared through the halls once more. Her hand, somewhat slick with sweat- although you didn’t mind- stayed over yours for most of the hasty walk, her eyes forward and shoulders back. You passed a few people on the way, but she didn’t seem to care, as she only let go when you were a few yards from the plane you assumed you were taking.

Steve was already on board, motioning for you guys to hurry as you stepped on the ramp. He closed it right behind you, pressing a few more buttons as you moved in. There was another man up front, sitting behind the main controls. Behind his seat laid a duffel bag full of arrows and a sleek black bow protruding from it.

“Barton, this is Y/n Y/l/n. Y/n, this is Clint Barton, also known as a big pain in my ass.” Natasha teased as she introduced you. Clint turned around and shot a friendly smile.

“Hey, kid. Nat’s told me some pretty impressive things about you. You play with fire, yeah?” He asked, seeming genuinely intrigued.

“Yep, that’s me.”

“Sick.” Was all he said before turning back and flipping some controls as the plane hummed to life.

Natasha nudged at your arm. “I want you up front next to Barton.” She stayed close as you moved to the seat, plopping yourself down and getting strapped in. Clint passed you a headset, but a familiar hand wrapped around your wrist before you could put it on.

“Put this in first, you’ll need it for when we get to the ground. It’s an earpiece for communication. You can talk to any of us through it, just speak loud and clear and we’ll hear you.” Natasha explained while you situated the little black piece in your ear, tossing on the headset after. Her grip fell from your wrist as she moved to stand behind you and Clint. 

The side of the helicarrier opened and you were quickly air-born, the jet rumbling softly as you all headed for Manhattan. The view was arguably nicer now that you were out of the clouds, the city that never sleeps coming closer into sight every passing second. You were silently hoping nobody on board had ultrasonic hearing, as your heart was on the verge of beating right out of your chest. A million thoughts flew through your mind, most of them making you question your choice coming here in the first place.

I’m only twenty one. What did a kid like me ever do to end up in this situation?

You were pulled from your nagging thoughts by Clint’s gravelly voice. “See that joystick thing right in front of you?” He said, motioning to a set of handle bars.

“Yeah?”

“When we get closer you’ll have to use them. All you got to do is pull it towards you, push down on this top button here, and aim it at the targets.” He brought a thumb over the red button at the tip of it to demonstrate.

“Okay. Which ones are the targets again?” You asked hesitantly, wanting to double check before you let any bullets fly.

He chuckled at you. “Trust me- you’ll know.”

With that, the jet began its decent into the city. Unfortunately, you seemed to be a little fashionably late to the party, most of the town already scrambling for cover from the aliens falling from the sky. Some orders were barked through the comms from Tony while Clint pushed the jet further toward Stark Tower.

“You ready?” Clint asked, pulling on levers and pressing down flashing buttons.

You gave a quick nod. “As I’ll ever be.”

The jet trembled as a gun was lowered down from the bottom, squealing as it revved up. You pulled back on the joystick as instructed and it clicked into place, humming under your tense fingers.

Clint was right about knowing what to shoot at. These alien Chitauri fuckers were not playing around.

And boy were they ugly.

“Fire.”

At Clint’s command you pressed on the smooth red button, aiming the gun at every unlucky alien passerby, most of them on aircrafts of their own. The bullets tore them to shreds, exploding them in the air without a second thought. You brought down fifteen of them before they got their first shot at the jet.

You weren’t prepared for the shot that came next, though.

It happened so fast it almost felt like a general engine failure, the jet getting knocked back a bit and shaking the inside where you sat. It was still moving so Clint kept forward, but you knew something was up when bullets stopped flying.

“I think we have a problem here.” You called, the pad of your thumbs pushing hard into the button, hoping maybe it was just jammed.

“What happened?” Clint asked, brows tight as he moved the jet away from a string of Chitauri speeding towards your direction.

“I don’t know I think when they hit the bottom of the jet they did something to the gun, it’s not shooting.”

“Barton, you need to get us out of here. We’re a sitting duck.” Steve warned from behind you.

It was a good plan.

A great plan, even.

Unfortunately, you guys weren’t quick enough to exit the war zone in the sky. As soon as Clint had turned the jet around to find somewhere to land, a forceful blast hit the left wing, blasting apart one of the engines. There was no time to think before it was falling, a stomach rolling descent straight to the streets of Manhattan. Clint was smart enough to redirect it to an empty corner of the road. The impact was forceful, the jet sliding through a concrete sitting area, finally stopping a few dozen yards away. You all were still for only a second before hopping up and leaving, a pistol being shoved in your hands by Natasha as you stepped off the ramp.

“Stay close.” She ordered, her eyes focused ahead while you secured your mask on. The four of you pushed your way into the chaos, keeping a steady jog as you assessed the damage thus far. These Chitauri were relentless.

Cars were overturned left and right. You did your best to dissipate the little fires that popped up, but once one was gone two more would start. The streets were mangled and chunks of blacktop were scattered about, lying under plies of dust and debris. You all stopped at a dead end, your backs to each other as you glared at the giant hole that had opened up in the sky. It moved like water, the ends of it swirled into the atmosphere as it stayed wide, letting in hundreds of Loki’s alien buddies.

It seemed manageable.

It seemed completely manageable until a monstrous metal millipede looking son of a bitch swam through, the clinking of its body reverberating from every building.

I need to stop being so optimistic all the time.

It had fins of sorts, using them to propel itself through the air. It flew right over you, and you were positive had you stretched your arm out far enough you could’ve touched it. Hatches opened on its sides, more Chitauri pouring from its belly and flinging themselves onto surrounding buildings. Some of them crashed into windows, terrorizing the civilians inside as their screams sounded quickly after.

Bombs rained down, turning the streets into your own personal hell. Black smoke and fire raged on as you sprung into action. Clint sent arrows expertly into the chests of the Chitauri. Steve stunned them with his shield before fighting them with only his hands. Natasha unloaded round after round of bullets into their metal bodies, decommissioning them one by one.

You weren’t sure what approach to take. So you started with the familiar.

Opening your hands palm up you concentrated with fervor, molding the flames you held into throwable spheres, launching them at nearby Chitauri. It was working well, the fire being hot enough to incinerate them on the spot. You kept a steady rhythm, making some of the spheres larger if there was a group- that way you could take them down with less strain. You were able to send them quite a distance as well, which came in handy when you needed to cover someone else. Steve in particular was pretty shit at watching his back, so most were sent in his direction. You spent a few minutes getting re-familiar with your pistol skills, the point-aim-shoot movements coming back to you rather swiftly.

It wasn’t long until you were joined in the streets by Thor. Bruce was trailing close behind on a borrowed motorcycle.

“Stark, we got Banner down here with us.” Steve informed over the comms.

“Finally. Tell him to suit up, we have a visitor on the way.” Tony responded as he came up in front of you, the metal millipede on his ass.

Bruce took position, eyeing the colossal beast while he threw banter at Steve. With a twitch of his jaw and a booming roar, he was back in Hulk form, throwing his fist at the aliens steel face, crushing in its mouth like it was made of paper.

“Blaze? Finish it off.” Tony said, landing behind the rest of the group as the tail of the armored beast bent forward, threatening to smash you all into the ground. After finding an open spot on its body you complied, firing a large fireball into its stomach. It was sent back in flaming pieces, the majority of it being blown apart and turned to dust.

The seven of you stood in a tight circle, catching a breath while the whoops and hollers of the Chitauri rang out, sending a chill up your spine. Your attention was quickly turned to the portal, which was still open and spitting out more of the Chitauri by the second. Even two more of those bastards you just helped put down. Steve called out your orders. The main goal was keeping them contained until they could figure out a way to get the portal closed.

“Romanoff, Blaze, we’re going to keep the fight here. Put down as many as possible.” Steve said with upmost authority.

You threw him a nod. “On it, Captain.”

That’s how the fighting continued for over twenty minutes. You moved between the flames and the pistol.

Point.

Aim.

Shoot.

Your head grew heavy, but you kept on.

Point.

Aim.

Shoot.

You could tell you were growing weak, the size of the fireballs you were producing proving that. It didn’t stop you, however. In this moment, you were sure nothing could.

This is how you knew you were giving it your all.

Right?

Point.

Aim.

Shoot.

You were all alone in the street, crowds of Chitauri swarming around you. Natasha had gotten herself to the top of Stark Tower, ready to close the portal with the scepter she got ahold of. Thor and Steve were on the ground, but kept the fight at bay a few blocks down. Tony had informed you all of a missile S.H.I.E.L.D had released, one that was aimed right for the city. While Natasha was waiting on the cue to close the portal, Tony had plans of his own, telling you all to give him a minute.

He had the missile.

He had it- redirecting it straight for the gaping mouth in the sky.

As Tony made his way higher and higher, the alien bastards were still bloodthirsty. Maybe even more so than before.

You must’ve been running on empty, because it happened so fast, you weren’t sure it even happened at all.

Sparks.

It’s all that came from your hand.

Your heart sunk to the pit of your belly, your breath catching in your throat. You looked up to see that Tony had disappeared into the portal, a static silence being the only sound through the comms. You felt a pang on the side of your abdomen, one of the Chitauri getting up-close and personal with you as it sent you flying back into an overturned car.

“Damnit.” You mumbled, reaching for the pistol at your thigh. If you couldn’t roast it’s ass, you sure as hell could put a bullet through its head.

Point.

Aim.

Nothing.

The gun laid limp in your hand, useless now that it was out of ammo.

You were sure this was been the end. Taken out all sad and miserable by a cryptic alien in your first real fight. You held your breath, holding your hands up to protect your head as it swung down its staff, coming within an inch of your skin.

It was so close. You could smell the rust on its body from where it stood in front of you.

But then it just… collapsed. It powered down, its parts falling stiff at your side.

You stayed still where you sat, wondering if Natasha and Tony had really done it.

They did. 

They closed the portal.

You slowly picked yourself up, hobbling down the road to where you could see the rest of them standing. You straightened your posture as you got closer, not wanting to look wimpy in front of them. So what you got knocked around a bit? Arguably, most of them looked like they had it worse. That’s part of the job. Still, you kept a tight hand over your side, pressing down in hopes of relieving some of the pain that burned there.

“Is that it? Did we win?” Tony huffed, holding an iron hand to his head to wipe away some of the dirt.

Steve slowly nodded. “We won. Good job, all of you, really. We made a pretty great team out there.”

Most of them started chatting, while occasional huffs and puffs sounded through, a quite obvious indication you were all beyond exhausted. Natasha’s eyes found yours, keeping them locked on as she strode toward you.

“So, was it as bad as you expected?” She asked with a tilt of her head, standing only inches away.

‘Should I be honest?’

That’s what you wanted to say. Your mouth quivered open, but nothing came out. You stood there feebly, wondering why you couldn’t answer her. Her eyes darted to your hand, the one that was still pressed hard against the deep black shell of your suit.

“Y/n?” It was her voice. You knew it was her. But it was so distant. So… far.

The words you attempted to speak a second time faded on your tongue, the sound getting mangled and turning into a faint whimper instead. She reached for your wrist, giving it a tug to see the damage.

You never realized how bright someone’s blood looked in the sunlight, even now as it ran across your fingertips and dripped down the front of your suit. Like cherry sauce on a melting summer sundae or the color of your favorite winter jacket.

The one that I left to burn in my home.

You must’ve been clueless, really, to not notice the torn gape in your armor, the area meant to protect your lower torso being split wide open during the fight. You must’ve been too preoccupied with the lack of fire you were producing and the Chitauri that nearly decapitated you to notice the thin, razor sharp piece of steel that lodged itself cozily into your flesh.

Even now as you stood here looking directly at the messy wound- you felt nothing.

Nothing but warmth fluttering in your belly, keeping you calm as the muffled shouts of your teammates rang out while your eyelids grew impossibly heavy.

You struggled to keep them open.

Stop it, you look so weak. 

You’re fine. Don’t do this.

Someone came behind you and pulled you into their chest, and if things weren’t so blurry you would’ve known exactly who.

It wasn’t Natasha, though.

It wasn’t Natasha because her gentle, and somehow still sweaty, hand was against yours, squeezing it softly as you finally let your eyes rest.

-

-

-

-

Ignite Series Taglist: 

@women-am-i-right @sieleonardo @crisprcrash @lolabuni @natasharomanoffswifeyyy @mommynat @dakota-moon0315 @leticinhale1 @noob-master-69-1 @unlady-like-12-25-36 @lesbeanforluthor @sarcasm-in-wonderland @jadereadsfics @romanoff99 @transbi-spidey @marie-yt-blog @beckylynch-alexmorgan @escapetotheeclipse @yelenasvest1 @wildnightuniverse @mrs-davidson @vicmc624 @wandanatvoid @diaryoflife @pawiie @stephaguirre @lorsstar1st @cartergrace @idontknowhowtogay​ @killme3sl0wly @moonlarson @salemisreallycool​ 

[yuta-nakamots]

Build A Bitch - O.Shotaro

Pairing(s) - AI!Shotaro x Female Reader (platonically), Piercer!Yuta x Female Reader, featuring Sakura from Le Sserafim, Giselle from Aespa, and Mashiho from Treasure

Genre(s) - Fluff, Angst, University!AU

Warning(s) - bullying towards Shotaro, reader and her friends get piercings

Summary - As a robot, Shotaro is at the mercy of his programming. He is only allowed to stay within the limits of his technology, no matter how high or low they may be.

Word Count - 3.8k

Author’s Note - This is my first work for Shotaro! Granted that he is a robot, this is not a total representation of his character (nor is any of my work for any other idol), but I hope to write for him more in the future!

Written for the AI Project #14320 Collab hosted by @pastelsicheng​. Check out the masterlist here. Also part of the Fantasia Event hosted by @nct-writers​. Check out the masterlist here.

The screeches of shoes on the polished floor of the practice room seemed to never end. “Run it again,” the instructor yelled, displeased with the performance of your university’s dance team, “how many times do I have to tell you to do it like Shotaro? It’s not that hard.”

Shotaro was a robot who was programmed to help the dance team. He was like the perfect performer in every single way. It was indeed hard to do the routine just like him but it seemed like that didn’t matter to your instructor who insisted on running the team again and again and again due to the quickly approaching date of the end-of-semester competition.

Even when you were at the competition though, it was like you could hear their voice saying “look like Shotaro!” and “be like Shotaro!” blasting through your head. You would have hated him if he weren’t a robot simply doing as he was told. Under the bright lights on stage, you could see Shotaro out of the corner of your eye while doing a formation change. He was perfect, as always. You put in even more effort to make your movements sharper and cleaner, in hopes that you would be praised for doing them as he did.

It seems like many people had the same idea and the effort from it was shone through the team’s score. You guys had won the competition with a composite score of 95 while the other schools followed behind in the 80s and 70s. Your team celebrated on stage, running to hug each other when your team’s name was called as the first place winners.

Your teammates all wore a smile on their face and were animatedly congratulating each other though one person stared blankly ahead at the audience. You pulled Shotaro into the cluster, “come on! Isn’t it so exciting? We won!” He gave you the tiniest smile while mimicking your movements of jumping up and down and high-fiving your teammates.

When you were finally released from the long day of practicing and watching other teams perform, you felt drained until you heard the voice of your loving boyfriend calling your name. “You guys were so good!” Yuta exclaimed while running to pick you up in his arms. He always made sure to come to your competitions since he, too, had been part of the dance team during his undergraduate years.

You had met Yuta the year prior while you were a freshman at the university and he was  in his second year of graduate school. He often came to help out the dance team which was how you had gotten close to him and developed a crush on him. When things started to pick up more at the tattoo and piercing shop he worked at, he began to come less frequently. But he had asked you to be his girlfriend anyway, allowing you to see him nearly anytime you wanted to.

Yuta was ever so supportive as you fell into his embrace, feeling the stress and worries of the competition melt away. “Baby, you were amazing,” he cooed, “you too, Shotaro.”

He patted the robot on its back, eliciting a kind “thank you” and a bow.

“What do you want for dinner? It’ll be my treat tonight,” Yuta proposed. You shrugged, not craving anything in particular. “Ramen it is,” he decided, likely based on his wants. “Shotaro, would you like to come?”

“Sure!” Although he did not eat, Shotaro accompanied you and Yuta to a nearby ramen shop. He sat almost motionless the entire time aside from when you asked him to hand you some napkins to clean up all the droplets of soup that Yuta was splattering.

“Here comes the airplane,” Yuta joked, maneuvering a mouthful of noodles in front of you. You laughed and opened your mouth to receive them, thankful that there were hardly any other people in the shop to witness that. “You too, Shotaro. Say ‘ah’.” Again you giggled at your boyfriend’s antics though gently pushed his hands away to prevent Shotaro from feeling awkward since he was too polite to refuse even if it would mess up his insides, quite literally.

Yuta paid for the meal as he promised and rode with you and Shotaro on the shinkansen back to your dorm. Shotaro shivered, likely just his systems processing new information, but Yuta took off his windbreaker and put it over his shoulders. Your boyfriend’s kindness to Shotaro was a nice change of pace since you were used to your teammates and even coaches treating him as a computer when you knew for a fact that he was a sentient being and had his feelings and emotions.

There was something in you that had grown attached to Shotaro during your time with him on the dance team and you hoped you would be able to stay with him in whichever department or organization he was handed to next. He was one of the school’s robots that were engineered to help out different student groups every semester whether he was used as an example in the dance team or as a lab cleaner for the chemistry department. He never stayed in the same place for more than a semester, always forced to move on to his next assignment.

The following semester, you found out that Shotaro had been assigned to the soccer club, which you coincidentally had already joined after much nagging from Yuta. He had also been part of the soccer club while he was an undergrad, though that made sense since he was also on the school’s soccer team. You had played the sport when you were little, as most everyone did, which was why you weren’t so opposed to joining.

But it seems like your decision was one of the better ones you made so far in your second year of college. You had met so many people through the team and many of them had different majors, some that you didn’t even know existed until you had met these people. You were glad that Shotaro was assigned to the soccer club though because they treated him much more kindly than the dance team did.

They included him in practice activities as a teammate and not just some demonstration machine. Even when he was used as one, the team would thank him for his efforts and talk to him like he was any other university student. He didn’t have the same assignments that you all had but he did his best to listen to everyone and give feedback as if he were a classmate.

You came to like the long practices after school and found it to be a fun way to relieve stress, especially when you had scrimmages against each other or with a soccer club from another school. Shotaro, though he didn’t joke around much, was a mood maker for the team since he constantly was saying words of encouragement and calculating how to include the more shy members of the team.

He would pass the ball to them during matches and cheer them on during drills, when he wasn’t the opponent, of course. It helped that he could properly match his skill level to theirs, trying to provide the most help possible in developing their skills and overall confidence. Being at practice with Shotaro was one of your favorite things of the day and you hated when you were late since that meant spending less time with him.

After a long day with exams or some form of test in every class you had, you threw your heavy backpack down upon reaching the grass of the turf. You were late to practice. Jogging over to the bench, you picked up the blue-colored penny and dribbled a ball to the line of your teammates. You found a spot next to Sakura, one of the more senior members of the team. “What are we doing right now?” You asked her, eager to know what drill was being run.

“Oh, hey! I’m glad you’re finally here,” she exclaimed, “we’re doing some penalty kicks right now but Shotaro’s in the goal so not much has gotten through.”

You watched as Shotaro blocked another ball from entering the net which was no surprise because he was always so good at finding the best defensive maneuvers to take. He thought quicker than any of your team members so it only made sense to have him in there, though it was the same with any other position on the field.

“Has anyone’s made it past him yet?” Sometimes you could outsmart him or fake him out but it only worked a few times before it got integrated into his system and he knew to expect it.

Sakura looked down the line of your teammates. “I think it was only Giselle and I that scored so far but mine was a mistake if I’m being honest.” You raised an eyebrow at her as if asking for more information. “I kicked it a little too high so it hit the bar but the bounced back down and over the line.”

“Ah, I see.” You could practically imagine the way Shotaro froze as his mind processed the events that just occurred and prepared him for future instances of it. “But that still counts, nonetheless.”

Sakura nodded in agreement. “Right, but it doesn’t feel like an honest goal, you know?”

“Yeah, I get what you mean.” The line had moved up a considerable amount and there was only one person left before Sakura and then you.

She turned back around to watch the teammate before her, wanting to see what kind of strategy he attempted. He took the normal three steps back before running in and launching the ball to the upper left corner of the goal. It grazed the tips of Shotaro’s fingers as he jumped to block the ball, but it wasn’t enough to stop it. There was the satisfying sound of the ball running down the net and your teammates let out sounds of amazement.

Sakura clapped for him as he received his ball from Shotaro. “Good job, Mashiho!” He was one of the few freshmen in the club but he already showed so much promise and you hoped he would continue throughout his time at the school.

The practice continued with Shotaro serving as the opponent in most of the drills while your teammates received praise any time they succeeded against him. If it were any other person being made to do all the things he did, you would think it to be cruel but this was Shotaro’s duty. He had received programming to assist in sports activities this semester and it’s not like he could say no.

Normally, Shotaro would remain cheerful after practice and help in putting away equipment but you noticed he was a little slower today. He told you that his battery charge can last for about a week so you didn’t think it was that. “Hey, what’s up? Is everything okay?” you asked while helping him get all the soccer balls into the mesh bag.

