#I wasn’t active yesterday but I was thinking about if I could do a little something

[symphonicspecter]

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY SPECTER IM DROPPING A HEART SHAPED CHERRY FLAVORED SUCKERS IN YOUR MAILBOX AS WE SPEAK

^ BUT also this card. :3

Thank you!!!!

It’s much appreciated hehe ☺️

..

Oh? What’s this?

Why, there’s a card and a bag of candies with your name on them!

[scwheeler]

— how to get a girl’s attention

luke castellan x fem!daughter of demeter!reader

warnings: near-drowning experience…

summary: as the daughter of demeter, you’re the first person that everyone turns to when injuries need to be tended too, questions need to be asked, and any type of advice is required, however what’s going to happen when you’re the one in need?

a/n: this one’s quite lengthy guys! i really just got derailed like ten times and love adding details and the ending is kind of basic but whatever; don’t mind me making up random camper names btw lol 👼👼

waking up to the sound of constant bickering was just a normal tuesday morning as your younger half-siblings were already at each other’s throats about some stupid thing. yesterday it was borrowing boots and the day before it was who had to take the trash out.

you groaned, wishing that you could still sleep in peace and quiet but your cabin clearly suggested otherwise. so you gradually got up and put on your little slippers, approaching the main fighters who continued to argue with each other.

“hey hey hey, what’s going on now.” you had to physically get between the two children, separating them with your arms.

“he slipped paint all over my skirt and now it’s ruined!” the young girl cried, holding up her stained skirt to prove it. you took the clothing in your hands and knelt down to face her.

“why don’t i go to the river later today and try to get the stain out myself. it seems washable to me, what do you think?”

with a slight frown, she nodded her head to comply. you were relieved to say the least before turning to the boy, “how about you apologize and come with me to the river after breakfast?”

the boy stayed silent with his arms crossed, trying to avoid your insisting stare. but intimidated enough, he looked to the floor and whispered a small “fine, i’m sorry” with a glare.

you smiled as the situation was deescalated and told the rest of the kids surrounding the pair to hurry and make their beds in order to head to breakfast.

holding hands with the now puffy-faced girl, you tried to tell her about all the fun activities she could do today to forget about the unfortunate morning incident.

before reaching mess hall, the child already had a a bright smile just thinking about the bracelet making and embroidery you promised for the later evening. pleased with your peace-making skills, you sat with the rest of your campers and half-siblings that you were in charge of.

as the eldest sibling and one of the camp counselors, you took on the responsibility of looking after the young ones and caring for almost everyone at camp.

thus, when most of the camp half-blood children had troubles or dilemmas of any sort, they would disregard their own counselors and go straight to you. your kindhearted, yet sociable personality rooted from your mother: demeter.

you were often found laying around in the fruit fields or by the river listening to the water flow through the ground and hit the rocks. like your mother, nature was where you felt at peace, especially with the lack of quiet in your own cabin.

but you still loved your fellow campers and half-siblings, except for one boy who would not leave you alone.

luke castellan.

he liked to push your buttons and see how far he could take you until you’d explode. of course, you always kept your calm until either you just left the conversation or it would be interrupted by a camper in need who was like a knight in shining armor.

it wasn’t that you didn’t like the guy. you liked everyone at camp, including mr. d for gods sake! but something about luke was different. you occasionally saw him with his campers or his friends, he would joke around but never act like he does with you.

when you least expect it, he sneaks up behind you and gets close enough to whisper something in your ear. it could be just a random comment or sentence started but in an alluring voice as if you were friends or even more.

he knows what he’s doing. the moment he finishes, you flinch and get flustered, cheeks heating up and instantly standing up to avoid making eye contact. as you walk away, luke only watches and smiles to himself.

he knows how much power he holds over you, as with just a few words he can make you nervous.

“okay so once everyone’s done, we’ll first go to the archery range and you’ll stay there with counselor clarisse while damien and i go to the river to get that nasty stain out.” you explained and first looked at the boy who begrudgingly agreed to helping you earlier and then winked at the little girl you promised to help.

“counselor clarisse…!” one of the boys exclaimed.

“oh no she’s the mean one!” “yeah, she’s a bully!” your campers all started to agree and mutter remarks about their fear in staying with clarisse.

you couldn’t help but chuckle at their scared little faces, “clarisse? oh gods no! clarisse is not scary, she loves you guys and she’ll take good care of you.”

the children stared at you in disbelief while chowing down their eggs and bacon. “why can’t we just come with you to the river?!” one of the girls begged and began to pout alongside the other ten kids beside her.

you sighed and pursed your lips into a thin line, trying to come up with a compromise but you couldn’t.

“please it’s only for a couple of hours and then i’ll be back for the rock wall and some capture the flag!” you persuaded, trying to lighten up the mood.

but the kids still looked dissatisfied, now poking their breakfast around with their utensils in objection.

“well—” before you could plead another case why clarisse is a perfectly reasonable and responsible counselor and guardian, you were cut off by the one and only.

“aw don’t worry guys, you should listen to your counselor. plus i’ll be there too so if counselor clarisse gets even just a little too scary, you can come and hang with awesome counselor luke!” a voice announced from behind you.

you nearly choked on your food, startled in the surprise voice cutting you off. but the campers were overjoyed to see their second favorite counselor appear. there were an overwhelming amount of comments from the once so silent children, mostly regarding “luke!” and “yay!”

you whipped your head around to face the boy, standing right behind you with nothing but a smug grin on his face. then he leaned in just as he always does and whispered a quick, “you’re welcome” and turned to leave just as fast as he came.

“can we please hang out with counselor luke instead of clarisse?!” all the campers plead with their hands put together and lower lip puckered. left with no other choice by that damn castellan again, you inhaled deeply and slightly nodded which was shortly followed by an array of cheers and excitement.

after dropping off all of the campers in the hands of luke, you put a hand on damien’s back and led him to the river. but before leaving, you had to make sure luke would actually clock in as a responsible counselor.

“so i can count on you to keep them safe for the next couple of hours?”

“wow you sound like you doubt me!” luke said and took a step back with his hands up in fake surrender.

“enough with the games, castellan. are you going to make sure they don’t kill each other and stay unharmed until i return?” you asked again, ignoring his previous comment.

luke tried to hold back his smile after you called him by his last name. most of the time, his sparring partners or other counselors would use his last name rather his first. however, when the way you let the ‘n’ slightly my drag after saying it sent chills throughout his entire body.

to hide his delight, he lightly scoffed and crossed his arms at your hesitation. “i assure you that i will protect them with my life. i mean i am the best swordsman at camp,” he added as the corners of his lips just couldn’t help themselves to lift a little.

you rolled your eyes at his self-confidence and how he kept complimenting himself. luke only did it to impress you though, something that hasn’t been very successful.

“okay well alissa has a nut allergy, georgie has a bee allergy, and please keep thomas and will away from the poison ivy. i do not want to spend another summer knee deep in tomato juice.”

luke could only watch and admire as you kept expressing your deep concern for all the kids. he loved how much you cared. but a few more seconds and you would be driving yourself crazy over all the possibilities of something going wrong.

that’s when luke stepped in and softly grabbed your right arm.

“hey, it’s fine. go do whatever you have to do and i’ll come running down to the river if anything goes wrong but i doubt it, i’m pretty responsible y’know.” he reassured and stared straight into your eyes, indicating his sincerity. his smile wasn’t conceited or to drive his ego but rather held a tender emotion.

you looked up into his hazel eyes and suddenly the worries stopped and your nerves were calmed, other than the ones beginning to stir in your stomach. but this was far from the regard about the kids.

this feeling was something else. something new.

“are we going to go already?” the young boy you almost forgot about, whined and rugged on your orange camp t-shirt.

snapping out of your trance and back to reality you answered, “o-oh yeah, i think counselor luke’s got it from here.”

with that you turned away from luke and immediately headed for the river alongside damien but the paint-stained skirt was farthest from your mind now. you tried to shake the new feelings and thoughts out of your body and replace them with your past ones of the kids.

until, “is that guy your boyfriend?”

you quickly looked down to the boy asking the question, with such seriousness in his eyes.

“counselor luke? gods no! i wouldn’t even call him a friend!” you answered swiftly, picking up your pace and hurrying damien in front of you.

“geez…i was just asking!”

as soon as you two got to the river, settling on a few rocks by the edge, you started rubbing the blue-stained skirt with the clear water. damien sat next to you, fiddling his thumbs and staring at the water’s constant movement.

“so are you going to tell me why you did this or not?” you began, keeping your eyes on the skirt.

“i just wanted to.”

“damien.” you urged and this time, you stared directly at him with your eyebrows raised.

he sighed in defeat and gave up on lying to you.

“okay…well i just didn’t know how else to get clara’s attention,” the boy admitted and refused to look at you.

his response warned your heart and prompted your to smile to yourself.

“so you did this, just to get clara’s attention?”

you held up the now drenched skirt and demanded damien to look at you. for a moment, he did and nodded quickly before instantly going back to staring at the rock he was sitting on.

you stifled your laughter at how adorable the young boy you were with was being.

“damien…there are a lot of different and more efficient ways to get clara’s attention. may a suggest one that doesn’t destroy her belongings and ends up with her being angry?” you insisted and squeezed the excess water out of the skirt.

he looked up and nodded again but this time he continued.

“what should i do?”

“why don’t you make her a bracelet when we go back and sincerely apologize.” you suggested while laying out the wet skirt on the rock to dry.

he smiled at your suggestion as you went to sit closer by him. before speaking again, he pulled out a small daisy from his pant pocket and presented it to you.

your eyes focused on the blooming flower that lost a few of its petals due to being stuck in the boy’s pocket for a while now. but the remaining petals still standing were enough to maintain the flower’s beauty.

“when did you become such a gentlemen?” you nudged his shoulder and took the flower from his hands.

“oh, i’ve been giving him some lessons.”

alarmed, you turned to see the familiar face that had been surprising you all day.

“what are you doing here?! how about the kids—who’s watching them?!” you immediately stood up and marched towards the too calm figure standing amongst the trees. but he caught you with both arms, preventing you with ease.

“woah woah, take a breather, they’re with clarisse.” he said and stopped you before you ran back to the mess hall.

reading your expression, luke could tell you were not convinced nor pleased so he had to fix his answer.

“—and annabeth and chris.”

with that you stopped fighting against his grasp and stepped back, finally exhaling.

“you haven’t answered my first question.”

“oh! i just uh wanted to um come and tell you that they’re asking for damien back at camp. they were practically begging me to come over here and get him!”

you narrowed your eyes after he finished, easily indicating the lie.

“okay…you can go damien but remember what i said,” you smiled and patted his shoulder before sending him off back to camp.

the young boy ran off without a care and ready to make that bracelet with a formal apology. luke stood there, quite surprised that his lie that chris helped him think of in fact worked.

“soooo do you need help with whatever that is?” luke pointed at the skirt laid out on the rock.

“no.” you shortly responded and walked back to your rock but luke followed like a lost puppy.

“are you sure? i mean as head counselor for cabin 11, i can cook up a mean batch of laundry,” he insisted and trailed behind you.

unbeknownst to him, you rolled your eyes and cringed at his wording.

“your words don’t even make sense.”

caught in a lie, luke decided actions spoke louder than words and walked past you to the skirt. you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as he picked it up and crouched down near the water before dunking it back into the water.

shocked and a little annoyed, you hurriedly ran to him.

“what the hell are you doing?! i just washed that! i’m waiting for it to dry dumbass!”

“oh she curses!” he exclaimed, finally getting a real response from you.

you reached for it until luke raised it a little higher, just out of your reach. using his height as an advantage, he held out the clothing as far as he could and to the river.

fed up and exhausted, you went on your tippy-toes and lunged for the skirt. swiftly, luke pulled it close to his body just as you reached leading you to accidentally lean too far.

with a splash, you fell straight into the freezing cold water, unknown to how deep the river was. luke’s eyes widened, he thought you falling in would be funny but once you hadn’t resurfaced within a few seconds he became worried.

without a second thought, he dropped the skirt, pulled off his camp shirt, and dove into the biting waves. as soon as he saw your bright orange t-shirt in contrast to the clear water, he put his arm around your waist and swim towards the surface.

pulling you out to the rocks and laying your body on the ground, he waited for you to gain consciousness. luckily, you started to gasp for air and spit out gulps of water as you sat up.

luke sighed in relief at once. you wiped your face of water and blinked repeatedly until your sight returned to normal. then your eyes were fixated on something else, rather someone. his bare chest stood directly in front of your face, it wasn’t like you were trying to stare!

“i’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to do that and i’m really sorry.” luke recited.

“i-it’s okay.” you stuttered, the cold water chilling your body.

“here take off the wet one and take mine.”

luke grabbed his discarded camp shirt and handed it to you. if you weren’t on the verge of frostbite you would’ve refused, but without another word you agreed and luke turned to face the trees as you pulled the wet shirt over your head and put on luke’s.

“thanks. for saving me and the shirt.”

luke turned back to face you and smiled, “i mean i was the one to make you fall into the water in the first place, it’s the least i can do.”

“aren’t you cold?” you signaled to his bare chest.

“no, i’m okay don’t worry. but your jeans are still wet so let’s head back to camp.” he reassured and helped you get up.

you nodded and let him take the lead. with your wet shirt and skirt in one hand and the other grabbing onto luke’s arm, you two finally made it back to camp. before dropping you off at your cabin, you had to ask.

“why did you come to the river anyway?”

luke awkwardly put his hand on the back of his neck and looked away.

“oh. i just uh wanted to spend time with you.” he admitted, ultimately facing you.

you stopped attending to your dripping pants and looked up at him. he had a genuine smile, now with both hands shoved into his pockets.

how was it that you had never noticed the golden flecks in his deep brown eyes? or the way the orange hues of the sunset highlighted the amber shade his eyes would turn?

“y’know, there are a lot of other ways to get my attention in the first place, that doesn’t involve us falling into freezing cold water.”

luke laughed at your comment which eased the awkward air.

“i had this almost exact same conversation with a little boy of about seven years, and gave him some valuable advice.”

“what was the advice..?” he carefully asked.

“to make her a bracelet and apologize, one of…you’ve already done profusely.” you raised your eyebrow to imply his previous attempt in apologizing nonstop.

“ah, a bracelet you say, okay got it,” luke said and nodded his head.

with that, he bid you a good day and you asked to meet him later at the campfire to return his shirt.

“alright you two sit there, i don’t want to see anymore fighting over the dinosaurs, you can sit here with him, and you three over there—” guiding the campers for the campfire that was just about to begin, you made your way to an empty bench.

smiling to yourself, you watched as your campers finally calmed down and enjoyed the music, giving up on fighting and arguing with one another. someone jumped over the bench and leaned back to sit right next to you, and you had a feeling who it may be.

“luke?”

“yes ma’am.” he replied with a tilt towards you and two fingers from his head.

the campfire lit up his face and highlighted his sharp features that you had somehow missed until this moment. his charming smile urging his dimples alongside his dark curls freshly washed with a new scented shampoo was enough to make you realize you were hooked. damn.

“oh i have a little something for you, give me your arm and close your eyes,” he spoke up and put his hand in his pocket.

raised eyebrow, you reluctantly closed your eyes and gave him your right arm. suddenly in fear of some bug or scary animal on your hand, you slowly retracted it back to yourself until he gently got a hold of it.

he pulled your arm towards him slightly and slipped something on around your wrist. waiting for his approval, you sat questioning what the mystery item could be.

“okay, open.” luke did a little ‘ta-da’ motion once you flickered your eyes open, adjusting to the dark yet orangish lit surrounding.

you looked down at the intricate, handsome bracelet that appeared on your wrist. it was similar to the camp necklaces but the beads were translucent with flowers imbedded into them. except for one bead that was painted a heavenly green, your favorite color.

astonished and at a loss for words, you observed the bracelet, moving around the small beads on the string.

“i’m sorry.”

snapping out of your trance, you instantly stared up at luke after his words in confusion.

“what?”

“you said earlier, ‘there are a lot of other ways to spend time with you that don’t involve us falling into freezing cold water, for starters make a bracelet and apologize.’” he repeated your words from back by your cabin. he remembered.

“so you made me a bracelet and apologize just like i said?” double-checking, you glanced once at the bracelet and back to the dashing boy who looked as if he had stars in his eyes, waiting for your reaction.

“not only for you, i also helped damien make one for that girl he’s got a crush on,” he continued and looked over to the little boy doing the exact same hold-out-your-arm-and-close-your-eyes trick on the girl sobbing about her stained skirt earlier.

she opened her eyes to a freshly washed skirt and matching bracelet, along with a smiling boy who was apologizing and waiting for her reaction. she leapt into his arms with a bunch of ‘thank yous.’ the boy then briefly peered at luke who proceeded to wink and give an approving nod.

happily surprised, you sat gaping at the boy you thought was so infuriating just a couple of hours before. luke knew exactly what he was doing. he knew how much you cared for the campers and your half-siblings, how you would always chose their safety and happiness at the expense of your very own.

it was one of the traits he admired the most about you. even when in a bad mood or not feeling your best, you would put on a brave face and make sure to put their needs in front of you own.

he witnessed it first-hand last week when your campers wanted to go rock climbing but there were dozens of poison ivy already there. thus, to not disappoint the kids, you stayed up all night removing the dangerous plant and relocating them to another area deep in the forest for them to grow.

even with your plant manipulation abilities, with the large amount of the poisonous plant, it took you quite a while. afterwards, you went as far to replace them with lovely daisies you summoned from the gardens in front of your cabin.

during the move from the rock climbing course to the forest, luke had spotted you while some late-night sword practicing because he couldn’t sleep due to apollo cabin next door.

he debated approaching you and settled on only admiring you from afar after you almost finished anyway. he didn’t want to disturb you or aggravate you further than you already were. but leaving you here in the forest during midnight would be wrong.

what if a monster were to come? how were you to defend yourself if you were distracted! therefore, it was just common sense that luke had to keep watch, i mean he even had his sword with him after all.

but once the sun peeped from the tall mountains, he came to a realization that he had just sat and watched you for more than a couple hours. so in order to not get caught, he ran off back to his cabin before anyone would wake up.

only a little after luke headed to bed, morning arrived and you were the first one to break the happy news to your campers that today would be the day for rock climbing. greatly proud and feeling accomplished, you even invited other cabins to join and have a spin at it. including luke’s.

now he was the one to show you how much he cared for the campers as well, focusing on a feature you had great respects for. your shocked expression softened and now leapt into his arms.

“thank you, castellan. really.”

blood rushed to his cheeks and he tried to hide his excitement, but you felt his genuine smile on your shoulder. before pulling away, he stopped by your ear and whispered.

“do i have permission to kiss you, counselor?”

you could’ve giggled at his words and how close his lips were to your ear. without wasting another breath, you pulled his face closer to you and put your lips on his.

feeling the warmth of his breath, you could taste the sweet taste of strawberries he must’ve eaten earlier. only centimeters away, your bodies were attracted to each other almost pressing. the kiss wasn’t long but not short either, somewhat leaving a lasting impression on the other.

yet again you felt a small grin of his lips during the kiss, making you pull away for air. but your eyes were still glued to his, moments away from repeating the act but you both realized where you were and how irresponsible it would look as counselors. so instead he grabbed your hand, now giving you the absolute cutest puppy dog eyes before asking.

“do i have your attention now?”

[prentissluvr]

the language of love isn't dead — dean winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, frenemies to lovers, petty arguments, ft. sam!, dean is annoying obviously <3, reader speaks latin (i used google translate and it is probably very wrong lol), kissing, one mention of a sexual innuendo, a few joking death threats, non-serious mentions of choking, poorly edited, 2.4K words. requested !

summary : you tend to compliment dean in the dead language of latin after fights so that he doesn't know what you really think about him.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

“you’re being ridiculous,” you frown at dean, arms crossed against your chest as you stare him down in tonight’s motel room.

“ridiculous?” he parrots, indignant. “this is baby we’re talking about. my car. you know, the ‘67 black chevy impala i would kill a man over?”

“yeah, i know her,” you reply, sarcastic in tone. “and your homicidal tendencies when it comes to her. i’m very familiar, dean.” you roll your eyes at him because you just can’t help it. dean makes it very easy to get annoyed at, for a multitude of reasons.

reason number one, he’s annoying. reason number two, he’s very hot when he’s angry. reason number three, he’s very hot pretty much all the time. it does not help that sam got first dibs on the shower, so he’s still covered in a bit of grime and blood from the hunt you just walked away from. it’s his best look, aside from any time that he smiles.

“well, then you should know that getting her perfectly tended to and polished leather seats dirty with wendy’s barbecue sauce is like a goddamn felony and i should sentence you to life of never even stepping foot near my car again,” he fires back, and if you didn’t know him well, which you do, you’d venture to guess that he’s joking. he’s not.

you groan in frustration. “for the last time, i did not get barbecue sauce on your car seats,” you insist.

“i saw you sneaking fries before we got to the room,” he counters, narrowing his eyes at you. “you could have gotten grease on the leather too.”

“i ate two fries dean, and i was careful. i used a napkin and i did not open my barbecue sauce!” you spit back at him. you can’t believe you’re arguing about this right now. except that it is so believable and so like you and him. it’s not like either one of you is going to back down, certainly not about something so petty and meaningless.

“then how come i found some in the back seat?” he says for what feels like the millionth time.

you throw your hands up in the air. “i don’t know! i don’t even use my barbecue sauce for my fries. there’s no reason for me to have opened it!” you argue, huffing out a frustrated sigh. “and how do you even know it was barbecue sauce?”

“it looked like barbecue sauce, it wasn’t there yesterday, you’re the only one who orders it and the only one who’s sat in the back since then. therefore, barbecue sauce,” he admonishes, crossing his arms over his chest to punctuate his point. you can’t help but laugh at him a little bit. he just sounds so ridiculous.

“well then, let’s say it was barbecue sauce—which it wasn’t. did the leather get damaged?” you ask pointedly.

“that doesn’t matter!” he practically rages, taking a step towards you. god, he’s beautiful and you hate him for it (you really, really love him for it). “what matters is that you got it dirty!”

“jesus, dean! just drop it, your car is fine!” you chastise, your voice raising a little in volume as you take another step towards him. you can see his light freckles better now. they’re so goddamn pretty it makes you want to choke him.

“just drop it?” he repeats, fuming. “i will not ‘just drop it.’ this is about baby. i can’t ‘just drop’ something about baby! how can i even trust you enough to let you in my car again, huh?” this is the point where he’s serious, but not that serious. there’s clear frustration and anger in his voice, but he’s stuck with you and he knows it. and when he asks that final question, his volume lessens and he shrugs. he’s looking for you to grovel or offer something to appease him. the question is whether or not to give him that. your instinct is, of course, to not. you let out a huff of breath.

“well, maybe because i’m excellent company in the car,” you suggest, a gloating tone making its way into your voice. “and i like your music better than sam does. which means we always outnumber him. that’s very important.”

he’s unimpressed, clearly. “you gotta come up with something better than that, sweetheart,” he goads.

you curl your lip at him and roll your eyes. “you absolutely suck, dean,” you state. he raises his eyebrows and you groan and roll your eyes yet again. that’s not the word to use around him unless you want a sexual innuendo thrown in your face. “you are absolutely horrible, dean,” you amend.

he laughs at you and his annoyance mostly subsides. “which means i have no problem getting back at you tenfold for getting goddamn barbecue sauce on my car seat.”

“te respicere bonum cum iratus es, ita dampnas,” you grumble, shaking your head and glaring at him. like tradition, you end the argument with a certain latin phrase full of choice words. 

now dean, sweet, lovely, silly, gorgeous dean, has no idea what you’re saying. he doesn’t care to learn enough latin for that. he doesn’t need to know, he thinks. your tone of voice says it all. he thinks those choice words are the type that one fills an insult with. today you tell him, “you look so damn good when you’re angry.” which, funnily enough, is not an insult.

it’s the perfect way of looking him in the eye and just spitting it out. you get to say without consequence what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling, what you want to tell him so badly. it’s not the same as him knowing, but it helps. it eases your tension until the next time, it softens the blow a little.

sam fails to hold in his laugh behind you. you whirl around and glare at him, freshly dressed and out of the shower. you hadn’t even heard him leave the bathroom. narrowing your eyes at him, you tell your long time best friend, say something and you die. he puts his hands up in surrender, still laughing at you a little.

“shut up,” you grumble, then turn back to dean with a scowl.

“what was that little nerd exchange?” dean teases, realizing sam understood what you said.

“nothing,” you glower. “i’m showering now!” 

dean throws his hands up in protest. “you’re making me shower last after getting barbecue sauce on my car?”