“Yeah, I am fine,” he stated dryly, not leaving much room to converse.

“You know you can talk about your feelings, right? You don’t have to hold them in just because you’re not exactly a human.” You pulled the drawstrings of the bag, closing the opening once Shotaro got the last ball in.

He sighed while taking the bag from your grasp and swinging it over his shoulder. “But that is exactly the problem. I am not human and I never will be.”

“What’s wrong with that?” You didn’t know where this was all coming from but you were here to listen if that’s what Shotaro needed. “You’re still wonderful to be around and I hope you know that you’re loved and appreciated.”

“I can tell that people like me and all but no matter what, I am always treated differently.” He put the ball bag down next to the stack of plastic orange cones and knelt to gather all the pennies. “I am still treated as less than a real person but that is just the way things are. I do not have the same human life form that you all do and that is why I am disposable like this.”

You took off the penny you were wearing and put it into the bag Shotaro was holding out to you with the rest of them. You were practically at a loss of words. He was right, you knew that for sure, but what is one supposed to say to comfort him in this type of situation?

“I am sorry for dumping all of that on you,” he apologized, getting ready to lug the ball bag and penny bag over to the storage shed. “I am practically complaining about not being a human to you, a human, and it is probably hard to grasp these ideas.”

You followed him across the field to the shed with the little plastic cones and the first aid kit. “No, no, I understand and I see why you feel this way. I just wish I could help you somehow.”

“But you cannot, no one can.” Your eyes fell on the black ink on his wrist. His branding. His label. “I cannot magically become a human, even if one day people decide to treat me like that. I have a human name but I know that is not who I am. I am the AI model OST251100 and I was created to serve humans. There is no getting out of that.”

You and Shotaro silently returned all of the equipment to their places and locked up the shed. “How about I take you out for a night?” you proposed while heading back to your belongings a the bench.

“And what would we do? There is not much for me to do when we are not on campus.” He didn’t need to eat or drink, his clothes were supplied by the university, and drugs and other stimulants did not affect him.

“We can just hang out with friends and go with the flow. Maybe walk around a park or look at some clouds. Do things that normal college students do.” You knew Giselle and Mashiho had been wanting to get piercings for a while and you didn’t think there would be any rule to prevent Shotaro from joining in on the fun.

Shotaro looked apprehensive about your offer. “Why do you think I would enjoy that?”

“You would get to go out with us and act like any other young adult. People outside of the school don’t know who you are, they don’t know that you’re not entirely human.” It would be like that show where the boss of some large corporation works in his own company for a day.

He finally gave in. “Alright, just let me know when and where to meet you.”

“Tomorrow in the quad at 6.”

Not long after the four of you met up on campus, you were running through the hallways of the local shopping mall. You would have much rather been walking but on your way to the piercing shop, you remembered that they take appointments up to 7pm since they close at 8pm. You even double-checked with Yuta since he was working today.

“Quick, Shotaro! Do you know what time we’ll get there?” Giselle shouted as he started to take the lead.

“I do not know!” he yelled back. “I am just running!”

“Dang, this guy needs to slow down,” Mashiho gasped between breaths of air. “Can’t you tell Yuta to wait for us?”

“I don’t want to make them close later than they have to, you know? Just out of courtesy.” You knew how tired Yuta could get after a long day working. It wasn’t easy to have constant focus while doing something that could seriously injure a person if done incorrectly by even just a millimeter. “Look! We’re almost there anyway.”

The dark yet clean aesthetic of the shop came into view after nearly two minutes of running. “Thank the lord, I don’t think I would’ve lasted much longer,” Giselle confessed while slowing to a tiring walk.

Shotaro kept up his pace and ran inside the store. Hopefully, Yuta was at the front right now so he could easily help Shotaro in getting everything in order while you and the others caught up.

When you entered the store, you were not at all surprised by the J-rock playing over the speakers. It was an easy way to tell that your boyfriend was present since none of the other artists had J-rock on their playlists.

Yuta was already absorbed in a conversation with Shotaro at the front counter, seemingly amazed that the robot had traveled out here and not for a school function. “Ah, there they are,” Yuta grinned when he recognized you and your friends. “You took so long I thought you might have abandoned Shotaro.”

You let out a gasp of sarcasm. “I would never do such a thing!”

“Yeah alright, alright. So what brings you guys here today? Piercings? Tattoos?…Both?” He pulled out the scheduling book from under the cash register.

“Just piercings, I think,” Giselle spoke up.

Yuta wrote down three appointments for piercings. “Shotaro, you too? Is that even possible?”

Shotaro nodded. “It is. My ears are made out of silicone, as is the rest of the skin of my body.”

“Interesting,” Yuta noted while adding in a fourth appointment and handing out the necessary paperwork. “Do you guys know what you’ll be getting? Giselle, how is the tragus piercing holding up? Any pain or bleeding left?”

“No, it feels fine now. I think it’s been like five months already anyway.” That was pretty accurate since you brought her in right before the school year started and now it was halfway through the second semester. “I think I want a cartilage one today though.”

“Cartilage for me too,” Mashiho jumped in.

Yuta looked to you for your preference. “Just a lobe,” you told him.

“And for you, Shotaro?”

He turned to you as if asking what he should get. “I think a lobe one would be a good start for him,” you volunteered, not wanting to do a more adventurous one and risk damaging something in this machinery. You didn’t know if he could accidentally turn into some evil robot if some wire was broken but you weren’t about to find out.

One by one you and your friends chose an earring out and had a turn on Yuta’s bench. He took equal care of everyone and made sure that you were all comfortable while executing the procedure. He talked through all of the steps with his ever-so-calming “breathe in…and exhale” before pushing the needle through.

Both Giselle and Mashiho had a few piercings already so you weren’t very worried about them but you hoped Shotaro wasn’t too scared, especially since he was comfortable with Yuta. “How are you feeling?” you gently prodded while he was getting settled on the bench.

“Good. I do not have any information in this area of expertise so I cannot say if I am doing bad.” That was fair enough.

“Do you have pain receptors in your ears?“ Yuta inquired while prepping his equipment for Shotaro. “Or any at all?”

“To some degree, yes, but they are more so damage sensors than pain sensors,” he explained. “If there is an area that receives substantial damage, I will likely be sent in to get it repaired.”

“Would this count as substantial damage?” You were curious to know what the mechanics would do if they took Shotaro in for damage on his ear but it just turned out to be a piercing.

“Hm, I am not too sure but I do not think anything bad could come of it.” This might be the first time any mechanic would see a robot from LSM Inc. with an earring.

Yuta took Shotaro’s answer to be acceptable enough and leaned in to focus better on his ear. After marking the area and cleaning the surface, he easily got the needle through Shotaro’s ear with no sign of flinching from the robot whatsoever. “You are by far the easiest client I’ve ever had,” Yuta bantered.

“Thank you, I am glad that I was easy to handle. I will relay the message to my engineers.” You couldn’t tell if Shotaro was playing along with Yuta or not but Yuta took it as a joke and laughed.

You and your friends stayed in the lobby of the shop while Yuta helped his coworkers clean up for the day and closed up the shop. While Giselle and Mashiho were looking around at the other jewelry and samples of tattoos, you made sure to check in with Shotaro once more. “Did you enjoy yourself today?”

“Yes, I very much did,” he admitted. “Thank you for inviting me along.”

“Of course! You’re more than welcome to hang out with us anytime.” You hoped he would consider joining you and your friends more frequently.

His face dropped a bit. “I can only wish that I had a purpose like you all do. A reason to do actions of your own accord, a drive to continue through your lives.”

“But you do have a purpose, don’t you? If anything it’s more clear-cut than ours.” You knew he was manufactured to help the school and he received new assignments and software to fit the tasks he was given.

He shook his head. “Those are my orders, for I have no purpose. I cannot continue doing the things I enjoy, like dancing or playing soccer. I must listen to my programming.”

“Surely you can continue doing those things on the side though.” Again, Shotaro shook his head.

“With every new semester, my skill and software from my previous assignment get reset. If I were to try dancing now, I would be nowhere near the level I was at before.” That was truly something cruel. He retained his memories of dancing and how much he enjoyed it but he was being restrained from continuing it through technological force.

“Isn’t there any way around that?” You were appalled, to say the least. You had been blissfully unaware of your friend’s limitations.

“I would face the penalty of being decommissioned and destroyed,” he solemnly disclosed. “I can only do as I am told.”

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[babymetaldoll]

I've been working out a little bit (Spencer Reid/Reader)

Requested: Yes.

Summary: Spencer has been working out with Penelope, and they are doing their best to keep it a secret. Until (Y/N) finds out and tries to help. And though he doesn't want to because he is embarrassed about his poor athletic performance, somehow she manages to help.  

Category: Fluff

Warnings: Curses, frustration. Good old fools in love.

Word count: 3.8K

A/N: Hello, pretty people! I've missed you! I hope you like this little story. It's one of the last requests pending on my list. Tomorrow I can finally visit my grandparents, I'll be taking care of them for at least two weeks, and though I know it's hard work, I am just so happy I can be with them again!! I miss them! Take care, whenever you are! Love you!

Masterlist

                                    𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

- "No fucking way, Spencer!" (Y/N) widened her eyes and laughed so hard tears filled her eyes. She was sitting at her desk at work, staring at her best friend, who could barely walk due to the two hours he had spent that morning training with Penelope.

- "Please, don't tell anyone."- he whispered and looked around the bullpen. He was too embarrassed already to let anyone else know he had to take the mandatory fit test. He wanted to avoid the jokes, especially Derek's.

- "Your secret is safe with me, as always, chipmunk"- (Y/N) smiled and bit her lips, trying not to laugh anymore- "But why on earth are you working out? You have enough case hours to cover a fit test!"

- "Apparently, I can't skip it this year. Both me and Penelope have to take it."- Spencer whispered and sat down very slowly, pain written all over his face.

His best friend stared at him reading the mix of embarrassment and physical pain he felt with each movement he made. (Y/N) smiled and opened one of her drawers, looking for the last Snicker she had hidden in case of need. Watching Spencer in pain was precisely the case. She stood up and handed him the candy, making his heart skip a beat. Spencer did his best to hide the blush on his cheeks and just looked away.

- "I can help you if you want."- (Y/N) whispered and cut him the most adorable smile she had.

- "Help me what?"

- "Working out."- she replied and bit her granola bar- "I can teach you how to kick ass, and I do look hot wearing sweat shorts."

Spencer nearly chook. He flushed and closed his eyes, trying to cover up his embarrassment. But (Y/N) giggled and turned around. Her job there was done. Now Spencer had to be picturing her in her sweat shorts.

Of course, he was. He couldn't stop, actually.

The two agents were the youngest of the team, and somehow sometimes in-between cases, it showed. Especially when they were on their own, and their conversations ended up in casual flirting.

(Y/N) was head over feet in love with Spencer, though she was never going to face it. God knows Penelope had tried to force her to deal with her feelings. But she was closed as an oyster. No matter how much Garcia insisted or how drunk they were, (Y/N) kept denying her true feelings in public.

Spencer wasn't indifferent. Not at all. As a matter of fact, he was in love with (Y/N). Everything about her bewitched him. Ever since the first time he laid eyes on her, he felt it. She was tailor-made for him. If only he weren't a nervous wreck each time he saw her...

After two years working together, Spencer had managed to overcome part of my shyness and awkwardness around (Y/N). They were best friends, and they would usually hang out in their free time. The little free time they had in the BAU. But even when they could playfully flirt all the time, Spencer was sure she didn't like him that way. He convinced himself she was just joking.

--

(Y/N) headed to the Batcave holding a large frappuccino and knocked on the half-opened door before walking in.

- "Penelope García, I had the feeling you were running caffeine low."

- "Oh my pretty little thing! How do you do it? You read my mind!"- the tech analyst nearly hyperventilated as soon as she held her ice and creamed coffee.

- "Reid and I were out for a little break, and I knew you would like one of these to cheer up your afternoon"- Garcia sipped her frappuccino and nodded. But as soon as she had finished savoring the perfect coffee, she asked.

- "So, you and Reid..."

- "We were out getting coffee, like the best friends we are."

- "But, there's coffee here in the kitchenette. There's no need to go out and get coffee unless you want to find an excuse to be alone with him."- (Y/N) raised an eyebrow and sighed. Garcia did that every single chance she got.

- "You and I know the FBI doesn't share our concept of "good" coffee."- (Y/N) looked at her friend and just smiled- "Besides, I told you, I felt you needed some extra sugar and joy in your life after your early workout session this morning."

- "That little snitch!"- (Y/N) chuckled and shook her head.

- "Don't get mad at Reid. He didn't tell me anything. I kind of figured there was something wrong 'cos he looked in so much pain just breathing."

- "Oh man, he is sored, but I am sure he would be way sorer if you train with him."

- "I offered myself to help him"- Garcia raised an eyebrow at (Y/N) 's words, and the young agent wide opened her eyes, blushing- "Stop staring at me like I'm a perv! I meant helping him train for the test. I could help you too."

- "Thank you, but no, thank you. I trained with you, and there's no way we are going to do all that boxing again."

- "Come on! You said you had fun!"

- "I did! I really did... but I could barely move the next day! And I had a date! I couldn't even dance, less doing... other... nevermind"- Penelope stopped herself in her tracks and shook her head.

- "Shit, PG!"- (Y/N) closed her eyes and chuckled- "Spare me the details."

- "Sorry... anyway... you and the little genius should definitely train in a more... horizontal way."

- "Garcia! Stop it!"- (Y/N) laughed and stood up- "I'm gonna go back to work 'cos clearly you have some hormonal issues today, and you are projecting."

- "Stop acting like you haven't thought about it!"- Garcia said and chuckled as her friend walked away.

- "I'm not telling you anything."

- "That means yes!"

- "No! it doesn't!"- (Y/N) was blushing; that's why she refused to turn around and look at Penelope.

- "Oh! It so does!"

--

The end of that day found Spencer even more sore, hungry and weary than he had felt in years. All he wanted to do was go home, eat pizza leftovers from the night before, and go straight to bed.

Until...

- "Hey, chipmunk!"- (Y/N) looked at Spencer, gathering all his things and getting ready to go home.- "Dinner at my place tonight. My treat."

- "I can pick the take out tonight?"- he said immediately and asked himself where did that come from if, a second earlier, all he wanted to do was to go to bed. Probably from the same place that kept coming back to the image of her in sweat shorts.

- "Even better. I'll cook"- (Y/N) answered and winked, playfully- "You deserve a proper homemade dinner after all the workout you did this morning."

Spencer looked at her and didn't even notice the silly smile on his face. If he had known how in love he was looking, he would have probably slapped himself. (Y/N) sighed and stood up.

- "I'm gonna take that silence as a "Great (Y/N)! Thank you! How considered! I'm so lucky to have you in my life".

Spencer rolled his eyes and shook his head.

- "Thank you, (Y/N). But I'll give you more praise if your food turns out to be eatable"- the young agent gasped, pretending to be insulted by his words, and hit Reid's arm with her knuckles.

- "Auch! (Y/N)!"

- "I'm being nice, and you are insulting me! I'm having second thoughts about driving you over!"

- "I can take the subway! You are such a slow driver I can actually be there faster."

Spencer stuck out his tongue at her and ran to the elevator, 'cos his friend widened her eyes and ran after him, probably to hit him again.

Morgan and Prentiss stared at the scene in silence, sharing a few looks, both of them thinking the exact same thing: "When are these two goofs ever going to hook up?"

- "They are annoying"- Rossi stood next to Emily's desk and crossed his arms on his chest.

- "They are in love"- she corrected, but David shook his head and sighed.

- "I know, and they are adorable, but it's so annoying staring at the same scene over and over again, waiting for something, anything, to happen between them."

- "Are you turning into a bitter old man who completely forgot about the charm of being young and in love?"- Prentiss raised an eyebrow and turned to Rossi. The Italian stared right into her eyes and shook his head.

- "I'm just saying someone should try to tell them something."

- "I've tried to talk to him about her a million times. But Reid is one private kid."- Derek said from his desk as the three of them stared at Spencer and (Y/N) getting into the elevator, still arguing and playfully playing.

- "And he is so insecure. He doesn't think she likes him."

- "Likes him? She is clearly in love with him!"- Prentiss said, annoyed- "I swear, if nothing happens between them this weekend, I'm going to intervene."

- "Now who is forgetting about the charm of being young and in love?"- Rossi joked and sighed- "Come on guys, dinner's on me."

--

(Y/N)' s dinner was a success. Spencer ate two portions of honey mustard-glazed chicken bake. She even managed to make him eat vegetables. And Spencer didn't even argue. Not only because it was delicious, and his body really needed some homemade dinner. But also 'cos (Y/N) got him wrapped around her fingers, even without knowing it. And if she asked him to eat veggies, Spencer (no matter how much he would argue) would eat his damn veggies. And he could actually enjoy them.

- "Ok, chipmunk, you ate all your food. You earned your dessert"- (Y/N) smiled and picked the dirty dishes from the table.

- "Let me do that. You already fed me. The least I can do is do the dishes."

Spencer followed her moves and took the dishes to the sink. (Y/N) didn't argue with that. It wasn't the first time Spencer cleaned the kitchen with her, after all. They had been good friends, close friends, for a long time, and they were used to being around each other.

But this time, it felt somehow different. Like there was something in the air warning them things were about to change for good.

- "Ok, doc. Do you wanna eat your dessert watching tv for a while?"- (Y/N) handed Spencer an ice cream bowl with chocolate chips on top and some whipped cream.

- "A smiley ice cream bowl?"- Spencer chuckled as he stared at it. He loved it.

- "Yes, you are never too old to eat food with a smile on it. And that's a life lesson, Spencer Walter Reid."- she said and walked to the couch, holding the remote control.

- "You are filled with wisdom, (Y/N)"- Reid teased her and sat by her side.

- "I know. It would help if you let me train you. You would pass your fit test in a blink."- she said and continued surfing channels.

- "Thanks, but no thanks. I wanna do it on my own."- Spencer glued his eyes on the screen and ate his dessert. (Y/N) just nodded and continued surfing channels.

- "Why?"- she asked him after a few minutes. They had been watching an old movie in silence, just eating their ice cream.

- "Why what?"- he whispered and looked at her just for a second. He didn't trust himself around (Y/N), especially under those circumstances: alone in her house. She had changed into leggings and an old extra-large sweatshirt. Her hair was in a messy bun. And Spencer didn't feel able to look at her into the eyes, 'cos he was going to cave in. He was going to grab her face with both hands and kiss her right there. No questions asked.

Which is why he avoided looking at her.

- "Why don't you want me to help you train?"

- "Just because"- he answered and glued his eyes to the screen. But (Y/N) knew better. She moved closer to him on the couch and held his hands. Spencer shivered right away at the sensation of her skin. It was so warm and soft. All he craved was some more of that. He wanted to feel her. Touch her. Taste her.

His head was going way too fast, and just because she held his hand.

- "Spencer, look at me"- she whispered and practically begged her friend to pay her attention- "I just wanna help. It's just a stupid fit test. It ain't hard."

- "For you."- he mumbled and looked down at his hand as her fingers played against his skin.

- "I didn't want you or anyone to help me 'cos I'm a fucking SSA who should be perfectly able to perform a simple fit test on his own. But no. I can't! And do you know what that means?"

- "That finally I know there's one thing you are not good at?"- she answered and smiled at him. Spencer raised his eyes and met hers. He knew his cheeks were all shades of pink, but for once, he just didn't care. He just wanted to look at her and see if she meant it. Or if she was just teasing him.

- "Right"- he snorted and shook his head.

- "I mean it, Spencer. You don't have to be good at everything."

- "It's a fit test. It's basic to be an agent. I need to be able to catch an unsub."- (Y/N) frowned and tried to understand where all that self-doubt and insecurity was coming from. To her eyes, Spencer had nothing to be ashamed of. To her, he was perfect in every single way.

- "You already catch unsubs, chipmunk. Everyday. You don't have to kick down doors to make a profile. And you don't have to run six miles to get the bad guy. Everything that you do every day at work is what an SSA is supposed to do. And you excel at it."

(Y/N) sighed and smiled at her best friend, trying to push aside the urge she felt to kiss him. His golden-brown eyes looked so big, like honey pools, she could stare for a lifetime. Spencer didn't know what to say. He really wasn't good with praises. He wasn't used to them. Not in that way.

- "Besides"- (Y/N) added after a few seconds of silence when she realized she might have said too much and started panicking.

- "It feels good to finally know there is one thing I am better than you at."

- "What are you talking about?"- Spencer answered right away, in the sassiest tone of voice.- "Just because I suck working out doesn't mean you are better. Even at my lowest, I'm still better than whatever you can do in a gym."

Reid was obviously joking. He knew (Y/N) could kick ass. Not only had she saved his life many times on the field, but also, he had seen her working out. And she could definitely kick his ass if she wanted to.

That didn't mean he wasn't going to tease her just because.

- "You take that back, Reid!"- she threatened him and

- "No"- he sentenced and crossed his arms on his chest

- "Last chance. Take it back, or you will pay for it."

- "Make me."

And that was it.

In a second, (Y/N) was on him tickling him, and trying to practice a chokehold on him. But Spencer was faster, and somehow, stronger than her. Maybe it was because he was struggling with himself. A part of him wanted her closer, and a part of him didn't want her too close, 'cos he knew his pants were going to start feeling too tight if she did.

Whatever the reason was, after two minutes of wrestling, Spencer had (Y/N) pinned down against the couch. And the way she panted against the fabric of the cushion wasn't helping him with his pants.

- "Spencer, it hurts"- she cried and tried to move from his grip, but he didn't let her go.

- "If you want me to release you, you have to say I am the best agent in this house."

- "Never!"- (Y/N) quickly answered and continued struggling.

- "Just say it, I've got you held, and I'm not going to let you free until you say it."- something in his tone of voice, it was teasing but also... sexy? (Y/N) knew Spencer wasn't trying to act that way, but it was working for her in a way she hadn't imagined. He would be so soft. And now, there he was, acting like a dominant man, holding her tight, not letting her move, literally pinned against the couch.

If only it were all happening in a different context.

- "Let me go, Spencer Reid!"- (Y/N) battled against his arms, but it was useless

- "Just say it"- he leaned in and whispered in her ear, and (Y/N) sword she could almost feel his smile as he spoke.

- "You are the best agent!! There, happy?"- she mumbled, making her best to sound annoyed and not turned on. Spencer released her, and she quickly sat down properly, rubbing her left wrist.

- "Did I hurt you?"- Spencer whispered and noticed how flustered she was. That was a first.

- "No. But I gotta tell you, you are stronger than I thought."- she said and stuck out her tongue to him, trying to be playful and innocent, though you could feel it in the air. That moment was anything but innocent.

- "Yeah, I've been working out a little bit."- Spencer answered and chuckled at his own words.

- "Well, you are going to have to learn how to control your new strength, 'cos this is going to leave a bruise"- (Y/N) whined and showed him her sore wrist. Spencer winced, ashamed he had been so hard on her without meaning any harm. He moved closer to her and held her wrist carefully. (Y/N) just looked at him as he kissed her wrist a few times.

That man couldn't be real. He was such a tease.

Did he know all the things he was, in fact, doing to her with that simple touch?

He surely had to know. Otherwise, there was no explanation, she thought.

- "Thanks"- (Y/N) whispered and fixed her eyes on his lips, still landing small kisses on her wrist.

That was when she stopped breathing. Spencer was literally breathtaking. He smiled at her, and she just couldn't help it anymore. (Y/N) leaned in and kissed him. It was a soft, short peck. But she had dared to do the unthinkable.

She kissed her best friend.

Spencer widened his eyes, shocked, and looked at her, not saying a word. They just stayed still for a good thirty seconds until Spencer finally made his move, cupping her jaw carefully with both hands and pulling her face against his.

The way she moaned into the kiss made him feel more in control than he had ever been before.

It was a soft kiss but intense. Spencer's lips rubbed carefully against her mouth, and his tongue moved carefully, making its way until he could taste her. (Y/N) moved closer to him until she was basically sitting on his lap, and his arms wrapped around her body, locking her against him.

They were in heaven.

Until it was over. Their phones buzzed at the same time, breaking the spell, ending the charm. (Y/N) jumped from Spencer's arms and grabbed her phone.

- "We've got a case"- she whispered and turned to him. He was agitated, his cheeks were red, his pants felt tight, and he was starving for more of those kisses.

- "Ok."- he replied but didn't move.

- "I'm gonna change, then we can go."- (Y/N) added, but he didn't say a word. To be fair, Spencer wasn't processing what was going on. He was still trying to elaborate a coherent thought. And most of all, he was fighting the boner in his pants that didn't let him stand up.

You could blame all the sugar in his body after the massive bowl of ice cream, or all the praising (Y/N) had given him, but Spencer found a new level of courage in that kiss. He decided it was time to stop overthinking it. It was time to act on his feelings.

- "(Y/N)"- Reid knocked on her bedroom door and heard her from the walking closet.

- "I'm almost ready. Did you talk with Garcia?"

- "No, but I don't wanna leave things like this. I wanted to talk about what just happened."

(Y/N) sighed and took a look at herself in the mirror. She could still feel her cheeks burning after that kiss, after feeling her best friend hard underneath her body, holding her against him. But she wasn't sure she wanted to hear what Reid was about to say. Most of all, because she was sure it was going to be something along the lines: "That kiss was a mistake, you are my friend. I don't wanna ruin this."

- "That kiss was..."- he mumbled and walked to her as soon as she showed up in the room, but words were hard to find when she looked at him that way.

- "Spencer, I..."- she tried to speak, but he just continued.

- "Would you like to..."

- "Pretend it didn't happen?"

- "Go out on a date with me?"- the two of them said at the same time and widened their eyes in shock.

- "What?"- (Y/N) questioned and stared at her best friend in shock- "You want to go out with me?"

- "You want to pretend it never happened?"- he asked her, scared he might have rushed to the wrong conclusions.

- "No, no, no, I don't... I can't pretend it didn't happen"- (Y/N) quickly answered and held Spencer's hand, afraid she might have ruined everything.

- "I was just scared you were going to reject me or..."- (Y/N) bt her lips and dared to look at him- "I wanna go out on a date with you"- she whispered and watched his whole face change as a big silly grin drawn on his lips.

- "Really?"- he murmured, still not sure it was actually happening. He asked her out. She said yes. He was sure that was never going to happen in real life.

- "Really"- she assured him and leaned in slowly to kiss him one more time. But her phone rang again, and so did his. This time it was a message from Hotch. Wheels up as soon as they reached the FBI.

- "But after we catch the bad guy."- (Y/N) added, and Spencer chuckled.

- "Sounds like a plan."

Spencer Reid’s taglist: 

@calm-and-doctor @all-tings-diego

Requested by @shilohpug​ 

[xeulousluv]

My Girl

Part four

Pairings: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Fluff and some angst (If you can even call it angst, I don’t really find it all that upsetting.) 

Warnings: Mention of heart problems, some angst

Word Count: 3.8k

One phone call. That’s all it takes to turn your whole world upside down. Those five rings -- twenty five seconds that are usually cut off by the click of that powerful green button -- the initial fear of seeing the name Dr. Petito as it shows up on your phone. The apprehension and pure terror that kicks into motion when she wants to schedule a chest x-ray for your two year old daughter. Clearly there was more wrong than just nutrients problems.

It had now officially been three days since your last visit with the doctor, and to say each passing second was filled with overthinking is undeniably an understatement. Cady and her RSV have been getting better with the medicine, however she is still getting sick throughout the night so sleep really isn’t a thing in your book at the moment. When you got the call you had nearly missed it as you were giving Cady her usual nighttime routine. I mean, who calls at seven-thirty in the evening anyways? Clearly urgent care wasn’t open at that time, so that only means Dr. Petito called you on her own accord.

There was no way to tell what exactly a chest x-ray and an ultrasound could mean because you were no doctor. You didn’t know about the human body and how it functioned, how could you? You studied business in your community college not go to nursing school. The news didn’t settle well to say the least. But you had Cady to help get you through it, that’s how you ended up in the waiting room at the doctor’s office.

Cady was playing a puppy game she recently found interest in on her tablet that she got for her second birthday. It was Zoey’s doing, she wanted to be cooler than you so she opted for an iPad that you had no say in. You however -- you were a nervous wreck. Your left leg bouncing rapidly against the floor, your foot creating tapping sounds that echoed across that room that you felt were probably getting annoying right about now. Cady has her unoccupied hand clasped with yours, she felt it was more relaxing to let you know that she was right there. Her words exactly.

What you hadn’t expected though was a frantic Harry making his way into the front door. His hair was heavily disheveled, eyes wide and breath unsteady, almost as if he had just finished running a marathon. “What’s wrong, is she okay? What happened?” Even though you were still really confused as to why he was here, his concern definitely warmed your heart and it made you less anxious now that he was here. And you could tell that his presence was accepted with Cadence as well because when she heard his voice she squealed and ran into his arms after having set her iPad down.

Instantly he picked her up in his arms and let out a ‘hey princess, how are you?’ slightly moving a piece of fallen hair out of her face. It was by far the cutest interaction you had ever seen. “She needs an ultrasound and a chest x-ray, something about her heart. I don’t exactly know all of the details yet. What are you -- how did you know we were here?” The question filled the air as he took the seat beside you, Cady still in his lap but her game now back in her hands. “Was on the phone with Danny and heard Zoey talking to him about it, except I didn’t hear anything past the part where she was back here. I kinda freaked out and here I am.”

“You were worried? Why, you’ve only known us for nearly two weeks? Not to mention you had only just formally met her the other day. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing you're here, I’m actually quite glad you are, I don’t know if I could’ve handled doing this alone, I’m just confused.” You spoke out, quite embarrassed because you knew you couldn’t take any of that back knowing how rude that must’ve sounded. “I’m sorry, shouldn’t have said it like that, it’s just -- no one has ever cared about her like this other than the people that were there the time she was born. I guess it surprised me seeing you walking through the door, but I really am glad that you are here. I genuinely thought I was going to break down.”

“Hey, as long as I’m here, you won’t ever have to go through anything alone. I don’t care if it’s only been a week, hell I wouldn’t care if it was only a day, there is something about you that draws me towards you. I don’t know why either, but it’s like I want to be around you all the time. I truly want to get to know you. And Cadence? She’s special and I adore her so much. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable coming here today, but I want you to know that I’m here for you and for her. If you’ll let me, of course.” Harry’s eyes were locked on yours, an expression of plead. You didn’t know what it meant but hearing him say that brought a smile to your face and your eyes to gloss over just the slightest bit.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Harry. And I can assure you that Cadence adores you as well, just look at her, she’s the most relaxed she has been in the last week.” You spoke while pointing at your daughter, who by the way is paying neither of you any attention. Harry smiled as well when he looked over her shoulder and seeing her concentrated face. He was just as confused as you were when it came to why he cared so much, it has only been a week and yet he had already kissed you and managed to grow full with the presence of you and your child. It was something he wouldn’t mind holding onto for a while, even if it was only in a friendly manner. “Cadence? My name is Heather. I'm going to be your nurse today. Please follow me.” The nurse pulled him out of his trance.

Harry stood up with Cady still in his arms and followed both you and the nurse back to the room she would be sitting in. It was painted like the ocean on one of the walls while the others were plain white. Different fish and plants swarmed the two shades of blue. They even managed to add bubbles that looked fairly realistic. “Alright Cadence, I’m just going to check your temperature and take your vitals, okay?” When Harry tried setting Cady down on the examination table she tightened her grip around his neck and torso, basically forbidding him from letting go. Something she always did with you when you would take her to the hospital, but Harry didn’t know that.

You extended your arms out forward to grab ahold of her, but of course, Harry had dismissed your attempts and claimed all was good while he sat himself down on the table, Cady again on his lap. “97.5, so her temperature has definitely gone down since her last visit which is amazing. Has she been throwing up still? Sweating a lot?” The nurse looked between both you and Harry. “The only time she really throws up is at night when she’s laying down, but everything else has gone away. She no longer complains of the stomach cramps she had and has been running around a lot more.” Your words were a jumbled mess coming out, how nervous could you possibly be to make answering a simple question come out in stutters?

“Great, her heart rate is slightly higher than what we would like but that is what we are here to see. Dr. Petito will be in, in a few minutes.” Heather said as she put her stethoscope back around her neck and opened the door to walk out. Harry had looked over at you while you silently played with Cady’s hair. You stood beside him, panic laced all throughout your facial features. It hurt him to see you so distraught, seriously what was going on with him? Sure he was told he falls fast, but three times meeting fast? Surely that couldn’t have been the answer. “Are you okay?” He needed to interact before he got too into his head.

You looked at him once and your face softened with a small smile now splayed across your face, “It’s intimidating to be back in this room for something more than a stomach ache.” You didn’t know what to feel. Her heart rate was higher than what it should be. What did that even mean? “It’s going to be alright, right Cady? You’re gonna be fine?”

Cady looked back at Harry and then towards her mom with a toothy grin on her face as she hummed in confirmation. “How do you know that?” You asked him, he seemed so sure of it. How could he possibly know that she’s going to be okay? He’s just looking at the brighter side of things, right? He’s trying to get your mind off the unknown? Though he just looked at you dead in the eyes and said nothing. So thinking he probably didn’t hear you, you asked him again. “How do you know that Cady is going to be alright? I mean you heard the nurse, her heart is beating faster than what it should be.”

“Because Cadence is the strongest person I know, if she can survive being born at nineteen weeks due to a car accident, she can survive a slightly elevated heart rate. I don’t want to think about the negative until it happens.” By this point you had stopped playing with Cady’s hair because she was now leaning against Harry’s chest, her game no longer in sight. “Y/N, I know it’s scary. Believe me, I do. I just don’t want to freak myself out by thinking of what could and could not be.”

“But you’re not her mother, Harry. You haven’t raised her since the day she was born, hell I haven’t even raised her since she was born, that was the doctors. But how could you know how scary it is when she’s not your child.” Instant regret floods you when you see his face fall. You were only telling the truth, so why did it feel like you said something wrong?

“You’re right. I’m not her parent. But I was just trying to help.” Harry was slowly standing up at this point. Cadence has now opened her eyes again, confused as to what is happening. “Harry-”

“No, it’s fine. I’m just going to go.” Cady was placed back into your arms while Harry walked towards the door. “Harry, wait, please don’t leave. I’m sorry I’m just stressed. Please, I can't do this alone.” The farther away he got, the more you wanted to cry. How did it get to this? One wrong move and he’s out the door. “Let me know how it goes.” And with that he’s gone and all that’s left is Cady’s cries because he’s gone.

You don’t get to dwell on it for long as Doctor Petito had walked in with the things she needed for Cady’s ultrasound. You were scared. Except now it wasn’t just because of all the pending possibilities that could be wrong with your daughter, but also because you don’t know where you stand with Harry. There was no doubt in your mind that he was just trying to help, and yet you let your fears get in the way and lash out on someone who drove all the way to see how Cady was. A man who drove all this way to be there, for you. You had really messed up.

“Good morning girls, how are we doing today.” However Doctor Petito was cut off by the cries of Cady and gave you a confused look. Your eyes are almost matching Cady’s tearful ones and went to sit down with her just to get this agonizing visit over with. However you don’t make it very far because Cadence tells you that she wants to sit alone, something she has never done. It broke your heart, she didn’t want you. Your daughter -- your own flesh and blood -- didn’t want you. If the tears weren’t evident before, then they definitely were now that your tear ducts have finally given out on you.

“Are you okay? Are you feeling any pain?” The doctor spoke while slightly touching around on Cady’s stomach, she wasn’t in pain but she did hate you, you thought. “Harry left.” Is all that she said, staring right into your eyes as she spoke. You could feel the weight of the world crushing you in every possible way. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is Harry a friend of yours?” All Cadence did was nod and was told to change into one of those disgusting blue gowns they make you wear at the hospital.

“The tests last week came back negative last night which is great but we still have to see what’s going on in there.” She spoke while poking the spot right above Cadence’s heart with a smile on her face causing Cady to let out a small laugh. “We are going to take her back to radiology where we will do the x-ray first, if you would like to follow us this way.” Cady was put in a wheelchair, for some reason you didn’t actually know, while you followed slightly behind.

The whole process was hard because Cady would not settle down, she was scared that the machine would shock her and did not want to put the heavy blue thing on her chest, as she calls it. But when you were back in the room, Cady had still yet to speak to you which was slowly breaking you from the inside out. Doctor Petito was looking over the scancs so the room was in pure silence.

“Cads, what’s going on baby?” You asked just trying to get her to talk to you. However, her silent treatment didn’t let up. She didn’t do it on purpose, she’s just upset that her new friend had to leave. She was upset that her mom was crying. Cadence hates seeing her mother cry, even though it happens very rarely, it makes her want to cry along with her. 

When the doctor finally came back in, she had the scans in hand before she set them on the counter and walked over to the right side of the table. “Alright Cady, can you lay back for me and pull the gown up? This is going to be a little bit cold on you, okay?” Cady laid back, her hand grasping for yours. She didn’t understand why Harry left, or how much of a relief on you it is that she’s finally noticing you again. Her princess underwear now on full display, as Dr. Petito put the gel on her chest.

Hearing her heartbeat for the first time since your last ultrasound pregnant with her was a bittersweet moment. At that time in your life, you were in the darkest place imaginable. Having to listen to a child’s heartbeat, a child that wouldn’t be yours in a matter of months. You hated going to those appointments for that particular reason, but now listening to it was probably the best thing you have ever heard. Her heart was beating, and yeah it was faster than it should have been, and that was concerning. But it was beating.

“So Y/N, we were looking over the x-ray scans, it doesn’t show anything too major, but she does have a slight murmur on her heart. That will explain the lack of weight gain and her raised heart rate. In most cases it goes away on its own, but if you feel like it’s getting worse then I suggest you take her to the hospital. Do you have any questions?” The doctor spoke so nonchalantly, how was she so calm? A heart murmur, it sounds scary but if you really thought about it, your aunt said one time at a family reunion that your cousin had a heart murmur when she was a baby and now she’s happily married with her own kids.

You could feel the breath of relief take over you. “How long does it usually take to go away? Or like, how do I know if it’s getting worse? I didn’t even know she had it. The doctors just said that it was because she was born prematurely.”

“It all depends on the person really, it usually just goes away as you grow up. There is no set time limit. If she starts complaining about chest problems, or starts to get loss of breath pretty frequently, then that's when you should take her in. Her lack of weight can have something to do with how young she was born, but it’s not like she is severely underweight so I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” Doctor Petito was young, she looked to be in her thirties so her communication skills with you were severely helpful. Not that an older doctor has poor communication skills, but seeing someone so close in age is kind of relieving in a sense.

After that it didn’t take long for Cadence to get dressed and let out, she will need to come back for a check up in six months but other than that, you were finally able to breathe again. When you got back to the car you decided that you would try to call Harry and let him know that he was in fact right. You weren’t afraid to admit that you were wrong, you just hoped he would pick up his phone.

Though he didn’t.

“Hey Harry, it’s me. Y/N. I’m just calling to let you know that Cadence is going to be okay. Doctor Petito said that she has a heart murmur and that it's seen a lot in children. It will go away as she ages. I uhm, I’m sorry for lashing out on you. It was totally out of context and I feel terrible for making it seem like I didn’t appreciate what you were saying. Cadence hated me for it too, she cried for a good thirty minutes after you left. She’s actually in the backseat sleeping right now, passed out once I got her buckled. Again, I’m sorry, please call me back. Bye.”

...

When Harry left the doctors office, he left with a heavy heart. He shouldn’t have taken it personal because everything you had said was completely true, he wasn’t Cady’s father. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be worried about your child, someone that you’ve had a connection with since day one. Except that he has had a connection from day one, it might not have been her day one, but it was their day one. Or two but the wedding doesn’t count because she was asleep.

Moral of the story, Harry was overthinking the situation for more than it was. He jumped into action and you probably thought that it was overwhelming, and that was not his intention at all. He just wanted to help, he wanted to be there for you because three days ago, you had expressed that it was hard to do this alone.

So after he left, he went back home and called the one person who he knew could help him, Zoey.

“Harry? Daniel isn’t here right now, he’s down getting drinks from the bar for us.”

“I actually need to talk to you, is this a bad time? It completely slipped my mind that you were still on your honeymoon, should I call back at a different time?”

“No no, you’re fine. We still have two more days here, is everything okay? Is something wrong with Y/N, I didn’t get a message?”

“Sort of, I think, Cady had an appointment today because they wanted to take a look at her heart which you already knew about. But that’s actually not why I called.”

“Oh, then why did you call?”

“I uhm, so you know the other night when you called me and I went over to her apartment? Well her and I kind of kissed and I didn’t exactly hate it. And I didn’t think she did either but I went to the appointment today to be with her and she kind of flipped out on me.” Harry bitterly laughed out in embarrassment, he wasn’t embarrassed about kissing you, but more so kissing you on the second time meeting. But Zoey didn’t care, he could tell because of the oh that left her mouth.

“Harry, you gotta understand that Y/N hasn’t had a proper relationship with anyone since her baby daddy. And even then, he was her first relationship she’s ever had. Her mother never allowed her to have a boyfriend. She doesn’t know when someone is serious about her. Not to mention the fact that it’s going to be harder because she does have a kid, so she’s not only looking out for herself, but for Cady too.”

“And I get that, I do, but I just can’t get her out of my head. How pathetic right? The guy meets the girl once and is already totally smitten with her?”

“It’s not pathetic, Harry. Don’t think I didn’t see you guys talking almost all night at my wedding. When I first met Danny it took me ten minutes to fall for him. It’s the way of life, some people fall fast and others take their time. You just happen to be the former. Do you like her, Harry?”

“I think so.”

“You think so?”

“I haven’t really been with anyone since Camille, but I can tell you that my heart picks up every time I see her. And her eyes are the most beautiful I have ever seen. Oh, and don’t even get me started on her laugh, by far the most enchanting sound I have ever heard. But I don’t want to make things more complicated for her. Zoey, what do I do?”

“Sounds like you’ve got it bad, Styles. You have to be patient with her feelings, she will come to you when she is ready to fully open up. I can see it from the way she would talk about you on our daily facetime calls, she fancies you. Now she won’t make the first move because she’s a shy lil’ thing, but if you take your time to woo her, she will be falling at your feet.”

“Did you just say woo her? What does that even mean?”