“dean, i swear to the lord in heaven, if you–”

“fine, fine!” he relents, the sarcasm and teasing still clearly present in his voice. “you’re right, you should shower first, you probably have barbecue sauce all over ya.” you raise your fist in a threat and it’s dean’s turn to put his hands up in surrender. “i’m just saying!”

“stop saying!” you groan. “just– stop talking, i’m gonna lose my mind.” if i have to stare at your gorgeous face and listen to your gorgeous voice for another second i will go crazy. you sigh heavily. god, you wonder if you could survive not kissing him. monsters and demons and all the strange shit in the world… that’s fine. it sucks but, jesus, at least you know how to deal with them.

but doing it all with dean? you have no idea how to deal with that. so far, it’s by arguing with him, complimenting him in a dead language, and keeping him at an arm’s length. and so far, it’s not working out too well, because you still want him. you still want him to want you back. you still wish and wish and wish that the language of love isn’t dead, not for you and him, not yet, at least.

maybe the shower will help. this motel doesn’t have the worst showers; the water pressure is decent and the water stays hot for a while longer than some others.

you’re not annoyed when you finish, at least, not about his stupid accusations of you getting condiments on his car seats. unfortunately, you are still annoyed about how attracted you are to him. even more unfortunate, you suppose, is that you’re attracted to him, period.

you sigh because you can’t bring yourself to actually try not to be. not that anyone can reverse feelings, but you let your feelings run rampant, more than you should sometimes. you let him eat away at your heart like a goddman movie zombie that’s too stupid to remember it eats brains. then, you figure that the thought of him eats away at your brain too, because he messes with your rationality sometimes.

his eyes are on you as you leave the bathroom and you wonder if sam’s tattled on you. when you shoot him a look he shrugs and shakes his head. you’re not convinced, but you let it slide. you plop down on the pullout couch bed and pack your old clothes away, ignoring dean’s heavy gaze. only when the door to the bathroom opens and closes do you flop against the bed with a heaving sigh.

“i hate your brother,” you grumble, barely loud enough for sam to hear as the muffled sounds of the shower turning on hits your ears. you turn to your side and curl up, not even bothering to pull the sheet over yourself.

you can’t see sam, but you hear him scoff from his spot on his own bed. “sure you do,” he quips, completely sarcastic.

“no, i really, really do,” you insist, not meaning a word of it.

“well, he hates you too, then,” he answers, voice heavy with implication. you know what he means because he knows what you mean. hate, of course, is love.

“no, he doesn’t,” you counter, sad about it. you bet that no one’s ever sounded so disappointed that someone doesn’t ‘hate’ them.

“you’re hopeless.” sam’s probably shaking his head at you as he reads the words on the book in his lap.

“i’m hopeless,” you sigh.

⟢⟢⟢

it’s not until a few days later that dean confronts you about your little latin digs at him. sam did tattle, only because he’s tired of your pining, but dean won’t tell you that. he’s smart enough to know you’ll end up with your hands around sam’s neck if you end up finding out, and he’s not trying to have his… person strangle his little brother.

“hey, idiot,” he starts, the word layered with affection. “why do you always insult me in latin? sorta feels like you lose the point of insulting someone to their face like that.” 

he’s leaning against the hood of his car, beer in hand like always. it’s oddly uncommon to find yourself like this; outside, alone with him. the motel’s not busy and there are barely any other cars in the parking lot, and even less people. it’s just you and him as far as you can see. the night air is mild, cicadas singing as summer begins to slip away.

“well… maybe the point is that you know i’m saying something about you, but you don’t know what,” you shrug, sort of proud of the smooth answer. you’re not even lying. inside, you’re panicking a bit. this is dangerous territory.

“the stuff you’re saying is that horrible, huh?” his tone suggests a joke. his eyes suggest otherwise. it makes you pause. 

how unfair is it, to the both of you, to lie? to even joke that you’d say such mean things about him? about dean winchester, whom you know sort of hates himself. who has just two people by his side, you and sam.

and you, who only argues with him because it’s easier than being nice. you, who deserves what you want but won’t let yourself even try to have it.

“no,” you sigh out. “i’m not saying horrible stuff about you.” you don’t look at him, you don’t mess around. you take the joking in his voice and strip it away. you take the look in his eyes and put it in yours. it makes him look at you, for once. it’s easy to imagine his eyebrows raising, his lips caught somewhere between his signature smirk and a curious frown. “not in latin, anyways,” you add, letting a huff of laughter leak into your bitter voice.

dean keeps looking at you. you know you’re supposed to explain after saying something like that, but you’d much rather not.

“no?” he asks finally. now you have to say something more.

“no,” you confirm, still staring at the trees across the street instead of him. the street lights are orange in color, and it feels either cruel or hopeful that it’s such a beautiful night. “i… say it in latin because it’s something nice. and you can… ignore this, if you want. i say it in latin because i like you a lot, dean. y’know, more than a stupid, fucking friend.” you roll your eyes a bit, like you’re upset with yourself. then you swallow thickly and ignore the fact that you can see him in your peripheral vision. he doesn’t look like he normally does. he doesn’t look angry.

dean is torn between teasing you and kissing you. you sound mad about the fact that you have feelings for him, like you wish you didn’t. ‘more than a stupid, fucking friend’ is a real funny way to phrase things, if he’s honest with himself. the question is, does he say that to you, or does he look for something better to say? he’s not good with ‘better things to say,’ whatever that might be.

“a little aggressive for a love confession, no?” his voice isn’t even that teasing. it’s sort of gentle. he wants to slap his hand over his mouth for saying that godforsaken four letter word. you had said ‘like.’ it’s freudian slip, he supposes, since he loves you.

“this isn’t funny, dean,” you murmur, voice sort of defeated. and yet, you hear it. it’s not funny to him either. he wasn’t trying to be funny, he was trying not to feel. he was trying to say at least something, because he was having trouble coming up with anything else.

“i know,” he relents. he draws in a deep breath. “will you look at me?” your lips part, then close. you blink a few times. you turn your head and look at him. god, he loves you back. he’s got to, or there’s no other way to explain how he looks at you.

and there’s definitely no other way to explain him kissing you. he looks you right in the eyes and he leans in until his lips are touching yours. 

his eyes flutter closed, yours follow. you kiss him back, he kisses harder. the language of love isn’t dead. all you had to do was say something.

[darnell-la]

how about dark-stepdad!logan and human!female-reader? Like logan just marry her mom so that he can easily get all nasty and pervy with her daughter👀

note: our most active author's birthday was yesterday, so we’ve been pretty busy. we apologize for the gap in our posting but trust me, we have a lot of posts coming. stay tuned!

———

“It’s my big day today, sweet pee,” Logan walked into y/n’s room without knocking. “Hmm?” Y/n asked as she covered herself up and placed her phone to the side.

“I said, it’s my big day today,” Logan repeated himself as he closed and locked her room door. “Room’s coming along. You like it here, princess?” He asked as he made his way over to the young lady.

“Yeah, but I’ll be moving out soon into my dorm. Did you know that mom-“ y/n went to say before Logan cut her off. “About that, sweetheart. Been meaning to talk to you,”

Logan sat down on y/n’s bed, facing her as she covered herself. She was in her laced gown since she had just woken up. She wraps her robe around her whenever she needs to leave the room.

“I can’t lie, but I’ve been a little sad lately,” Logan said, hand rubbing her cover as she grew confused. “Why?” She asked, hoping the wedding he and her mom had just had yesterday, wasn’t a mistake.

“I feel like it’s shitty of your old man, but I’ve just been thinking about me and your mom. Not just since last night, but even before,” the man said, making y/n look down. She liked Mister Howlett and didn’t want him to leave like the rest.

“I’ve just been distracted. Been distracted for years with your mother, but I’ve yet to act on it,” he said. “What’s been distracting you? Maybe my mom or I could help you,” Logan chuckled low as she softly shook his head.

“Oh, you can help me, bub,” Logan’s hand slowly traveled up her thigh, through her covers. “Just had to secure everything before I made a move,” the man said as he tugged on her covers.

“I-I’m not dressed appropriately,” y/n said. “Hey, we’re all family here, right? I don’t think it’ll be a big deal if your stepdad sees his girl,” y/n’s hands loosened, thinking to herself that it should be fine.

“There ya go. Been thinkin’ about you all night, you know? As soon as that ring was placed on my finger, I knew I had you,”

Y/n was confused about what her stepfather was saying as his hand rubbed her bare thigh. “You’ve grown up, bub. Dressed all pretty and rich. You like daddy's money?” He asked her, catching her off guard because she’d never called him dad.

“Y-Yes,” she stuttered as his hand came up to her face, allowing a finger to rub down her lip. “Yes, what, princess?” He asked. “Y-Yes, daddy,” she said, knowing that was what he wanted to hear.

“Good girl,” Logan sat up and climbed under the covers, pulling her body to lay fully so how could hover over his stepdaughter.

“M-Mister Howlett, what are you doing?” Y/n asked, hands on her chest since she had no idea where to put them. She was confused and shocked by his words and touches.

“Ssh, ssh, now. Don’t wanna wake your mom,” Logan said as his finger hooked around her panties. “Mister Howlett! I-I can’t do that,” y/n took one hand to grab his wrist, but he stopped her by pinning it next to her head.

“Nah uh! You lay still,” the man demanded as he continued pulling her panties down her legs until they were off. “Pretty little panties. Always wanted to go underwater shopping with you,” the man said as he took them to his nose.

Logan sniffed hard, taking in every last drop she had let soak into the laces overnight.

“Sweet,” Logan spoke before placing them in his sweatpants pocket. “Mister Howlett, please. I-I can’t do this to my mother,” y/n said, eyes already glossy from the size over her. He was intimidating.

“It’s okay, princess. She won’t know. I promise she won’t,” Logan said as he reached into his sweats to pull out his cock. When he did, y/n felt her heart skin.

She’s had sex before. Multiple times, but Logan was huge, and her mother’s husband. He was her stepdad.

“It’s okay, don’t run,” Logan gripped y/n’s waist to pull her back into him. “Just relax, and it’ll go smoothly. Needa trains you for future days,” Logan said. He wanted to do this more often.

“N-No, Mister Howlett! I-I can’t do this,” y/n went to roll off of the bed, but the man wrapped a hand around her neck, choking slightly so she wouldn’t be able to get out of his hold.

“You’re gonna lay right here and take it. You’re too grown to be worried about your mommy,” Logan pouted at the end as he moved in between her legs. “Logan stop!” Y/n yelled at the man, which surprised him.

The man disconnected his hand from her neck and slapped it over her mouth, preventing any other stupid action from coming from her.

“Gonna have you punish you for that,” Logan harshly pushed at y/n’s entrance, fighting his way through her until her walls fully covered him.

The young lady cried in his hand, feeling an instant pressure grow in her stomach. His size was forcing an orgasm to rip from her system.

“Squeezing me so fucking tight, bub,” Logan said with a rough tone, snapping him instantly to feel her cunt coat his cock. She was a leaking mess.

“L-Logan!” Y/n tried clawing at the man’s chest, but that didn’t phase him. “Fuck, baby- You keep doin’ that, and ima get angry,”

Y/n continued as the pleasure built throughout her body. She couldn’t help the moans that escaped.

For a second, she thought about stopping and letting him take over her body. She felt too good to keep her act up, but she didn’t want to be too easy. She was embarrassed by how good her stepfather made her feel.

So y/n fought harder. Scratching the man aggressively and surprisingly pulling blood. “Fuuuuck!” The man groaned loudly as he gripped y/n’s mouth.

Y/n wanted to keep scratching and make the man stop, but she froze once she saw something she’d never seen before. The man’s wounds healed right in front of her face. It’s like she never scratched him.

“Didn’t want you to find out his way, baby,” Logan spoke after a long pause of silence. The man leaned down, getting closer to her face as he thrusted in her slowly.

“I’m one of those mutants from back then, but that shouldn’t be a problem. All that means is that I can take care of you. I’m the only one that can, sweetheart,”

Logan buried his face into the young girl's neck as she tilted her head back, allowing him to suck. “Gonna treat my little girl so good,” Logan mumbled as y/n slightly wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him close to her body.

Y/n couldn’t think about her mother anymore. Not while Logan was all inches deep in her, twitching and ready to cum. She stayed his good girl for the morning and whenever else he needed her to be.

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 5 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 3.5k

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), some cussing here and there, presence of breadcrumbs if you look close enough, dark and mature themes related to quirk supremacy

a/n. i'm back! thank you for waiting patiently for this chapter. i haven't had the time to sit down and lock in on writing until yesterday, but i hope the wait is worth it! important plot points will be discussed in this chapter, so i hope this one is a fun one for y'all!

links. masterlist, ao3

Sooner came later than you wished it would.

After that late-night conversation with Bakugou where he implicitly emboldened you to exhibit patience, you really made it a point to double down on the entire charade. You’ve attended as many activities as you could with the pro-hero, made a good impression on your fellow members, and even gone as far as constantly initiating affectionate behavior with Bakugou, to which he’s been getting better at responding.

So much so that he’s bordering dangerous.

There’s been that singular instance where he ushered you to the cafeteria after one of your quirk training sessions—like a gentleman—a big, firm hand planted on the small of your back. It wasn’t a huge gesture, but it was the first coming from him without prompting ever since you had to start acting like a couple. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t catch you off guard, but you played it off well enough, shooting him a grateful smile as you reached your usual table.

He only looked away, solemn.

You shrugged it off, thinking everyone had to start somewhere.

And while little moments like that have helped in taking your mind off of how routinary your days have been, the fact of the matter is: said patience is thinning.

You didn’t have to look far for proof either to know that Bakugou’s experiencing the same thing.

He’s been doing a decent job at regulating his emotions, as well as acting in front of everyone else to play his part, but when the trackers are long gone and cameras are sealed shut, and you’re in the privacy of your shared bedroom, that’s when he puts the mask down.

You could tell he’s been trying to remain kind—or at least, civil—with you, but there’s no denying the increased curtness of his responses, as well as how he’s been extra grumpy when roused in the mornings by either of the twins.

And you can’t blame him—you really can’t.

You yourself were just about to mentally give up and accept that you’re never going to get on with the mission at this rate when it comes on a regular evening.

You shoot up from where you were sprawled lazily across the mattress, alarmed. You glance at Bakugou, who’s already looking at you from the couch, that same caution you know is written all over your face etched on his.

Two weeks of living here, and the impending cardiac arrest that comes with a barrage of unexpected knocks still prove to be a probable cause of death for the both of you.

Wordlessly and without your behest, Bakugou grabs his pillow and blanket before throwing them beside you on the bed. You’re quick to adjust them into place as he slowly walks towards the door, another round of rapping resounding from the entryway.

Probably over the whole hammering thing just as much as you are, Bakugou promptly turns the knob and swings the slab of wood open, revealing a serious Omiru.

She speaks up almost instantly, but not without first glaring you both daggers. “The boss’s office. Now.”

And before she turns on her heel or either of you can ask any questions: “We’re gonna discuss the plan.”

The first thing you notice when you get to Masaki’s office a few minutes later is that for a large organization’s leader, the space is—just like its owner—remarkably…plain.

Similar to your small bedroom, the walls are colored off-white, the floor is dark hardwood, and there are very minimal decorations. Aside from the picture frames of what seems to be a family of four littered on his modestly sized desk, the room is pretty bare in terms of embellishments.

You don’t get to take a closer look at the photographs, though, because the second thing then catches your attention: how, rather than plastered leisurely on the sofa and conversing with each other, the three heads actually seem busy.

While, in fact, seated on the couch, Sayaka and Kouki are far from being relaxed. They’re sitting on the edge of their seats, hunched over what seems to be a…chart? You don’t get to peer at that, either, because their bodies are blocking the view.

So, instead, you let your gaze drift over to the main man himself, who is behind his workspace and has his back turned against you, fiddling with what you think is a push pin as he stares at the large corkboard in front of him.

“Bakugou and his girlfriend, sir,” Omiru announces before you. “Just as you requested.”

At the sound of her low voice, Masaki turns around, a pleasant expression on his face. “Welcome, you two. Please, go and grab a seat.”

You quickly scan the room for said seat, but there aren’t any more vacancies aside from the set of furniture the cyborg and the old man are occupying. So, albeit begrudgingly, you quietly follow Bakugou as he takes a few steps and sits down across the two, with you plopping yourself beside him.

The man next to you clears his throat.

“Is there any reason why we’re being summoned at,” Bakugou pauses, checking his watch, “9:27 PM?”

Playing it cool and not at all eager, huh?

You can do that as well.

Feigning ignorance, you look at Masaki as he rounds his desk and situates himself on the single sofa perpendicular to the four of you.

“Apologies for that,” the man starts diffidently. “I’ve been…busy with things at home, and now’s the only time I have to discuss this with you for the next few days.”

“Are you finally telling me what my role is?” asks Bakugou, manspreading as he brings an arm on top of the backrest behind you. “Because if you are, then fucking finally.”

“Yes,” answers the plain-looking man, “We’ll get to that. But before that, I’ll have to preface this meeting by making sure we’re all on the same page.”

“As you all know, our vision here in The Quirk Coalition is for a future where quirks are cultivated to their greatest potential and are regarded with the highest primacy in society. That means those who can wield their strong powers will take their rightful place in the community and reap the benefits of their gifts,” Masaki pauses, before looking at you and Bakugou. “Do you see where I’m going with this?”

You nod, pushing against the dread that’s creeping up your spine. You feel Bakugou stir beside you.

He continues.

“For the gifted to fully enjoy what they deserve, we’re going to have to remodel society to serve those with formidable quirks. After all, it’s them who serve as the pillars of our nation that’s constantly under the threat of malicious villains.”

Villains like you, you think to yourself. You bite your tongue.

Masaki then leans forward, a sinister look dawning on his features.

“That then, my dearest members, leaves no space for those who are weak and quirkless. As such, we’ve taken upon the difficult but noble duty to eliminate those who are such. This is necessary, so as to be able to rebuild a world that’s suited to the beauty that are quirks.”

Silence.

“…All this yappin’ yet I still don’t know what kinda action I’ll get?” spews Bakugou.

You mentally facepalm.

“Right,” retorts Masaki, “I appreciate the enthusiasm, Dynamight. You’ll be glad to know that you play an important role in the whole scheme of things.”

“We’ll essentially be using those bombs of yours, boy,” Kouki chimes in, catching the rest of your attention. “There was no way for us to procure munitions without alerting the government, so we’re going to have to use the ones you produce with your quirk.”

“That’s it?” Bakugou spits out, performing for his life. “You’re just gonna make me into a factory? Don’t I get to blow things up myself?”

“You can’t without exposing yourself,” comes Masaki’s level-headed reply. “That’s what our volunteering members are for. They’ll be carrying your bombs with you and infiltrate the venues.”

“Volunteers?” you can’t help but ask, voice small. You feel Bakugou’s eyes boring at the side of your face. “Are you saying they’re…?”

“Going to die in the line of duty, unfortunately, yes.”

“But aren’t they going to be detected?” you push, tamping down the panic that’s blooming in your gut. “Most places here in Japan have radars that can easily spot a grenade.”

Masaki smiles at you.

You feel goosebumps rise in its wake.

“I appreciate your concern, sweetheart, but we’ve made sure our targets are free of such devices.”

You let the confusion show on your features.

How can that be?

This has to be a joke, or this man has to be bluffing.

But why would he, if he needed the two of you—or at least, Bakugou—to execute his plan?

His choice of victims ought to be sheltered in secured skyscrapers or guard-riddled complexes, neither of which would tolerate the presence of explosives.

Unless…

You chance a glance past Masaki’s shoulder and onto the corkboard he was just studying a moment ago.

And when you do, you barely manage to fight back a terrified gasp as your eyes land on the rows of photographs that are pinned onto the panel.

Because staring right back at you are tens of faces of children.

“…Y/N?”

You snap to attention, turning to regard the concerned faces looking at you. “Huh?”

“You okay, babe?” comes Bakugou’s gruff voice, and you barely register the hand that slithers through the space between you to encase yours in a gentle hold.

You shift to meet the pro-hero in the eye. You find yourself glad you’re sitting down, because the sheer intensity of his gaze is enough to knock you off your feet.

“You zoned out there for a second,” he explains, shooting you a boyish smile, although it comes out slightly stilted.

“Yeah, no, I’m alright,” you try to laugh, “Sorry, I guess I’m just sleepy.”

“Are you sure she needs to be part of this conversation?” asks Kouki, who’s looking a bit too unsettled for your taste. “Masaki, I think you can send her back to their room if she needs to rest.”

“No,” you quickly interject, “I’m fine! I want to be here.”

You flash them the most sincere grin you can muster. “I want to help.”

“She’s the real deal,” Bakugou adds, to your relief. “Her quirk can make a huge difference in how successful your whole operation will be.”

On that note, and just like last time, you prepare yourself to utilize your quirk when none of them say anything for a beat. You maintain your carefree countenance as you wait for your go signal, but it never comes.

What comes, instead, is a decisive nod from Masaki.

“Very well, she can stay. But no more tangents, please. We need to get this ironed out.”

You nod eagerly. The man deems it enough for him to go on.

“Now that we’ve established Bakugou’s role in this entire enterprise, it’s high time we go through the actual plans.”

He gestures to the blueprint-sized chart on the coffee table in front of you. “As you can see here, we have ten circles. Each circle represents a target elementary school. One volunteer—”

Suicide bomber, you note in your head.

“—will be assigned to each school, armed with an ample number of bombs courtesy of Dynamight. Groups of at least six members of the organization will also be appointed per target to assist the volunteers and capture escapees if necessary. They’ll be teleported to their respective venues via their portkeys.”

Before you can even think of asking what the hell a portkey is, Kouki beats you to it.

“They’re devices,” he declares haughtily. “Magnetic devices, to be more precise.”

He holds out his thin wrists, which you now notice are adorned with silver bands made up of thin, rectangular pieces that stick to his wrinkly skin.

“Each member has a piece themselves, which pairs with the ones I have here,” he wiggles his hand for emphasis. “This is how we do mass teleportation.”

“Thank you, Kouki-san,” Masaki interrupts, before pointing again at the chart. “Now that we have that cleared up, I’d like to invite you to look at this portion.”

“While the rest of the members execute the plan at the ten locations, Kouki, Sayaka, and Bakugou will be in the headquarters overlooking the entire thing, while Y/N and I will be in the Prime Minister’s Office executing the final blow.”

A wave of terror instantly hits you just as Bakugou bristles in his seat.

“The fuck are you on, separating us?”

Despite the nausea pooling in your stomach, you still manage to register the contortion of Masaki’s features into a frown.

“You gave me the idea, Bakugou. You said your girlfriend here boosts one’s success rate, and I need all the help I can get to make sure I wipe out the entire office and elect a new set of like-minded officers.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” comes Bakugou’s hostile response. “She could get hurt, and I need to be there to protect her.”

If you weren’t in a literal life-or-death situation, you would’ve snorted at that.

But alas, you are, and the last thing you feel like doing right now is laughing.

So instead, you squeeze the hand that’s been holding yours since what has felt like forever ago, shrinking in yourself ever so slightly to seem afraid and to further sell the act.

You avert your gaze downwards, too, to make them feel like the alpha in the situation, but not before you catch a glimpse of Masaki sighing.

You hear it, too.

“What do you suggest we do then, huh, Dynamight?”

“You can station me where you and Y/N will be.” He eyes the robotic woman and the old geezer, “These two are more than capable of manning the HQ, anyway. Besides, I’m more useful out in the field.”

“But the risk of you getting caught—”

“I’m well-fucking-trained in stealth missions, if you really have to know,” Bakugou cuts him off. “Just let me know how I can contribute to your particular objective and I’ll do it. Without getting caught.”

He says it so confidently that even you’re convinced. But you don’t get to bask in his unfounded (up for debate, really) confidence, because he squeezes your hand this time before tightening his hold and turning to look straight at you.

You stare into each other’s eyes for what feels like an eternity before he delivers the finishing blow.

“…I just need to make sure she’s safe.”

A chuckle yanks you out of your daze, and you whip to see Masaki smiling at the two of you.

“Since when did the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight become such a loverboy?”

“None of your goddamn business,” comes the pro-hero’s snappy reply, which grants him another bark of laughter.

“I suppose not,” Masaki quips, and you find yourself wondering how this man can manage to joke around like this when he’s got arrays and arrays of photos of children he’s planning to murder behind him.

Despite the sheer absurdity of the situation and the undeniable thumping of your heart, you’re eventually able to school your face into a neutral expression and listen in to the rest of the meeting.

After adjusting Bakugou’s placement from headquarters to the Prime Minister’s Office alongside you and Masaki, the latter proceeded to discuss further arrangements for the two of you. Apparently, there will be three people assigned to each of you to monitor your movements during D-Day. Neither you nor Bakugou protested against it, aware that you’re already walking on thin ice after negotiating that you be together during the day of the attack.

Once he got that part done and over with, the leader went through a few more details about the bombings before adjourning the session altogether with a conclusive pat on the knees like he did during your first meeting.

And just like that, you’re sent back to your room.

Words aren’t exchanged between you and Bakugou as he retrieves his pillow and blanket from your space, carefully laying them out on the couch.

You don’t have to ask him if he’s feeling the same heaviness you’re carrying, the load evident in how he seems to be physically weighed down with the way he moves.

It’s not even just about the news of tens of children being the targets. It’s also the pressure to succeed in this mission with this new knowledge, even more so the looming reality that you’re currently leaning way closer toward failing it.

And you don’t know what takes over you—it may be that burden, or the palpable fear, or the very fact that you’ve been sharing more and more touches over the past two weeks—but you do it.

You stand up from where you’re seated on the edge of the bed and pull him by his wrist—the Bakugou who was just about to lie down on his makeshift bed—and into an embrace.

Bakugou instantly stiffens in your grasp, but he doesn’t say anything nor try to wriggle himself out. Stubborn and admittedly craving for a comforting hug yourself, you don’t let go of your hold around his torso, shifting to pat his back all the while.

“We can do this,” you whisper a few moments later, forehead against his firm chest.

And, as if your words are magic, you sense his body relax before you feel him wrap his arms around you.

You fight back the urge to bury the rest of your face into his chest and cry when he does so.

“‘Course we can, dumbass,” comes his uncharacteristically soft answer. “We don’t have a choice.”

Keeping your head high the following morning proved to be more difficult than you initially thought, let alone getting your ass out of the comfortable bed where you decided you could die then and there.

Bakugou himself didn’t look too excited when he got woken by the female twin at 8 AM sharp, that prominent frown deeply embedded in his mouth as he tossed his things onto the mattress just like clockwork.

And really, you were this close to asking him if he wanted to join you on your deathbed when your last bit of common sense reared its ugly head and metaphorically detroit-slapped you in the face.

Not now, bitch.

You had lives to save.

And so with that onerous knowledge, you hauled yourself out of bed, got ready in record time, and trudged beside Bakugou down to the mess hall.

You try to suppress the disappointment that lurches to your throat when you spot a small group of 20-somethings eating at the far end of your favorite table. You were looking forward to some peace and quiet, at least this morning after the debacle from last night, but apparently, that’s not happening.

You know better than to move to another spot, though, knowing all too well that such an action will make you seem snobbish and ruin the amiable reputation you’ve been trying to build for yourself. And so with a heavy heart, you head there with your full tray in tow and seat yourself beside Bakugou, just like how you’ve always had since Day 1.

And the moment you do, that’s when you hear it.

“…Have you heard?” surfaces an enticing voice that must belong to one of the women you clocked before sitting down. “Word’s spreading outside about the attack.”

“Seriously?” comes a man’s voice this time. “What about it?”

“Not much, just that there’s an impending one. But get this,” she pauses, and drops her volume enough that you have to strain to hear the next part.

“There…rumors…#2…involved.”

Your body moves before your brain can catch up—you whip to look at Bakugou beside you, whose eyes are already wide as saucers when you meet his gaze. Without a word, the both of you quickly move to demolish the food in front of you, and within a matter of minutes, you’re up and clearing your dishes by the kitchen area, before stomping toward the leader’s office.

Bakugou doesn’t even bother to knock on the door, opting to unceremoniously barge into the room instead.

“What the—”

“We’ve overheard that rumors are circulating about the attack and my involvement,” Bakugou announces.

Masaki, who’s looking stunned from where he’s seated on his office chair, tosses you a perplexed look. “What?”

“Let us out for one day,” Bakugou swings out of nowhere you’d almost get whiplash if you didn’t stop yourself from gawking at him at the last minute.

The man frowns. “I’m afraid I don’t follow, Bakugou.”

“Let the two of us be seen out for a day,” Bakugou expounds, although not by much.

Though, that seems to be enough for you, because only then do you get it.

Dating scandals have always been the rumor mill’s favorite, after all.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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[unclewaynemunson]

Pt2 to this post. At this point it looks like there’ll be 4 parts in total :)

Robin is basically seething with rage when she walks into Thatcher Tire before the start of her own shift at Family Video. After a month of Steve being happier than she had ever seen him before, he showed up on her doorstep on the verge of tears last night. She had to listen to him talk about Eddie until well after midnight. About Eddie, who had apparently only been “fucking around” with him for the past month, while Steve was falling head-over-heels for him.

Robin liked Eddie, of course she did. But one part of her had not even been surprised about this turn of events. It was the part of her that had never fully trusted Eddie – the part she had tried her very best to shut up because she didn't want to believe in the possibility of it being right.

It was the part of her that had been warning her that something about Eddie and Steve seemed off right from the beginning: how Steve was falling, with complete faith and no safety net, while Eddie was... Well, it wasn't like he was actively mean or cruel in any way. It wasn't like he seemed to be using Steve or like he wasn't really into him. None of that. But there had always been this something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Now she finally knows what it was.

She has dozens of questions ready to fire at him. Did he ever even notice how fragile Steve really is, underneath those leftover pieces from his high school days? How lonely he is? Does he even know how badly that boy wants to be loved? Does he know how much it broke Robin's heart when she couldn't give that love to Steve in the way he wanted her to? Will it break Eddie's heart, too, when he realizes what he has done to Steve? Or did he already know, all this time? Has he just been playing some cruel game for a whole fucking month?

So she barges into the garage and marches purposefully towards the backroom with her battle baret all dusted off for the occasion, ready to tell Eddie exactly what she thinks of him. But she stops in her tracks when she hears Eddie's voice emerge from the room, sounding like he's already caught up in some kind of heated conversation himself.

'Right?! I mean, can you believe this shit?! He just shows up with goddamn flowers like we're – like we're actually together or some shit!'

It's silent for a while and it takes Robin a few seconds to realize that he must be on the phone.

'He's hot, okay?' Eddie continues, in a voice that could best be described as distressed. 'And the kids like him, he's cute, there was no reason not to say yes when he asked me out. But it was never supposed to – we were just supposed to have some fun and leave it at that.' He actually sounds like he's on the verge of tears by now.

'Because this was never the fucking plan!' he answers a question asked from the other end of the line. 'If he's gonna continue like this, all sweet and caring and giving me flowers and shit... I'm gonna fall in love with him, Jeff, I'm serious! I don't even know why he's doing this – he probably just wants to know that he can, you know. Give his ego a little boost and laugh at me when he finds out it's actually working. It's cruel, it's really fucking cruel.'

There's another beat of silence.

'You're a lifesaver,' Eddie then says. 'And bring that one ice cream, you know the one, with the pecan and the – exactly! And maybe some of your mom's chocolate pie if she still has – thank you, my hero. Oh, and don't forget to say hi to your mom from me.'

While Eddie hangs the phone back on the hook, Robin takes her final step around the corner.

'Is that really what you think of him?'

Eddie jumps up when he sees Robin standing in the doorway, her arms crossed in front of her chest and one of her most scathing looks on her face.

'What the hell, Buck? Were you eavesdropping on my phone call?'

'You really think he's the cruel one?' she repeats, ignoring his indignant question. 'Then why did he show up at my door yesterday night looking like a heap of misery and telling me how his boyfriend turned out to only have been his hookup all this time?'

'Look, Buckley, I – wait, what?'

'What?'

'His what now?'

And the utterly confused look on his face tells her more than enough. He didn't know, she realizes. He truly didn't know what Steve felt for him.

'You fucking dummy!'

'I – what did you just call me?'

'A dummy.' Okay, it's not exactly the best insult she ever came up with, but she has no choice but to double down on it now.

'No, earlier, you – you said – his boyfriend,' Eddie stutters out.

Robin merely shoots him an unimpressed glance.

'Steve thought we were boyfriends?!' he exclaims in a shrill voice. He looks at her like she just dropped some news about Vecna returning to Hawkins.

'Do you really have to look that disgusted about it?'

'No, I wasn't – Are you playing some kind of twisted prank on me here?'

'Do I look like this is a prank?'

He narrows his eyes at her. 'But... Why the hell would he want us to be boyfriends?'

'Because he liked you, you idiot!' she yells at him. 'Because he asked you out and you said yes and you were nice to him! Because he basically had those obnoxious little pink hearts floating around his head whenever you were together! Because you treated him with more kindness and respect than any girl he's ever dated before – well, until he wanted to celebrate your anniversary and you basically told him to fuck off when he wanted to take care of you while you were sick! Which you clearly aren't, by the way!'

'Don't be ridiculous here,' Eddie shoots back at her. 'Why would he ever want me to be his boyfriend?'

'Because – are you even listening to me?! Because he's in love with you!'

'Come on, Robin, you can't actually believe that,' he says, a tensed chuckle coloring the end of the sentence. 'He's Steve Harrington.' And he says that name in such a snide tone that it makes Robin flinch on her best friend's behalf.

'I mean, sure, he's fallen from his throne and all that,' he continues, 'but no one really changes that much. He was a dick! Don't you remember how he treated your band friends? Don't you remember how completely invisible you were to him? Don't you remember the names he called people like us? All the people he'd knock down to lift himself up?'

She doesn't avert her gaze, but only lifts her chin.

'You don't need to remind me,' she tells Eddie, trying her very best to sound as calm as possible. 'I remember. But I also remember how he snuck the most nerdy kids I ever met into the back of our ice cream store to let them watch movies for free. And I remember how he stuffed them with free ice cream when nobody was watching. I remember how he spent hours giving Dustin advice about his girlfriend – the advice was terrible, frankly, but that's not the point, it was well-meant.' No, stop, don't get distracted, she sternly tells herself, steering back to the topic at hand.

'I remember how he did everything in his power to get Dustin and Erica to safety when we all got caught in a goddamn nightmare. I remember how he almost died taking a bunch of punches for me.' She takes a quick breath before she goes on. 'I remember how he broke down in my arms because he felt so guilty about the person he used to be, the people he hurt when he was this asshole teenage boy doing asshole teenage boy shit. I remember how dumb he felt when he didn't get into any colleges again, I remember how scared he was when he figured out he liked boys, I remember how you were the one who made him finally feel some self-worth again when you guys started dating... And you know what else I remember? How you broke his heart yesterday. So you don't have to tell me what a dick he is, Eddie Munson. If you need to point fingers and call someone a dick so bad, don't you dare come for Steve. You better look in the mirror for that.'

Pt3 is here!

(Edit: it's actually 5 parts now. You can read the whole thing on ao3 here)

The amount of people asking to be tagged has frankly been unreal, woah! It honestly means so fucking much to me that you care enough about this silly lil story to ask for a tag 🥹 Seriously, thank you so much, and I hope you liked this part / the way the story is unfolding. I’d love to hear what y’all think <3

Taglist: @pluto-pepsi @i-less-than-three-you @estrellami-1 @epiclazershark @angelscoops @missmagillicuddy @fxndom-hoe @chaoticvictorianspirit @itsali-taken @merricatty @its-a-me-a-morgan @lilacrobin @adaydreamaway08 @starman-jpg @irethsune @starry-eyedlune @littlemsterious @7shrewsinatrenchcoat @lostonceandneverfound @a-gae-af-racoon @heartstarstar-blog @ignoretenderness @thehorrorandme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @vampireinthesun @ntwolf69 @thatonebadideapanda @jackiemonroe5512 @tinynebula @obliosworld @sleepy-time @daydreaming-mood @aizawa-emma @leethegay @irregular-child @just-a-tiny-void @evix-syne666

[minnieminshi]

Pucking Chemistry

Summary: You never should’ve agreed to tutor the captain of the hockey team. Who shows up a full hour after the agreed meeting time? Choi Seungcheol, apparently as you’ve come to learn. And now you’re stuck tutoring him because for some reason, you're his last hope to pass chemistry so he’s eligible to play in an upcoming tournament. 

Warnings: cursing because I can’t help myself lol, mentions of your father abandoning the family (it's minor and only mentioned like once)

Word Count: 9.9K (I was possessed lol)

Extra info: high school setting, Cheol uses the term "princess" a lot and I'm a sucker for calling people by their last name, mentions of Monsta X’s I.M (aka Changkyun) and Kard’s Somin (but she gets mentioned like once lol), your little brother’s name never gets mentioned but you do call him Frosty lol, and my knowledge of hockey is limited to watching Dr. Mike on yt talk about hockey injuries so there’s not a whole lot of hockey action in this fic lmao.

Author's Note: this fic made me realize my little brother is turning 13 this year and I can’t handle that because what do you mean he’s a teen now he literally turned one the other day and I think that shows in this fic lol. Also if I only count the days I actually sat down to write this fic it only took me 3 days lol, but I had 3 tests this week and had to be productive so that nerfed me. This is also the first fic I'm posting in this app so bare with me lol and in honor of Scoups and Jeonghan getting cleared to return to activities, I present the beginning of this series

Sporteen Masterlist

Sitting in the school’s library, all your chemistry notes laid out, you began to rethink agreeing to tutor the school’s hockey captain, Choi Seungcheol. With another glance to your phone, you sighed, ten minutes passed what the two of you agreed to meet at. If you didn’t like your chemistry teacher as much as you do, you would have never agreed to do this. 

He’s a sweet guy, I’m sure he won’t give you any problems!

But it’s only ten minutes and sometimes things come up. Maybe he’d walk in after a few more minutes and then you two could finally start. 

Except those ten minutes slowly morphed into thirty minutes, forty five minutes, and now suddenly it’s an hour and not a single word from Choi Seungcheol about where the hell he’s at.

And while having to wait an hour for someone to show up to something they needed sucked, that’s not what pissed you off. What pissed you off was the fact that after this tutoring session, you had a date with Changkyun, set up by your friend Somin, but thanks to the no show Choi Seungcheol, you’d have to rush home, get your little brother ready for the evening and get ready for your date. And while you could hypothetically get everything done in time, you would prefer it if you didn’t have to rush. Your little brother’s probably gonna complain about his quick dinner of chicken nuggets and macaroni after you promised him yesterday you’d make him what he called an “actual meal.” You reminded him that he was twelve and fully capable of cooking for himself and suddenly the quick meal was the best thing he’s ever eaten. 

So he could survive a rushed meal, however getting ready for your date was a different story. Rushing to get ready in the morning for school was one thing. You could halfass an outfit and get your brother out the door in fifteen minutes flat if your mom was already at work, but you needed a little more time to actually look good enough for someone who wasn’t related to you or hasn’t seen you slumped over your desk with textbooks and notes sprawled all over the floor. 

Now, because of Choi Seungcheol, you’d have to rush, something you wished wouldn’t happen. 

“Sweet guy my ass,” you mutter under your breath as you begin shoving your things into your backpack. Just as you finished shoving the last textbook into your backpack, a deep voice caught you off guard before you rolled your eyes.  

“Where’re you going princess, aren’t you gonna tutor me?��� 

Oh? 

Letting out a low chuckle, you turn to face the captain who you wished you could smack that smirk off his face and crossing your arms over your chest, you leaned against the table. “Tutor you? I agreed to tutor you an hour ago, and since that’s passed, I’m heading home to go enjoy my evening.” 

As you turned around to grab your backpack and go home, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked up to see him holding onto you, a hesitant look in his eyes. Your brows furrowed as you shook his hand off. 

“Look, I’m sorry about being late, but something came up.” He muttered, his hand falling to his side as he shoved his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. You scoffed as you shouldered your bag. “Too busy to send a heads up?” 

You look up to see a light blush dust his cheeks as he looks away from you, and if you weren’t so pissed at him, you’d find him kinda cute. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You sighed as you glance at the clock on the wall, and with a sigh, you turn to the hockey player. “Look, I have plans so I can give you 45 minutes.” 

“Forty five minutes? That’s barely any time to learn anything,” he complained with a small pout on his lips as you rolled your eyes. “Take it or leave it Choi, you’re the one who was late.” 

He let out a small huff before agreeing to the terms, pulling out a chair as you pulled out your phone, setting an alarm for exactly 45 minutes. Thankfully tutoring him wasn’t terrible, he actually seemed to listen to you and he even took notes while you explained the most recent lesson to him. Maybe if he was kind enough to send a message earlier you might actually feel bad about leaving, but alas that wasn’t the case. 

With the default alarm ringing, you began packing up your things once again, this time, really just throwing everything with no regard as to how things landed in your bag. With a little speeding you should be able to make it home in about fifteen minutes which gives you about ten minutes to make your brother’s dinner and have about thirty minutes to get ready for your date. Perfect timing as long as you leave right now. 

Just as you begin to walk away, pulling up your little brother’s contact to tell him you’re on your way, Seungcheol calls you out. “Are we still good for next week?” You freeze, slowly turning to look at him as your phone rings. “Next week? Listen Choi, I think it’s best if you find someone else to tutor you.”

Before he can say anything, you cut him off. “Listen, I have things to take care of after school and I can’t wait for over an hour, wondering if you’ll show up. I’ll tell Ms. Park to find someone else and we don’t have to worry about seeing each other again.” With that, you walk out the library, your little brother having finally picked up and making things easier for you as he grabbed all the food you told him to. 

Looks like things will be going back to normal after today, no more having to worry about Choi Seungcheol. 

Or so you thought. 

What you didn’t expect to see when coming to pick up your little brother from his little hockey club practice is Choi Seungcheol out on the ice, with your little brother excitedly talking to him about who knows what. 

You internally groan, why, just why did he have to be the one to coach your little brother’s team. And why did you have to say you’d never see him again, it’s like you were asking for the universe to play a cruel prank on you by making sure this would happen to you. 

Weeks ago, when your little brother asked you if you could start taking him to a hockey club he joined every Saturday, you didn’t see any issue with it initially. As long as he had the proper gear (that your guys’ mom provided) you thought it was great he found a sport he enjoyed after he burned through basketball, soccer, tennis, and baseball in a matter of a few years. Plus it meant you could have Saturday to yourself for a few hours while everyone else was out of the house. So a win-win in your book. 

Or so it was a win before you were left in disbelief, standing off to the side as you watched him talk to Seungcheol. You shook your head, calling out his name as you made your way to the plexiglass wall, wanting to go home. You made the rookie mistake of walking into the rink with no jacket, thinking it would be a quick run of picking him up and going back home. How foolish of you to think things would work out for you. 

You let out a small gasp as you made eye contact with your little brother, holding it for a few seconds, only to have him ignore you and continue to talk to his coach, who you knew was aware of your presence. You groan, grounding the heels of your palms into your eyes. Oh how you wished you were an only child in moments like this. Instead you were cursed to be a big sister to a little brother who made your life oh so difficult. 

Calling out his name one more time, he finally looked over at you and started to make his way off the rink. You sighed, thankful you weren’t going to have to resort to actually going out on the ice to drag him out. 

“Took you long enough, I’m freezing over here,” you said once he was at the wall, carefully stepping onto the non-frozen ground with his skates. “That’s on you for not bringing a jacket into the rink.” 

“And that’s on you when all you get for dinner is a slice of bread,” you say when you hand him his sneakers that he had put on the seats before practice had started, and where his backpack was. “Can’t believe you feed me like I’m some paperboy from the 1900s,” he grumbled, but he took the shoes. 

Before you could shoot back a reply, Seungcheol skates up to the wall, a smirk on his face. You roll your eyes, wishing he’d go back to doing figure eights or whatever the hell he does on the ice. He calls out your name but you choose to pretend you don’t hear him, instead leaning down to grab your brother’s backpack, a small groan leaving your lips from the sheer weight in his bag. It’s like he carries rocks in this thing, you complain as you shoulder the bag. He shoots you a look as if asking why are you carrying my backpack, but he doesn’t question it, you know the whole gift horse saying. 

Just as he finishes tying his shoe, Seungcheol crosses the threshold, leaning against the door as he eyes you. You could feel your eye twitching as you watched him what looked like inspect you, and you fight back a groan when he smirks at you.  

“What happened to never seeing each other again prin-” 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you grit out, hoping your little brother could help you if he truly cared about you. You glance over at him, and just from the look in his eyes, you know he’s not helping you out. It’s like his eyes are shining with awe just from being near Seungcheol and you wonder what your little brother sees in him. 

He can’t be that great, you still– well hate’s not the word, that’s too strong, it’s more so you greatly dislike him for what he did a week ago. You still think it was shitty of him to not tell you anything about being late. And of course his cocky personality is really starting to get on your nerves, especially when he calls you princess, as if you two are that close. You’ve only spoken to him a handful of times and yet he calls you a petname as if you’ve known each other for ages. It just makes your skin crawl. 

“You know each other?” Your brother asks, poking his head into the conversation as he looks between the two of you. Before you could say anything, Seungcheol butts in, “she tutors me.” 

Your jaw drops as he smiles, as if he didn’t just lie to your little brother. It’s like every time he opens his mouth he finds a new way to piss you off. You dryly chuckle as you grab your brother’s shoulder, trying to guide him away so you can leave. “I don’t, now come on, I gotta start prepping dinner.” 

“But it’s Saturday, we usually eat out today,” he says and you give him a tightlipped smile. “I just feel like cooking today so why don’t we go home now.” 

At that, it seems like your brother finally puts the pieces together, and nods his head. Just as the two of you are about to leave the rink, Seungcheol calls out your name once again. Already knowing what he’s going to ask you shake your head. “I’ll tell Ms. Park on Monday to find someone else to help you.” 

And with that, you’re gone and Seungcheol’s on his own again, wondering how the hell he’s supposed to get his chemistry grade up without your help. 

“Do you hate Scoups hyung?” Your brother asks once you pull out of the parking lot, your car currently playing I’ll Make a Man Out of You as you let out a confused sound. “Scoups? Is that what you guys call him,” you chuckle, finding the nickname a little silly. 

“He said he doesn’t like people calling him his full name,” he explains with a shrug. “Now, do you hate him?” 

Wow, he’s really not letting this go. 

You sigh as you look over to your right. He’s looking at you expectantly, as if there’s this great and terrible backstory to explain why you wanted to leave the rink as soon as the hockey player approached you. When you tell your brother what happened a few days ago between the two of you, he just rolls his eyes. Yes rolls his eyes, as if being forced to wait an hour for someone to show up isn’t a good enough reason to dislike a person. 

“He apologized, what’s the big deal?” He asks, and it’s moments like this when you're reminded your brother is just a boy. “It’s the fact he made me wait an hour with no heads up that I’m still upset about.” Your brother looks over at you, a small smile on his face. “I think he’s a good guy, I’m sure he had a reason why he was late. I don’t think he meant to blow you off like that.” 

You blink, letting his words sink in for a moment before shaking your head, focusing back on the road. “Let’s stop talking about Choi and focus back on planning your essay that you have due on Monday.” 

He groans, throwing his head back onto the headrest, complaining about why his teacher needed them to write about an important person in their life. “I’m going to write about our dog,” he mutters once the two of you pull up into the parking lot of your apartment. You chuckle, locking the car as he holds open the elevator for you. “We don’t even have a dog.” 

“Ms. Kang doesn’t know that.” He shrugs and sometimes you wonder how your brother’s made it this far. “Whatever you say Frosty, but that essay better be done by tomorrow since mom wants us to go out to eat for dinner.”

“Hey Frosty’s a pretty good name for a dog, you think I could use it for a husky?” 

“You know what, go crazy dude.” 

The last thing you expect when you were walking to the parking lot, heading over to the middle school to go pick up your brother, was to be pinned against a wall in the science building, much less to see Choi Seungcheol, on his knees, begging for you to not talk to Ms. Park. 

You could only blink, wondering what the hell has gotten into him. Did he hit his head too hard from a fall on the ice or something? Feeling a little embarrassed, you try getting him back on his feet before anyone walks down the hall. Thankfully he gets up, but unfortunately he keeps you pinned to the wall, towering over you. 

“Choi, what the fuck’s gotten into you,” you mutter, trying to push him slightly away from you, putting some breathing space between the two of you. 

“Please don’t talk to Ms. Park to find a replacement tutor.” He quietly says and you could feel your jaw drop. No fucking way he’s still on this. You put your hands on his shoulders, effectively getting him to look at you. “You can’t be serious.” 

He groans as he closes his eyes, as if he was thinking of what the best thing to say is. One of your eyebrows raise as you wait to see what he says, and what looks like great reluctance from him, he finally confesses his woes.

“There’s a big tournament coming up in a month and if I wanna play, I need to get my chem grade up.” 

You stare at him for a few seconds. That’s it? Why would this concern you? Feeling a little nice, you don’t voice out your thoughts and instead ask, “so what does that have to do with me? You can just find another tutor.” 