“Swoop her off her feet, give her the best date of her life. When Danny and I get we will watch Cady and you two can go for a night in the town. Okay, I gotta go. Daniel is back with our drinks.”

“Thank you, Zoey. Oh wait, do my ears deceive me or did you say that you two talk about me on your calls?”

She could hear the smirk in his voice, it was cocky and arrogant but nevertheless, she smiled as well. “Goodnight, Harry.” And with that, she hung up the phone with Harry feeling better than he had before he called her. Woo her.

How would he woo her? What does she like to do? She doesn’t like to drink, but does she like the movies? No she’s not much of a cliche, he figured that one out the first night they met. What about taking her to the fair? Would the rides make her sick?

Harry was too busy stressing himself out that he didn’t hear the ringing of the phone sat in his hand until the familiar ding came right after.

One new voicemail from Y/N.

..

Hi hi! I’m back. I keep making changes to this as if I don’t know what I’m doing, and half the time I don’t. I want to make it good, but I also want it to make sense. And not to mention the fact that the story line basically comes to me as I am writing so I have no idea where this is going to go. Anyways I hope you have an amazing day, night, morning, whatever. Byeee. 

[yangrdn]

cough cough

pairing: peter parker x gn!reader, non-superhero AU

a/n: this is my entry for @worldoftom's lolbrosgetsicktoo challenge! i loved writing sick!peter, it was v v cute. also, whilst writing this i'm sick, also a cold and my throat hurt until three days a go for three weeks straight. writing this was basically me wanting to have a peter to look after me, so i put him in my position. feedback is really appreciated and i hope you enjoy reading this <3

ps: i put the prompt at the end bc i assumed it'd spoil a little of the story if i put it at the start. so if you want to know the prompt first, just scroll down.

summary: peter gets a sore throat.

w/c: 3.8k

warnings: mentions of vomiting, description of taking painkillers, sick and whiny peter

my m.list

request | my taglist

there are a lot of things peter’s good at. he nails every test that is thrown at him. if you asked him a question about physics, he’d give you the right answer right away. basically, peter’s smart. like, really smart. now, there’s always that one thing he is not smart enough for and needs your help for.

taking care of his body.

with that, he could get all the help possible, and would still fail. may already tried her best, telling him to zip his jacket when going out and it’s raining. or you’d tell him how he should’ve stayed at home instead of riding his bike to your apartment right after taking a shower. he had worn only a shirt and a pair of jeans, saying it was hot and that the sun was out.

you, on the other hand, were just pissed your boyfriend had risked getting sick again, because you know you’ll have to take care of him. not because may told you to, nope. peter just didn't let anyone come near him when sick, besides you. although it does make you question whether he does it because he wants you close, even when he feels like melting because of his fever, or that he wants you to get sick, too.

and now, here you are. walking to peter’s flat after may called you and informed you about your “over dramatic” boyfriend. he was asking for you the whole day, and wouldn't let her sit down for even a minute, she said to you on the phone after you agreed to come over. you feel bad for her. She was up everyday, working her ass off, only to come home to Peter complaining about his pain. Taking care of him so she could at least get a day off from a whining Peter was the least you can do right now.

You knock on the door twice and start taking off your shoes. It wasn’t raining, but you don’t want to enter the flat with dirty shoes and leave more work when you leave. May opens the door, a tired smile across her face and a relieved sigh leaving her lips when she notices it’s you standing there.

“Hi, May,” you smile at her and give her a side hug, already peeking behind her and seeing two empty boxes of tissues. You frown and pull back as you enter the room.

“He won’t shut up about his throat. His voice is nearly gone, so he won’t be able to talk that much,” she informs you and closes the door behind you as you make your way to Peter’s room. You nod and turn around.

“It’s okay, I’ll make sure he gets enough sleep anyways,” you tell her. May silently thanks you with two thumbs up as she walks slowly to her room, closing the door quietly.

You knock on Peter’s door softly, not wanting to barg in if he’s doing something or wake him up. When you get no response, you open the door and step in. The room is dark, the only light coming in from the sun shines shining through the blinds. On Peter’s desk, books are piled up and you assume those are all for his missing assignments. A pout forms on your lips as you realize he’ll need to do all his missing work for school once he feels better. You make a mental note to help him as you roll up the blinds, only enough to illuminate the room more. When your eyes cast on the brown haired boy laid on the bed, the pout is quickly replaced by a soft smile.

Peter’s laying on his bed, blanket draped over his body and only covering his hips and left leg, soft snores leaving his lips. He’s only wearing a pair of boxers, his chest glistening with sweat. Your eyes widen as you walk closer to him, placing your palm on his forehead. A quiet gasp leaves your lips once you feel how hot his forehead is. He stirs awake slowly, only moving his head away from your palm and whining. You try to stifle a laugh and make the thin blue blanket cover at least half his body. His eyes open, blinking rapidly as he adjusts to the new light.

“Ugh,” he groans and hides his face behind his hands. Peter’s head is spinning, his eyes only adding more pain when he opens them. You sit on the bed, making sure not to touch him and hand him the glass of water on his nightstand. After revealing his face, he sits up slowly and takes the glass. Drowning it in slow and painful gulps, Peter lets out a hiss after setting the glass back down on the nightstand.

Now that he’s fully awake, you take a second to examine his sick state. His cheeks are rosy, you can basically see that the poor boy is burning up. His head is leaned back against the cool wall and his eyes squeezed shut due to his headache.

“I’m in so fucking much pain,” he whines and opens one eye, squinting and looking at you. You sigh, taking note of the crack in his voice. May wasn’t lying when she said he had a hard time talking.

“May told me. Did you eat today?” He frowns and shuts his eyes again.

“No, I- I-,” he stops talking and coughs, hissing as he feels more pain in his throat. You take the water bottle next to him and quickly fill up the glass again, handing it to him. After another painful gulp, he continues.

“May made me soup, but I didn’t finish it,” he croaks out. You purse your lips and nod.

“You lay back down. I’ll get you some painkillers, make you tea and then come back here, ok?” He nods and opens his mouth.

“Ah, ah ah, no talking for you. I see the pain you’re in right now. I’d tell you I told you so when you came over, wet and only with a t-shirt, but then you’d start arguing.” With that, you leave his room and make sure to leave the door open behind you, enough to hear Peter in case he calls for you. You make your way to the open kitchen and take out the water heater, a bag of camomile tea from the cabinet and let the water boil. While it’s boiling, you search through the other cabinets for painkillers, until you find a packet of Ibuprofen. After checking and making sure it’s not past its expiration date and that Peter’s old enough to take it, you place it on the counter and take out a teacup, throwing the tea bag in and waiting for the water to end. After a minute, you slowly fill the cup, careful not to burn yourself. You take the painkillers, turn around and walk back to Peter, balancing the full tea cup in your left hand as you softly blow in it. It should be hot, but not too hot for Peter to burn himself when drinking.

You shove the door open with your foot and step in, placing the cup on Peter’s nightstand. He was already waiting for you, glass filled with water in hand and eyes narrowed at the door.

“Take these,” you whisper, handing him the painkillers and sitting on the side of his bed, only close enough for your thigh to be touching his hip. He plops a pill in his mouth, gulping it down and shaking his head.

“I can’t even swallow pills,” he groans. You lift your hand up, caressing the side of his face with your palm. A content sigh leaves his lips as you let your thumb gently caress his cheekbone. Pecking his lips softly, you ask.

“Do you want to sleep? I can close the blinds again and-” He shakes his head and takes your hand in his. “Can we watch a movie?” He whispers. You nod and help him move to the side on his bed. He takes the blanket with him, lifting it up and patting the empty side next to him.

You shake your head. “You’ll lay on me. I don’t want to put my whole body on you.”

“What,” A soft laugh escapes your lips. “I’m always the one laying on you. Let me take care of you,” Peter’s about to complain, but you’re already comfortably on the bed and patting your lap.

“Next time you-” You shush him, pulling the blanket over the two of you and grab the laptop sitting on his nightstand. He chooses a movie and places the laptop in front of you two.

“You’re lucky we have no school tomorrow. Else you’d be drowning in work,” you whisper into his hair. He sighs and glances at the pile of sheets and books on his desk.

“Already happening.” You giggle at his statement and turn your eyes back to the movie playing.

Midst watching the movie, Peter fell asleep on your lap and started snoring. A small smile displays on your face, watching your boyfriend lay comfortably with you and feel safe. You start running your hand through his hair as he stirs in his sleep, face squished against your stomach.

When he wakes up, he starts groaning and raising his head to look at you. You grin at him and peck his lips.

“Sleep good?” He shakes his head and lets it fall back on your stomach, nuzzling his nose against the fabric covering it and letting out a content sigh.

“I’m still in pain, but I guess it’ll get better later,” he says, his voice muffled. You nod and purse your lips, thinking.

“Wait, Peter.” He frowns at your worried tone and looks up at you again.

“Didn’t we buy those tickets for the concert tomorrow?” You nod to his desk. His head turns to the side you’re looking at, eyes widening and staring back at you.

“Shit, you’re right. Fuck I’m-” he starts and lowers his gaze to your lap,” I’m sorry we can’t go to the concert tomorrow because of me. I know how much you like-” You quickly shut him up by cupping his face in your hands, pouting and shaking your head.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, babe. You’re sick and I want to take care of you. We can repeat this another time,” you say gently, staring into his eyes as the frown on his face deepens.

“But you always said how excited you were for this” he protests.

“I am, yeah, but I’d rather stay at home with you than going there alone and letting my boyfriend here. Or worse, dragging you with me,” you tell him. You see the corners of his lips pick up and feel your own eyes lit up as he tries to hide his smile.

“You don’t want me to go!” A dramatic gasp leaves your mouth and you throw your head back.

“What- no! I just- I like it when…” he trails off and leaves you silent. You stare back at him, raising a brow and waiting for his answer. “I said that I just want to spend time with you and I’m kind of happy you’re staying here,” he whispers.

You grin and pull his face closer to yours, noses almost touching.

“You’re so in love with me,” He rolls his eyes and pushes you back, not before kissing the palm of your hand. “Yeah yeah I am. Am I not allowed to?”

You smirk and drape your arm over him as he shuffles closer to you.

~

A week later, Peter’s still sick. Or at least, that’s what aunt May told you. He didn’t leave his bed for hours and you slowly started to worry whether to take him to the doctors or not. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes from hours of studying and doing assignments that were already due last week. Why would he stay up at night, if he was sick? It’s what made you think whether he’s really faking it. He wouldn’t fake being sick and stay up the whole night, right?

“Y/N, did Peter tell you when he’ll come back?” Your head snaps up to the teacher talking to you, frowning and shaking your head.

“He didn’t. He’s been really sick for a little more than a week now, I don’t think he’ll come back this week yet.” The teacher nods and carries on with the class, taking a pen and starting to write something into a brown book.

You feel a light tap on your shoulder and turn around, being greeted with Ned’s worried expression.

“You sure he’s alright? He didn’t text me either,” he checks.

“He did throw up like three times last week,” you trail off, thinking about how your boyfriend called you three times from Tuesday to Wednesday, telling you he threw up and asking if you could come over.

“I’ll go to his later anyways, should I tell him to talk to you?” Ned only nods, lowering his eyes back to the paper in front of him and starting to write down his answers quickly.

~

You knock on Peter’s door after May let you in. She was in a hurry, talking about having a job interview in twenty minutes and being late as she left you in the living room, closing the door to the bathroom behind her.

There’s a faint “yeah” when you open the door, looking through the crack into his room and staring at the figure hunched up under blankets. Your eyes soften as you step into the room, closing the door silently. The blinds are up, different from the other day. His room also looks cleaner. He must’ve cleaned up the pile of clothes that was there last week and tidied his desk. You frown as you look at his bed. Yesterday he told you his head hurt too much and that he felt dizzy when standing up. Must’ve been May, probably, you shrug and walk closer to his bed, sitting down at the end of it.

“Hey,” His voice startles you. There isn’t a crack in it anymore and his eyes don’t squint as much at the bright lighting in his room as they did the last time you were here. You hum and lean back on your arms.

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Pretty good.” He peaks up from under the blanket, smiling at you. His eyes widen when he realizes what he just said and starts coughing. You frown and sit up straight, arm stretched out ready to grab the glass of water next to him.

“Uh, compared to last week. Yes, pretty good compared to last week,” he adds quickly and hides back under the blanket. You giggle and shuffle closer to his form, running your hand through his locks under the blanket and earning a sigh from him. He likes it when you touch him, whether it’s hugging, running your hand through his hair, or when you’d cling into his biceps as the headboard hit against the wall repeatedly. There is always physical touch between the two of you.

“Do you want to drink something? I’ll go make you another tea,” you propose and stand up, leaving his bed. He nods and smiles at you. You leave the room and walk into the kitchen. This time, you close the door to his room completely. He’s feeling much better than last week, but also acting suspicious. Peter wouldn’t skip school and act sick. It 's not like him. Like, at all. Right?

The door to his room is closed, so the first thing Peter decides to do when you leave is jump out the bed and walk to his desk, taking his phone and getting back into his comfortable bed. He makes sure you can't hear any frantic steps or movements.

After you left Peter's room the first night he asked you to stay, he started to like the attention you were giving him. It's not that you don't pay attention to your boyfriend. In fact, Peter may be in the center of your attention and you his. You two make sure to show each other the love you feel and that you care.

It's just that with your busy schedules and upcoming exams, spending time together wasn't your top priority anymore. He misses the days when you'd go to Delmar's with him after school, instead of instantly leaving because of an essay that was due that same week. So he decided to do what he does, in his opinion, best. Lie. Act sick.

He did feel bad when he first started coughing every time May was around and she worried for him, but at some point he realized staying at home a little longer wasn’t that bad and he could use some time away from school. Although he could’ve just told May he was in pressure and wanted to stay home for a couple of days, he’d rather use this option.

Peter suits himself in his bed and turns on the phone, already flooded by texts from Mj and Ned telling him the homework they got for today and texts from Ned asking where he was at, and why he stays home for this long. He stifles a laugh at the memes Ned sent into the group chat and glances to the door at the muffled steps he heard. When he’s sure there isn’t anyone close to his room, he returns his eyes to the screen of his phone.

You’re on the other side of the door, side of your face pressed against the door and holding in your breath to not get noticed. You heard a laugh when you were in the kitchen. You left Peter laying in his bed, he was too dizzy to get up and grab his phone. You raise a brow and lean closer to the door, daring to press down the doorknob and silently stepping in, halting in the open doorway with your hand on your hip and an expectant expression.

Peter is sitting up on his bed, covers long forgotten on the end of it and phone in hand. He’s laughing at something playing on his screen, not noticing you standing in the room yet. You click your tongue, pursing your lips and waiting for your presence to be noticed. When your boyfriend throws his head back, letting out another loud laugh, you decide to let him know you’re there.

“oh, ok. so i see you’re better?” you quirk a brow, smirking. his eyes widen and his head snaps to you, watching you through plate-wide eyes. he sucks in a breath and puts his lip in a thin line.

“uhm, you’re back?” he croaks out. a nervous giggle leaves his lips and he shrugs with a smile plastered on his face, biting his bottom lip. “i- i feel better,” you roll your eyes and place the cup of tea on his desk, making him frown.

“you didn’t really think i’d place it next to you? i see you’re better, go get it yourself.” he opens his mouth, only to shut it again. it was true, he looks and feels much better than last week. and peter knows he’s back to his healthy state, he just kept it from you. which is why he’s shocked at first, then frowns and groans.

“come on! yes i feel better, but can you give me the cup?” he asks. you shake your head, balancing your weight on one leg, jutting your hip out. oh, peter knows that look on your face. you’re not happy. not utterly disappointed, but you don’t seem the happiest either.

“no way you made me and may care for you for a whole week straight, when you didn’t feel sick!” you throw your hands up in the air, letting out an annoyed huff. he whines at you in a clearly irritated state and juts out his lip, trying to look as sad as possible.

“no, don’t pull that face on me. i’m pissed off,” you mutter as you walk to him, sitting down on his bed with your back to his figure. “please? i’m sorry i lied,” he starts. you frown, turning around.

“why did you, in the first place. you now have much more work to do. oh, and have fun explaining may why you lied about being sick. she stayed up with you at night, hell, i went to sleep at three for you! peter, we had school at seven!” you cry out.

the boy on the bed with you just shrugs, not exactly knowing what to say next.

“i guess i liked the attention i got.” you huff and take a glance at him. when he stays serious, you turn your whole body to him. “you liked the attention i gave you?” you ask in disbelief. he slowly nods.

“do i not give you attention?” you worry. he quickly shakes his head, arms out to reach for your hands. “no! you do, it’s just, with school and everything,...” he trails off. you nod and squeeze his hand, demanding for him to look up at your face.

“i know we don’t spend as much time together as we used to, anymore. but peter, you know i’m in so much pressure because of school! besides, don’t you have to focus on school, too? and may also told you you should look for an internship because you didn’t get one last year,” you reason. he lets go off your hand, clearly not amused.

“i told her i don’t want one. what will it do?” “uh, look good on your college applications?” you say, as if it was the most obvious thing on earth. he chuckles.

“besides that. i’ll find one, i just want to spend time with you for now,” he says softly as he scoots closer to your warm body. you put your arms around him, laying your head on his placed on your chest.

“i do too, pete. but i promise that in,” you stop and cran your neck to look behind you at the calender he’s got hung on the wall, “in five weeks we’ll be able to cuddle and watch movies like we did before again. now, we need to focus on school and you on your missed assignments,” you sigh. you feel him tense under you.

“what?! five weeks!” you smirk against his hair and squeeze him tighter.

“i was joking! two actually. but, until then, you’re stuck with me anyway studying so it won’t be that big of a problem if i stay away from you for one day,” you laugh and kiss his temple. he nuzzles into your chest, inhaling in your sent and sighing. “as long as we spend that time together, i don’t care how long it is until we finish all exams,” he whispers against you.

Prompt: Non-Superhero AU. Peter gets a sore throat! Which is very ill-timed, because him and the reader had plans to go to a concert, but they ditched in favor of the reader taking care of Peter. Days pass by and Peter is still "sick". Spoiler, he's just faking it at this point because he's enjoying the extra attention he's getting from his partner.

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[spencersawkward]

hi! today is my birthday (yeah, a day before his) and as a big fan of yours that i am, i know that you made a one-shot for his birthday, but could you do it like it would be if it was your first birthday with him? i reeeally appreciate and love your work! keep doing this, you're amazing! thank you!!

ok the daddy kink gotta go on pause bc we have an EMERGENCY called it's a baddie's birthday! 🥳 happy birthday babe i hope it's as special and lovely as can be! also thank you that made my day of course i'd be happy to write a one-shot like that :)

summary: reader reunites with Matthew for her birthday after his absence on a week-long trip. 

relationship: Fem!Reader/Matthew

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, fingering, oral (female receiving), dirty talk.

word count: 3.8k 

masterlist

after lighting my favorite candles on the bedside table and smoothing out the wrinkles on the bed, I climb onto the mattress and fold my legs up beneath me, criss-cross applesauce. there's a warm, peachy light that falls onto the white comforter, aureate and gentle when I straighten my spine.

I have spent my birthday so far dealing with tired limbs and people I don't like; the only good part so far was getting lunch with a couple of my friends, but something still feels absent.

that something is Matthew.

he's been in Los Angeles for a week, and I miss him like crazy. the apartment is cold and hollow without him in it, despite the numerous objects of his that decorate every nook and cranny. a star and moon mobile hangs above our bed, which sounds childish but actually is fun for both of us to look at when we're lying together at night.

our eyes always follow as the crescent and circle shapes cross each other in a slow circle while we talk. and every time he's gone, his side of the bed gets cold. I miss his mouth and the shape of his arms when they enfold me. I've never been much for showing affection, but I would cover him in kisses if we had all day together.

absence makes the heart grow fonder, I guess.

he's coming home tonight and I've been looking forward to it for days now. even our kitten, Clarisse, lifts her head every time someone in the hallway of the building passes. she likes to sit between us whenever she can.

I let my thoughts roam freely as I take deep breaths and center my mind. it's hard to reign in the joy I feel at the memory of him. I haven't had an orgasm since he left, not because I haven't had the motivation, but because Matthew has created a new rule.

neither of us can pleasure ourselves until we see each other again. technically, I suppose we could break the rule and there would be no ramifications-- but it's kinda fun, to be honest. every night he calls me, and every night he tiptoes around the things he wants to do when he gets home. he can always hear the shortness of my breath when he says anything erring on risqué, asking what I'm wearing or if I've been thinking of him. of course I've been thinking of him; my nights swell with apparitions of his touch, moving over my skin without any tangible reality.

it usually ends with him tsking and telling me to be patient while I dig my fingernails into the inside of my thighs, resisting every urge within me to get off to the sound of his voice. he does it so well, too. all deep and desirous when he tells me to be good.

even as I sit here on the bed, a tingling feeling starts in my stomach. I want him too badly, and waiting has been absolute torture. I remember two nights ago, when I was sitting in his favorite armchair with my knees tucked into my chest, speaking softly to him.

"what have you been up to?"

"nothing out of the ordinary: filming, drawing... thinking of you." he had said, the last three words igniting a flame in my stomach. I love to hear him say that.

"anything in particular?" I started to trace absent-mindedly over the skin of my calves.