He shakes his head and you tilt your head to the side, now intrigued on what he could possibly say. 

“You’re the only person who actually makes chemistry make sense so if I want a chance to pass this class,” he looks up and your breath hitches when you look into his eyes. You never noticed how pretty his eyes are, or how fucking long his eyelashes are. Shaking those thoughts away, you notice what looks like hope in his eyes, and you realize he really thinks you’ll help him. “I need your help.” 

You blink, trying to weigh your options. While you still hold a grudge against him for the first tutoring session, this tournament’s important to him. The two of you are seniors, and depending on his plans for after graduation, this may be the last time he gets to play the sport. Then of course, you can’t stop thinking about what your brother said the other day, and unfortunately for you, you trust your brother’s judgment. And if Seungcheol’s ineligible to play, you really don’t want that to affect your brother’s team. He’s grown to love the sport in the weeks he’s played and you really don’t want him to lose his growing passion. 

You sigh, closing your eyes as you lean your head back against the wall. “Fine, I won’t talk to her.” He smiles and before he could thank you, you cut him off. “But just know I’m doing this for my brother, he really seems to like you and I don’t want you failing to affect your coaching.” 

“I’ll take it as long as you’re agreeing to keep tutoring me,” he smiles and you’re stunned into silence for a few seconds when you see dimples dot his cheeks. You shake out of it and wiggle out of his grasp. “Yeah, just make sure you’re not late without a heads up, Choi.” 

The next few weeks are filled with Choi Seungcheol, and you’re not sure how you feel about that statement just yet. In the beginning, you were still a bit reluctant, still fearing he’d be late with no excuse, but at your first tutoring session, he had arrived at the library before you. You were walking to some of the tables at the back of the library when you heard someone call your name, only to see it was Seungcheol, who had reserved a study room for the two of you and already had all of his notes out. 

You felt a little bad even though you arrived on time. You had to drop your brother at home so you couldn’t meet right after school, but you did your best to get there as soon as possible. 

He was very attentive while you explained everything to him and you wondered how he was failing chemistry in the first place when it seemed like he knew all the topics. It was when the two of you got to the practice problems did you see where the problems were coming from. 

Your teacher, Ms. Park, has the tendency to make half of your homework situational problems, where you had to apply the basic knowledge that, on its own, was quite simple, but once put in a non-laboratory setting became a lot more difficult if one didn’t have a complete grasp on the concept. And that’s what you suspect is happening to Seungcheol, and the reason he was failing the class. Good thing you caught on in the beginning of these sessions and you could plan accordingly. 

It was another tutoring session when your phone started ringing, you grabbed your phone, confused on who was calling you when you excused yourself, leaving him to work on a problem on his own while you stepped out into the study room next door to take the call. 

Your eyes widen when you hear your little brother’s quiet voice on the other end, hoarse as he asks if you could come back home. You tell him you’re on your way before hanging up the call, and rushing into the study room you were just in. 

Seungcheol jumped at your sudden intrusion, but before he could complain about you scaring him, you started to throw your things into your bag, grabbing your keys. “I’m sorry but my little brother’s sick so I gotta go take care of him.” 

You were halfway through the door when you turned to look at him, “I’ll make it up to when he’s all better!” And just like that, you were out the door, apologizing to the little kid you almost bulldozed down in your rush to your car. 

You make it back home in a new record, most definitely going past the speed limits as you skid into the parking spot in the parking garage, haphazardly raising your hand with your keys in hand in the air as you run towards the elevator, not double checking to see if you actually locked your car. If you didn’t live on the fifth floor, you’d actually consider taking the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, but alas, not even the haze of trying to get to your little brother was enough for you to suddenly have an increase in stamina. 

Thankfully the elevator didn’t take long and you were able to make it to your apartment, throwing open the door as you tossed your backpack down the hallway. You rush into the living room to see your little brother laying across the couch, buried under a pile of blankets. He’s really out of it if he didn’t even bother to look up at all the noise you made trying to get in. You sigh before heading to the bathroom, looking for a thermometer and to check if there was anything you could give him over the counter. 

Tsking at the 100.4° on the small screen, you wiped a damp towel over his forehead, wondering how he got this bad in the span of the 45 minutes that you were gone. He didn’t look too bad when you had picked him up from school, tired sure, but not knocking on death’s door like he is now. You were about to give him the medicine you found when there was a knock at the door. Not knowing who it could be, you quickly gave your brother the medicine and headed to the door. 

You check through the peephole and take a step back, your jaw slacking as you realize who’s on the other side of your door. 

Choi Seungcheol. 

How the fuck did he figure out where you live? You don’t remember telling him and last time you checked, your address wasn’t public knowledge. Shaking off the initial shock, you open the door, now curious as to why he’s here. Before he could explain his sudden visit, you beat him to the punch. “How the hell do you know where I live?” 

He pointed to the floor above you. “Jeonghan told me, plus it was listed on the emergency contacts your brother filled out.” You blinked at him, wondering why your upstairs neighbor would rat you out like that, or how he knew your exact unit number. Whatever, what’s done is done. You point at the convenience store bag in his hand, asking about what he has. 

He brings his free hand to scratch the back on his neck, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips, avoiding eye contact. “I- uh got kinda worried and wanted to check up on you guys.” He brings the bag up, “I don’t know what he’s sick with so I just got the generic stuff and I brought snacks.” 

You stare at him for a few moments before chuckling, thanking him as you take the bag from him and gesture for him to follow you into the apartment. He hesitates for a second before you nod at him, assuring him that it’s okay. He slips his shoes off and sets them down next to yours, following you into the apartment. 

Your little brother looks a little better, actually looking up when the two of you walk into the living room (it’s only a few steps past the little entryway). He looks at the two of you for a second before laying back down. He shoots back up, as if wondering if Seungcheol is actually in your guys’ apartment. 

“Real or am I hallucinating?” 

You laugh as you adjust the towel over his forehead, “as crazy as it looks, he’s real. Now you should lie back down while I make you a porridge to eat.” He nods his head, laying back down as he adjusts the towel to sit over his eyes. You expected Seungcheol to stay in the living room with your brother, you didn’t expect him to follow you into the kitchen, asking if he could help you. Getting over the initial shock, something that keeps happening whenever you’re around him apparently, and start telling him to grab everything that you need. 

It was funny to see him panic everytime you left him on his own to check on your brother, his eyes wide as his head kept snapping from the stove to you. Who knew the tough hockey captain could get so nervous by being left alone in the kitchen? 

Thankfully it didn’t take long for the porridge to be made, and once you confirmed that your brother was able to keep his food down, you went back into the kitchen. “How do you like your ramen Choi?” 

You turn to see him pouting and for some reason you feel the urge to poke his cheeks. Weird. 

“Why do you keep calling me Choi?” He complains, leaning against the counter as he watches you take out another pot and two packages of your favorite ramen brand. You look over your shoulder, closing the cabinet before standing back up. “Would you prefer me calling you by your full name?” You tease, smiling as you see his cheeks turn the softest shade of pink. He stumbles over his words before you hear him mutter a quiet no, and you just laugh. 

“I just don’t get why you call me by my last name instead of what everyone else calls me,” he says, handing you an egg when you ask for one. You shrug, “it started when you blew me off the first tutoring session and it kinda stuck.” 

“What do I have to do for you to call me something other than my last name,” he begs, and you laugh at how serious this is for him. You didn’t think his name would be this sore spot for him, but it is amusing to see him so stressed over something so small. You look over at him while the water’s boiling, biting your lip as you pretend to think it over. “Get over a 90 on our next chem test and I might consider it.” 

His jaw drops as he stands there frozen for a few seconds before groaning. “A 90? Listen, you're a great tutor but our next test is in literally three days and the best I’m getting is probably a mid 70.” 

“Then Choi it is,” you reply, grabbing two bowls. At least he believes he can pass this next test, that’s some progress. Before he can start complaining, you both freeze when you hear your little brother yell out, “can you two stop flirting and get me another bowl of porridge,” and before you can yell at him for even saying that he throws in a little “please” at the end. Wow, how polite of him. 

“We’re not flirting!” You say, walking into the living room to take his bowl, and as much as you want to tackle him to the ground for even suggesting you’re flirting with the hockey player, you decide to take pity on him, this time. He’s lucky his body failed him today. 

Once your sickly brother is content with his second bowl of porridge, you take your and Seuncheol’s bowls to your small dining table. He follows and you go back for utensils, asking what he’d like to drink. Once everything is set on the table, the two of you start eating in a comfortable silence, the show your brother was watching filling the otherwise silent apartment. Your eyes fall to his backpack that was by the door and you swallow what’s in your mouth before motioning to his bag. 

“Wanna continue with where we left off? I really think if we can get past this topic you can definitely score somewhere in the 80s.” His eyes follow at what you’re pointing at, and he nods, finishing his bowl before getting up to grab his backpack, and even getting your backpack that you had thrown earlier. 

The two of you pick up where you left off, occasionally taking breaks when your little brother claims he needs your assistance with what he calls “surviving” when in all actuality it was just him wanting another refill of his water. 

It was nearing 8 o’clock when the two of you were done for the day. As he was gathering his things, your brother got enough strength to get off the couch, heading to his room before waving bye to Seungcheol, telling him he’d definitely be good to go to practice on Saturday. The hockey player laughs as he leans over the table to fist bump him, telling him he better keep his word. You smile at the exchange, happy to see your brother doing better. 

“Come on, I’ll see you down,” you say when he’s gotten all his things. Before he can argue with you about it being unnecessary, you wave him off, saying how it’s the least you could do after he came all the way over to check up on the two of you.

The two of you are in the elevator when he finally speaks again. 

“Is it usually the two of you this late into the evening?” He asks, his eyes hesitantly flitting from your face to the wall next to your head. You hum, leaning against the railing with your eyes closed, “our mom works late at the hospital and…” You trail off, opening your eyes to see Seungcheol watching you, something in his eyes that makes you look away, the floor suddenly a lot more interesting to look at. Why does he look at you with so much care? 

“Our dad left when my brother was a couple of months old so it's just been us three,” you say, not quite believing you're actually telling him this about yourself. Hell, you don’t even know if he has siblings and yet you’re out here telling him your family life. Crazy what some dimples and pretty brown eyes can do to a girl. 

“Oh.” 

Ah, probably should’ve lied about your absent father. Something about him working late should’ve been excuse enough. Well, too late for that you internally groan at. Before you can apologize for making things awkward, he interrupts you. 

“Can we move our tutoring sessions to your place?”

Your jaw drops for a few seconds before you snap out of it, blinking to try to get your brain caught up to speed. “Why?” 

He sighs, turning away to face the elevator doors and you’ve never been more thankful for someone to stop looking at you. “I kinda hate the idea of your little brother waiting at home by himself while you’re tutoring me.” 

“He’s twelve, but as long as you don’t mind coming over here,” you say, glancing over at him, “then okay, we can move to our apartment.” He smiles and you feel this weird pang in your chest. The last time you felt this excited over a person was when you were getting ready for your date with Changkyun the other day. Does that mean you’re starting to actually enjoy Seungcheol’s company? 

Bound to happen considering you spend your Monday and Wednesday afternoons with the guy. It’s just, it feels different than what you felt with Changkyun and part of you just wants to bury that thought away and focus on anything else. Thankfully the elevator ride didn’t last too long and you walked Seungcheol to his car, your chest feeling a little bit tighter as you watched him drive away. 

It’s Saturday and you’re back at the rink to pick up your brother from practice. He’d gotten better and while you were hesitant to drop him off at practice, he insisted that he was all good to practice. You let him go, but not without texting Seungcheol before heading over to practice, asking him to keep an eye on your brother. This was the first time you texted him about something other than about your tutoring sessions and while your hands were shaking just thinking about talking to him about something other than chemistry, thankfully he agreed to keep an eye on your brother. 

You grab a jacket from the backseat, not wanting to freeze while you wait for your brother. He always manages to be the last one out of the rink, always talking to Seungcheol while everyone else skates towards the door to change out of their skates and into their shoes. 

And just like the past couple of weeks, your brother was still out on the ice, except instead of the two standing to the side talking about their practice, the two were skating over across the ice, the small black puck gliding between the two of them as they pass the puck amongst themselves. If you squint, you can see what you assumed is Seungcheol giving your brother tips because soon he nods and adjusts his hold on his stick. 

Then, catching the two of you off guard, he steals the puck from the hockey player, successfully scoring a goal on the unguarded net. Your mouth falls open before cheering for your brother. Sure it wasn't a game changing play, but you were still proud of him. Upon hearing your cheering, your brother skates to the wall where you’re standing, the short wall and the plexiglass the only thing separating the two of you. 

“Did you see that! I totally got him good!” He excitedly told you and you smiled. “Sure did dude, next time I think you should go for his knees, then you’d have no one stopping you,” you joke, smiling as your little brother laughs, complaining how that’s “not very good sportsmanship” but winks at you when Seungcheol skates over to the two of you, wiping off some of the ice shavings off his pants. 

“I can’t believe you’re telling your brother to kill me, princess,” he pouts and you roll your eyes, glad it’s so cold in the rink you can’t tell if your face is burning from the petname or from the freezing temperatures. You roll your eyes, pulling the collar of your jacket higher in an effort to cover your face. “Isn’t that part of the sport Choi, pushing and shoving each other?” 

He shrugs, a smile on his face. “Glad to see you know something about the sport, I see Frosty over has been teaching you.” Your brother groans when he hears his coach use the nickname you gave him once he started hockey. It started off as a small joke that somehow morphed to having the whole team only ever calling him Frosty. Hey, at least he’s already got a marketable name, you told him one day when you were driving back home after practice a few weeks ago.  

You shrug, tugging your jacket tighter. In all actuality your brother hadn’t explained the sport all that much besides the occasional “you don’t do that” or “that’s a good thing” or other vague explanations when you ask him questions. Instead, after a tutoring session with Seungcheol, and as a way to procrastinate an essay you had to work on, you decided to look into the sport. It wasn’t much, just a quick google search about the rules that had you clicking off the site after a few paragraphs and instead watching a couple of matches on youtube. You had half the mind to ask Seungcheol but decided against it. You were just supposed to be tutoring him in chemistry and you thought learning more about the sport he put years in was a little much for you. (And the thought of him in his full uniform was starting to make your heart ache just a little much.) 

“Might as well since I come here once a week,” you say, and Seungcheol smiles, and you wish he didn’t have such a cute smile. His gummy smile is going to be the death of you, you think as you look over to see if your brother’s got his shoes on. 

You don’t know when you started to see Seungcheol in a different light. Probably around the time your brother got sick since that was the first time you got to see him not in a school setting. Or to be more exact, the moment he asked if your tutoring sessions could be moved to your apartment so you could watch over your brother. Whenever it was, you wished it didn’t happen. 

After the results of the chemistry test the two of you have a week, your tutoring sessions would be over since by then you’d know whether or not he’d be good to compete in the tournament. While a part of you was sad to think about not being with him every Monday and Wednesday with him, you’re at least happy about the fact his grade’s would be doing better. And sure, at first you were helping him out reluctantly, but after spending so much time with him, you realized he was nothing like you originally thought he was like. 

Your first meeting really was just a fluke, and he was just a nice guy. You actually had asked him after a few sessions why he was so late to the first tutoring session and you can remember the cute blush that grew on his face as he explained how he was planning the youth hockey team’s practice and lost track of the time. He looked so cute, his cheeks a rosy pink and a small pout on his lips, and that’s when you thought, yeah, he’s not that bad of a guy. 

“Okay, I’m good to go,” your brother says, and you blink, snapping out of your thoughts. You nod, extending your hand to help him carry some of his gear. Noticing your empty motions, Seungcheol takes a step towards you but you shake your head. “I’ll see you on Monday Choi.” 

“Yeah… see you later, princess.” 

You’re really, truly fucked, you come to realize as you stare at your phone. Why, just why did you have to send that text? 

Your friend, who was under the impression you still hated Seungcheol for blowing you off the first tutoring session, asked if there was a way you could set her up with him for a date. And you, still not wanting to admit the fact that you’ve definitely started catching feelings for the captain, agreed to set the two up. And trying to convince yourself that the warm feeling you get in your chest from just seeing him smile meant nothing, you sent a text wondering if he was down to meet with your friend over the weekend. 

And now you’re waiting for a response, hoping that he won’t agree to the date. Hell, you’re on your knees hoping that even if he does say yes, that it goes horrible so they don’t keep meeting. Terrible, yes, but your heart can’t handle the idea of someone who isn’t you by his side. And yet you still won’t admit that you have a crush on him. (Denial is one hell of a drug.) 

When you hear your phone go off from a notification, you push yourself off the floor, where you’ve made home the past couple of minutes. With a shaky hand, you flip your phone over, clicking on the notification. 

Choi 🏒: tell her sorry, I’m not interested in dating right now 🫤

Oh. 

He’s not interested in dating right now? For some reason that hurts more than if he said he is interested in the date. With a shaky inhale you text him back, letting him know you’ll let her know and you toss your phone away, burying your face against your knees. 

Okay so maybe you do have a crush on Seungcheol, big fucking hurray. 

You’re walking back to your car when you hear someone calling out your name. You recognize the voice and freeze, wondering what Seungcheol wants with you and wishing he’d just leave you alone. Despite him doing nothing wrong, you really don’t want to see him right now, especially since you were going to use the drive back home to prepare yourself for your tutoring session with him. 

He runs up to you, a smile on his face as he blocks you from opening the driver’s side. You cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow as you look at him. “What’s up Choi?” 

“I came by to tell you that I can’t make it to today’s session.” He explains and you notice how his cheeks are tinted pink. Just how far was he running from? You give him a look as you lean against your car. “So why didn’t you just text me then?” 

“I wanted to see you.” 

Your eyes widen as you turn to face him fully. You feel your face burn as you try unsuccessfully to say something in return. He smiles and you want nothing more than to wipe his adorable smile off his face. The fact he doesn’t even know the emotional turmoil he’s putting you through is insane and you wish he didn’t have this much power over you. You try coughing, covering your face as you look away from him. “Yeah, whatever, is that all you have to say?” 

He nods and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweats and still with that frustratingly cute smile, his stupid dimples on full display, “I’m still good for Wednesday though, I want to celebrate our last session before the test Friday.” You nod, a tight lipped smile on display as you wave him goodbye. 

Once in the comfort of your car, you groan, dropping your head on the steering wheel, wishing you weren’t so crushed over this. Things come up all the time, it’s not a big deal he can’t make it today. If anything you can just use this time to get your homework done for the week so you don’t have to worry about it later. Maybe instead of groveling over a guy you could actually be productive for once. 

Wednesday rolls around and you don’t think you’ve given yourself a chance to think about Seungcheol. How could you when you’ve been busy doing your homework, planning what you’d cover in today’s session, helping your brother with his homework, doing all the chores around the apartment, and if you weren’t busy with all that you had your headphones on, not even giving yourself the chance to think. Who needs to think when you’ve been so busy? 

You pull out of the parking lot of the middle school, your little brother grabbing your phone to change the song that was playing. Sticking to a song that you hoped wouldn’t show up on your spotify wrapped, you keep driving, your thoughts starting to drift off to Seungcheol. Catching yourself, you will yourself to listen to the song your brother chose, and you wonder which was worse for your mental health. 

Once in the comfort of your apartment, your little brother heads off to his room claiming how he doesn’t want to watch his older sister flirt with his hockey coach while he does his homework. At first you’d argue that you weren’t but as of late you knew there was no saving yourself and didn’t even try to fight back anymore, only groaning as you started to set the table. 

A few minutes later you hear someone at the door and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself to get through your last session and as a way to prepare your heart for the inevitable. Seungcheol smiles as he steps inside, slipping off his shoes as he places them next to yours. You turn around and your eyes widen as your face heats up as you take in his appearance. He was just wearing a pair of sweats and a black shirt and yet you could feel your heartbeat race at the sight. You quickly turn around, pretending to adjust your notebook as you try to calm your beating heart. He’s worn that outfit combo tons of times and yet now your heart decides to give you trouble. 

If he notices your internal struggle, he doesn’t say anything. He takes his seat at the table, taking out his things as you finally look at him to start. Hopefully your heart can take the next few hours, if not, thankfully your mom’s a registered nurse. 

“Hey princess,” he starts and you, against your better judgment, smile at the petname, “can I ask you something.” You put your pencil down, turning to face him as he put his pencil down, the problem you had given him to work on an afterthought. “Sure, go ahead.” 

“If I ace this test will you come watch me play in my tournament?” He asks, his eyes sparkling with hope and you find yourself leaning against your hand to cover your mouth so he can’t see the dopey smile on your face. “When you say ace, how high of a score are we talking here,” you tease. You don’t know where this sudden confidence came from but if it helps you from burning away in your seat, you’ll take it. 

He smirks, leaning close to you and your breath hitches, freezing in your seat. “I say at least a mid 90.” You chuckle, leaning in close as you internally scream at yourself to back the fuck away from him. “Sure, you got yourself a deal, but I’m expecting the best from you Choi.” You say, beginning to turn away so he can’t see the dopey smile on your face.

“Of course, can't disappoint my princess, can I?” His pointer finger and thumb gently hold your chin, making you look at him and his stupid smug face that you so desperately want to kiss. 

Oh yeah, your heart’s definitely going to explode. 

You think you mutter something along the lines of “in your dreams Choi” but at this point you’re not even sure you can still rangle up enough brain cells to formulate a coherent thought. Heat floods your cheeks as he still holds your face and you swear you see his eyes fall to your lips, or at least you think they do. You’re too busy staring at his lips to really be too sure. 

Somehow your one brain cell manages to scramble enough thoughts to control your body, except it makes you lean in closer to him, close enough you can feel his breath hover over your lips. Your eyes flutter shut and just when you think everything is going great you hear your little brother yell your name from his room and that’s enough to snap the two of you out of the daze you’re in. You clear your throat, excusing yourself as you push out your chair and head to your brother’s room, wondering what the hell he needs that he just needs you right now.

“What do you want?”  You hiss out, leaning against the doorframe of his room. He looks up from his desk, papers scattered across the wooden surface as he turns his swivel chair to face you. He shrugs, “I felt this weird disturbance in the force and called you over here.” 

It takes everything in you to not throw him across his room. You sigh, “yeah that disturbance was born twelve years ago.” 

“Hey!” He throws a pokemon plushie, piplup if you remember correctly, at you. You duck and the plushie hits your bedroom door behind you. You turn around to pick it up, only to immediately throw it back at him, and successfully manage to hit him in the head with it. He stumbles back in his chair and you laugh at him. He glares at you for a moment before breaking out into laughter as well. “Okay fine good aim, I’ll give it to you,” he acknowledges with a surrender of his hands, the plushie back on his shelves, joining the rest of his collection. “Now go back to tutoring Scoups hyung so you can make dinner.” 

You shake your head, a small smile on your face. “You can always make dinner, you should probably start now since I’ll be going off to coll-” 

“Don’t say the c word!” He interrupts, a new pokemon plushie in hand. His eyes are wide and your smile softens before it’s turning into a small pout. The past year you’ve been trying to teach your brother how to take care of things around the apartment since soon it’ll just be him waiting for your mom to come home, but each time he always changes the subject, or even resorting to throwing his plushies to stop the conversation. In that moment you don’t see your twelve year old brother who loves to get on your nerves, instead you see your baby brother who never left your side for anything. Your other half despite the six year difference between the two of you.

Before you know it, your throat tightens up as you watch him lower the plushie, turned away so he’s not looking at you. “Um… you should probably go back to Scoups hyung.” His voice is small, like if speaks any louder and he might start crying.  

You nod, slowly backing out of his room, “yeah, just let me know if you need anything.” You turn to walk out when you turn back to face him, “I’ll make your favorite for dinner tonight.” His head perks up and you smile at him, to which he returns. 

You make it back to the living room to see Seungcheol working on the problems you had left him. You let out a small chuckle, and he looks up, smiling when he notices your back. “Everything okay?” 

You nod, “he’s fine, he was just a little bored.” He smiles and the two of you get back to your homework. Soon enough, the two of you finish, even with the practice you gave him to really prepare him for your upcoming test, and you relax in your seat, a smile on your face. Seungcheol faces you, his smile growing as he looks from his papers to you. “Thank you, I don’t think I could’ve done this without you.” 

You wave his compliment off, your smile perpetually stuck on your face when you're around him. “Nope, it’s all you Choi, I’m simply here to help you. Now you’ve gotta ace this test so I can go watch you win this tournament.” He smiles and you don’t think you’d ever find dimples this cute on another person in your life. 

“Anything for you, princess.” 

You’re walking out of your last period class when you hear Seungcheol call your name out. You turn around, already smiling since you know what this is going to be about, and judging by his voice, it’s going to be good news. 

He runs up to you, stapled papers in hand and you just know it’s his chemistry test. He makes it infront of you, his hands coming up to hold your shoulders in an effort to stabilize himself, his test pressing against your shoulder. “I got my results back!” 

You laugh, your hands coming up to rest over his, smiling and feeling heat begin to creep up your face at the close proximity. “I can tell, but come on I’m dying to know what you got Choi.” A light blush grows on his face as his smile grows, his hands moving away from your shoulders as he straightens up his test since it had gotten crumpled during everything. 

Once it was straightened out, he flipped it over, handing the test to you. You take the test and your eyes widen when you see the large 100 written next to his name. You look up to see him smiling and in your excitement, you pull him into a hug. “Oh my god! I knew you could do it, this is amazing!” He tightens his hold on you, picking you off the ground to spin you in a hug. You’re laughing as he gently sets you down, you’re smiling so much your cheeks are starting to hurt but you don’t even care right now. You’re just so happy for Seungcheol, happy that this means he gets to play in his tournament. 

He pulls you into another hug, muttering into your hair, “thank you, I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you.” You pull him closer, “of course Cheol.” 

The day of the tournament arrived and you don’t know why you’re so nervous. Seungcheol and the team have been doing great all day, moving farther and farther up the rackets, and yet you’re still nervous. It probably has to deal with the fact neither of you really discussed what happened last week, the whole really intimate hug in the middle of the hallway and all that. You two actually were texting back and forth the past week, and yet neither of you dared to talk about the hallway incident. 

Just like how neither one of you spoke about the almost kiss back in your apartment. 

So your nerves are most definitely tied to whatever you got going on with the captain of the hockey, the very same captain who’s leading his team to victory. This is the first time you’re seeing Seungcheol in his full uniform and damn, he looks good in his uniform. Something about how it makes him look larger just makes your heart beat faster every time he skates by where you’re sitting. 

The first time he skated by, you watched as he did a double-take before smiling his gummy smile, dimples on full display and waving at you and your brother, who insisted on coming along. (You weren’t going to tell him no, of course you’re going to bring him along.) Occasionally, he’d shoot you a look, smiling at you and you’d wave at him, feeling your face burn up every time. 

It’s the final match of the day, and you don’t think you’ve screamed this much in your life. You always make sure to cheer for Seungcheol every time he makes a goal, and halfway through the day, it turns into a competition between you and your brother on who could cheer the loudest for him. And you’re not about to lose against your brother. 

Somehow the match had gone into overtime due to the teams being tied and you’re at the edge of your seat, your little brother in the same position. At some point he grabbed your gloved hand, squeezing tight as they entered the sudden death overtime. (Why the hell is it called that?) You squeeze his hand as you watch Seungcheol go head to head against someone on the other team and you hold your breath watching as the two try to steal the puck from the other. 

Just when it looks like the other guy’s about to steal the puck, Seungcheol finds an opening, sending the puck into the unguarded goal, making the winning shot. 

You and your brother shoot up in your seats, and you pull him into a hug as you both jump in excitement and happiness. Seungcheol gets affectionately tackled by his teammates as they swarm him, and you can hear them chanting their captain’s name as the announcer relays the winning team. You look over once you’ve calmed down a bit and somehow manage to make eye contact with him. You smile and you mouth “I’m so proud of you," hoping he’d be able to understand you. 

It seems like he does because soon enough it looks like he mouths something along the lines of, “all for you, princess.” 

The tournament’s over now and you’re waiting for your little brother to finish in the restroom before you two head back home. A part of you wishes you’d get to see Seungcheol before leaving but he’s probably busy with after game things and celebrating that you’ll just settle with talking to him some other time. 

You’re about to text your brother to ask him where he’s at when you feel someone come up from behind you, spinning you around. You shriek, holding your phone close to your chest, about to curse out whoever it was when you hear the person laughing and you immediately soften, knowing exactly who it is. 

He sets you back down, turning you to face him. You smile and before you can even open your mouth to congratulate him on winning his senior tournament, he cups your face, leaning in to kiss you. Your eyes widen at the contact before they flutter shut, your own hands coming up to rest over his. His hands are freezing but you don’t mind, not when your face is burning up enough you’re sure you could warm up his hands in minutes. Your hands drift from his to rest over his shoulders, pulling him closer as you lean slightly back, with him following. He pulls away from the kiss to catch his breath, causing you to chase after his lips, already missing the pillowy feeling of them on your own. He chuckles before dipping down to kiss you again when someone clears their throat. 

You groan, already knowing who it is, dreading whatever comment he has to say. You look over your shoulder, only to see your little brother smiling. You definitely expected him to be pulling some disgusted face to make fun of you. Instead he was smiling, smiling so big you would think he just won a year’s supply of his favorite food. 

“If you’re done making out with your boyfriend, do you wanna ask him if he wants to join us for dinner?” 

Seungcheol's hand slips into your own, squeezing your gloved hand as you look up at him. His smile is so big and his cheeks are a pretty pink blush. “I really like the sound of that, what do you think princess?” 

You like that a lot, you think, squeezing his hand as you drag him to follow you and your brother, laughing when you hear his teammates cheering for their captain, for finally getting his girl. 

Maybe tutoring the captain wasn’t so bad after all.

[lilacsandpetals]

Frozen Blossoms Pt. 4

Bi-Han x F! reader

Tags and notes: Arranged marriage AU, SFW, slow burn, Pre-MK1/MK1 AU

Last part here.

Next part here.

You don’t know what you should do. If you move, you might wake him up.

It’s interesting to see him like this, you haven’t seen him so relaxed before, it always seemed as if he walked around with a scowl on his face or at the very least, a blank expression. His eyebrows were often furrowed, ever in a state of concern or disapproval. It almost caught you off guard not seeing that wrinkle on his forehead. You reach out gently to touch the spot, almost to check if this is real. Some part of you still believed you were dreaming, especially since you don’t remember falling asleep like this.

The second your fingertips are mere centimeters from him, he wakes up and grabs your hand, hard. You gasp and he immediately lets go before sitting up, “do not do that,” he scowls. You rub your hand sheepishly and look at him, ‘there is that familiar facial expression again.’ “I didn’t think you’d wake up,” you groan. 

“Have you forgotten who I am? I’ve been trained to be hyper-aware of my surroundings since I was a child, I am not a light sleeper.” 

“I didn’t think of it like that.” ‘So much for starting off on the right foot today.’

“I am rarely at ease, and you prodding at me does not help.”

So he wasn’t relaxed with you. You’re not totally surprised, you two have still only known each other for a limited time, however, you were beginning to grow fond of him. 

His words do sting a little. 

He watches you rubbing your hand, you appear… sad to him. He didn’t mean to snap like that. He wants to cringe at the guilt that begins to rear its ugly head again.“Give me your hand,” he commands. You place your hand in his and he holds it gently, turning it from one side to the other. It’s cold and there were a few bruises. He felt slightly embarrassed. You weren’t a threat to him, so why did he react like that? Maybe he wasn’t used to the intimacy. He did fall asleep rather close to you. It was uncharted territory for him.

“Give me a moment.” He goes to rummage through his drawer and pulls out some sort of ointment. You sit up before he takes your hand. He uses his fingertips to grab some of the ointment and puts it on your hand. He keeps his gaze focused on your hand and carefully massages it. Soon enough your hand begins to feel better. You watch him carefully, he’s concentrated. When he’s done he looks up and you both lock eyes before he looks away. “Does it feel any better?”

“It does,” you reach out your other hand and place it on his. “Thank you.”

“Consider it repaying a favor.” You seem confused for a moment but are reminded of how you tended to his arm. You smile briefly, you didn’t know he had appreciated that after he left so abruptly, but maybe you’d ask about it at a later time. 

“I don’t mean to come off as rude, but I didn’t expect you to be here?” It was certainly well into the morning, practically noon.

‘Neither did I.’ “I am attempting to make amends.”

“Meaning?” His response didn’t quite answer your question. 

“I failed to accompany you at the festivities in the village yesterday, but I will accompany you today.”

Only, if you’d still have him. 

Some semblance of his being still resisted any attempts to get close to you, yet the desire for you had become increasingly evident. He couldn’t quite see ‘loving’ interactions occurring between you two, not now. And he couldn’t grasp the concept of using such interactions or the thought of it to drive him to improve in his endeavors yet. But he aches for your attention, he longs for you to desire him. 

Perhaps he needs to alter his perspective. If he could manage to pursue these actions in a manner akin to a requirement, then it could be seen as a matter of fulfilling another responsibility. Partaking in conversation and activities with you as his wife, it was just another duty for him to maintain. That was manageable. 

But even so, how would he properly associate with you? Prior he had only assumed that the main duty you’d serve as his wife, and him as your husband, was maintaining social etiquettes and producing an heir, eventually. But even when that was all he thought of his role as a husband, you managed to snake your way into his subconscious. 

Your gentle determination to get closer to him, your adamantly kind nature, your beauty, it intrigued him. Did he entice you as well? 

You watch him seem somewhat lost in thought. He was always so reserved when it came to you, it was difficult to pinpoint what he was ever thinking about. You’re pleasantly surprised that he’s brought up an offer of spending time with you. Thinking it over, some petty part of you wants to decline the proposition, but you aren’t going to throw away last night’s progress for the sake of frivolous revenge. 

“Okay, let's get ready and we’ll be on our way.”

—------------------

You had never seen Bi-Han in casual clothing before, it was nearly unsettling. The sleepwear he was in this morning retained a dark shade, you felt like it was fitting for him. So this current informal attire was something to get used to. Yet you couldn’t deny that he appeared rather attractive like this. The tunic was a lighter color, the sleeves were cut just below his shoulders, leaving his muscles available for your eyes to feast over. The pants contrasted with the shirt, being a darker shade of gray. 

Right now you wanted your morning tea. Did your husband even drink tea? You weren’t too knowledgeable on his eating preferences, he just seemed to eat whatever was in front of him at mealtimes. 

He had followed you to the kitchen, leaning up against the wall and watching your every move as you walked about, searching for a teapot. You slid open a cabinet only to be met with the pot sitting on a shelf just out of your reach. You strain to reach the pot before Bi-Han puts a hand on your arm, “Stop struggling, I am able to reach it.” He hands it to you and you thank him. “I’ll make you a cup as well.” 

“Sure.” 

So he does like tea. 

He doesn’t sit at the table but goes back to his spot up against the wall. You boil the water and throw the tea leaves into the pot. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Okay.” You bite your lip, it won’t hurt to ask more questions, right? The conversations between you two tended to end as fast as they started. They were brief in nature. Well, all except that argument last night. Maybe he wouldn’t mind you talking more; he said he’d make the effort to engage with you. So you shall hold him to that. 

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t you get hungry later on then?” 

“If I do, I’ll take care of it.” 

You shrug, “fine.” Pouring the tea into your cups, you make sure to blow on it before setting it on the table. Bi-Han quietly sits across from you. Usually, at dinner, he’d sit by your side so you wouldn’t really look at him much. He’d be in your peripheral vision, sure, but that didn’t count. It’s an entirely different ordeal when he sits directly across from you, his eyes are downturned towards the teacup. Slowly the steam subsides from drifting into the air. 

You push your cups toward him, “can you cool down mine too? Only a bit.” 

He obliges and stares down at his own cup again for what feels like too long. You don’t know what he’s thinking about. He was such a mystery to decipher. It promoted the ever-looming feeling of discomfort. Perhaps today could help remedy that?

“You know, I barely know anything about you.”

“Likewise.” 

“Then let’s get to actually know each other, like you promised. I don’t want to spend my life with a stranger.”

He nods his head, he can understand your sentiment. He’ll fulfill his responsibility. 

“Okay, where were you when you heard the news of our betrothal?”

“Other than whispers of it at clan meetings, I was in my 

bedroom when my parents came in and broke the news to me.”

He takes a small sip of his tea, “and how did you react?”

You pause, “I assume you’re a man who admires honesty. I was nervous.”

He raises an eyebrow, but as if he’s amused at you, “And why is that?” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “As if you don’t know.” 

“Enlighten me.” 

You shoot him an annoyed look while you place your cup down. “Well, future Grandmaster, you must be skilled in reading people. So I’d assume you know why.” 

“A very observant claim. And of course, you found it nerve-wracking at the prospect of spending out your days in the presence of my power.”

You cross your arms, was he teasing you on purpose? “Yes, that’s correct, it wasn’t as If my husband-to-be appeared like he could care less. Then suddenly at the engagement, he looked at me like he wanted to drive a stake through my chest.” 

Memories of betrothal discussions flash through your mind. His indifference would twist into eyes of vile disdain. Anxiety would rise up within you back then for days on end, and a twinge of it emerged now. Why had you blurted all that out? Perhaps you would have spoken on such a topic if you two had reached a higher level of companionship. But the trepidation of what you had just uttered is calmed when your husband does not appear angered. 

Bi-Han can’t help himself. He is slightly satisfied that he was able to evoke a sense of fear within you when you two had first met. Yet that sense of satisfaction derives itself from a point in time where he did not care for you, you had been akin to an inconvenience in his mind and the fact that you had looked upon him as if he were some sort of beast only drove his ego. However, had you felt that way about him currently, well, he would be displeased. 

Your husband appears contemplative to you, tapping his finger against the table, miniscule shards of ice emerge where his finger hits the table. “And what am I in your eyes now?”

You take a moment to think it over, “I think I’ll have a concrete answer at the end of the day. My turn to ask the questions.” Thoughts run through your mind as you debate on what to bring up. Maybe it would be helpful to start at the beginning. 

“What was life like growing up? From what I’ve heard and seen, I assume it was intense.”

Bi-Han tilted his head. “Perhaps, yes. I didn’t like it when I was very young, but I consider it a blessing now.”

You rest your head in the palm of your hand and take in the sight of his well-sculpted arms and broad shoulders. “It must’ve been a lot of hard work, I wouldn’t know if I’d be able to maintain that.” 

“Discipline from a young age is essential and the work required of any Lin Keui, anything less is unworthy of the title.” You frown slightly, but quickly catch yourself. 

His childhood was laden with heavy burdens: strict schedules, relentless training, and endless lessons. It helped refine him. He’d never admit it, but it was exhausting at times. he’d take solace in the moments he’d be able to elude it all. Fleeting memories dance within his mind. Memories of a time when perhaps he was a bit happier, when he was kinder, when his view of the realm wasn’t so cold. 

But that was long ago, things were different now. 

“You acknowledge that our child will endure a similar upbringing.” His face seems serious when he says it. To be honest, since the wedding night, you haven’t even thought about producing an heir. The idea of it always felt like a distant afterthought, something you could push off thinking about. 

Your childhood was not as strenuous as your husband’s, so the thought that your own child would have to deal with such burdens frightened you.

Your husband’s face appears analytical and you sigh “I understand how a child would be raised here, but surely there were moments of rest or enjoyment? I feel as if that’d be a concern of mine, it would be for any mother, correct?”

Bi-Han’s jaw tenses slightly and you fear you may have struck a nerve. You’ve never heard him mention his mother. You are aware that she passed many years ago, but nothing more than that. You are about to change the subject when your husband speaks up once more. 

“My mother gave me the pleasure of tending to me when I needed her. You will be allowed to do the same.”

You nod your head slowly. He was quite vague, so you decide it may be best to halt your questioning about the subject. Just then your stomach grumbles and you clear your throat, slightly embarrassed. Bi-Han leans forward onto the table, “If you’re hungry, go eat. Do not wait for my sake.” You pick a piece of fruit from the bowl sitting on the table and take a small bite. “I was going to make soup for myself later since it’s been getting colder.” 

His interest is piqued.“Which kind?” 

You rest your chin on your hand, “I’m not sure yet.”

He appears contemplative, “chicken and mushroom is satiating.”

You smile, “I can make that.”

—------------------

You needed some ingredients, and you had informed your husband of that. He offered to retrieve them while you remained at home, but you reminded him of his vow today. So here you are, walking about in the village with him. It’s oddly domestic. You make sure to savor this moment. The village is still lively today, reeling down from the prior festivities. 

Bi-Han’s hand is wrapped around yours while you two walk into the marketplace, you move your hand and it feels as if your husband held on for a moment too long. “I only need a few things.” “Go ahead,” and so you begin your search. You stop at different vendors, weaving through the marketplace to acquire your needed Ingredients. Your husband follows closely behind, paying for whatever you happen to grab. 

Bi-Han likes watching you operate. These tasks are simple, yet you seem entirely focused. Your eyebrows furrow and you slightly purse your lips when you examine a vegetable before happily tossing it into your bag. He found it somewhat endearing. Since when did he think of you like that? He shakes his head to himself and looks back up to keep an eye on you. You were moving through the shops with ease, and he was keen on not losing you in the crowd. His eyes narrow when a man comes up to you to speak. 

It’s easy to decipher when an individual comes up to you for genuine inquiries, versus when they would have ulterior intentions. A few of them were nervous, he could tell by the way they failed to maintain eye contact or tripped over their words. On the other hand, some seemed all too confident in their approach. 

He didn’t know if you acted so kindly just to get a rise out of him or if you truly were oblivious. The desire to rip those men apart was present, but he could maintain his cool. So instead he would hover closer to you and shoot a distasteful glare at anyone whom he deemed a nuisance. His hand would hover over the small of your back. He longed to move his hand only an inch closer but the realization that he’s never touched you there before keeps such an act at bay. 

You can practically feel his eyes starting a hole through the back of your head whenever those types of interactions occur. Yet you pretend not to notice.

Your bags fill up quickly and keep both of your hands occupied. Suddenly, Bi-Han takes them out of your hands.“Thank you,” you respond, only to hear a grunt in response. “I think I have everything, we may head back.” He nods and leads you back, keeping a small pace ahead of you. You quietly follow along, glancing at his form again before keeping your eyes trained on the path ahead. The trip itself was brief and unimportant, but even so, you appreciated his company. 

—------------------

You were decent, but you were not an accomplished cook. You had merely helped your mother in making the soup on occasion, so you prayed that you remembered the recipe well enough. 

Bi-Han hovered nearby as you set the ingredients out in front of you. You looked at him and then back at the needed items. He seemed so focused on your every move. Cooking for yourself was one thing, but preparing food for another was an uncertain affair. You hoped you would not disappoint. 

Your knife slices through the meat, “you’re making me nervous.”

Bi-Han crossed his arms, “how?”

“You’re watching me like you’re about to tally points for an exam.” 

“I’m curious as to how you prepare it, I’m simply observing.”

You motion over to the rest of the ingredients on the table, “doing triumphs observing.” 

He wants to counter your claim, but something within him quiets the retort. He grabs some of the vegetables you’ve put aside and creates a precise blade of ice. He finds himself enjoying slicing through the needed components. The precision in maintaining a consistent width is something he’s keen on.

The atmosphere in the kitchen is calm. And you again take silent delight at the domestic feel. Soon enough you’ve thrown every ingredient into the pot on the stove and you both quietly clean up. “It’ll take a while to cook.” You catch sight of an exit to the kitchen that leads out into a quaint veranda. Bi-Han follows your gaze and starts towards it, you follow him and sit down on the bench. Dusk has already arrived and you close your eyes, taking in a deep breath. Your husband is leaning up against a wooden beam so you gently pat the open spot next to you. Not a word leaves his mouth but he obliges to your request. You want to hold his hand, but instead, you hook your arm around his. You can feel him tense up. You try to drown out the sense of slight disappointment, was he still so opposed to your touch? Still, he hasn’t pulled away so you don’t breach the topic. 

He wants to wrap an arm around you, draw you nearer to him, but you beat him to it when your arm wraps around his, and before he knows it your head is resting against his shoulder. 

Your fingertips gently trace up his forearm to his bicep. His arm tenses just enough for you to notice but the more time that passes, the more relaxed he becomes. You don’t know how long you repeat the motion, lost in the serene ambiance that accompanies you both this evening. 

Bi-Han has rarely allowed himself a simple pleasure like this. Your effortless touch has indulged an unspoken desire of his. 

“You’re strong.” 

He glances down towards you, you seem so small compared to him. “Of course I am.” 

You let out a small laugh “Yes, but I am increasingly reminded of it when I look at your physique.” Your nails gently run down his arm and he feels the hair on the back of his neck rise. You turn your face to look up at him, you’re both rather close. He is inclined to look away, turn from the object of his temptations, but you draw him in nonetheless. For once, he wants to lean forward ever so slightly, but the opportunity evades him when you turn away. 

Your heart is beating fast, you haven’t gotten this close to him before. “I have to go to check the soup.” You stand up quickly. And although he mourns the loss of your touch, he lets you go.

You return to the kitchen, stirring the pot while attempting to cool yourself down. 

‘What was that?’ Both of you are left slightly surprised at the sense of longing that has seeped into the two of you, unbeknownst to the other. 

—------------------

He remained outside. Against his own perceived notions, he had enjoyed today.

You continued the task of preparing the soup, carefully pouring it into a bowl for each of you before placing it on the table. The chill in the air reaches you as you venture out to retrieve your husband. He hasn’t spoken since you went back to the kitchen, keeping his eyes trained on the sky above.

“Bi-Han, the soup is done.”

He turns back to look at you, the moonlight is illuminating your face. Your eyes hold a softness within them that he finds himself yearning for. “I’ll be there.” He turns his back towards you again. You could nag him, but you find yourself placing a hand on his shoulder instead, “Come on.” Something unspoken lays between you two, but he doesn’t utter a word. His hand just barely brushes up against yours as if he meant to pat it. He gets up and sits at the table. You resume your place across from him.“Try it. I’m not promising anything amazing, but something decent.” You push the bowl towards him and cross your arms on the table, anticipating his response. 

He takes a sip, it’s somewhat bitter, more savory. It reminds him of his mother’s meals. She wasn’t the best cook. Yet when it came to him and his brother, she wanted to ensure at least one meal of the day was of her hands. His mother was strict, and dedicated to the stern and rigorous ways of Lin Keui. 

But still, she loved him in her own way. Whether it was ensuring he ate well, binding up his wounds from training, or staying by his side as he fell asleep. The loss of his mother and its repercussions haunted him. No matter how many days, weeks, or years went by, there would always be something rendering his life incomplete. But here, even if it’s just for a moment, the burden of evading her memory is lifted. He allows himself to be taken back to a simpler time. 

You eat the soup in silence with him. Any attempt to obtain feedback on your cooking lies unspoken on your tongue. You are eager to ask, but something about him seems relaxed. Genuinely relaxed. So you decide you’ll wait for him to voice his opinions, but that never comes. 

He finishes the meal quietly. 

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

—------------------

To be honest, you don’t even like chicken and mushroom soup that much. You wouldn’t have chosen to make it, but you decide that he doesn’t need to know that. It’ll remain your secret. 

—------------------

You both retire to your quarters soon after, taking solace in a newfound sense of familiarity.

You both are yet to change in front of one another, but that’s not at the forefront of your mind. You’re content with the fact that you’ve chipped away at part of the invisible wall that resides between you both. 

The bed seems softer today, and more welcoming. And you know it’s because your husband has finally come to bed with you. Under the comforting veil of night, you dare to lay facing him and he returns the sentiment. For now, he allows himself the quaint pleasure of being able to look at you without loathsome yearning. 

You made him feel odd, dragging him out of his usual state of being to the point where it slightly unnerved him. The realization clawed its way to the forefront of his brain; that as the day went on, he didn’t find being in your company as a responsibility to be fulfilled. Your presence was comforting. 

You were tired. Your eyes start to feel heavy before a knock sounds at the door. “Who is that?”

Bi-Han gets up, ignoring your question, and goes off to speak to someone in the hallway. You can barely make out the words being exchanged, but suddenly you’re watching your husband move about the room. You avert your eyes when he gets changed, although you do sneak a glance this time. You snap out of it when he’s grabbing his mask. Your feet scramble to get out of bed and catch him when he gets to the door. Your hand grasps his forearm. 

“Wait! You have to leave now?”

“Yes.” You intake a sharp breath of air, and he seems to notice your startled state. “What?” He says in a more lighthearted tone than you’re used to, “Did you foolishly assume the Lin Keui only operated in the morning?”

“No…” You took a deep breath. You’d expect him to pull away from you and leave, but he didn’t. It seemed like he was waiting for you to lift your hand. You’ve never seen him off like this. You knew this was part of what he did, what their clan did, and still a part of you felt worried. You looked up to meet his gaze, his eyes expressed more than his mouth ever could. When you first met him, you found his eyes to be cold and calculating, but something was different now. 