"thinking about how good you'd look with your hands between your legs." his voice was somehow silky and raspy all at once, like the idea of it was arousing him. I bit my lip and squeezed my thighs together.

"stop tempting me."

"why?"

"you know damn well why." I giggled. he sighed on the other end of the line.

"I'm starting to hate this rule."

"you made it!" I argued, practically able to hear the mischievous little smile on his face.

"I know, but I wanna hear your noises."

"Matthew..." I blushed, even though he wasn't right in front of me.

"I can't wait to hear you scream that." the drop in his tone made goosebumps rise over my skin.

"are you hard right now?"

"maybe." he hesitated. I felt every cell in my body begging me to cheat our rule-- maybe bend it slightly-- but I hold true.

"get home, then, and I'll suck the soul out of you." I laughed a bit and heard him move in his seat.

"stop teasing."

"you're one to talk," I glanced out the window at the city glittering, full of so many people and empty of him. "I should go before we fuck this up for ourselves."

"no..." he whined like a needy puppy for a moment. "just talk to me normally."  

"fine," I pretended to be disappointed. I didn't want to hang up, anyway. "do you wanna hear about my coworkers? that's guaranteed to eradicate all sexual thoughts."

...

he texts me half an hour later, as I blow out the wicks of my candles and watch the rest of the sun disappear. I love nighttime. he's on his way and I get butterflies, despite the fact that I already know what's coming.

instead of waiting giddily with Clarisse, I elect to take a hot shower and wash the day from my bones. I feel more at ease now that I've had some time to sit with my thoughts, although they've made me even more sexually frustrated.

it's only when I'm drying my hair and sitting in my new lingerie slip dress that relief walks through the door in the form of Matthew and a pizza from our favorite neighborhood place. I hear him come in, practically leap up and run into the living room.

"hi!" he greets, standing in the entryway with his suitcase and a scarf thrown casually around his neck. he shuts the door just in time for me to get to him.

"hi hi hi!" I attach myself like a parasite, wrapping my arms around his waist and holding him tightly.  

"happy birthday, my sweet girl," he kisses the top of my head and lets out a chuckle at my affection. "can I set my stuff down, quick?" Clarisse brushes against his leg.

reluctantly, I disentangle myself and take the pizza box from his hands and carry it into the kitchen. he makes a high-pitched whistle noise as I walk away, bending over to greet our cat.

"liking the view." he jokes. I set down the box and return to him, removing his scarf and coat with something of an impatience.

"shut up," I laugh. he starts to kiss my cheekbone, smiles against my skin while I peel off the winter layers. he's got too many clothes on. "you didn't need to pick up a pizza."

"it's your special day-- I wanted to get you the finest cuisine in Manhattan." he replies sincerely. I bite back a grin and stare up at him, completely and utterly in love with his stupid turns of phrase.

"it's gonna get cold, though."

"why?" he frowns. I answer by pulling him in for a voracious kiss, cupping his face in my hands. after a moment of us pressing our torsos together, he grabs the backs of my thighs and I jump, letting him hold me up. one of his hands rests beneath my butt, squeezing the flesh while we embrace.

"you're gonna drop me if we don't get to the bedroom soon." I giggle into his mouth. he playfully smacks my ass and carries me into our favorite place, slamming the door shut with his foot and setting me down on the mattress. I smile at his perfect features, wanting to both tear into him and preserve this moment in time forever.

he climbs onto the bed, pushes my legs apart and runs his hands along the outside of my thighs to hitch up my slip. I raise my eyebrows but don't argue when he gathers the dress up around my waist and yanks my panties down.

"I've been thinking about your pussy all day." he kisses the skin above my knee, moving much too slowly up my legs while he holds them open. I feel my hips leave the bed in eagerness, and he glances at my core hungrily. "you're dripping, baby."

"don't make me wait any more." I roll my eyes and he places the flat of his hand over my center, barely stimulating me while pushing me down. he knows the effect it has from the tortured whine I release.

"the best things come with time." he winks and continues his open-mouthed kisses along my inner thighs. his head is between my legs, but not nearly in the way I'd like it to be. I crave more; he knows it. he licks over a spot near my pussy and I moan.

"sensitive, huh?" he raises an eyebrow. I run my fingers through those unruly curls, tug.

"don't act as if you aren't just as turned on right now."  

"delayed gratification is a skill, darling." he's smirking and it's driving me wild looking at him in this position, not doing anything. he peeks at my body again before meeting my eyes. "you're dragging this out by talking, by the way."

"oh my god." I throw my head back into the pillow, but go silent as he starts to resume his movements. finally, slowly, he licks up my entrance, pausing at my crest to flick his tongue. I gasp and look at him, his focus all on my face.

he rolls his mouth expertly over me, dipping between my folds to taste and releasing a greedy moan before starting to lap and play with it like he can't stop himself anymore. this time, when I grip his hair, I use it as leverage to grind against him. he feels so good, the sounds coming from my lips are truly unhinged.

"oh, shit, shit-- just like that." I choke out. every part of me clings to him. he wraps his hands around my thighs and yanks me down the bed so he can do more with me. every action with his tongue is like a delicious torture, him exploring all the parts of me as if he's never tasted them before. when he runs his teeth gently across my clit, I moan loudly.

"so hot, Matthew, god, please--"

he doesn't even stop to tease me at all. judging by the darkened irises and blown-out pupils, he's lost in his own world while he eats me out. I can feel the pads of his fingertips gripping onto my skin as if it's his only tether to reality. he behaves like someone inebriated, trying new tricks and thrusting his tongue into my entrance. I'm already close, and he can feel from the insistence of my sounds.

he pulls away for a second and I whine, but he puts two fingers over my clit and rubs me like crazy while he talks.

"is this what you wanted for your birthday, sweetheart? to cum?" his mouth is glistening with my essence, lips swollen, while he holds my gaze. I'm whimpering.

"we're gonna have dinner after this and then for dessert, I'm gonna give you what you want," he pants and I can see the erection straining against his clothes. "okay?"

"mhmm." I buck against his touch, which is bringing me closer with every passing second.

"I'm treating you until that little pussy can't take it anymore." he bites his lip and watches me squirm. I'm almost to the edge and I know what will finish me.

"I need your mouth." I beg him hopefully. Matthew grins.

"whatever you want, baby." and with that, he bends down again and replaces his talented fingers with his lips, flicking and running over my clit until I can feel my stomach tensing.

"fuck!" I cry out, rolling against his face and climaxing intensely. my eyes squeeze shut at the tightening of all my muscles. my skin is on fire as I clutch at my tits through the fabric of my dress and feel my back move off the bed. he's pulling my legs up so that he can work me through my orgasm at an angle, harshly sucking at it until I'm completely worn out.

he puts me down and I breathe deeply, try to settle the quickness of my pulse.

"how was that?" he asks, rubbing over my legs affectionately while I come down from my high.

"amazing." I sit up and start to tug at his belt in the hopes of undoing it, but Matthew removes my wrist and shakes his head. I peek up at him with a curious, disappointed expression.

"it's your day, remember?" he says it so lovingly with a slightly higher pitch than normal, soft and laced with kindness. I look at his erection, anyway, always wanting the sight of it.

"that can't be comfortable."

"oh, it's not." he laughs. I let him lift me off the bed and he guides me to the kitchen on my slightly weak legs. everything about him leaves me like that.

Matthew and I eat pizza and drink champagne while he tells me about his trip, about all the cool people he met and places he went to shoot. he shows pictures of the cast and him making silly faces, and a bakery he saw.

"all the pastries are named after amazing women," he grins and presents a photo of the interior, which is full of flowers and hues of rich blue. "so I obviously thought of you."

I smile through my bite of food, heart fluttering. he shows me a picture of a half-eaten cookie that has the silhouette of a woman on the front, sitting in a chair. it's very 1800's-looking.

"it's supposed to be Jane Austen."

"I'm jealous." I grin.

"I'll take you sometime." he puts his phone away and we go back to talking normally. I could watch his lips move forever, listen to his voice forever. there's a quality to his speech that is entirely unique, that draws me in and makes me want to claim him for life. I didn't know it was possible to want someone so completely.

I rant about the things I had to deal with today, and he chuckles at my naturally indignant tone. by the time I run out of steam, we're just sitting with pleased expressions on our faces. even when I'm angry about something that's happened earlier, he knows how to make me forget all about it.

"it would be fun for everyone to meet you." Matthew toys with the napkin in his lap. I sigh.

"as long as there's alcohol involved, sure."

"why?"

"they make me nervous!"

"you have no reason to be nervous," he shakes his head slowly. "they'll love you."

"that's the thing-- I want them to like me so badly, I'll do something to mess it up."

"you couldn't. you're adorable when you're shy." he reaches under the table and squeezes my knee reassuringly. I try to smile, but my stomach twists up at the thought. it's easy for Matthew; he's so uninhibited.

"you say that now, but it'll be a different story when I've managed to fall on my face in front of everyone."

he snorts. "okay, that would be kind of funny."

"hey!" but I'm hiding a smile.

"they'll love you," he keeps his hand on my leg as he looks at me. "you wanna know how I know?"

"how?" I wait patiently for his reply. he leans forward in his seat and beckons me closer.

"because you are the sweetest--" he kisses me. "smartest--" another peck. "funniest girl I know."

"stop." I deadpan as I turn my face away just enough for him to nuzzle my cheek with his nose as I laugh.

"not to mention the sexiest one, too." he whispers in my ear. I put my hand on his shoulder, intending to push him away playfully but finding myself not wanting to.

"I knew that's where you were gonna take that." I roll my eyes. his other hand has been creeping progressively up my thigh until his fingers brush my core. I suck in a breath, remembering that my panties are still in the bedroom.

"you want me to prove it to you?" he starts to stroke over me, gathering the wetness on his fingers that already waits for him. I let out a slight moan as he dips inside and curls his digits.

"mhmm."

he starts to finger me easily, adding a second and pumping them inside while I grip the edge of the table and watch his face concentrate on mine. he's rough and deep, the result of not having his own orgasm earlier. I can see the lust in his eyes like he can't wait to dive in. all that comes out of my mouth are chants of his name, begging for him as his thumb toys with my clit. my walls clench and his jaw hangs open with a slight smile.

"do that again." he says. I obey, squeezing my thighs around his wrist. he feels so good there, and he's not even doing that much. "god, I can't wait for you to do that on my cock."

"fuck me, then." I breathe.

"gladly," he removes his fingers so suddenly, I make a disappointed noise. "get on the table, sweetheart."

"the-- the table?" I glance down at the surface. he nods in complete seriousness. oh, wow.

we clear off the two plates and down the rest of our champagne, his lips capturing mine easily the second I turn around from putting them in the sink. he walks me back to the table, never breaking our contact, before I end up sitting on it. he's between my legs, pushing his hips to mine while he moves my dress up again.

I hum into his neck while he starts to grind against me, undoing his belt and breathing quickly in my ear. I can feel his length through the fabric, feel how desperate he is. I scoot closer to the edge and try to get more.

"are you sure you don't want me to suck your dick?" I peek at him. he tilts my face up and I feel myself sink into those dark circles around his eyes. my beautiful, haunted boy.

"I need to be inside you." he says it without an ounce of humor. every word weighted with desire as he holds me there. my insides feel like they've been electrified, nerves sparking. all I can do is nod fervidly and pull his shirt off.

he takes off his bottoms and stares back at me, stroking his cock while I trail my nails down his chest, abdomen, whatever I can find. he's so gorgeous, I want to leave marks just so I can make sure he's real. he rubs himself in my essence, then pushes the head inside.

"Matthew--" I bite down on his shoulder to silence myself as he stretches me out. it hasn't even been that long, but it feels like the first time. his head dropping down with a long, low groan of pleasure.

"I missed this." he sheathes himself inside, deep, and I feel my walls tightening around him. there's a pressure on my clit from the position we're in, too. I whine on it, letting myself wiggle impatiently.

"move." I whisper. he starts to withdraw, only about halfway, before going in again. I throw my head back at the force of his thrust, so greedy. he's groaning softly while he presses his mouth to my throat, the flutter of his breath over my skin causing shivers to run up and down my spine.

I wrap my legs around his waist and he starts to find a rhythm with my body. nails dig into his back as an anchor. the closeness of his chest to mine is comforting.

"do you know how hard it was not to get myself off, baby?" he says, the words threaded with a needy tone. I shake my head and pray he'll keep talking. "every night I'd think about you and I couldn't do anything about it."

"you could have." I taunt.

"this is better," he goes faster, clutching at my waist and legs to pull me closer. "so much better."

"yeah?" I giggle, although it's hard when he's pounding into me so hard. I cling tightly and try to meet his thrusts. he's hitting different angles within me that I didn't even know existed, tearing me apart in the absolute best way.

"I wanna be inside it all day." he moans. I'm scratching his back with the way we're working together, every word out of his mouth and the sounds he makes causing me to lose my mind. his fingers dig into my ass as he slams into me. the table shakes beneath.

"that feels so fucking good." I grab on and roll my hips against his. his hand moves to my shoulder to push the straps of my dress down.

"let me see you," he tugs them until my tits are out, at which point he grabs my waist and pulls me against him, moaning loudly at the feeling. "pretty girl."

I can feel the tidal wave building within me, the seconds that gather into one wild, exquisite torrent of pleasure. the knot in my stomach tightens as he fucks me.

"I'm gonna cum." tears prick the back of my eyes. he's working my figure so perfectly, I can barely see. my legs are shaking before I even reach the culmination.

"good." he gets erratic as he imagines how pleasurable it'll be to have me clenching around him, and I sink below the surface. my hips jerk and I cry out like it's my last time being with him, his name pouring from my mouth. Matthew speeds up.

"so... tight--" he shudders. "oh fuck-- that's it, baby, that's it."

he spills inside and it prolongs our orgasms, both of us breathing hard while I remove my arms from his shoulders and lean back on my hands against the table, him still thrusting gently into me while we hold eye contact.

when he's finished, he removes himself from me and then we're just there, looking at each other with love all over our faces.

"happy birthday, Y/N." he grins.

"can you give me one more gift?" I bite my lip. he frowns.

"oh, I have several gifts for you in my suitcase--" he starts to say with a laugh, then sees that I'm not referring to anything tangible. "yes, anything."

"can you Clorox this table, please?"

Matthew kisses my cheek. "of course."

[kokororyuu]

miles apart [levi ackerman x reader]

synopsis: “you’re going to die,” “i know,” “you’re dying,” “i know, levi, i’m sorry,”

warnings ⚠️: major character death(s), SPOILERS up to season three, slight suggestive themes (its brief!!), brief description of gore

word count: 3.8k

author’s note: no, because,,, this was my first levi fanfic, and i’m immensely proud of it ‼️ if we ignore the “suggestive” part 😩😩 anyway, have fun reading, lovebugs <33

PART TWO: once more

whatever just happened, had happened too fast, and now both you and levi were laying side by side, miles apart from everyone else and the chaos that caused this whole mess in the first place.

you’re both injured bad from the war, and the stench of blood, both humans and titans alike, lays thick in the air. you find yourself nearly suffocating in it as you cough up what seems to be more blood, it’s metallic taste coating your lips and tongue in red.

you can barely feel your arms and legs, and you’re pretty sure they’re either broken or torn off from the fight. you pull your heavy lids open and stare blearily at the night sky, how many hours had passed since you two had been laying here like this?

you turn your head slowly, hearing the multiple cracks your joints made in the effort as your eyes trailed to levi’s face. he’s still in the same position, facing the sky with empty, soulless eyes. you reckon he was pondering something, how long were we gonna stay here? when will someone arrive to help us?

“levi?” you croak out, and he lets out a little rumble of acknowledgement. “are you okay?” what a stupid question... with how levi is, he definitely isn’t, but he was sure to make it seem like he was. he nods to the best of his ability, though he isn’t faring much better than you. gashes that gush with blood cut across his body in what seems to be parallel and equal in length, claws, of some sort, you assume. “good,” you whisper so softly that he almost doesn’t catch the murmured word.

your life seems to be flashing before your eyes quite slowly for the amount of time you’ve spent here bleeding out beside the man.

you recall the first time you caught him off guard.

it was a complete accident. as a member of levi’s squadron, you worked under him as a subordinate and did as he said, after all, he had chosen you to be on his team, and you put as much trust in him as he did in you.

you were bringing him some tea after you had dropped off a huge stack of paperwork in his office. you knew he needed it, after all, it had only been a few days after your most recent expedition and paperwork was a bore if you ever knew one.

a simple teapot and cup of black tea rested on the tray in your hands as you made your way from the kitchen to his office, acknowledging a few cadets that would respectfully greet you before going on their way. when you had finally made it to his door, you knocked gently before waiting for his usual question of your name and reason for entering.

a few seconds, maybe minutes passed, and you were beginning to think he wasn’t even there, but you hadn’t want the tea to go to waste, so you hesitantly pushed the door open with your foot, entering the sparkling clean room with tray in hand.

“captain levi?” you nearly bit your tongue (oluo would have laughed in your face if you did before biting down on his own) and froze with your head peeking inside the room at the sight of the man leaning his head against the back of his chair, his eyes closed and his usual frown wiped off his face.

it had you in a wonder, surprised that even humanity’s strongest (and grouchiest) soldier could have a face as calm as the one on his as he slept. you stepped as quietly as you could toward his desk, setting the tea down with care before you nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand wrapped around your wrist.

your eyes traveled up the scarred and rough hand, up the toned arm, and looked straight into narrowed grey eyes. “what are you doing here?”

“got you tea, captain,” your nerves were calm now, and you spoke with a grin, “thought you would need it with all the paperwork commander tosses at you,”

levi’s hand lingered on your wrist a little longer before he pulled away and carried the steaming cup to his lips in his strange cup hold that you’ve tried to mimic yet still can’t get right. he drank a little, his face ever so stoic. “tastes like shit, brat,” he said, though he made no move to drop the cup back into the tray and continued to sip away at the red orange liquid.

“thought you’d say that,” you turned to leave after saluting him, your hand wrapping around the doorknob before a mischievous impulse lit in you once more, “you know, captain,” he didn’t even glance up from the papers on his desk. “you look cute when you’re sleeping,” his gaze snapped up at that, and he was about to chew you out for making the comment, but to his dismay, you were already gone, having gotten the amusing response from him that you wanted.

there were many times after that where you’d make a little comment here and there, only to get an icy glare and a click of the tongue from levi, which wasn’t a problem to you at all, if anything, you found it the best part. the way he’d scowl at you and turn away, only to let you get away with it the very next day. it was like a little game the two of you would play, and you were winning if eye rolls, embarrassed blushes hidden behind callused hands, and, “tch,”’s counted as prizes.

you would’ve never thought he’d bite back, especially this far into the game.

“captain levi~!” you drew out his name with a little hop in your step. he didn’t stop walking, if anything, his pace sped up as he tried to leave you in the hallway. “captain!” you groaned childishly and ran after him. he turned the corner and into his office, leaving the door ajar. you grinned, it seemed he knew well enough you wouldn’t stop for a closed door. you opened it as soon as your hand touched the cool wood, and sang out, “levi~” you saw him standing by his desk and looking down at the papers that littered it. “i’ve got another joke for you—”

“—if you keep this up, i might actually get angry,” you halted in your tracks and clamped your mouth shut, angry? oh no, you weren’t trying to make him angry, only annoy him if anything. you knew, everyone knew to not get on levi’s bad side, and after seeing the man kick the titan shifter boy from the 104th cadets merciless, it’d be terribly stupid of you to try and anger him.

he dragged his fingertips across the tabletop and looked up through hooded eyes, “might even punish you,” you were stuck in a stupor at his words and how they obviously had implications for something else.

“but i guess you’d like that, hm? i wouldn’t want give you that satisfaction,” he seemed pleased with the way your cheeks flamed up and your jaw stayed dropped in shock. after he grabbed whatever he needed from his desk, he walked by you with a sly quirk of his lips, dragging a hand up to close your agape mouth. “close the door after you leave,” he called out before he disappeared out the door and down the hall.

-

from there on, your relationship had changed drastically. this game now had two players, and that new addition was the original target of the game himself. the teasing and playful jokes continued on for days, weeks, and you were having so much fun that you barely realized how much some people were noticing, including a certain bespectacled one.

“hey, hange!” you plopped next to them as you watched them fiddle with a little gadget. “what’s this?” you eyed curiously as hange laughed.

“my new creation! i’m trying to make something erwin asked for to help with his arm. you nodded, understanding immediately. the commander had lost his arm when the scouts went to save eren from a kidnapping. there was a few moments of silence before hange asked, “so… you and levi?”

you opened your mouth to retort but they beat you to it, “don’t deny it! even eren can tell, and he’s as dense as a rock!” you cowered from their accusing finger before huffing out a sigh.

“you know it doesn’t work like that, hange,” the mood dampened with your honest but hurtful words. you were right, it didn’t. with a world of titans and destruction, war like this, there would never be a second of peace, of life, of freedom. you could be alive and happy one day and then die and suddenly gone forever the next. and with levi being an ackerman, he was bound to survive longer than you, you just didn’t want to cause him more unnecessary pain.

hange hummed under their breath, “you’re right, but if it were me, i’d rather die knowing i had the chance and took it, than die letting it slip between my fingers,” they continued to tinker with the gadget as you pondered quietly on their words. they were right, but so were you, and now it was just up to the risk both sides were willing to take. what would happen if you ever confessed these buried feelings of yours to your terribly stoic captain?