“Be safe.” You said softly. Your hand gently finds its way down to his before you pull away. He gives you a small nod and moves to go out the door. You see him pause and think that maybe he’s forgotten something. But before you can ask he returns to you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward. He leans down and hastily places a kiss on your forehead, “I’ll return soon.” And like that, he’s off. 

You watch him leave and wonder how such a simple interaction could evoke so much warmth within you. 

—------------------

Thanks for reading 💙

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[leilohsstupidgaystuff]

Half a year had passed, since Charles, Hank, Erik and this other weird guy from the future, had stopped, what was supposed to lead to the end of the world. Charles hoped they had stopped it. There was no sure way to tell, but they would know in a few decades. Well, maybe Charles wouldn’t survive that long, but the others would probably find out, even if he had died because of an overdose till then.

It was not like Charles was planning to overdose, but it was also not like he did something actively to prevent it from happening. 

The first week after the stadium accident, Charles had tried to stay sober, but the school was still closed and Raven and Erik had left him again, so the mansion was still empty, which reminded him of his childhood and the last ten years, which both were shit as hell.

And on a really bad day, he had found pills that they hadn’t thrown away and in that moment being sober wasn’t as great, as he had remembered it, so he had took them. The disappointment on Hanks face after sobering up a bit, was reason enough to get high again and after that Charles hadn’t need any reasons anymore. He just got high, to be high. 

And after ten years, getting high was a bigger challenge then at the beginning, he had to take more drugs and more alcohol to get there and today the thought of an overdose hadn’t been scary enough, so Charles took a pill more than he had yesterday, which lead to a really great trip. Well, maybe not “great” in the common definition, but let’s just say Charles was really fucking high.

Laying in bed, he took a sip of the bottle of whiskey in his hand -the glass had shattered, after Charles had thrown it against the big, red and blue striped spider, that slept in the hallway, blocking it- and starred at the ceiling were the little pink flower just started to dance rumba with the cactus. Well she had said it was rumba, but Charles believed it was a waltzer. 

He heard footsteps but ignored them. Maybe it was just the clown he met on the toilet earlier, well the place he had believed was the toilet. The footsteps stopped somewhere near the door.

“Hello, Charles.” Charles closed his eyes and groaned. “Oh god! I hate hearing voices on drugs. I take them to not hear them. I mean if they already try to kill me, they should at least do their fucking job.” He opened his eyes again, to see that the pink flower just started to do a tap-dance and fumbled in his pocket for the pack of cigarettes and the lighter.

“Charles. I’m no voice in your head. What are you talking about?” After lighting himself a cigarette, Charles turned his head to the general direction the voice in his head pretended to come from. “Yeah, just because I’m imagining seeing you here, doesn’t mean your voice isn’t in my head.” Erik, well the image of Erik, frowned. “Charles-“ “Why do you feel the need of saying my name every time you speak? You’re in my head, I think I know that you’re talking to me.” 

Charles took a drag of his cigarette. “You know I don’t remember, imagining you since before the whole stadium shit,” he said to the image of Erik, which still stood in the doorframe, looking a bit helpless. “It’s kinda funny, because now I see you with all of the lines and shit. I always just saw you like you looked before you shot me and that stuff.” Charles looked at the figure in the doorframe, while he exhaled the last bit of his cigarette, putting the stub out on the bed frame. “Well at least you’re not naked this time,” he muttered. 

Eriks image slowly walked into the room. “I’m real. You’re not imagining me.” A dry laugh escaped Charles lips. “I hate that bit, it’s so boring. You weren’t real the first hundred times and you aren’t now. I don’t get why you’re always trying to convince me otherwise. You could just get to the point where you’re insulting me, it would be much faster.” Eriks image stopped in his movement. “What?”

Charles sighed and sat up, putting his feet on the ground. “You know, ‘You’re pathetic, how could you think, you were ever more to me, than just something to fuck’, ‘You were just funnier to play with, than your sister’, ‘What happened in Cuba was all your fault’, ‘Raven left you because she never loved you’… That stuff.” The image of Erik blinked, its eyes looking teary for a second, before it crossed the room, coming towards Charles. “Why does my mind always think, you could touch me? You’re just going to dis-“ Charles froze, as he felt the warm touch of a hand cradling his face. Not letting go Erik slowly dropped to his knees in front of Charles.

“Look at you. You’re beautiful. I never stopped loving you, not for a single second. I always loved you and I always will love you. From the moment I felt you in my head, calming me down, saving my life in the water, looking at me with these beautiful blue eyes and this fucking smile, my heart belonged to you. I was so stupid for leaving you. Believe me when I say that there’s been not a day, in which I didn’t regret it.”

Charles hand shook, as he touched Eriks shoulder, moving up to his neck and then to his hair, slightly pulling on it, as he moved trough it. “You’re real.” His voice wasn’t more than a shaky whisper. Tears started to roll down Charles cheeks. “You’re here.” Charles also dropped to his knees, burying his head in Eriks neck, breathing his scent in. “You’re really here.” Charles hands grasped into Eriks shirt, nearly ripping it.

After a really long time, Charles raised his head slowly, looking into Eriks eyes. “You know, I would probably punch you again, if It wasn't so hard to concentrate right now.” Erik smiled slightly. “I know.”

[redtsundere-writes]

mma fighter!sukuna ryomen x femalecoach!reader

Part 4. Our Fight.

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Summary: Sukuna is a world champion with anger issues. It's believed by many that he is untrainable. Yeah, you can't train him, but you can dominate him. Contents: Fighting. Sukuna being Sukuna. female reader being dom. Jinx AU (the BL, not the character from lol) Warnings: Cursed words. Sexual harassment. Smut. Physical violence. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MNDI. +18. Word count: 4692 words. A/N: Hello, peeps! Long time no see. I just bought my first PC, so I can finally write without slamming my old laptop for it to work. This is a long one, so enjoy!

There was something about eating a simple cup of noodles in a hotel room after a tiring day of training. It was somewhat special and comforting, like a mother singing a lullaby to their child before taking a nap. That cozy feeling of surviving another day of training before a big fight. Yuuji settled the kettle and prepared the cup of noodles in the small kitchen area of our hotel room. We bought them in a nearby corner store when we took our quick break from Sukuna. 

We slurped our feelings away and let our bodies melt away with the hot broth. I sighed as my back laid fully in the cuck chair that every hotel room has for some reason. Yuuji ate his noodles like he hadn't eaten in days. Our bodies ache from training, but we could finally relax in our small room. 

“He is going to fucking kill me one of these days,” I sighed before grabbing a mouthful of noodles. 

“Same. I don’t know how I have been able to keep up all these years,” Yuuji said with a weak smile. 

“Gojo told me you guys have trained since you were little, how was Sukuna back then?” I asked with curiosity, putting my feet up in the closest furniture piece to get more comfortable. 

“He was a menace. He is still a menace,” Yuuji giggled. “Our parents were so tired of his troublesome and chaotic behavior that they sent him to a pediatrician. She told our parents that they had to find an activity for him to get his energy out. They tried everything. Mountain biking, climbing, dancing… He ended up liking kickboxing.”

“Damn. I feel bad for your parents.”

I could imagine a small Sukuna trying all of those different activities. Riding a dirt bike and acing every trick he could learn, even if that meant breaking a bone or two in the process. Being one of those brave kids who wants to try the hardest path on the climbing wall on their first day but falls over and over trying to prove himself he can do it. A smile appeared on my face when I pictured him trying ballet in a cute pink tutu. That would be adorable. 

“They are really proud of him. Except for that time when he slept with Choso’s fiancé, of course. Dad was really pissed at him, but Mom tried to defend him,” Yuuji remembered as if it was yesterday. 

“Your brother is still single?” I asked curious, trying not to be too obvious. 

“Yeah. He told me it was hard going back to dating because he has trust issues,” he answered. “Why do you ask?” 

“No reason. Just curiosity.” 

“Really? I thought you liked him.” I coughed out the noodles from the shock. Maybe I was too obvious. Yuuji looked at me in shock. “Oh shit, you really like him. I was just joking.” I blushed immediately. I outed myself, just like that. 

“I mean… he is kinda cute,” I said like he wasn’t the big deal. 

“Maybe I can set you up on a date with him one of these days. What do you think?” Yuuji asked me. 

“If Choso is okay with that, that would be great,” I answered. I really didn’t want to bother him if he was still healing from his brother's betrayal.

The night rolled in Dubai. Little by little, the city was shutting down under the cloak of darkness with a vibrancy that rivaled the stars overhead. The skyline, a jagged silhouette against the ink-black sky, was a testament to human ingenuity and ambition. The air was balmy, the gentle breeze carrying the scent of the sea from the Persian Gulf, mingling with the exotic aromas of spices and perfumes that wafted from the open doorways of the bustling souks. 

A ping on my phone woke me up in the middle of the dark room. I grabbed it weakly to check what it was. The white screen flashed my eyes for a second, blinding me. My eyes blinked a couple of times to get used to the light. A message from Sukuna was responsible for waking me up. 

Cocky Bastard: Come to my room. 

I looked at the time. 2:31 am. “This bitch…” I thought as I sat on the edge of the bed and slid my slippers in while yawning. I put my hair up in a ponytail and grabbed a hoodie to cover the fact that I was in pajamas. I was getting out of the room when my phone pinged again. 

Cocky Bastard: Now. 

“It better be important, or I’ll fucking kill you,” I thought as I typed angrily an answer. 

You: Omw. 

The hotel halls were an embodiment of luxury and tradition, where polished floors and golden lantern lights welcomed me into a clear path to Sukuna’s suite at the other end of the hall. Ornate lanterns cast intricate shadows on walls adorned with rich tapestries and art, bridging ancient and modern worlds. The air, perfumed with jasmine and sandalwood, carried the blend of traditional Arabic melodies and contemporary tunes, adding to the ambiance.

A loud slam on the door woke my body up in a survival instinct. The sound of clicking heels against the marble floors were coming right to me. A beautiful and hot woman in a stunning red dress walked angrily past me while mumbling something to herself in Arabic. She was fuming. I wanted to help her, but I don’t think we spoke the same language. 

I got to the room and knocked on his door three times like a secret code. He yelled to get in from the other side. Naturally, I followed his order. The elegant living room of the most expensive suite of the hotel welcomed me with open arms. I walked in to see Sukuna drinking some red wine in the hotel’s comfy bathrobe. 

“What the hell are you doing up at this time? You should be resting,” I scold him as I get to him. I tried to take the glass of wine out of his hands, but he pulled it away. Instead, he poured another glass for me. 

“I’ll get straight to the point. I am a bit desperate, you see,” Sukuna scoffed as he pushed the glass of wine to me without looking. “I have a luck ritual before every fight, I have to have satisfying sex before the fight to win.” 

Oh, that's what it was… Was Sukuna really asking me to fuck him? I was only his coach. The proposal sounded like a hypothetical ‘“would you rather” question. “Would you rather, fuck Sukuna or have Sukuna lose his title because of you?” The idea of fucking him didn't seem entirely far-fetched. Sukuna might be stupid, but he was also stupidly attractive. His sleek features, dangerous eyes and body seemed to have been made by the same gods who control our universe. The only thing that stopped me from jumping into his arms was his shitty attitude and that we worked together. Maybe he was really that desperate. The red wine was tempting me, I really needed alcohol in my system after hearing that. 

“So you want to fuck me?” I asked bluntly. 

“‘Want’ is a strong word. If I wasn’t in this situation, I wouldn’t fuck you. You are not my type at all. I like petite girls I can easily break,” he scoffed. For some reason, that last comment made my blood boil. “It’s just to avoid my jinx. I won’t ask you to do it again.” 

I was about to suggest hiring a prostitute, but I remembered we were in a very conservative country. There were very strict laws against prostitution, so looking for one would be an impossible task. 

“Fine, I’ll do it,” I said as I grabbed the glass and stirred it to oxygen the maroon liquid. 

“That’s all the convincing I need to do?” He asked, a bit surprised. 

“At least that way, you won’t fuck another person’s fiancé.” Sukuna laughed, clearly offended. 

“Yuuji told you?… That bastard.” He smirked, not believing his little brother would tell on him with his own coach. 

“Yuuji told me about your jinx, so I believe you,” I said before gulping down the wine in one shot. The woody flavor slipped right on my throat, getting me ready for the sin I was about to commit. “Since this is a one time thing, let’s get this done then.” I said before pushing him by the chest, cornering him back against the counter to kiss him. 

Our lips collided into a frenetic dance to show each other who was really in control of the rather odd situation we were in. We tilt our heads to deepen the kiss and reach for our tongues. He bit my lower lip to pull me closer to his face. His hand reached for my scalp to pull my head closer by my hair. My sneaky fingers snaked around his neck and shoulders to grab the back of his pink hair to make him behave. We were two wild dogs whose owners were pulling on their leashes in a failed attempt to control them. 

His big hands wrapped my waist to turn the tables. Sukuna pulled me up to make me sit on the cold kitchen counter. I grabbed him by the robe to keep him in place. Kissing Sukuna was like surviving in a thunderstorm. It was fierce and strong, but oddly warm once you get used to the coldness. He grabbed me by my ass to pull my pelvis to his crotch. He was too damn good at this for his own good. I could feel my panties getting wet. 

“I didn’t know you were such a slut,” he moaned against my lips. I pulled away to slap him across his face. He smirked, surprised by the sudden act of violence. 

“I am sorry, did that hurt?” I asked in a fake innocent voice. 

“Oh… you’ll fucking regret that,” Sukuna spat as he tossed me over his shoulder and spanked my ass. I squealed and covered it as much as I could with my hands. “I am sorry, did that hurt?” He imitated me. I scoffed in shame. 

Sukuna took me to the sofa and tossed me in it. He quickly removed his bathrobe to expose himself to me. I took a quick scan of him. His fluffy pink hair was a mess with black hair poking underneath. His massive pecs were shaved and ready for tomorrow’s show. He had perfectly toned abs to die for, but what really surprised me was the star of tonight’s show, his massive thick cock. I was long and meaty, perfectly straight. With that cock, he could be a porn star. I couldn’t help but gulp with worried eyes. 

“Don’t be scared, it doesn’t bite,” he said while stroking his already hard cock. “Quick. Take off your clothes,” he demanded. 

“You are the one with the jinx, not me,” I barked, offended. “If you need to fuck me, show it.” He rolled his eyes and got close to me. 

“You are such an annoying brat.”

He unzipped my hoodie, took off my shirt, slid down my shorts and ripped my underwear off me. Sukuna didn’t want to waste any time on a meaningless task. Once my whole body was exposed to him, he manhandled me to make me bend over the couch. He gripped my thighs hard to shove his monstrosity in one back shot. I gasped for air. It was too big. I opened my ass so it could fit better in me. 

“Take your hands off there,” he spat as his hands grabbed both of my hands to put them behind my back. “I’ll have to teach you some fucking manners.”

That first thrust almost killed me. It was powerful and desperate. From the very beginning, he wanted to go all fucking in. I moaned every time he shoved his dick in my poor pussy, which wasn’t ready for a massacre. I opened my legs wider to give him better access. The slight pain was fading away with each thrust as my body was getting used to his stiff stick. 

“You are going to fucking kill me… ‘kuna…” I moaned in despair as my breasts and ass cheeks bounced in perfect synchrony. 

I was used to getting beat, punched and kicked, but this felt completely different. He was beating me to an addictive rhythm I could barely resist. The worst thing about it was that I didn’t want him to stop. His cock was hitting every inch of my pussy so good that I just needed more. I felt full, but I could eat some dessert. 

“Fuck, you are taking me better than that hoe I hired,” he groaned as his hips were hitting my ass in deep strokes. 

“So, I wasn’t the first option…” I thought, a bit disappointed. I shouldn’t be. Sukuna was horrible enough to not want to fight another woman over him, but my competitive soul wasn’t happy with it. I knew I wasn’t a sexy bombshell, but I was pretty enough to be the first option. Shit, I was really offended. 

“Turn around,” Sukuna ordered as he pulled out of me to put me in another position.

When I turned, he freed me from his grip. This was my opportunity. I pushed him to make him sit down on the wood coffee table. He was clearly in shock. If he wanted to avoid his jinx, it would be under my conditions. One of those conditions was making him understand I am the top dog and not a simple bitch he could hire on a Tuesday. I grabbed him by his chin and pulled his face towards me. 

“Open wide,”  I demanded. 

“Why would I do that?” Sukuna argued with a smirk. I pulled his hair hard to make his chin face me. 

“I said ‘Open wide’,” I repeated myself, forcing him to open his mouth.

I was starting to get tired of his whining and bullshit. He needed to learn some fucking manners as well. If this was the way I had to do it, fine. I’ll do it in my own way. Sukuna tried to close his mouth, but he was going to behave, like it or not. I spit directly on his tongue and closed his jaw. 

“That wasn’t that hard, wasn’t it?” I asked him with a smirk. I could see in his eyes that he wanted to be offended by it, but he low-key liked it. 

My hands pushed him so he could lay down against the coffee table. He tried to fight me to regain control, but I grabbed him by the wrists and pulled him further back so he could stay still. 

“Just fucking relax for once. I’ll do the dirty work from now on,” I whispered against his ear. My tongue flickered around his earlobe, just for the funsies. Sukuna retaliated and tried to fight me over, but when he saw that he was already under my claws, he stopped. 

My hips humped against his crotch, and his cock twitched against my pussy in excitement. I slid his dick on me slowly and pushed it deep. He wasn’t just handsome and had a fantastic physique, his dick was perfect as well. It was big and thick. Such a cocky cock. He was the perfect man, too bad he had a shitty personality as well. No one was really perfect. 

My hips rode his cock without mercy. It felt like heaven and hell at the same time. His moans and grunts were a clear sign that I was doing a good job. I could feel he wanted to free himself to latch onto my body, but I was in charge tonight. I moved in slow circles, and he jerked his head back in satisfaction. He closed his eyes and his toes curled as I rode him like a real cowgirl. My breasts bounced, following the rhythm of my movements. Wet and squishy sounds with our moans filled the air, creating a perfect symphony of lust. 

His dick was pushing and rubbing every part of my insides. It was raw and rough. I was desperately getting myself dumb fuck with the new toy I just borrowed. I never felt more tired and alive at the same time. I haven't felt this way in a pretty long time. I had to make the most of it. The coffee table was creaking with every hard bounce.

“F-Fuck… I am so close,” he moaned under his breath. 

“Do you want to cum in me, baby?” I asked him in an innocent tone. He nodded in response. I smirked and made a full stop. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” He yelled at me with a slight blush on his cheeks. 

“You need to ask for it nicely,” I asked. Sukuna frowned. “Say ‘Please, mommy. I want to cum.’” I got close to his face as if I was about to kiss him. “Just once, and I’ll let you cum all over this warm and slutty pussy,” I offered. Sukuna looked away. He was actually thinking of it. It was either saying the magic phrase or jinxing his own fight. I only saw an easy answer. 

“Please, mommy…  I want to cum…” He whispered while blushing intensely. 

“I can’t hear you,” I said with a mischievous smile. Sukuna scoffed and bit his lower lip. He didn’t want to repeat himself. 

“Please, mommy. I want to cum so bad,” he repeated, avoiding eye contact.  

“Good boy,” I said before releasing his wrists. “Go crazy.”

He clasped his hands on my ass and made me ride him like I was just doing previously. He shook my hips up and down to ride him in a wilder rhythm, trying to compensate for the time we lost. The wood table was creaking and squeaking in pain. It didn’t take long for it to collapse, but that didn’t stop Sukuna. His hands continue bouncing my ass to his cock as he thrust against me. 

“Just like that ‘Kuna…” I begged as I arched my back towards him. My nipples were rubbing against his pecs with each rough move. My legs were barely resisting. My eyes were tearing up from the power his cock held over me. He spanked me a couple of times as a celebration that he took over again. He pulled my hair to the side as he grunted to the rhythm of his hips. 

“Sukuna!” I moaned as I drooled over his shoulder. The pressure and stiffness left so good inside of me. My tight pussy hugged his big cock every time he pushed it in. After a couple of wet strokes in, I felt it inside. His thick and warm milk inside of me. It was what I needed to reach the climax. His cum felt like that cup of noodles after training. 

“Shit…” We both moaned as we relaxed our bodies. 

I pulled slowly out of me and laid next to Sukuna on the broken coffee table. Our breathing and gasps filled the silence that always came with every climax. I came back to my senses after what happened. “I just fucked my trainee,” I thought as I closed my eyes, embarrassed. What have I done? I needed to go now. No one could find out. 

“Where’s the bathroom?” I asked in a shy tone as I picked my clothes up from the floor. Sukuna pointed in the direction as he kept lying down on the table. 

I ran to the bathroom and washed my face to fully wake up from the trance I was in. I looked straight at my face in the mirror. The face of a slut. I gripped the zinc and sighed out loud. It was already done. I fucked him. It was a one time only thing. There was nothing I could do now. 

“Just live with it,” I said before putting my clothes back on. 

I exited the bathroom and looked for Sukuna to wish him a goodnight. I found him sleeping on the couch in just his bathrobe. “This dumbass will catch a cold,” I thought as I looked for something to cover him up. 

I went to the fancy master bedroom to just grab a decorative blanket. I was just going to grab the blanket and go off, but something caught my eye. There was a Polaroid photo on top of his night stand. It was a cute picture of a little trio. Sukuna, Choso and Yuuji as kids at what appears to be a kickboxing tournament. They were wearing their cute sporty outfits and smiling as they showed their participation medals with pride. I knew he looked adorable. 

Taking important photos everywhere is a habit only sensitive people have, like artists or musicians. I didn’t think Sukuna was the type of guy who kept memories like that. 

Why did Sukuna carry something like this? I thought he hated his brothers. What made him act so cold towards them? I didn’t know, and I couldn't get answers. I didn’t care about the old Sukuna, I just needed the present Sukuna to behave. I placed back the picture where I found it and went back to the living room. 

I placed the blanket on top of his massive body and moved around the cushions to make sure he would sleep well. His eyes shut, his chest going up and down from breathing and his fluffy messy hair was a delight to see. It was the first time I have seen him so relaxed. I wish I could see him more like this so he didn’t have to overwork himself. 

“Why do you have to be an ass to everyone who cares about you?” I thought out loud. 

The next day, under a starlit sky, the UFC Championship Night unfolded with electrifying intensity. The arena, alive with the roars of fans from across the globe who were watching live, set the stage for a night of unmatched athleticism and spirit. Fighters, embodying determination and skill, clashed in the octagon, their every move watched by an enraptured audience. 

Between bouts, the energy never waned, as performances dazzled and discussions flourished among the diverse crowd. The main event, a pinnacle of strategy and strength, held spectators in a spell of pure triumph and emotion. As the night waned, the echoes of the event lingered, leaving behind memories of a spectacular evening where sport and spectacle had intertwined beautifully in Dubai.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the event that everyone was waiting for! Give it up for Sukuna “The King of the Ring” Ryomen!” The host welcomed him and his team to the big stage. 

The Search by NF started playing as his anthem. His fans went crazy as he made his great appearance. He flexed his boxing skills with a couple of ghost jabs to warm up to the adrenaline rush of what being on the octagon meant. He looked focused and ready. I knew he was ready. I was confident he could beat Toji. 

After last night, he ignored me the whole day. In the morning run, he avoided me. In the warm-up session, he didn’t even look at me. I didn’t know what I did wrong to deserve his cold treatment, but he followed the schedule I made, so I didn’t have any grounds to be mad at him. My legs could be weak after last night, but my pride was strong. I just followed him and assisted in what was needed. 

After the medical and cheating check up by the referee, he got up on stage. Gojo, Nanami, Yuuji and I put ourselves by his designated corner, ready with our supplies to treat our champion each round. 

Toji and his staff made their own great entrance, and he got up to the octagon as well with his fans cheering in the background. The referee made them get close to recite the same official rules they already knew so they could bump gloves. After that, the real show was about to start. 

“This is a no-blinking fight, everyone!” The commentator announced, and the public went crazy as the two strong fighters were about to clash. My palms started to get sweaty, and my eyes were focused only on him. 

“Fight!” The referee announced, and they threw themselves at each other. 

Punches, jabs, and strikes cut the air in the tight space. Toji was the one who was building up his way to Sukuna’s space. He was conquering the fight little by little. Toji knew how strong Sukuna could be, he needed to take his time before destroying him. After some minutes of teasing and a minute left on the timer, he went full beast mode. Sukuna wasn’t doing any offense moves, he was just surviving being in the same cage as him. Gojo and Yuuji kept screaming incoherent instructions to him, but the public was so loud that Sukuna probably couldn’t hear him. Ten seconds on the clock and Toji connected a perfect jab to his ribs, taking air out of him.