-

in the end, you never said anything, at all. the two of you stayed at this sort of flirting and joking around type state. it was comfortable, you concluded, though you had to be honest, there were a few close calls where you felt you blushed too much, said too much, or gasped a little too loud when his touch lingered on you for too long.

you hadn’t said a word about your feelings for the man, and neither did he.

-

levi didn’t know when his heart had decided to let you in.

it was probably after erwin had passed away on a roof of a building with a gaping hole in his side that colored his cape and the white bandages around his abdomen red.

he brought his body back for a proper burial, but even then, levi couldn’t cry, nor let a single tear slip down his cheek. for a few weeks, even if he seemed put together, there was a heavy feeling that resided in his chest. no matter if he tried to sleep it away or drown himself in paperwork, it never left him.

it had been a rough night. there were complications with the imports from a faraway town in sina, and while hange was busy with things as the newly appointed commander, levi had to deal with the papers that came with the conflict.

he didn’t know how long he had been sitting before the fireplace in the mess hall, scratching away at the parchment under the warmth of the flickering fire that casted a warm orange hue around the room.

he clicked his tongue as another wave of aches hit his head before rubbing at his temples. erwin would’ve been better at handling this shit… his brow furrowed at his thoughts, you know better than that, there’s no bringing him back, you made the choice, levi.

levi didn’t regret his choice, but he had guessed the heavy presence of death had just stuck with him a little tighter this time around. it was fine, it would pass, at least, that was what he told himself.

during his turmoil, you had entered the mess hall as quietly as you could, “captain levi?” he looked up from the papers and pulled his hand away from his face with a quirked brow. “i brought you tea,” you spoke softly as to not agitate him any further. “i hope it tastes better than last time, i practiced,” you sent him a lopsided smile that you hoped would ease his frown, but instead, it brought the opposite.

the lines on his face became deeper as he scowled, “i don’t have time right now,” and the grumble of your name right after sounded harsh on both yours and even his ears. it was now your turn to pout. you definitely weren’t trying to mess around with him right now, not with all the stress and the recent death of one of his closest friends.

you sat there across from him at the table in silence for a few moments as he penned the paper. what could make him feel better? you thought quietly to yourself, your eyes raking over levi in search of something, any indicator to help him. a sudden idea popped in your head as you stood, making your way to stand behind him as you watched his eyes never leave the documents. “what are you doing?”

you reached over and plucked the pen from his hand, placing it down on the table and ignoring his glare, “just relax, levi, i’m gonna try and sort out these tense ass muscles of yours,” as soon as the words popped out of your mouth, your hands began to press into his shoulders, eliciting a little sound of surprise from levi. he almost immediately tensed back up at the foreign feeling but relaxed to the best of his abilities after a few pointed words from you.

“i’m not just here to get you tea, you know?” you worked out a knot in his neck, watching as his head lolled to the side to give you more room to work. “i had the same training as you, and i know how to handle paperwork, you could always ask if you need the help,” he hummed at your offer, and you only chuckled before getting back to his tense muscles.

levi let himself relax, more so than he probably ever had. your hands made their way up the base of his neck, and he let out a little sigh. he didn’t think this would feel this good, and he was considering what he could do to pay you back before realizing. what was the need to? you were doing the work of a subordinate for a superior, there was no need for him to treat you to anything.

but there was something that made levi realize that it wasn’t true, no matter how much every fiber in his body wanted to reject the idea. you were different, in your own weird way, and he couldn’t place his finger on it yet, but he decided he’d find out along the way.

“alright, you can work with me starting tomorrow, meet me here after dinner. if you’re late, i’m not letting you help again,” you smiled victoriously and pat his shoulders to signify you were done massaging them.

“alright then! see you tomorrow, captain,” you saluted him and shuffled out of the mess hall to leave him to his work.

the man held back a chuckle, sipping on the now lukewarm tea by his side. he had to admit, you were getting better at brewing his favorite drink.

levi’s heart felt a little lighter that night.

-

the two of you were almost impossibly closer after that. early mornings were spent with hange at important meetings and gatherings, most of the days were spent listening to hange rant about titans and ridiculous (but hilarious) and sometimes even useful plans, and late nights would be spent on paperwork and idle chatter by the warm fireplace in the mess hall.

the two of you would talk about nothing and everything, sometimes levi letting you talk his ear off as he added comments here and there or choosing to bask in each other’s silence as the flames beside you two crackled.

there were nights you fell asleep at the table, only to wake up in the middle of the night with a blanket that looked suspiciously like the one levi refused to share with you the night before around your shoulders that smelled of fresh laundry and lemons.

-

levi remembered all these little moments, including the time he had to yank a paper from under your arm to save it from your impending drool, or the multiple times he draped his cotton blanket over you and pulled it around your shoulders, his hands hesitating to pick off the dust that had resided on your cheek before gently brushing it off you and holding his breath when you’d twitch or move from his touch.

he still couldn’t really understand how it happened really, but spending time with you made him realize how much he liked the way you smiled at him no matter how annoyed he was with you, and the way you talked to him like he wasn’t humanity’s strongest soldier.

he felt normal, and strangely free.

and for some reason, he felt that if you ever disappeared from his sight, he’d lose this light feeling in his chest that outshined the bitter emotions he was always burdened with.

he didn’t want to lose you.

levi huffs, trying to control his unsteady breathing. there’s a feeling of discomfort that settles in his chest, and he’s not sure if it’s from just the cuts and bruises he obtained from the crash. you’re treating him like he’s fragile, like glass, and he hates it, sure, he’s broken, even he knows that, but he hates it.

humanity’s strongest soldier… he scoffs internally at himself, well, he feels pretty pathetic at the moment. he then outwardly scowls, gripping onto the pants of his torn uniform.

“you’re going to die,” he doesn’t mean for his words to sound so sharp, and he’s sure that his tone hurts you more than the gashes that litter your torso.

“i know,” he’s right, it hurts, and they seem to cut deeper than your wounds, as if someone struck your heart with a knife and twisted the blade.

his voice nearly breaks when he says this, but he stays... strong, “you’re dying,”

“i know, levi. i’m sorry,”

you know this man has been through so much, too much. he lost too many, has seen too much, he’s been through so many tragedies, and you still haven’t seen him cry, not once, and not now as you lay beside him, shivering and keeping your eyes open enough to watch him glare up at the night sky.

one last attempt, you think to yourself. you need to get his attention before it’s too late, before you fade away and disappear, but you can already feel your conscious slipping through your fingertips and your eyes drooping.

“levi…” your voice sounds pained when he stays turnt away from you and looks up at the moon, “i’m proud of you,” levi’s heart squeezes and so does his eyes, he doesn’t want to hear your soft voice right now, nor look at your mangled body, or hear the shouts of soldiers swinging around on their odm gear or the battle cries as they slice into titans’ napes.

you bite back a cry at his act of ignorance to your pleas for him to just look at you, and fall silent as your energy drains along with the blood that comes from you and him and soak into the earth. you meant those words, you mean what you said, and you beg him with your eyes focused on his high cheekbones to just spare you a glance while his stay glued to the twinkling stars.

it becomes so quiet, that levi begins to think you’ve already kicked the bucket with how he can barely hear your breathing.

he’s already preparing himself to do what he usually does, steel himself against the terrible emotions of survivor’s guilt and sorrow. every time he feels the twinge of depression and desperation creep up and wrap itself around his heart, he escapes to his mind, the logical part of him. the part that keeps him miles apart from everything, distance, safety.

he does it so much that you know, and you can tell he’s doing it right now with how tense his brow is and how the nails of the hand which lays between you digs into his palm. he’s closing himself off again, even after all these years you’ve spent together as comrades, partners in crimes, and what you hope was as friends.

you try to distract yourself some more, with anything really, the way his hair, though covered in blood seems to flow seamlessly to the sides of his head, revealing his undercut, and his eyes that stare silently into the endless blue sky, or the familiar smell of citrus and fresh laundry that you get from him even with the layers of smoke that are wafting from the ongoing battle burning your lungs or the smell of blood still seeping out from the both of you.

you want to hold onto the lingering hope that he’ll turn to you and at least say one last goodbye, or say those unspoken feelings he’s always hidden behind cool grey eyes, but he doesn’t say a word.

time is running out, and you need to say this, say this before you leave him like everyone else. levi’s fingers twitch when he hears you take in a sudden breath, your voice coming out quiet, weak, frail.

“the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” levi’s eyes open, and his head snaps toward you, and he regrets it, so bad. he manages to catch the exact moment the light, the life, fades from your very eyes he always thought were so gorgeous.

he’s lost his light.

you’re gone.

levi feels this terrible grip on his heart that makes him lose his breath and his head pound worse than it already is, and he chokes on the blood that gushes from his lips. his hand reaches out to you weakly, his arms, losing their strength, and he barely has the energy to keep his eyes open.

he almost can’t bring himself to do it, but he leans forward to press a shaky and hesitant kiss on the top of your head that he hopes conveys all the unsaid confessions he could’ve showered you with before your passing. his lips are warm, while your body turns pale and blue, and he finds it ironic how someone as kind and bright as you now seems dull in comparison to him.

as unshed tears pool at the corners of his eyes, your lifeless ones bore into his for the last time before he pushes them close with a touch of his hands over your eyes.

his heart, it hurts so bad, more than it ever has, and no matter how much he tries to push down the lump in his throat or the burning of his eyes and heart, it persists. he slowly falls back into his previous position, your corpse beside him losing its warmth and his steel grey eyes facing the moon once more.

the fuzzy lines around the full moon start to blur as he blinks a few times, the hues of white mixing with the blue of the sky, “it is…”

and finally, he lets himself cry.

explanations

“the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

this is a more poetic way to say “i love you” in japanese :D

“it is...”

this is essentially “i love you too” in reply to “the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

[thefanfictionartist]

Stress Relief

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou X Y/N

Summary: After a messy break up with another blonde peer, Y/N is left with pent up frustration, making it difficult to focus on third year exams. While studying with the Bakusquad, she notices a similar frustration in Bakugou. How are they going to relieve that stress?

Word Count: 3.8k

Rated M for Mature; intended for 18+ audiences.

A/N: Those of you with Wattpad may have seen this story from my one-shot book already.

Part Two

  ~          ~           ~            ~             ~               

 "Boys are dumb."

    That was the first conclusion you had come up with while sitting with your best friend, Mina Ashido, at lunch. As you slump over in your seat and place your head in your heads, she wraps her arms around you in consolation.

    "Well.. I can't exactly argue with you on that one." The pink-skinned girl manages a small glance to a few of the class 1-A boys.

    One of which had managed to short circuit himself while charging five phones at once, the others nearly collapsing with their laughter at their friend. Mina manages a sigh before casting her gaze back onto you.

    "Look, you know that he's just trying to get under your skin." She states before pulling away to take a sip of her soda.

    You know exactly who she's talking about because she knows exactly why you're upset.

    It was all because of a stupid dreamy blond in class 1-B. Neito Monoma. As of the current moment, you can't remember what you ever really saw in him. Why would anyone date such an egotistical ass? Risking it all, you take a chance with looking towards his usual seat in the cafeteria to find him looking right at you. And you know what he does when he sees you?

    He winks.

    Like you didn't catch him a few weeks ago with Yaoyorozu.

    Huffing in slight embarrassment, you turn back to your own table, swearing to yourself that you won't ever look his way again. "Nei-" No. He doesn't deserve for his first name to be used by you anymore. "Mr. Copycat can go fuck himself. I don't fucking care."

    You scowl, taking an aggressive bite of soba.

    "Besides, the final exams are coming up. I don't have the energy to even think about him."  You recollect, reverting to thinking about the study session the Bakusquad planned for this weekend. Mina gives you a blinding smile and a thumbs up.

    "There's the spirit, Y/N!" Her enthusiasm is hard not to mirror as lunch goes on and it ends with soba noodles nearly spurting from your nose because you were laughing so hard.

                                                         - - - - - 

    Classes had just ended for the week and you're pretty sure that you have lost knowledge rather than attaining more. Thank god for this study session or you would be failing your third year at UA.

    You rub your head, feeling a headache coming on as you try to recite important hero laws you've been taught earlier in the year. Feet dragging you into the dorms, you plop onto the couch of the common room without thinking about it. "Always be aware of your surroundings.. Do anything in your power to keep civilians safe.. Keep track of villains and whether or not you know their quirks.." Starting to mumble situational rules, you miss the extra presence in the room.

    "Oh, hey Y/N!"

    Kirishima's voice snaps you from your mantra, your head whipping around to look at him. "What's up, Kiri?"

    "We're all meeting up in Bakugou's room to start cramming. Kaminari wanted to start a little earlier than planned and I thought you might want to join." Sheepishly scratching the back of his neck, he gives you a friendly sharp-toothed smile, which manages to raise your spirits a bit.

    Nodding, you are already out of your seat. "Yeah, I'll be there I just have to grab my notes from my dorm first."

    Memorizing these things would be much easier with other people helping you remember. It always was. But somehow, you still felt distracted from your studies. You knew exactly why but also refused to dwell on the subject any longer. It wasn't worth your time.

Just as promised, you showed up at Bakugou's door a few minutes later with your 'cram-sesh' bag.

It was really just a bag filled with all of your notes, bunches of blank index cards, and an incessant amount of snacks. Because chewing can help you study better? You are pretty sure you heard that somewhere.

Opening the door, you find Kaminari and Sero looking at Bakugou with the most dumbfounded expressions you've ever seen.

"Oi! It's not that fucking hard-" Said Pomeranian was already fuming at the pair. "Just divide 78 from x and do it to the other side! It's literally the easiest question in the study guide!"

A small chuckle causes the edges of your lips to curl up in amusement with Bakugou's fit of anger as you sit down beside Mina and Kirishima, ready to fill out flash cards like your life depended on it.

For the next few hours you had tuned the yelling out so you could focus on what concepts you were sure you didn't get. Working with Kirishima and Mina was a breeze, although you felt bad sticking Bakugou with two boys who seem to have negative brain cells around one another. Managing a glance to the trio proves that it's the worst thing for Bakugou, the one of the three that not only looks like he might explode from anger, but could possibly explode. Averting your eyes to the clock, you almost gasp at the time.

No wonder you were feeling drowsy.

It was almost one in the morning. "Hey, hedgehog!" You call to Bakugou after a hefty yawn. "You got any of those energy drinks left?" The plan was to stay up all night tonight for a cramming session, although another glance to the two you were studying with proves that only one person was left. Unsure of when Kirishima left you shrug off the thought. He must need his manly sleep or whatever he calls it.

Wordlessly, Bakugou leans back to open a mini fridge behind him and grab an energy drink to toss to you.

He appears to be long done with the two boys sat beside him like lost puppies. Or at least his patience with them is completely shredded. Not to mention they didn't look like they could handle understanding any more information. "Kaminari, Sero, why don't you guys head to bed for a few hours?"

"Brain need sleep." Kaminari mutters, getting up and walking out the door without blinking. Sero follows him in a similar state, but still manages to say goodnight to the remaining three in the room.

You can hear Bakugou sigh in relief from the other side of the room as you look to Mina, fully intent on continuing with the flash cards you were quizzing each other with. Although, you find her with her hand covering her mouth as she yawns. "I'm gonna catch a few z's I think. But I'll be back around 8 in the morning." Granting her a smile, you nod, letting her head off to bed, although you were disappointed since you felt like you were making progress.

"Yeah, I'll be here, studying. Goodnight, Mina." Bakugou merely grunts in acknowledgment as Mina leaves you two alone in the room.

This definitely wasn't the first time you had been in Bakugou's room alone while studying. But it was the first time that you noted Bakugou was so.. tense. "Were the boys really that bad?" One of your eyebrows quirks in curiosity to his enhanced sense of irritation. A quick flash of red tells you that Bakugou is glaring daggers at you from your simple question.

"Tch. They're always bad." You note the roll of his eyes before the crimson hues land on whatever study guide he has in front of him.

Scooting your work so that the papers are sprawled closer to your study buddy, you lean against his bed, still laser focused on how frustrated he seemed. "And? You're normally more patient with them.. It takes at least two hours before your screaming, typically."

"Whatever."

    You click your tongue, deciding to leave the topic for the moment. "Can you quiz me on these really quick? I think I have them down by now." The stack of index cards you had filled out with Mina ends up on top of the paper that Bakugou is focused on.

    The blond makes a small noise of irritation and for a moment, you swear he's about to blow up on you.

    Instead, he neatly collects the index cards and sets them to the side of his own paper. "Yeah, I need a break first. Dunce face is exhausting."

    You nod, cracking open the energy drink you were given not to long ago while Bakugou does the same. Sighing contently, you can already feel the 300 mg of caffeine beginning it's work. "Want any snacks?" Looking to Bakugou, you point at your bag as you refer to snacks, knowing that he'd probably steal all of your Takis.

    It doesn't take long for him to find the sacred bag of spicy chips that he craved. "Thanks." He utters, settling down as he has himself a little midnight snack break.

    Both of you sit in silence for a minute and surprisingly, you aren't the one to break that bubble.

    Bakugou glances to you confusedly, something weighing on his mind. "What's the deal with you and that copycat bastard lately? I thought you two couldn't breathe without sucking faces every hour." He smirks, containing a chuckle. Really, he was relieved he didn't have to witness it for the past few weeks. The scene could make anyone uncomfortable.

    Your face flushes red in frustration at the mention of He-Who-You-Swore-Not-To-Name.  Not able to bring yourself to look at Bakugou, you fiddle with a stray pencil on the floor.

    "We broke up."

    Keeping your tone curt, you make it clear that this is not a subject you'd like to discuss. In fact, it was the one thing that actually messed with you at this point. You hated that He-Who-You-Swore-Not-To-Name had this kind of hold on you. A hold that distracted you and made you question whether or not you should go back to him.

    "He cheated on me." You decide to give further explanation to a speechless Bakugou, pretending to write notes on a mostly blank paper.

    "Shit- I-" He stumbles over his words, smirk falling.

    Offering a small smile, you finally look back at him. "It's fine... I only miss him for the stress relief anyways." Adding a small remark seems to put Bakugou back into his normal, non-sympathetic state.

    "Huh?"

    "He's a shitty boyfriend, but a good fuck." You put it into terms Bakugou would be more likely to understand. "Now will you stop eating the damn chips and quiz me on the rest of the flash cards."

    "Tch." A dusting of pink momentarily appears on Bakugou's cheeks, but he seems to ignore it as he picks up the index cards again. "Describe the Crime Control Theory."

"Pfft. That's easy." The remark leaves your lips before you really reach into the depths of your mind for the answer. "It's.." Oh no. Didn't you just go over that with Mina. "It's.." Trying to actually think about it makes you realize that your mind has been bombarded with the crummy memory of He-Who-You-Swore-Not-To-Name, so, you huff and bullshit your way through the answer.

"It's obviously the theory that.. theoretically.. describes how to control crime?"

A scowl from Bakugou tells you that you most definitely have the answer wrong. "Are you really that much of a dumbass?" He says it so patronizingly that you're almost personally offended.

"Hey! It's not like that. I've just had a rough few weeks, alright? Give me a break." You pout. "Maybe if I help you study something I'll pick up something? What are you working on?" Reaching towards the blonde male, you grab the paper he seemed to be writing on previously, much to his own shame.

"What the fuck is this?" You don't mean to sound rude when you ask the question you're just shocked.

Instead of finding a paper with neat answers to question and nice notes in the margins, you discover that whatever work was on the paper has been completely covered with angry scribbles. Looking at Bakugou, you can tell that even he's disappointed in himself. His head hangs low and he can't seem to bring himself to look you in the eyes. "I don't fucking know! I was fine with geometry a week ago and.." He lets out an exasperated noise, hitting the back of his head on his bed.

"Somethings wrong with me. All I can think about it that shitty written final test and how I can't fail it. I need to be a hero but that means I need to graduate."

All that you find yourself responding with is a resounding laugh, so powerful that you're clutching your stomach.

"Oh my- Bakugou, do you hear yourself right now?"

Boom Boom Boy sends a piercing glare to you. "Shut up! Just forget I said anything, idiot!"

"That not what I-" You take a deep breath to stop most of your laughing. "I meant it's ridiculous for you of all people to be worried about these finals. You've literally been studying for this shit since you were a first year."

Bakugou's expression softens with your words.

"I can't help it. I just-" His hands comb through his spiky blond locks for a moment before grabbing and pulling large sections of his hair. "Gah! What is this?!"

"It's called stress, Bakubro." You finalize the statement with a soft punch to his shoulder. "Welcome to the world of normal emotion."

"I don't want it!" Bakugou abruptly puts his hands on the ground, looking overall agitated, like a child who doesn't want to go down for naps.

"There are ways to make yourself less stressed you know? In fact there's one word I can fit stress relief into: Fun." Both of your hands open dramatically in front of you as you say fun, hoping to get Bakugou in a better mood. He is your tutor after all and if he's too stressed to help, you're screwed.

    "Tch. Fun is something for kids, dumbass." He responds nonchalantly, rolling his eyes irritably as though you should've known that as fact.