The bell rang, and the referee separated them. Gojo, Yuuji and I quickly got inside the octagon to assist Sukuna for his next round. 

“I thought you were in the winner’s team,” Toji yelled at me. I ignored him to get to Sukuna. 

“You see what you have done? Are you trying to embarrass me?!” I yelled at Sukuna while Yuuji was showering him with water and put an ice pack on his ribs. My fighter looked at me with a frown. At least he wasn’t ignoring me now. “Now you are listening. You have to get closer. He has longer arms than you, he will rail you in boxing. Go for his legs, man!” I ordered, and he nodded, knowing I was right. “Make me proud, Sukuna.”

The next round started and Toji noticed the change in Sukuna’s attitude. He was wilder and straightforward than before, so he acted accordingly. They had three other rounds, but this was looking like the last one. Toji tried to connect a kick to Sukuna’s ribs, but his opponent took that opportunity to drop him to the ground. The audience stood up to get a better look at what was going on. 

“Get it, Sukuna! Just like we practice!” I yelled at him with the highest pitch I could, so my voice would stand out. 

Sukuna crawled and fought to get to Toji’s neck. “Is he going to do it?” I asked myself, shocked. He quickly got onto him to lock his opponent down against the mat with his legs around his neck and torso. Toji tried getting up, just like with Geto in his fight against Sukuna, but he wasn’t going to let him go so easily. Toji growled under his breath. He punched his sides, but Sukuna couldn’t give up. He latched his left leg on his right arm, causing Toji to turn around slowly. 

“Oh my god…” I mumbled without losing eye contact with his physique.

“Is he…?” Gojo thought the same. 

Sukuna made Toji turn on his belly. The black haired reached for his pink head, so he could only choke hold him in between his biceps. The euphoric screams from the audience kept getting louder as the fight got closer to the end. I saw Toji start to breathe with difficulty while his hands tried to loosen up Sukuna’s powerful grasp. He wasn’t going to let what happened in Las Vegas happen again. 

After seconds of contemplating his options to win this, Toji noticed he had none. It was over. He got him, so he tapped his arms three times to release him himself in defeat. The referee allowed it and Sukuna loosened up. The buzzer went off to indicate the fight was over, and the audience went wild.

“Did you see that?! I taught him how to do that!” I screamed in excitement to Yuuji who was as excited as I was to see his brother keeping his title. 

Sukuna jumped over the fence to better listen to the excitement of the public. The whole staff, the cameramen, and round girls entered the octagon to celebrate. The fighters got to the middle and the host announced Sukuna as the clear winner by technical knockout. Sukuna shook hands with Nanami, Gojo and Yuuji in celebration. 

“I knew you could do it,” I said, bear hugging him to piss him off. 

To my surprise, he hugged me back. He was sweaty and clammy. His heart was rushing from adrenaline. His arms were trembling from exhaustion. I patted his back to show him my support. A smile appeared on my face when I realized that, for the first time, he was being sweet. 

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[zriasstuff]

Second chances?—Lorenzo Berkshire x reader

Here’s the sequel to “First impressions”, involving some karma for our “innocent” boy Lorenzo Berkshire, featuring Draco Malfoy

I want to thank everyone who interacted with pt.1 and I am especially grateful for the supportive comments, which motivated me to write this second part in the first place. I hope I managed to tag everyone, and enjoy :)

“Mhmm, Enzo you’re so amazing”, you whisper in between hungry kisses with him, while his hands were in the process of removing your dress. “No, you are”, he says while gently sucking your neck, leaving behind a trail of red marks. Everything felt so perfect, that you could spend hours doing this with him in his bed. In all the excitement, your skin was even burning up, and you felt the sweat beads forming on your forehead, but all of a sudden you feel yourself having difficulties breathing.

You abruptly push yourself away from Enzo, gasping for air, and look around the room. The flames of the lit candles started rising, turning the room to a hot, steaming oven. Instantly you start panicking, wanting to escape, but you accidentally knock over a candle behind you. As you scream in fear, attempting to put the huge fire out, everything has already turned pitch black, leaving you with red horror in your eyes.

With a terrible sweat, your eyes snap open again, taking in the environment you were in. Slowly, you come to your senses again and calmly reassess the situation. The room wasn’t on fire. You were completely safe. And Enzo definitely wasn’t here. It had just been a bad dream. Hurriedly you chug down the glass of water which stood on your nightstand and rub your pained face. Even in your sleep that bastard found a way to make you feel miserable. For what it was worth, now you could scheme your revenge in peace, since beforehand you just processed all your feelings. During the hurtful and exhausting soul searching, you fell asleep, which meant you hadn’t come up with anything yet.

It was indeed harder to scheme than you imagined. You needed to go at this systematically. First of all, you tried to lay out all the events that happened— Enzo approached you in a boutique on purpose, then bought you ten expensive dresses, then acted all chivalrous towards you, only for it to have been a part of his calculated plan. He just wanted an obedient and starstruck girl who would obsess over him and fulfill his needs. Then he would’ve probably thrown you aside like some old toy, who was no longer of use to him.

Now to the current situation—he doesn’t know you overheard his “boys talk”, in which he revealed his wicked intentions. Enzo still thinks you are infatuated with him, and that you have this wonderful impression of him. And, he most likely expects to see you tomorrow, hoping to be able to show you off like a trophy. As of right now, you held all the unknown information about him, but not the other way around. After having structured all the events, which took a few minutes, the wheels in your brain finally began to spin and web a net of deceitful plans.

…

You wake up the next morning with gleaming sun rays shining directly into your eyes and a mild headache. Of course thinking that much about sinful activities would give you a migraine. Nonetheless, it was time to pretend nothing happened yesterday and to dress yourself up.

Since it was a Monday, you didn’t have the chance to wear the dresses you acquired yesterday, but you did allow your uniform skirt to ride up a little higher than usual. You buttoned up your shirt a bit more loose, and really let your legs shine with that bunched up skirt and delicate stockings.

In class you felt your male classmates ogling at you for the first time ever. Their eyes lingered on your body for just a few seconds longer, which was seemingly insignificant, but it revealed a lot about them. One of them even asked to sit next to you with the hope of convincing you to spend the break with him. This just proved yet again that guys were only after one thing. You were merely an object, which would only be given attention if you performed for the male gaze. While it was unsettling, it was also sadly your goal, and if it worked on these guys, it would surely work on others too.

After what felt like an eternity, you were finally released and could go into your break. There wasn’t much time to waste, you would have to find Enzo’s friend group within twenty minutes. With a heavy bag in hand, you hurriedly walk to the courtyard, where you luckily see Enzo by a tall tree with Draco, Theo, and Blaise. You loathed all of them.

Courageously, while your heart and mind were both under huge panic, you walk up behind Enzo and greet him with a warm side hug. His friends all smugly stand there, observing your excellent acting, which of course they thought was real. Hiding your hate was truly difficult under these circumstances. Their looks also almost seemed derogatory towards you, not to your surprise. You wondered what else Enzo had said after you left, after all you didn’t even get to hear everything.

“H-Hey, what are you doing here?”, a surprised Enzo asks while returning the hug graciously.

“Oh I just wanted to see you”, you forcefully pout in a sweet tone whilst twirling a strand of hair. “I’m feeling a lot better than yesterday now, I think I just had a slight migraine after dinner”, you add to alleviate any suspicion he might have.

“Well, I’m glad to see you”, he says before planting a peck on your forehead. “I’m hoping to see you at the quidditch game against Hufflepuff today, which will certainly be a piece of cake”, Enzo raises his voice. That would be perfect for his ego wouldn’t it? Winning a game and being cheered on by a beautiful girl.

“Of course I’ll be there, I want to see all of you playing and winning”, you direct yourself to the group. That wasn’t the only reason though. And oddly enough all of them were on the team. They really were just a bunch of jocks.

“Actually I’m not”, Draco joins in. He quickly explains that he has a hand injury, which forbade him from playing. Otherwise he would never ever miss out. You didn’t care about his passion for quidditch though, him joining the conversation presented you with the opportunity you were waiting for.

Your react to his comment by cutely batting your eyelashes at him and respond sympathetically with “awe, that’s too bad since you play really well, I hope you’ll get better soon”. Draco’s following nervous chuckle showed how off guard he got caught by that statement. Considering that you were supposedly Enzo’s girl, it felt queasy on him. Though, he appreciated the compliment anyway. It made him feel validated, something he seeked from everyone around him. Besides you caught him shamelessly staring at your arched chest and falling for your flirting antics.

On the other hand, Enzo looked insanely confused and like he was about to say something after your obvious pass at his best friend. But he barely got a word out because you excused yourself immediately after dropping that. You don’t know if he attempted to chase you, but he did pretty much leave you alone.

The rest of your day went quite smoothly too, and luckily you didn’t run into Enzo again. The quidditch game would be after dinner though, so you deliberately sat a little further from his group to not risk any awkward encounters.

…

“Slytherin is totally going to win” was the sentence you heard all the way to the bleachers. Having to hear that repeatedly got a little annoying, but it was also true. Everyone knew your team was super skilled, and that only Harry was the natural that could wipe out everyone. But it didn’t really matter who would win most of the time for you. The atmosphere was always immaculate. All the students forgetting about their stress and just huddling together, to scream, to cheer, to laugh was what made the games so magical.

But tonight, you were also looking for something, or rather someone else. And after some seconds of searching, there he was. Standing tall and proud, wind blowing through his platinum blonde hair, grinning and clapping others on their backs— the one and only Draco Malfoy. Cheerily you approach him from behind, greeting him with an unexpected hug.

“Woah, what’s gotten into you?”, Draco startlingly asks, looking down on you rather delightfully though. As you prepared to answer, you felt several pairs of eyes on you, as you looked unfamiliar to many people. “Nothing”, you say innocently, “can’t I just be in a cheerful mood?”

“I suppose”, Draco sounds out slowly and a bit warily, but he guessed he had no reason to be rejecting you. After all he did think you were sorta cute. You were pure blood, slytherin and approached him at first after all, so why not engage in some small talk. Besides, it would also be like doing a favor for Enzo.

During the thrilling game, the constant screams from all sides were making you a bit too nauseous, but that’s only because Slytherin scored so much too. Hufflepuff wasn’t doing too bad, but certainly not good enough. In enough time, Draco’s replacement caught the snitch, therefore ending the exciting game.

“I bet I could’ve caught it way sooner if I was on the field”, Draco arrogantly states for everyone to hear. Still, he obviously cheered for his friends who did an amazing job. They now zoomed all around the field on their brooms, high-fiving all their supporters, and just when Enzo flew close to your stands, you turned around to look into Draco’s pompous face.

As he was still talking with a friend, you quickly grab his jaw toward you, go on your tippy toes and smash your lips onto his. It all happened so fast, he didn’t even realize what was happening at first.

When Enzo flew past you guys, he stopped mid air, shocked at what he was seeing. Even from far above the kissing was visible.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING”, he yells at you two, lips still hung onto each others ever so slightly.

Draco’s mouth gapes wide open at Enzo’s rage, immediately trying to explain that it wasn’t his fault. As for you—instead of replying, you simply shrug innocently, blinking up at him with your doe eyes as if you had no idea why he was so mad. Still fuming at your act of defiance, Enzo aggressively steers his broom towards the ground. There was no use leading a conversation mid air for everyone to hear, so as soon as he stepped foot on the ground, he made his way towards you.

Since this was exactly what you planned, you made it a little easier for him and met him halfway, behind the stadium. You left the bleachers during celebration with a confused Draco following you, who thought you were drunk or high or something. You neither confirmed nor denied it which just scared him all the more.

Within seconds of colliding with Enzo, he aggressively cups your face, forcing you to look up at him. “You think this is funny you little dumb whore, huh?”, he spitefully spits in your face. Those insults admittedly stung harder than expected. There was no time for regrets though, you had to pull through with your vengeance.

“You didn’t think I was actually committed to you right?”, you quite literally ridiculed him. “C’mon, I mean you’re nice and all, but you can’t compete with Draco”. The very same must have an overflowing ego at the moment, but he also felt incredibly bad for Enzo.

“So you’re telling me you never actually liked me and just used me to get close to my friends?” It wasn’t a real question, he didn’t want an answer, he just couldn’t quite believe it yet. That someone would exploit him like that seemed impossible to him. In that moment he was infuriated with you and in complete disbelief.

This was it. This was supposed to be the plan, which you carried out flawlessly. But something felt unfinished. Enzo hadn’t admitted his faults yet after all.

“Why do you care who I kiss anyway, it’s not like I was your girlfriend”, you sigh. He had let go of your face now, and you rubbed your slightly hurt jaw. Meanwhile Draco had also slipped out, not wanting to get into the middle of this tense situation.

“Who said I cared”, he scoffed. His pride was obviously hurt.

"Seriously?" If you didn’t you wouldn’t have made such a huge scene and chased me down. And don’t tell me you don’t like seeing me kiss other guys because we are not together” You felt like you had to remind him of that last part repeatedly because it was crucial that he was aware of that.

When coming up with your plan to hurt him, you calculated that he was a man of pride and power and control. He could always have several girls, but his girls could only have him, even if he wasn’t committed. Enzo was used to this working because he was charming enough. So, this is how you knew that this would attack him on a personal level. Besides he was so sure that you only had eyes for him, which made him feel all the more stupid.

After listening to you, and your reality check he didn’t come up with anything to say. He wouldn’t admit that he was the one who manipulated you first, but on a deep subconscious level, he knew you knew. He pegged you as the type of person who would only bite back, not attack first.

As you watched his frenzied expression, you knew that you got what you wanted. Enzo felt incredibly bad, foolish, and exposed, and you restored your own dignity. So, why was a part of you feeling extremely guilty? The feeling of remorse rapidly consumed you, like you couldn’t live with yourself from this point on. You weren’t the villain, but why did watching this unfold weigh so hard on you?

And before you could even stop yourself, you blurt out many incredibly rushed sentences. Enzo didn’t seem to catch any of that so you catch your breath and repeat again slowly.

“I’m so sorry, you know I don’t actually like Draco and kissing him was definitely not my intention when I got close to you. But you have to know, I overheard that you just wanted to use me and that you didn’t care about me at all, so this was supposed to be your karma I guess.” It felt relieving to have that off your consience. You didn’t exactly plan for this to happen, for you to chicken out, but it felt like the more mature thing to do.

“Wow, I guess I deserved that.”, Enzo owned up to his actions, which surprised you a little. He, after a long pause, follows up with “what are the chances we’re both evil, lying, schemers”. It lifted up the cold tension a little, and you smile ever so slightly.

“Well one of us is worse than the other”, you begrudgingly say. Truthfully, you both simply weren’t saints.

“I guess that’s true. But I like to think that our unusual, yet interesting way of meeting means something.” What was Enzo leading up to, you wonder. This was definitely not how you thought this would go.

“By any chance, would you be willing to give this mess a second chance?”

“Wha-”

“Because I am”, Enzo said expressively. In the most unfortunate way ever, this—against your will, brought back your deeper feelings for him. How you actually felt loved by him and how he made you feel butterflies in your stomach every time he complimented you. But you felt like saying yes would be too rushed, too impulsive.

“Enzo, I don’t even know if I can trust you or if this is just way for you to get back at me”

“I get that”, he responds understandingly, “but just so you know, after having seen this side of you, I’m starting to genuinely like you more which is kinda sick”. It was sick, but you understand where he was coming from. The last two days were filled with adrenaline rushes and felt like an emotional rollercoaster, which was better than boredom and habit.

“Good night, Enzo”, you whisper, before turning around and leaving him all alone out of uncertainty. On your way back to your dorm, the question of whether you should give this a second chance drove you crazy.

@nat1221 @hoeforvinniehackerrr @mildly-delulu @breeistired @helpimhopelesslyinlove @hemlockmuncher (people who asked to be tagged :))

[oldmannapping]

Fic: Bodyswap (Part 2)

Part One

Based on my own prompt about wanting a body-swap fic that dealt with the gross embarrassing parts.

This has expanded into something more than I intended, but I can't stop writing.

It's a Dick-Jason, Tim-Steph bodyswap. There is literally no plot. They're body-swapped and trying to deal with it, that's it. No pairings, past Steph/Tim.

It's crack treated like crack. It's two parts for now but I might add more. Warnings for language, discussions of menstruation, discussions of sexuality.

EXCERPT:

“This isn’t just PMS,” Tim continues blithely. “This is definitely something more.”

Bruce and Dick take sizeable steps backwards. Jason cackles.

Steph flares Tim’s nostrils and opens her mouth. Far too late, Tim realises that he’s in danger.

“Timothy.” Somehow, she makes Tim’s voice growl almost as low as Batman’s. “PMS is not JUST anything. When women say that they are tired. Sad. Having cravings. Not themselves. We are not just making excuses to lie in bed and let the patriarchy win.”

Oh no, she said “patriarchy”. Tim’s fucked.

Bruce rubs his forehead, eyes pinched closed. He’s only been in the Cave for six minutes and he’s already regretting every life choice that led to this moment.

“So you can read each other’s minds?” he clarifies, still not opening his eyes.

“No,” Jason snaps derisively.

“Not really,” says Dick dick-lomatically. (Duke used that word ONE TIME and no one has ever let it go.) “It’s more like… familiar thought patterns? I’m still me, with my memories and thoughts, but I’ve got Jason’s… knee jerk reactions. His instincts. It’s hard to describe.”

“I haven’t noticed anything like that,” says Tim, peering at the older men with curiosity. “I haven’t run too many experiments yet though. I’m planning all sorts of cognitive testing and brain scans but I’ve been really foggy-headed and haven’t been able to put it together like I normally would.”

He frowns. “Now that I think about it, maybe that’s a symptom in itself. Could it be that the spell actively smothers attempts to break it? I was writing a program to analyse the results of some basic nerve conduction studies yesterday and I got so tired I had to have a nap. When I woke up, I was ravenous and completely forgot about the studies. This is fascinating. Bruce, is there any precedent for spells that are self-protecting like that? This could be something we should consult Zatanna about, or maybe even Constantine…”

“Yo, Boy Genius,” interrupts Steph, clicking Tim’s fingers in front of her own face. “That wasn’t the spell. Brain fog, fatigue, increased appetite? Congratulations, you’ve just discovered PMS.”

Tim is aghast. Jason has barked a surprised laugh and Dick and Bruce seem baffled.

“That, that can’t be right,” Tim insists. “You don’t understand Steph, I was operating WAY below my usual capacity. This wasn’t just a little brain fog. I was having a hard time with codes that I’d normally be able to do in my sleep. I forgot the word for “synthesise”. I took a two-hour nap then ate half a rotisserie chicken. I threw my keyboard across the room and then cried when it broke.”

“That was my chicken,” says Dick in a small, sad voice. Jason’s body needs a LOT of protein.

“This isn’t just PMS,” Tim continues blithely. “This is definitely something more.”

Bruce and Dick take sizeable steps backwards. Jason cackles.

Steph flares Tim’s nostrils and opens her mouth. Far too late, Tim realises that he’s in danger.

“Timothy.” Somehow, she makes Tim’s voice growl almost as low as Batman’s. “PMS is not JUST anything. When women say that they are tired. Sad. Having cravings. Not themselves. We are not just making excuses to lie in bed and let the patriarchy win.”

Oh no, she said “patriarchy”. Tim’s fucked.

Steph’s not done. “We are not weak. We are not hysterical, moody hypochondriacs with wandering wombs. We are experiencing the VERY REAL mental and physical and emotional effects of our bodies preparing to have a BABY and then overhauling itself by EJECTING AN ENTIRE BABY HOUSE out of our vaginas.”

She’s still not done. Tim’s trying not to breathe in case that makes her angrier.

“I’ve gone on patrol with a heat pack strapped under my costume. I’ve sat exams on days when I can’t remember which bus I usually take. I’ve cried in the bathroom at work and wiped my eyes, reapplied my mascara, and gone back out there because I’m a fucking woman and that’s what we’re doing every single freaking day while you assholes are telling us that we’re biologically designed to earn 35% less than you.”

Tim opens Steph’s mouth and all the other men in the room know that whatever he's about to say is going to be a mistake. “I don’t think women should earn less than men,” is what he lands on.

Bruce decides to speak up before Steph can reply. He's very brave. “So we can reasonably assume that the spell isn’t actively trying to prevent anyone from breaking it,” he says, clearing his throat. “And it doesn’t transfer thoughts and memories, but engrained thought patterns and autonomous reactions.”

Dick is very happy to be back on topic. “Yeah, basically.”

“What are some examples?” asks Bruce, walking to the Batcomputer and pulling up a spreadsheet.

Jason and Dick glower at each other silently, not wanting a rehash of their previous argument. This whole situation was dignity-shattering enough.

Dick coughs. “Jason and I have noticed,” he says carefully, “that we have each other’s automatic reflexes to situations. I’ve noticed that my aggression levels are up. I’m always wanting to scan the room for a threat. Jason’s noticed similar things about my body’s reactions.” He hopes that’s enough detail.

Bruce hums thoughtfully. “I don’t think it’s just your bodies,” he muses, typing rapidly. “It could be your brains – your actual, physical brains, not your consciousness or whatever’s been transferred by the spell. Brains like patterns and routines. It makes them effective. It seems that while your consciousnesses have been transplanted, the structure of each of your brains has remained unchanged.”

“Has anyone studied this before?” asks Tim, pulling up his phone and tapping away. “It makes sense but I’ve never heard of body-swapping having this particular wrinkle before.”

“It sounds like your bodies’ hormone levels remained the same too,” says Bruce awkwardly, glancing at Tim-in-Steph’s-body’s abdomen with faint alarm. “Of course, we’ll need to run further tests but that shouldn’t be too difficult since we’ve already been taking daily bloods…” He hums again and opens several more browsers, muttering to himself.

-_-

“TESTING!” booms Bruce’s voice suddenly, two hours later. He looks around. He is alone in the Cave. He presses the intercom. “Alfred, could you gather the kids and tell them- Dammit!” He misses Alfred so much. Bruce sighs and dials Dick’s phone, calling his children back to the Cave.

Once they’re assembled, he starts again.

“TESTING.”

They’re standing in a circle on the mats. Jason’s pointedly holding his phone where Dick can see the screen as he scrolls through nipple piercing and tattoo websites. Dick is trying to focus politely on Bruce. Tim and Steph are glowering grumpily next to each other.

Bruce ignores their moods. He claps his hands. He’s excited for testing. Testing is one of his favourite parts of weird magic times.

“Dick!” he says, pointing. “Unlock Jason’s phone.”

Rolling his eyes, Jason locks his phone and hands it off to Dick. Dick starts to hold it up to his/Jason’s face when Bruce says, “No, with the PIN. Don’t think about it, just see if you can do it with muscle memory.”

Dick looks back to the phone and stares for a beat. Then, his thumbs move rapidly to swipe through a nine-digit code. The phone unlocks.

“Motherfucker,” Jason swears, grabbing his phone back.

“You didn’t know the code before now?” confirms Bruce. Dick shakes his head. “What is it?”

Dick frowns, then shrugs. “I have no idea. My thumbs just-“ He mimes typing on a phone. “It was too quick for me to catch all the numbers.”

“Fascinating.” Bruce is so excited to add to his spreadsheet. He pulls something out of his pocket and throws it to Steph.

She catches it automatically. “Okay? We know we all have good reflexes?”

“You caught it with your left hand,” points out Bruce. “Even though that meant you had to reach across your body. Even though you, Stephanie, are right-handed, this body is not. This body’s brain and mind are still wired to have Tim’s reflexes even if you’re the one in conscious control.”

The four affected youths eye each other warily.

Bruce pulls out a folder. “I’ve printed some pictures to show you. I want you to give me your automatic reactions to these images, don’t overthink it.”

He goes through both benign and personal pictures. It turns out that seeing Dick’s favourite food makes Jason’s mouth water. Seeing Steph’s old childhood toy gives Tim, in her body, a jolt of nostalgic nausea even though he’s never seen the tatty bear before. (“How do you even have a picture of Mr Huggins?” asks Steph. “Creeper.”) Seeing a playground makes Tim’s body anxious and Jason’s body prickle with protective anticipation.

They all thoroughly agree that Bruce is weird for making them do all of this and then immediately disband to run secret individual experiments on their own.

-_-

“This body!” snaps Jason. “This body is so NEEDY!”

Dick groans. “What now?”

Jason paces restlessly. “First it needs to move all the damn time. I always thought you were fidgeting and doing handstands off tables and shit to be annoying, but you really can’t help it.”

Dick shrugs. “It’s been kinda weird to be in your body and not feel like that. I keep thinking I’m forgetting something but it’s just that I haven’t moved in a while and usually that’s a problem. No wonder you don’t mind long stakeouts.”