    You smirk, stifling a chuckle behind your hand as you retort, "So you're saying that only kids have sex?" A small giggle echoes momentarily through the room from you as you appreciate Bakugou's dumbfounded expression.

    "You think I should have sex to relieve stress?"

    "Well... yeah? It's always worked for me and I'm pretty sure most people would agree with me." There's a long moment of uncomfortable silence that you sit in with Bakugou as he mills over what you've just said.

    "..." The blond hedgehog furrows his eyebrows as he thinks, finally gazing in your direction. "And who do you suggest I have sex with? It's not like I have time for a relationship when I'm gonna be the number one hero." This question throws you for a loop. And you consider the options that he has mentally before realizing there's a perfect option that you hadn't considered yet.

    "Why not just get a friend with benefits? That way it's just sex when you need it without the additive of romance."

    "You're still not answering the 'who the fuck would agree to that shit'?!"

    "Me." You deadpan.

    The explosive boy sitting next to you fumbles for his next wording in a stupefied manner. "S-S-Ser-iously?"

    Shrugging, you nod, locking onto his eyes with your own. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be serious? It's not like I want a relationship now anyways after that dumbass Copycat. Plus it's not just you that's stressed out over shit, you know?"

   Seemingly considering the option, Bakugou looks to his lap, biting his lip in deep thought.

    "Fine." He looks to you annoyedly, even though his body was certainly excited by the idea. "But first we probably need some shitty ground rules or something."

    "Agreed."

    "Don't tell anyone about what we do or I'll blow your ass up." Irate at the thought of Raccoon Eyes finding out about this and telling everyone, Bakugou subconsciously leans towards you. Not that you noticed.

    "Wasn't planning on it."

    "Any special rules you got?" A smirk plays at the corners of Bakugou's lips as he leans towards you.

    With Bakugou this close, you can feel your heart begin to beat a little faster with excitement. "Um-" In a couple spare second of clarity, you manage to choke out, "I might be on birth control but I still want you to use a condom."

    "Done."

    He responds coolly, leaning ever so much closer to you and letting his lips brush over yours before he shifts to whisper in your ear. "If we do this, I want the ability to fuck you whenever and wherever I like."

    Your breath hitches and you boldly decide to wrap your arms around Bakugou's neck as your eyes meet his crimson hues. "Just stay within reason.. and don't fall in love with me." You add another rule with a sultry tone.

    "You better not fall in love with me, dumbass." Bakugou hisses before connecting his lips with yours in a heated fervor. His hands attach to each side of your face, giving him most control over the kiss. You moan softly against him in response to his aggressiveness, your body already tingling.

    Up until this moment, you hadn't realized how much your body was craving to be this close with someone. It was enough to make you almost painfully aroused within the minute.

    Bakugou pushes you so that you're comfortably laying on the carpeted floor of his dorm room, with him directly between your legs. Your hands pull at his shirt, desperate to get it off right now. He catches on to the message quickly and pulls off his shirt in record time, still letting out a low growl of discontent when he had to pull away from the kiss. His lips meet back with yours, this time noting just how plush your lips feel against his.

    Scratching lightly over Bakugou's chest seems to rile him up some because within seconds, he's already rutting himself against your clothed core, the bulge in his joggers becoming very apparent.

     Gasping softly at the friction, you comb your fingers through his hair, pulling at a few tufts while Bakugou takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You can feel the slippery muscle glide sensually above yours, completely dominating your mouth before you even have the chance to defend. Wrapping your legs around Bakugou's hips, you grind against him. He groans and you decide to tangle your tongue with his in the hopes of winning the small battle.

    But before you can win, he pulls back, his pupils blown by so much lust that you can barely see the scarlet iris surrounding them. "Clothes off, now.." The husky tone of his voice sends waves of arousal straight to your core and you fumble to stand up while he digs through his draw for a condom.

    In record time, you've completely stripped yourself of clothing and laid on Bakugou's bed, which was exceedingly more comfortable that the floor. You feel yourself ache for some kind of pleasure and unabashedly open your legs to display your dripping core to Bakugou. "Bakugou.. please fuck me." You whine lewdly, being mindful of the fact that the blond has neighbors.

    He had expected for you to want more preparation but with the way you were strewn out on his bed, so deliciously begging for his cock... How could he deny your request?

    In an instant, his remaining clothes are discarded and the condom is rolled safely on his erection. In the next moment he's on top of you, lining himself up with your hole.

    Despite how much he wanted to shove himself inside of you immediately, he still took a moment to look into your eyes and ask, "Are you sure about this, (Y/N)?"

    "Yes!"

    You respond enthusiastically. "Please! I need your-" You are promptly interrupted by Bakugou thrusting into you unforgivingly, making you gasp with a loud moan. "Fuck!" Having him fully sheathed inside of you was unlike anything you've felt before. It was so pleasurable that you truly couldn't think of anything else.

    "Shit-" Bakugou balances himself above you by placing his hand just above your shoulders. He takes a moment to let you adjust to his size. Although, it's hard to control himself with how tight and warm you feel. He grimaces, hands crackling slightly with his quirk as he tries to slowly pull himself out of you and thrust back in.

    The next thrust pinpoints your g-spot, making you moan loudly beneath Bakugou. He smirks down to you, knowing exactly where he hit and intending to hit it again. Your hand grab at his back, stabilizing yourself as he drives himself against your g-spot again and again, finding a starting rhythm and gradually getting faster with his thrusts.

    Each rut from Bakugou tears an angelic moan from your throat. And even though he loves the sound, he ends up covering your mouth and leaning towards your ear while he picks up the pace. "Be quiet, dumbass." He reprimands. "You're gonna wake everyone up if you keep crying like that." His eyes look to yours from a moment and you nod to confirm that you heard him, your moans muffled by his hand.

    Soon Bakugou's hand is replaced with his lips as he kisses you roughly, his calloused hand tracing gently down your sides while he drills into you.

    Each of your moans vibrates against his lips, although you try to conceal most of them, in fear of someone catching you. You can feel Bakugou's hips stutter slightly against you and he moves his fingers down to your clit, rubbing circles while he thrusts even harder. You whimper pathetically at the sensation, your walls clamping down on Bakugou's cock as you reach your climax with him soon chasing after his own.

    He pants heavily, groaning as his hips still against you. Releasing into the condom, he rolls to the side to discard of the trash, tossing your clothes to you. He wiped himself off with a tissue and begins to dress himself before looking back to you with a smirk.

    "I think this 'Friends who have fun' thing is really gonna work, (Y/N). I feel better already."

    You smile, throwing on your shirt and underwear while still on the bed. "I told you sex was fun.." Hopping off the bed, you wobble ever-so-slightly before slipping back into your shorts. You nudge Bakugou playfully before settling on the ground. "Let's pick up where we left off, shall we?"

    Your eyes scour the ground for the index cards that you had been quizzing with previously.

    "Actually..." Bakugou begins speaking, making you look up to him. "We still have a few hours before the idiots come back." He gestures to the clock before looking at you mischievously. "And I think I should relieve a little more tension before dealing with them."

[masterwords]

The Sum of Us

Summary

: Post-Mayhem car ride back to Quantico, but this is the version where Hotch is flying high on hydros and it’s just mostly cute.  Nearly all fluff.

Pairings: None

Warnings: Hotch’s Mayhem injury aftermath, some swearing, pain killers

Words: 3.8k 

**

“New car smell,” Derek muttered, adjusting the driver seat beneath him, sliding forward and back until he hit the sweet spot.  “Just covering up the smell of stank ass from everyone else who drives these things.”

“Morgan,” Aaron rolled his eyes and eased himself into the vehicle, wincing as he felt every strained vertebrae grind and shift.  Morgan reached over without even looking and pressed the seat warmer button for Aaron's seat before settling himself back in.  Aaron watched his sly move as he shifted his weight, tried to get comfortable, and a soft little smile betrayed his carefully set scowl.  It was in those little acts of service, seemingly insignificant moments, that their friendship still lived, specks of brilliance in the crevices just waiting to be found.  

“The least they could do is give us some island sunset or apple orchard, hell I'd even take that one that smells like Christmas trees over new car smell.”  The small of Aaron's back was a swell of bulging knotted muscle and bruises that spread all the way around to his stiff hips, the rest a tangle of road rash and gashes.  There was a patchwork of itchy bandages placed from his shoulders to his calves, gravel scrapes and shrapnel wounds hiding beneath.  He tested out approximately one thousand different variations of sitting before coming to the realization that he was in for hours of torture, the only relief he would get at all would come in the form of the seat warmer against his strained muscles, if the thing actually worked. Getting back home was going to test every ounce of mental fortitude he had at his disposal.  In his pocket were the painkillers he hadn't taken, and he was acutely aware of how very, very stubborn he was knowing relief was sitting at his fingertips and his nose was in the air like a child who wouldn't eat its spinach.  

“You taking the 95?” Aaron asked, distracting himself momentarily trying to pull up the GPS on his phone.  Morgan made a deep humming noise as he turned over the engine and fiddled with his phone, but not the GPS.  He knew the way.  Mostly.  He'd figure it out, anyway.  Like a ninja, he quickly snapped a picture of Aaron beside him and shot it off to Garcia to let her know they were hitting the road, she'd been keeping extra close tabs on him since his ambulance fiasco the night prior and he was indulging her.  “Did you just take a picture of me?”

“For Garcia,” he replied, winking.  “You know how she gets.  Okay, listen, we gotta get some gas but I wanna wait until we're out of the city so think about what snacks you want on the way.”

“I don't,” he began, but Derek cut him off.

“If you don't think of something, you're at my mercy.  I don't do road trips without snacks.  Take one of those hydros in your pocket and tell me what you want when we get to the gas station, that'll be a fun game.”  

“I really don't think that's a good idea.”  Being no stranger to injuries, he knew taking his pain medication in the company of others was likely a bad idea, he would let his guard down and then they'd both be in for it.  No, he'd wait until he was home and he could try to sleep through the hazy, loopy floating feeling of complete loss of control.  

“No? You're really gonna sit there for almost 5 hours like that?  You've barely been there for two minutes and I can tell you're crawling out of your skin, but suit yourself man.  I'm not your mama.”

“Five hours?  You said three...”

“Yeah, well, I may have been a little off in my estimation.  Change your mind about those pills?”

Aaron pulled the bottle from his pocket and regarded it, shifting his hips again.  “Five hours?”  Derek nodded, and Aaron popped the lid open and quickly tossed one of the pills into his throat, swallowing it dry.  Derek cringed at the sight and watched as Aaron settled back into the seat and tried to relax into the warmth spreading across the leather and into his lower back.  One point for him, he figured.  It had almost been too easy.

The open road wasn't very open for a while, but Derek found a gas station once they were outside of the city limits and things weren't so bottle necked.  He pulled up to an open pump and slammed the car into park, throwing his seat belt off almost immediately.  

“Snacks?” he asked, and Aaron just worked his fingers at his belt buckle and ignored the snack request for a minute while he argued internally with the tightness and the pain in his shoulders.  He could feel the hyrdo kicking in but it was just barely taking the edge off, he had a way to go.  Derek went inside without waiting on an answer, told Aaron to stay in the car, but once the belt was unbuckled he got out to pump the gas instead.  He wasn't an invalid, no amount of physical pain could overcome his stubborn streak and if anyone had wanted him to be taking it easy, they should have seen fit to chain him to a bed.  They all knew better.  When Derek returned to a full tank of gas and Aaron buckled back in, he just shook his head and laughed while he dumped the snacks into the back seat and rifled through them for the good stuff.  The back seat was littered with pepperoni sticks and beef jerky and water bottles, an assortment of candy and a giant bag of pretzels.  He hated pretzels, but he knew Aaron loved them.  Dry mouthfuls of carbs that tasted like salted cardboard were not his choice of cheater snacks.  If he was going to eat junk, it was going to be heaps of dried, cured meat.  Aaron could have his sugar rush and salty carbs and Derek would take his chocolate raisins and meat sweats and they'd have a grand time.  

“These still your favorite?” he asked, tossing a bag of chocolate covered gummy bears into Aaron's lap.  Aaron nodded and smiled, it was an easier smile now that his pill was taking hold.  His entire body still hurt but somehow, he just didn't seem to mind it as much, it was an afterthought.  He picked up the bag, listened to the way it crinkled in his hands, eyed their little ears and tiny noses and wondered if he could still tell what flavor they were on the inside just by smell, a trick he'd worked endlessly on as a teenager for no reason other than he had the time.  It had never impressed anyone.

“You remembered,” he muttered, hardly even realizing he'd said it out loud.  Derek laughed and got them back on the road.

“Of course I did.”  He hated those candies, it was probably the nastiest candy he'd ever tried, and his sister used to love black licorice and Boston Baked Beans.  One taste of those chocolate covered fruity gummy bears and his gag reflex took control, it was just too much.  Aaron assured him the cinnamon ones were even better (better than vile?) but they were harder to find, you had to go to those big candy shops in the mall for them, and going to the mall was rarely worth the trouble.  He had spit the gummy into the garbage and asked Aaron who hurt him, but Aaron just told him they were better than the Whoppers that Derek had been shoving into his face earlier and thus began an epic month long candy war. Derek would sit down at his desk and find little chocolate gummy bears standing sentinel beside his phone, on his laptop, in his drawer.  Aaron would find piles of Whoppers on his chair, in his briefcase, melted chocolate on everything.  Gideon finally put an end to the madness by telling them they were both disgusting, there was nothing better than a classic Hershey chocolate bar, causing them to band together and wage their war against Gideon's taste buds. Gideon didn't give a hoot about the candy, he'd just wanted them to stop arguing and leaving bits of chocolate everywhere, and all it took was getting them to work together for a common cause.  A sacrifice he had to make multiple times over the years.  It wasn't until Spencer came along that the little battles ceased.  They would both be lying if they said they didn't miss it.  

“Hey, remember when you changed Gideon's speed dial numbers to all the best take out spots?” Derek asked, nudging Aaron with his elbow.  Aaron had been staring mindlessly out of the window, losing himself in the haze of the melty feeling the drugs gave him.  He never would have put himself in such a compromising and vulnerable position with anyone else, not even Dave if he was being honest.  Not on purpose anyway.  The thing about Derek that made him safer, made him different, was that he never tried to baby him, never tried to coddle him, he just let him be and scolded when necessary.  He still had some semblance of autonomy, even if he shouldn't.  Derek wasn't looking for someone to take care of, he just wanted his friend.  

“The best part was that he couldn't resist ordering when they answered...” Aaron mused, an easy smile sliding across his face.  “We ate a lot of really good Thai that week.  I think we tried everything on the menu at whatever restaurant I put on number one.”  

“That was an expensive prank,” Derek laughed.  Gideon had ordered lunch for all three of them every single time, but he indicated he'd be paying in cash and gave the name Aaron Hotchner for the orders every time.  “How much did it run you in the end?”

“Enough that Haley lost her shit and told me to change the numbers back or we'd be washing dishes for the restaurant to work off the bill.  I changed them all to your number afterward.”

“You're a dick, you know that?”

“So I've been told.”

The road stretched out before them, state lines blurred together, and rest stops came and went before finally Aaron said he needed to stop, he had to stand up and walk, he was starting to feel sick.  Derek couldn't believe they'd gotten that far without having to stop, Aaron hated not being the one to drive, he got motion sick and secondary road rage at the same time, though the hydros seemed to be taking care of one of those afflictions.  They walked through the little dog path, through a small wooded area on the side of the highway, in silence.  Derek kicked at the rocks on the path with the toe of his boots, listening to them land in the grass with a thud, feeling Aaron's careful concentration on his steps beside him.  Every so often he stumbled but righted himself on his own, eyes blinking lazily, placing one foot in front of the other.  

“Good?” Derek asked when they found themselves back at the car and Aaron nodded, climbing back into his seat with a peaceful look on his face, nausea quelled for now.  The next stop was at a roadside produce stand, and they shared a laugh over both of them choosing to grab some oddly shaped carrots to snack on while they searched out somewhere to eat a real lunch.  They managed to settle on a kitschy diner somewhere in south Maryland that played Dolly Parton and Elvis Presley on a loudspeaker to the parking lot, welcoming guests inside with a preview of what they could expect, which was just a lot of oddities.  They chose to sit at a booth with a poster of an old Ronald Reagan movie behind them, while the next booth over was being loomed over by a statue of Betty Boop.  In the loopy hydro daze, Aaron thought the place was both hilarious and terrifying, but sat stoic across from Derek trying to make sense of the menu.  In the end, because he couldn’t seem to focus on anything long enough to decide, he copied Derek's order of chicken fried steak with steamed veggies and settled back into the squeaky red vinyl seat. The conversation drifted between stories about the old days, memories they hadn't dredged up in years, and how different things were now.  

“Pretty crazy how much people can change in a few short years...” Derek mused, cutting up his food, watching Aaron just pick at his.  Aaron nodded in agreement and he felt that statement land like a knife in his sternum.  One he deserved.  He turned his lazy, tired eyes up at Derek apologetically, opened his mouth to speak, but Derek shook his head and held up his hand, stopping him mid breath.  “Nope.  Don't. I get it, man.  We've both changed, the team changed, the jobs changed, hell the only thing that's stayed the same are the monsters we chase around this country.  I didn't mean anything by it.  Don't spoil this trip by getting all serious now.”    

“I am sorry,” Aaron said, ignoring Derek's request to stop.  He could be such a stubborn jerk sometimes, he knew it.  Derek rolled his eyes and groaned, but Aaron continued because he felt good and he was relaxed and the hydros had destroyed his carefully guarded fortress, melted it down to a puddle at his feet.  He tried to soften it, to make it lighter.  “I've missed you.  I remember the last time we had lunch together like this, it was years ago in Miami at that little cafe in South Beach, the one they ate at in The Birdcage.  We were both so hungover, and you did that John Wayne walk that made me laugh so hard I ended up throwing up my breakfast at my feet and got us thrown out.”

“Well, we're idiots,” Derek mused, finishing the last of his meal while Aaron had hardly touched his.  “I think we gave Gideon ulcers.”  

Aaron smiled.  Being alone with Derek brought out a side of him that no one else saw, a side that smiled and made jokes and took it easy sometimes.  Before Derek joined the team, he took the job so seriously, worked so hard to prove himself to the older profilers, and when Spencer joined he fell so easily back into it as he sought out a promotion, but for that short little while where it was just the two of them under Gideon's wing, he was different.  Derek might have been the only person he'd ever really considered a friend, if he really thought about it, the only person aside from Haley and Jessica that he had ever let see the lighter side of him.  No one seemed to reach that side of him anymore, it had vanished from sight entirely.  

The ear pain broke through first, like shards of glass sliding down the side of his face and into his throat but he didn't want to say anything, to ruin the moment, so he hailed the waitress who called him honeypie and ordered a chocolate milkshake, hoping the icy drink would soothe his throat at least. It didn't do much for the pain but it provided a distraction, a way to focus on something good for a few minutes longer.  When Derek asked her for a slice of pecan pie, she called him dreamboat and Aaron felt a little slighted but he couldn't argue.  One of them looked like he'd stepped effortlessly right out of Sports Illustrated or GQ, and the other looked like a walking ad for Ambien or Zoloft.  Aaron had no illusions about which side of that coin he fell on.  

“To Gideon,” Derek said, holding a fork full of pie up in the air. Aaron smiled and held his glass up.

“To Gideon,” he repeated softly.  “Wherever he is, I hope his ulcers have healed.”    

Walking back to the car, Aaron was more aware of the stiffness in his joints and the pain in his back, but it was nothing compared to his ear.  He wasn't ready for another pill though, so he walked close to Derek, leaning his shoulder up against the other man's, still hazy enough to feel unsteady on his feet but relishing the solid figure beside him, giving him the strength he needed to stay upright.  He would never admit it without being coerced, but being in an explosion was painful.  Derek had, to his credit, kept him focused on other things, things that were good or irritating (like the way Derek sang loudly and purposely off key to whatever song was on the radio, he knew them all, on every station somehow), embarrassing, but not sad.  Not yet, he needed a break from sad.  Even just a few hours.  

The next rest stop provided a much needed bathroom break, and some very spirited inscriptions on the bathroom walls lead to intense discussion for the next hundred miles.  Phone numbers, what the pictographs meant, how long ago they were written.  Derek asked if he should call one of the numbers just to see if the person picked up and Aaron was mortified by the idea because what would he say?  At the final rest stop before home they called Spencer and read him the historical information about the site, each taking turns doing their best Spencer voice. Derek's was better, Aaron had never been much good at impressions so he kept his short. In turn, Reid recited passages from the novel he was reading,  doing his best impressions of both of their voices, which sounded more insulting than they'd imagined.  Derek sounded like a Looney Tunes character, and Aaron sounded like Ben Stein.  

“Do I really sound like that?” Aaron asked, and Derek and Spencer both laughed and agreed that yes, he did.  

On the last stretch, Aaron's ear pain had gotten the best of him and he decided the best course of action was to sleep, so with Derek's seal of approval, he decided to try.  It didn't take long before he was draped over the center console with his head on Derek's shoulder so his legs could stretch out, fast asleep.  They managed to turn a five hour drive into seven hours, but they arrived in time for dinner. Though Aaron told him it wasn't necessary, Derek helped him to his apartment, aware now of how much pain his friend was in.  He ordered them some Thai food from their favorite spot, because after they’d talked about that speed dial debacle it was all he could think about.  They sat down with their takeout boxes and plastic forks and watched the first movie they could find that looked appealing, which happened to be the latter half of Goodfellas.

“You think Rossi's got mob ties?” Derek asked and Aaron nodded without even giving it a second thought, shoving pad thai into his mouth rather unceremoniously.  

“Absolutely,” he muttered.  “No doubt.  I wouldn't ask him about it though.”  

“Nah. I got no desire to sleep with the fishes.”  

Derek rifled through the pocket of Aaron's jacket slung over the back of the couch, grabbing his bottle of hydros, and he extended it to his friend with a look that just said don't fuck with me.  Aaron inclined his head, wondered a moment at the nerve of the other man, but took the bottle and complied.  He wasn't going to sleep without it, the pain in his ear was almost unbearable and the ringing was torture.  Every startling noise caused intense pounding all the way up into his eyebrows like a jackhammer in his skull. 

“You still hanging onto that raggedy old blanket I got you?” he asked as Aaron lay down on the couch, his painful ear against a pillow to try and block some of the offending sound and he nodded, telling Derek it was in the bottom drawer of his dresser.  It was easy to find, it was the only thing in the drawer and he shook his head at the state of the thing all frayed and worn and no longer deep green but more of a sickly sage color, but he plugged it in and draped it over his friend anyway. It had been a birthday gift years ago, one of the old ones that lacked any fancy safety features or temperature controls and you could feel all of the stiff wires webbed throughout the woolen fabric.  It only had one temperature, skin melting hot, and came with the warning that it wasn't to be left plugged in and unattended.  He found it at a tiny old General Store in North Dakota, sitting alone on a shelf in a box covered with what looked like decades of dust and knew Aaron would love it, he was always complaining about being cold and Derek mocked him relentlessly, so every year his gift was related to it.  Gloves, a hat, hand warmers, wool socks, you name it, he'd bought it. Initially it was a joke, but he started noticing that Aaron always used what he gave him, every single thing.  He had brought the heated blanket on the jet for as long as he could remember, though he rarely slept on board anymore.  He always kept it ready in the hotel rooms because Morgan liked to sleep with the air conditioning on, so it provided a countermeasure they both appreciated.  He wasn’t sure if Aaron still brought it along, but he imagined it was left behind these days along with all the rest of their memories together.  

“Get some rest.  Let me know how your appointment goes in the morning?”

“Mmm.” The blanket was heating and his eyes were closed, but Derek left the television on and heard the faint sound of Aaron thanking him, but it was more of a mumble.  He knew what it meant anyway.  

“See ya later, man.”

Aaron was asleep before Morgan even got the lights turned off, so he found Aaron's spare key, locked up and pocketed it, wondering if he would ever ask for it back.  Might lead to a fun new game if he didn't, so he wasn't planning to offer it up any time soon.  

The first thing he did outside was call Penelope, because she'd already sent him about a thousand messages, none of which he'd read yet. “Hey babygirl, I just dropped Hotch off and I'm headed home.”

“You guys were TWO hours longer than planned, I was worried.”

“Sorry dollface, we stopped a few times, got some grub, you know how it is. Maybe I'll tell you about it in the morning mama.”  And maybe he wouldn't.  Maybe he'd just keep it to himself, let people think he had the most boring road trip of his life, one he couldn’t wait to end – no one would ever believe him if he told them what really happened anyway.  

[wooyunhwa]

kingdom of welcome addiction | C.S.

view pinned post for masterlist!

Genre: smut (mostly suggestive in this part though)

Pairing: demon!san x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: blood drinking, virgin mc

Synopsis: When you accidentally summon a bloodthirsty demon boy to your bedroom, you form an unexpected contract with him.

A/N: Thank you for reading and comments are super appreciated as always!

If you had to read the words pythagorean theorem one more time, you were gonna smash your brains in. 

You reached over to your phone, unlocking your screen to the group chat. 

y/n: anyone wanna come over and help me with this dumb problem? my heads gonna implode. 

chaeyeon: busy tonight, Y/N. lol, just summon a demon or smth. 

yuri: lmao that ouija board is still there right? I think we left it under your bed 

chaeyeon: I don’t think you summon demons with a ouija board, yuri

y/n: ugh you guys are no help. brb, summoning demon...

You realized how weird this conversation would sound from an outside perspective, but it was a sort of inside joke you had within your friend group. You and your friends had joked about ‘summoning a demon’ before, and you’d even used a Oujia board a few times and done fake seances to freak each other out. The results were always disappointing—not that you ever actually wanted to contact the dead or anything, but you were at least hoping for a spooky story or something you could tell. 

You knew they were joking around, but your brain felt a little delirious from all the math churning it into mush. 

You switched tabs from your test, typing in the search bar “how to summon a demon”. You chuckled a little under your breath at the ridiculousness. But at least then you could tell your friends you actually tried. They’d get a kick out of that. 

You followed a few rabbit holes down some forums, mockingly reciting strings of incomprehensible Latin. If you were gonna do this, you were gonna commit fully. 

“You called?”

You scrambled backwards, nearly jumping a foot off the bed at the sudden unfamiliar voice echoing in the room. 

Then you saw him. 

He was perched on your bookshelf, one leg dangling lackadaisically over the edge, the other folded up at his side. You caught a glimpse of his piercing crimson-red eyes illuminated in the dim candle-lit room. He looked particularly cat-like in his position, a devilish grin painted on his face, what looked like fangs coming to two sharp points in his mouth.

The man picked up a pen from your bookshelf, twirling it in his hand casually with playful twists of his fingers. “You’re new…” he mused, glancing at you up and down. “And... cute. Fresh blood. How'd you get my number, hmm?”

You sat stunned, dizzy from confusion. Your words were lodged in your throat, unable to utter a single sound. This had to be a dream, right? Had you fallen asleep while working on your homework? It wouldn't be the first time.

He tapped his fingers impatiently against the oak of the bookcase, waiting for your next move. The only words you could manage came out in a hoarse croak, shaky and uncertain. "This—I'm dreaming…" 

He shook his head, clicking his tongue tauntingly against his teeth. "Oh, there's a lot of things I could do right now to assure you you aren't," he started, the gleam in his eye particularly sinister as he drew his gaze up and down. "But trust me. You wouldn't want that." 

“Who—”

“I have a lot of names, but you can just call me San. Your friendly neighborhood demon.” He flashed a fiendish smirk. “Well, maybe don’t linger too much on the ‘friendly’ part.”

“D—demon?”

“What, you didn’t know? You’re the one who summoned me, darling.” He drew out his words, slowly, carefully, continuing to play with the pen in his fingers. The way he spoke sent shivers down your spine, as if he had the power to kill you at any moment. He probably did.  

He pressed his palms against the top of the shelf to hoist himself off, the books on it threatening to topple with the sudden movement. The minute he vaulted down from the shelf, you were able to get a better look at him. 

The first thing that drew your eye was his impossibly broad shoulders, accentuated by the tight cut of his shirt. It contrasted against his tiny waist, cinched in neatly with a belt. His proportions were unreal, and so very fittingly non-human. He was undoubtedly the most incredible sight you'd ever seen in your life, human or otherwise. He made his way over to the bed where you sat. You snapped your laptop closed, pushing it to the side, your blood turning to ice as he inched closer to you. The way he sauntered across the floor almost seemed like he was floating, like gravity was merely a fun game to him.  

He poised himself over you, his powerful stance alone commanding you to look at him. His fingernail dragged under your chin with a distinct sting, pulling your gaze up to his intense eyes. It was cold, like a dull knife, causing your body to tremble slightly. His piercing eye-contact was entrancing, even spell-binding—you couldn't tear your eyes away. "How cute," he teased sing-songily, “you’re a virgin.”

Your eyes widened, still pulled in by his magnetic gaze. “How did you—” 

"I can smell one from a mile away. The scent… it's just so…" he paused to lick his lips, drawing his tongue slowly over his black metal lip ring. "delicious." 

“Anyway, you must have had a reason to summon me, no? A soul to harvest? A sacrifice maybe?” Something about his tone was giddy at the idea. “At your service, darling.” He drew down in a playful bow, his mouth twitching into a smirk. 

You hated to say it, but he was entirely your type. From up close, you could see his other piercings more clearly, several earrings lining both ears, glimmering against the cartilage. His right eyebrow donned a shaved slit, decorated with another piercing. Of course the demon you summoned in your dream would be your ideal man. Well, he kind of looked like the edgy Hot-topic boy of your 7th grade self’s dreams, but you couldn’t deny that was still kind of your type still. His jet-black hair framed the sharp cut of his jaw perfectly—you were sure he could see you practically drooling over him at this point.  He looked crafted by heaven—hell?—itself.  

Even so, no single part of you desired for him to take your virginity right this second. Maybe under different circumstances, but not with the time ticking down on your math assignment and the fact that he was a fucking demon you just conjured into your room.

You shook your lewd thoughts out of your head, worried for a moment that demons might have some sort of mind-reading powers you weren’t aware of. “Well, uh, actually… I need help with my math homework.”

He snickered, his eyes trained on you like prey. “You can’t be serious. Tell me you’re not serious.”

“I’m kind of serious. It’s like 10% of my grade.”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth again, breaking eye contact finally, and you felt a sense of relief as you finally had a moment to breathe away from his suffocating glare.“For someone who just summoned a demon you’re a real buzzkill.”  He perched himself on the edge of the bed, resting his butt lightly against the edge of the frame. “Fine,” he groaned. “Let’s say I actually helped you. You know how this works, right? If I do something for you, you have to give me something in return.”

You gulped. This was a dream, it had to be, and the best you could do was go along for the ride. Even so, you couldn’t help but feel shaken, despite doing your best to convince yourself it wasn’t real—like some sort of subconscious defense mechanism your body employed in danger. And, well, he kind of seemed like danger. “Like what?”

“Well, normally...” He glanced back over, pinning you down with his gaze once again. “It’d be your soul.” 

Your breath stopped in your throat. You weren’t quite sure if you were ready to give up your entire soul for 10% of your math grade, although that was a pretty accurate metaphor for your college experience. 

“Your virginity maybe?” he hummed, drawing his tongue back over his lips, then, seeing your expression, shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “No? Damn. It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“Um… I can offer to make you dinner?”

He paused, his eyes widening for a second, then burst into a cacophony of laughter. It was the first time he broke his exterior, and for a moment, he looked a bit more human. “I’ll take it.” Then, more “but you realize a contract with a demon is binding, right?”

 “So, I’m contractually obligated to make you dinner, that’s what you’re saying?”

He paused, his smile turning amused once more. “Feisty. I like you,” he winked flirtatiously, sending heat rising in your cheeks. You hated to say it, but he was devilishly charming, on top of being probably the hottest being, human or not, you’d ever seen. 

You glanced at your phone, noting the time ticking down slowly but surely.  “Okay, I’m not joking. The math. My assignment is due in 45 minutes.” 

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

He sat next to your side on the bed for a while, guiding you through the problems like some sort of hot e-boy math tutor. Not that you were complaining about that. The way he sat was surprisingly cute, one leg tucked up at his side, the other folded underneath him.

“Where’d you learn math, anyway?” you asked, admiring his immaculate side profile as his eyes trained on the laptop screen, typing the answers in. “They have like, demon school or something?”

He gave you a side glance, and you once again felt uneasy under the heat of his gaze. “A demon never reveals his secrets.”

“I thought that was a magician.” 

He visibly stifled a laugh, pressing his lips tightly to avoid giving you the satisfaction of breaking his serious exterior. “Can you be quiet? I’m focusing. I’m a demon, not a mathematician. This is way out of my scope of work,” he grumbled through his teeth. 

You watched him silently as he worked. As he typed, his tongue lingered just outside his parted lips in concentration. “Even you sitting next to me is distracting,” he hissed quietly. “You don’t realize what your scent is doing to me right now.”

Right. Your virgin scent. Was that really so appealing to him? 

“Fine. I guess I’ll go make dinner. You promise you’re gonna turn this in in time?” 

“I’m contractually obligated,” he responded dryly. 

You hoisted yourself off the bed and headed to the kitchen to make dinner,  but something about leaving a stranger in your room felt strange. No stranger than accepting he was a demon, though, you supposed. 

You returned with a large plate of pasta, pretty much the only thing you had on hand. He received it apprehensively from you. 

“What?” you asked, offended at his look of disgust. “Sorry, I didn’t have any fresh human souls on hand. My bad.”  

You sat across from him on the bed, watching in fascination as he nibbled slowly at the thin spaghetti noodles. “You have any hot sauce or anything?” he asked, wincing as he took a few more bites. 

“I barely had enough pasta to feed two people. I’m a broke college student. Anyway, I never forced you to accept the dinner offer.” 

“I didn’t think it’d be so bland. What, you didn’t know demons prefer spicy food?”

“I didn’t know demons existed until today. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. This is all a dream I’m going to wake up from in a bit anyway.”

A wicked smirk danced up on his lips again. “Oh, you still think it’s a dream? Cute,” he sang condescendingly. “Well, then I guess it wouldn’t matter if I did this...”  

Your heart seemed to stop in your chest as he crawled forward on his palms. You felt his breath linger on your neck first, then the gentle scrape of his pointed canines against your sensitive skin. Every hair on your body stood up. He pressed them down slightly, just enough to feel the tension on your flesh. Then he bit harder, nearly piercing as he sunk them in.

You reeled back, shoving him off you breathlessly. “What the fuck-”

“You still think it’s a dream? Then it wouldn’t matter if it sunk my teeth in. You’d just wake up, right? Isn’t that how dreams are supposed to work?” he taunted, a smile curled up on his lip. His fangs gleamed under the still-dim light of your bedroom. “Humans are so amusing,”   

You wiped at your neck, rubbing circles where his teeth pinched your skin. He sat himself upright again and stood up from the bed. “Well, my end of the deal is over. Consider you released from your contract.” 

“You’re leaving?”

“Well I’m not gonna stay here.” His hand came up to his ear like a phone. “Call me if you have a soul to harvest. You know my number.” 

He was gone before you could blink, like an apparition, disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared. Your eyelids grew heavier as you reflected what had just happened, and you wondered what would happen if you fell asleep in a dream. Would you just wake up? 

You collapsed into bed, still unsure whether or not the past few hours had actually happened or not. Part of you hoped they had—there was something about him that was so deeply captivating, you would do anything to see him again. 

As he said, you did have his ‘number’.

You woke up dazed, still unsure if you had dreamt the events of the night before. The only sure way to know was to check your assignment—if you had really fallen asleep while doing your homework, you wouldn’t have turned the assignment in, right?

You opened your online class page, scanning for the assignment, and there it was, in bold letters: 

Submitted: 98%. 

Your breath caught in your throat. You felt two distinct emotions: relief that you got the assignment turned in, and complete disbelief that your encounter last night was not part of your imagination.

You could summon him again. 

He seemed about as harmless as a demon could seem. At first, he had been entirely intimating—his aura made it seem like he could have eaten your soul right there with no second thoughts. But watching that powerful being, capable of so much evil and chaos, do something as mundane as your math homework… that was the most entertaining, and almost adorable thing, you’d ever witnessed. 

Besides, you had something he desired, something you could dangle in front of him to keep him coming back. You had your virginity, which seemed to be the ultimate prize for a demon like him. The way he had talked about it last night, it seemed you were irresistible for him. But he also accepted your rejection so easily. 

As long as you kept drafting up meaningless contracts, he had to oblige, right? You weren’t sure exactly how it worked, but that’s how it seemed from your interactions last night. If it worked like you thought it did, his job as a demon was to make a contract with his summoner, no matter how insignificant, as long as he takes something in return. 

That night, you read the same latin phrase you had before he’d appeared, this time off a sticky note push-pinned in your wall. 

You heard him again before you saw him, and you whipped your head around to see where he was standing behind you. 

He wore the same playful, devilish smirk, displaying his fangs. “Hmm, you decided to let me harvest your soul now, have you? That was quick.”

It had barely been 24 hours, and yet you’d already forgotten how incredibly hot he was, for lack of a better word. Your lips parted slightly in awe, forgetting for a second to formulate a response. 

“I hope your silence is a yes,” he interrupted. 

You shook your attraction to him out of your head for a moment, remembering what you brought him here for. “I want you to clean my bathroom.”

He laughed in disbelief, plopping himself down on the bed. “I’m sorry, you want me to what?”

“That’s how this works right? I summon you and do what I want. And I give you something in return.” You leaned against the desk behind you. 

“What am I, your errand boy?”

“But that is how this works, right?”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth in annoyance. “Yes,” he grumbled reluctantly. “But what do I get this time?”

“I cook you dinner again.”

“I’m gonna need more than that.”

“I’ll let you bite my neck. Draw blood if you want.”

His eyes widened at your proposal. His reaction confirmed your suspicion—the blood of a virgin must be like crack to a demon like him. His face went flush. “Deal,” he confirmed eagerly. 

You watched him as he cleaned, and there was something satisfying about watching this bloodthirsty demon scrubbing the bathtub on his hands and knees. He almost looked a bit pathetic. You stood in the door frame, unable to help from grinning at making him perform such menial tasks. A lot more was at stake now than just dinner, so you might as well have some fun with his end of the bargain. Even on his knees, you couldn’t help but watch him in awe. Every part of him was sculpted immaculately—his appearance was distinctly human, and yet he was in all other ways otherworldly. 

“I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to some human’s lowly errand boy,” he hissed through his teeth. 

“Less talking, more scrubbing,” you demanded with a smirk, and he shot you a deathly glare. 

You followed through with your promise of dinner, and this time you came prepared with hot sauce. He devoured it eagerly, and you felt proud for making a dinner worthy of a demon’s praise. 

But there was still one more promise you had to follow through on, and the thought made your head spin.  

He sat across from you on the bed, eyes trained on your neck in a very un-subtle display of desire. You’d never felt so wanted, even if it was just the thought of your virgin blood that had him practically drooling. 

“You sure about this?” he asked hesitantly. It was strange that he was even asking permission, as he seemed so eager the other night to just sink his teeth right into you. 

“I’m contractually obligated,” you teased dryly. Then, more seriously, “But yes, I am.” 

He placed his left hand on your neck, steadying it in place. His fierce, almost predatory gaze washed over you completely. 

He leaned forward, parting his lips to drag his teeth gently along your neck. You tipped your head back, giving him a better angle. He teased there for a while, lingering his sharp canines on your skin. His breath was hot and heavy against your neck, the warmth of it sending chills rocketing down your spine. Your lips parted slightly, gentle moans escaping at the sensation. The situation was predatory, and yet it felt completely sensual in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

He paused for a moment, lips fluttering over your skin as he spoke. “You have no idea how hard it is not to completely drain you,” he whispered, voice dripping off his tongue with a sort of lustful hunger. “I promise I’ll only take a bit.”

He sunk down, and you heard it before you felt it—the distinct sound of teeth piercing flesh. You cried out a bit, bringing your own hand to your mouth to muffle your whines. It stung a bit, but in a twisted way, there was something about it you liked. You felt his tongue draw over your wound slowly, lapping deliberately at the fresh blood like a starved animal.  

He moaned against you, and it echoed in your ear like the most divine sound you’ve ever heard. He may have been a demon, but his noises sounded like they came from heaven itself. He pulled your waist against his as he slowly bathed his tongue over the punctured flesh, his fingers squeezing as he grasped at your waist. He littered a few faint kisses across your blood-stained skin, moving slightly down towards your shoulder blades. The sudden sensation drew soft, pleasured moans from your lips. 

As he finally pulled away, parting his lips tenderly away from your skin, you caught the faintest glimmer of his blacked-out eyes before they flickered back to normal. His deep red irises sparkled like rubies as he maintained eye contact. He brought one of his hands up from your waist, gently wiping at his blood-stained lips with the back of his palm. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself for a second. Your skin tastes so sweet, like candy,” he praised softly, voice deep and wanting. “And your blood, fuck—it’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted.”

The seductive gleam in his eye signaled that you had awoken something in him, something you hadn’t meant to. He was still holding you, probably without even noticing, but you didn't want to draw his attention to it quite yet. You wanted to experience it for just a bit longer if you could. Something about the way he held your waist against his made you crave more of him. 

Almost as if a switch flipped, his expression went dark, his fingernails suddenly digging all the way into your waist. You yelped in pain as he nearly punctured the skin through your clothes. “I need you to walk away from me right now. Before I do something I’ll regret,” he growled. You watched as his eyes flashed to the same demonic black for a moment. 

You gulped, slowly backing yourself away from him, scrambling off the bed. "Farther," he groaned painfully, his breathing becoming heavy and labored. His hands clenched at the blanket on the bed, balling into restrained fists. "Now."

You ran from the room, your feet moving before you even knew where they were taking you. You ran all the way down the hallway to the front door, sliding your back down against it as you collapsed to the floor. Your limbs shook weakly, trying to calm yourself down. You must have sat there for an hour or more, completely frozen, not quite aware of the passing of time. You wiped the blood of your neck, but it didn't do much, smearing it across. 

When you managed to finally stand up again, you made your way hesitantly towards the door of the bedroom, swinging your head around the doorframe first. 

"San…?" you called apprehensively.

But he was gone, leaving only a light imprint on the sheets of the blood-stained bed and two deep punctures in your neck to remind you he was ever there.

[to be continued]