“No wonder you hate them,” Jason agrees. “It’s not even that this time. It’s this weird, like, almost itching. Like a shortness of breath. You’re not allergic to anything are you?”

He stalks over to his own body and frowns up at his own face. “Huh,” he says. “You’re not afraid of me. Zero fear response. You’re an idiot.”

Dick rolls Jason’s eyes. “Yeah yeah, you’ve very scary and edgy. Such an ambiguous anti-hero. Dear me, I hope he doesn’t snap one day. Etcetera.”

Jason shoulder-checks him (ineffectively) and storms over to where Tim and Steph are sending each other triggering images over text to see who will break first. Steph’s just sent Tim a picture of a happy family on vacation with the caption “not u lol” when Jason reaches them.

They stare at Jason blankly as he gets up in their personal space. They’re used to Dick being close to them so it doesn’t feel weird, but they know it’s JASON, so it IS weird. Jason grabs Steph-as-Tim’s arm and holds it for a moment. He grunts and releases it. He turns to Tim-in-Steph, an odd look on his face. He reaches for Tim’s arm but the movement seems to get away from him and he ends up grabbing Tim around the shoulders with one arm, holding him in close.

“What are you doing?” yelps Tim, struggling briefly.

“I have no idea,” says Jason, who seems equally baffled but isn’t letting go.

“Holy moly,” says Steph. “You two are tragic. Dick’s body needs a HUG, morons.”

Jason and Tim freeze. They simultaneously realise that this isn’t a strange new grappling move. This is a hug. Oh no they’re hugging. They don’t hug. They’re not huggers.

Dick snickers, coming over to view the scene. “I could have told you that,” he informs Jason.

“It’s not allergies?” says Jason, shuffling around to look at Dick without letting go of Tim. “Your body wanted a HUG? What are you, a toddler?”

“Hugs aren’t childish,” scolds Steph mildly, taking photos on her phone even though they will never capture the true awkwardness of a Tim-and-Jason hug. “Heaps of people need touch to feel good. Hugs, cuddles, patting a pet, whatever. Dick’s a hugger, you already knew that.”

“I knew he liked hugging, I didn’t know he needed it to live,” bites Jason, trying to appear nonchalant and cool while embracing Tim to his chest like a doll. “Why is this body hugging you? Steph, I mean. Why not just go for the closest person?”

Steph and Dick roll their eyes. “Jason, when was the last time you and I hugged?” Dick asks. Jason glowers.

Steph nods. “Dick and I hug all the time, dude. You two aren’t cuddly. That’s cool. Whatever. Tim lets me use him as a pillow at movie night so I’m happy. Dick’s body probably feels more comfortable with mine than the others here.”

“Plus, girls are so nice for hugs,” Dick adds. “So nice and soft. So snuggly and safe.”

That does it. Tim and Jason break apart and swiftly put eight feet of space between them. The incident is swiftly added to the Never To Be Spoken About Again list, which is growing longer by the day.

-_-

The end? To be continued? Who even knows.

[bachelorisland]

if the mickey being donalds old super supportive college roommate who donald couldn’t stand who eventually became a famous hollywood actor is still canon in DT17 universe, I’d assume that they lost contact after college and mickey wasn’t there for the downfall of everything. :( CONTEXT BEFORE I START YAPPING!!!

ANYWAYS cringe headcanon but I like to think maybe donmicks friendship was a little fruity back in college ….and it made donald question everything . Maybe mickey was unknowingly leading donald on while he was already in a relationship w minnie (hee hee theyre college sweethearts love u mickmin) BY LEADING ON i dont mean like Mickey being like I Want You Donald 👅I think maybe because he was just so freaking nice to donald. he believed in him, he always took care of him when he was upset, took him seriously despite being a bit oblivious at times, and like daisy, he was one of the only people who could understand him just fine, and mickey would probably say some crazy homosexual shit that you wouldn’t normally tell ur male roommate and friend (just think mickey shorts mickey but 40% gayer) and he’d think it’s completely normal and platonic and donald would be going nuts because JESUS CHRIST!:$:!:$/! Why is my “straight” homie with a whole ass girlfriend treating me like this. and why do I like it So Much. emotional edging challenge idk . donald thought he was annoying but he really really really rely rlly rlly had a huge crush on him to the point where his feelings became more annoying and an inconvenience than mickey himself

so he I think he stopped actively trying to contact him after they graduated and since mick got famous shortly after which pretty much made it impossible to reach him. Donald probably told himself it was because mickey was annoying and clingy and a loud theatre kid who was too full of himself and he lowkey hated him, but it was also because he didn’t wanna get played by MICKEY MOUSE of all people. lol

OMG I LIKE TO THINK GOOFY WAS A ROOMMATE TOO!! They were like a trio. I have quite a few headcanons of them in their college days and maybe I’ll share it later. doesnt even have to relate to ducktales I think its just goof don and mick in college being silly

(ALSO kinda unrelated but i think goof and don stayed in contact but only really started talking again once they had kids to take care of)

(ALSO ALSO GUYS FRANK LITERALLY SAID MOST OF DT17 MICKEYS CHARACTERISTICS ENDED UP IN STORKULES. WHOS LITERALLY HEAD OVER HEELS OBSESSED WITH DONALD. Anyways)

( Sorry if this makes no sense I’m tired and I’m thinking about Disney yaoi )

(Edit I wrote this at 1 in the morning yesterday sorry if its super OOC I think I was going thru it LMFAOOO)

[hannahssimblr]

Astrid, 

Hope you got my postcard from Phuket, and that the Bangkok one shows up, eventually. Maybe it is actually lost, like maybe I’m doing something wrong at the post office. It’s fine if they all go into the abyss. I am writing just to write, because it feels romantic or whatever. You probably hate the idea of this. I could just text you. I texted you forty-five minutes ago. Still miss you. 

We’re in Phi Phi now. Islands, very beautiful. I bet you already know about them, but I’d never heard about this place before I came here. The landscape is kind of mental, like giants made it. Weird to look at. We went out on a little boat yesterday to see the sights. Jonas jumped off and swam, and I did not. My tattoo is still healing. Stupid fucking thing. I waved over a boat of girls and told them Jonas was saying he fancied them, and then he got annoyed with me, because he wasn’t saying that, and he was embarrassed. I think he should learn to talk to women without wanting to die, and he says I think about women too much, that I’m too invested and I should think about something else. History, philosophy, whatever. Why would I when there are women like you on the earth?

At night, instead of going out and drinking, we go to bed early, in our bunks, him on the top, me below like always, and he tells me all this shit about the Suez canal, or what the Falklands war was all about, since I was stupid enough to ask a follow up question once. Then I fall asleep to escape the boredom. We get up at six and do activities, then. Lots of walking. My body hurts. 

Jonas finally tried those scorpions he was banging on about, and now he’s sick, btw. Food poisoning. I don’t really know how to take care of him, except coming back to the hostel every few hours, making sure he has water. Until he’s better, I guess I’m just wandering around on my own. Luckily, it’s nice to look at. Maybe today I’ll swim with my arm out of the water. Running out of space. Love and miss you can't wait to see you.

xxx Jude. 

I snap open the lid of a bottle of water and carry it into the hostel room. It smells bad there, but I’ve stopped saying it, because it makes Jonas look like he’s about to cry. He’s curled up on his bunk, a complexion like curdled yoghurt, as a chink of morning light spills through the blinds and over his shivering body. Mostly naked. Too hot, then too cold, then sipping water, then throwing it up. I hover in the doorway. 

“I’ve water,” I say, and he just stares. Resigned, half-dead, maybe. “Should you go to hospital or something, do you think?”

“No, I feel slightly better.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want the water, or?”

“Yes. Bring it to me.”

I approach him like a leper, not sure why, as I’m fully aware he’s not contagious, but it’s been ten days since I’ve thrown up, and I’d like to maintain my healthy aura. He regards me with bleary eyes as I back away. “It is good you are an artist and not a nurse.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m not so good with illness.”

“Even though you are always ill.” A tentative sip from the bottle. “You went out this morning?”

“To the post office.”

“Another postcard to Astrid.”

“Yes.”

I can tell he wants to laugh but lacks strength, managing only a feeble wheeze. “Is she missing you as much as you are missing her?”

“No, I don’t think so. She’s much better at distance.”

“She’s an independent person.”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me what she is doing today.”

“It’s Wednesday, so probably going to reformer pilates. Then she’s supposed to meet a friend from university for lunch. After that, I don’t know. Something spontaneous and thrilling, probably.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

He manages a watery smile. “You’ll be doing nothing again today? Missing her?”

“I was thinking I might wade into the sea, actually. Keep walking out until I disappear, wailing after Astrid like the pathetic little freak I am.”

“It’s Wednesday?”

“Yes, Wednesday.”

“I signed up for something today.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll be going, by the cut of you.”

“No,” giving up on the water for now, he rolls onto his back, watching insects congregate around the plastic light fixture. “You could go in my place. It’s a… meditation thing.”

I pull a face. “Meditation? That thing where you sit cross-legged and go like ‘om’?” I demonstrate, but feel bad for making him laugh. Apparently a bit painful for him. 

“Yes,” he says. “Kind of. You might find value in it.”

“Is that the kind of guy you think I am? With like, dirty feet and harem pants?”

“Since I am the one who signed up, is it the kind of person you think I am?”

“Not far off.”

“Well, meditation has many benefits. It’s not just for the dirty-feet-squad. It’s good for people who suffer with various mental health concerns, and people who have racing thoughts they cannot stop and such things. Maybe it will inspire you to stop thinking about women’s breasts.”

I scoff. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

“So you can think of more productive things that will inform you, and grow your mind rather than rotting it away.”

“Like the Falklands war, for instance.”

“Yes, like the Falklands war,” he says, suddenly animated. “Thank you for saying that. Or the targeting of Libyan migrant workers on suspicion of being mercenaries by—”

I take a brisk and decisive step out of the room. “Well! Glad you’re feeling better, Jonas. See you later. Keep drinking that water, et cetera.” I swing the door shut and amble away, down the hostel hallway and back to the beach, rearing for another day of nothing, bored senseless by the edge of a lonely ocean.

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[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day Thirteen: Pregnant @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // AO3

just fluff. wasn't really wanting to post but here we are

.*.*.*.*.

Morning Light

Winter hung low over the city one early morning in December.  The gray clouds were impenetrable, even to the brightness of the sun, leaving the world in a pale gray haze.  Ever since October, the weather had taken a turn.  It left everyone in a violent desperation for warmth.  Instead, Terrasen was gifted freezing rain, cold wind, and darkened skies.  Everything had transformed in the span of a few weeks leaving Aelin desperate for summer.

She’d always preferred those warm months with the bright sun, blue skies, and warm air.  Summer was when everything felt alive and real.  Now, as she stared out the from window and at the trees that surrounded the house, the world simply felt bare.

It was strange considering most of the trees in the forest were evergreen and there was only the occasional alder and maple stripped bare to empty branches.  And the foliage was still rich and vibrant.  Not even the freezing weather could kill the sword fern or blackberry bush.

Still…the world felt different now.

She raised her mug of hot chocolate to her lips taking a long sip.  Most of it was still whipped cream.  She fully believed that if a mug wasn’t at least half full of either marshmallow or cream, it wasn’t hot chocolate.  The sweet drink seeped through her body, warming the near perpetual chill that had been settled in her bones since September.

Through the window she watched a red breasted robin land in the bird feeder, plucking away at the seed she’d refilled yesterday.  It didn’t seem bothered by the chill.  Or maybe instinct had driven it from its nest.

She took another sip of cocoa.

Upstairs she listened as the bedroom door opened and a pair of soft feet descended the stairs.  She didn’t turn, waiting for the inevitable feel of her husband coming up behind her.  In a matter of moments, she was wrapped up in his strong arms.

“You’re up early,” Rowan said, his voice rough with sleep as he nestled his nose into the juncture of her neck.

Aelin smiled, enjoying the feel of him against her. “I had to pee.”

A chuckle rippled through Rowan’s chest.  He pressed his lips to her skin, kissing and nipping a small love bite there.  One of his hands stretched out over her stomach.

“Is the little firefly causing grief again?” he teased.

“Always,” Aelin said.  Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes.  She couldn’t help it these days.  Ever since learning she was pregnant; she’d been so damned emotional.  Every little thing set her off.  If it wasn’t Rowan’s gentleness it was the dog giving her morning kisses.  And if it wasn’t either of those things it was eating a warm piece of toast.  She couldn’t even go to Wal-Mart in case she accidently walked past the baby department and saw little baby slippers for sale.

She pressed a hand to his, keeping it rooted on her barely swelling belly.  She was only about three months along and would honestly say that she was still in shock over the whole thing.  After five years of marriage, she and Rowan had been slowly moving on from actively trying to grow their family.  They’d seen doctors and even done a few hormonal treatments to try and help things along.  But with money being tight anything more was outside of their budget.  They’d been told it would just take time (some doctors even saying there was nothing to do).

In short, they’d given up hope.

“Please tell me you already ate something?” Rowan asked. “Hot chocolate isn’t real food.”

“It’s what the baby wants,” Aelin insisted.  “You know I can’t keep anything down.”

It was true.  Everything she even looked at made her queasy.  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a full meal.

“What about waffles?” Rowan insisted.  He pulled back enough to turn Aelin in his arms so he could kneel down and press a kiss to her belly. “What do you think, Firefly?”

“You know he’s not going to start moving for another three weeks, right?” Aelin rolled her eyes, though still endeared at her husband’s antics.

“It’s a girl,” Rowan replied swiftly.  He kissed her belly one more time before standing, taking the hot chocolate from her. “And baby agrees with me.  Waffles are in order.”

It was a common argument of if they were having a boy or a girl.  Neither was planning on yielding anytime soon.

“With strawberries,” Aelin conceded.  It was the one fruit that she could stomach.

“Absolutely.”

Aelin let her husband lead her to the kitchen and sat at the table while he insisted on bustling around to get breakfast in order.  He even made her more hot chocolate without her even having to ask.

It was a simple Saturday morning, but she wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

OfficeColleague!Suguru Geto x Reader

Angel Of Small Death

⚠️𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈. 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓��� 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘⚠️

🎀𝐀𝐠𝐞less and blank blogs will be 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝🎀

Pairing: OfficeColleague!Suguru Geto x Reader

Genre: Smut, Porn with plot.

Word Count: 2463

Warnings: PWP, reader is a big woman, female bodied reader, no protection, pussy eating, good ol' sex, colleagues

Summary: Geto Suguru is the bane of your existence. You hate him. He hates you. The entire office is convinced you’re going to kill each other someday. But damn if it doesn’t feel good when he fucks you senseless.

A/N: This is a collab with @ominouslywritinginmyhead. We've been cooking it for a while and it's gonna be slow but it's one of the most delicious things Saber has thought of that I know. Banner and dividers are mine.

Chapter 1

yuunicorn1010 uploaded a story to Instagram.

The first thing any viewer would see was Yuuji trying very hard not to laugh. As a fresh graduate, he’d assumed office work would be the most mind-numbing activity in the world, but Jujutsu Inc. had proved him wrong within weeks. 

Without a word, Yuuji switched the camera to reveal the messy and noisy twelfth-floor office he’d been working in since April. In the foreground was his favourite senpai Nanami, determinedly staring at his laptop and pretending that he couldn’t hear the showdown going on right behind him.

“—two-faced thieving snake, I know you stole my clients!”

“I did not steal them; I simply suggested that they might benefit more from a more, shall we say, experienced team.”

“Experienced, my ass. You couldn’t even move two steps forward with that last file!”

“And why do you think that happened? Because you interfered and had half my team on leave!”

“That wasn’t my fault; the company requires us to take our paid holidays within two years of getting them — if your team is too overworked to take any vacation days, that’s on you.”

“You think you’re so superior, don’t you? If you actually looked in the mirror for once in your life, you’d see that you’re nothing but a sneaky backstabber who should be fired by now.”

“Oh, I should be fired? Well, if I am, I’ll be sure to tell HR about your little mind games and how you had those poor interns crying—”

In the background, one would be able to hear Yuuji’s uncontrollable giggling combined with Gojo-senpai calling out to the other employees: “They’re at it again! I think Suguru’s going to win this time~”

In full view of the camera, the two team leaders stormed out of the office, leaving through different doors. Just before Yuuji turned the camera off, Gojo-senpai began to laugh like a hyena. “If anyone’s brave enough to stop them, I’ll treat you lot to drinks tonight!”

Suguru smirked. Trust Satoru to find that entertaining. Apparently, his plan of treating the office to drinks wasn’t the only one going around: according to Shoko, the entire office had a betting pool on what could happen in each of these little…arguments. They weren’t stupid enough to do it to his face — or yours, for that matter. But it was quite obvious now what that stray 1000 yen bill on Satoru’s desk yesterday afternoon had been for. 

Not that anyone was going to win by very much, especially since they had no idea what went on behind the scenes. And quite frankly, Suguru didn’t want them to know.

The two of you were lucky that the janitor had called in sick this morning, and that nobody had come looking for the mop.

“Haa—dammit, Suguru, why’d you roll your sleeves up like—like that—you can’t do this to me—shit—”

“You…really need to stop accusing me like this, angel; I’ve done nothing.” He could still feel the sting on his lower lip, where you’d sunk your teeth in, sucking on it to soothe the pain. He could still feel his fingers digging into your plush thighs before his hand slipped under your pretty black skirt, the other hand trailing up your back. Most of all, he could still smell your perfume lingering on his clothes. Sitting in his office, the shades drawn, Suguru closed his eyes. If he thought about it hard enough, he could still feel your touch, too.

You had dragged the charming Geto Suguru into the janitor’s closet after your meeting where it was revealed that a pretty important client of yours had been smoothly swiped by none other than him. Not only did he have the audacity to smile and wink at you while detailing how his team would be proceeding with the client, but the man also knowingly leaned back crossing his bare sinewy arms in front of you — something he knew to be your weakness. 

“You know how much this turns me on, you bastard. Stop acting innocent; it doesn't suit you,” you’d spat, before grabbing the very hands you lusted after and placing them over your breasts. Suguru had complied with your silent plea, kneading at the soft flesh, while you moaned into his mouth. His knee had been pressed against your crotch and you rubbed against it like a cat in heat. 

But when he’d dipped his hand to slip under the waistband of your panties, you’d stopped him, “We can’t. Not here.” He’d given you his best puppy eyes and a pout that only made your heart race – just one time wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“We’ll meet tonight, after Gojo’s drinks,” you’d promised. Fuck, he missed you already. How has it only been two hours?  Two hours since he had you in his arms. Two more hours before you could leave work, and then God only knew how long it would be before the evening drinks would wind down…well, knowing Shoko and Satoru, far too long. If Suguru had his way, he’d have cleared a meeting room on the spot and taken you on the table itself—fine, maybe that was too much. But he definitely could just skip drinks and take you home. 

However, you probably wouldn’t be too keen on that. You’d made it clear at the beginning of this—whatever this was—that for it to work, the two of you would have to keep up appearances in public. There was nothing sanitary or respectable; after all, it was just sex. Rough, lust-driven sex. Nothing mattered to the two of you beyond your bodies and the stress relief you got from making each other feel good. But Suguru would be lying if he said it was still the same for him. 

He’ll never forget how it all started.  The two of you, thoroughly intoxicated in a bar one evening after work, much like what tonight promised to be. Your peers – long gone, either to the dance floor or slumped over at your booth. Left to your own devices, he had ended up beside you. In your haze you’d rested your head against his chest, remarking how incredibly muscular it felt. He had chuckled lazily, saying, “Well at least I know all those days at the gym are paying off – although for whom…” 

Hearing him trail off, you’d raised your head to look at him and he’d felt his slacks tighten seeing your eyes – wide and doe-like – as you remarked, “You’re single? I’d never have thought! You’re like, pretty physically gifted; if not mentally.” 

 He’d bristled and shot back, “Well, what about you? I heard you crying about being dumped the other day by the coffee machine.” 

“He wanted me to quit after getting married. It was an ultimatum. And we’d only been dating a few weeks.” You rolled your eyes. 

Suguru had grimaced at that. “Yeah, all that education and time you spent building your career, only to turn into a pretty little housewife who pops out babies? No thanks. What a waste.” 

Something had flashed in your eyes as he said that. The feeling of being understood, Suguru would later realise, was a powerful aphrodisiac. You’d sat up straight and grabbed his hand.

“I’m drunk, but I’m in control of my senses enough to know that, Geto Suguru, I kind of want to fuck you right now.” 

Suguru responded, “Well then, angel, that makes two of us.” From there it had been a whirlwind. You’d paid your tabs at the bar, texted your friends that you were leaving so they wouldn’t worry, and then instead of getting a taxi home, you’d hopped on Geto’s motorbike and sped off to a love hotel. Probably a stupid idea given the circumstances, but you both made it in one piece.

Despite the buzz in his body that was most certainly not from booze, he’d paid for the room and held your hand all the way up the elevator ride, desperate to touch you, yet concerned that you might not like the public display. But once you were in the room…it was all over. And not just for you.

His lips crashed into yours, rough and thirsty, drinking you in like a man lost in a desert who had suddenly happened upon an oasis. Fuck, you really were a good kisser, drawing him in deeper and deeper with your lips and tongue. Your hands were tangled in his hair, freeing it from the tight bun he sported to the office, while he tugged at your blouse, so neatly tucked into the waistband of your formal skirt. 

He’d paused for a moment to appreciate you once your skirt and blouse were off. “Damn!” he’d exclaimed with a low whistle, eyes roaming up and down your figure and resting briefly at your breasts clad in that pretty pink bra. How cute. The lace and little bow in the middle only made things better.

You’d blushed, but chalked it up to being the effect of the alcohol; thankfully, you didn’t have to think about it for too long, because Geto had dived between your legs and was already sloppily leaving kisses along your inner thigh. Your skin was so soft, and he swore he heard you giggle from how ticklish his lips felt.

Geto remembered how tight his own slacks had become, his shirt only half unbuttoned because he’d stopped you, wanting to prep you before he did anything else, desperation making him neglect his needs. He peeled your underwear off, flung it behind him, and attacked your clit. The small bud under his tongue was slurped into his mouth and gently pulled at between his lips, all while his fingers pleaded for an entrance into your hole. You hadn’t been able to stop yourself from clamping your thighs around his head, feeling the pressure building in your lower abdomen. His tongue worked wonders for you, licking up thick flat stripes. Something you couldn’t help but note your ex hadn’t bothered to do. 

Geto Suguru loved eating pussy. This was evident. 

He’d lost himself in the taste of your cunt face buried and mind far, far away till he’d felt you tugging at his hair, legs trembling around his head and you gasping “Stop, Suguru, stop!”

When he’d resurfaced, you’d fallen back onto the plush tacky red blanket, panting like you’d run a mile. Only then had he realised that you’d cum onto his face and were incredibly overstimulated. But you’d only taken a moment to gather yourself before sinking to your knees in front of him and finally freeing his cock, looking up at him with those infernal doe eyes. Your hand eagerly wrapped around it as you took his tip in your mouth, testing the waters with little kitten licks. You were determined to show him as good of a time as he’d shown you. 

So you started slow, getting a feel for his thickness and length, before gradually upping your game. It was only a matter of time before you managed to unravel your co-worker completely, and it was the gentle squeeze to his full, aching balls that made Suguru cum in your mouth with a guttural moan. You’d made a show of it, swallowing his cum down your throat and licking any spillage off your finger. 

Suguru’s eyes had darkened at that, and he’d almost ordered you to “get on the bed, I’m going to fuck you now.” You’d complied with a squeak of excitement and laid on your back, watching Suguru first yank off his work pants, then tear off his shirt, and finally climb over you while pulling down his boxers and throwing them halfway across the room. He’d reached out and opened a drawer to find himself a condom, and when he rolled it over his still-hard cock, he’d moaned — your eyes glazed over on hearing such an enthralling sound. You’d spread your pussy lips for him, glistening with your release, and Suguru had gently pushed himself into you, slowly, keeping his eyes on your face to make sure that you didn’t feel any discomfort. His gaze was calculating and contemplative, easy to see despite the low light of the room. You ran your hands through his gorgeous locks again, drowning in his touch. It was only when he bottomed out – his last few centimetres thrust in – that your mouth fell open in a silent scream. 

“Fuck. Your cunt feels amazing, angel.” The little lube on the condom, combined with your own slick, was enough for you to take all of Suguru, but it was still a tight squeeze. Definitely one of the bigger men you’d been with. 

The way you were stretched around him squeezing him tight, Suguru was loath to restrain himself, but he wanted this to feel good, for him as well as you. So he went slow and your hips bucked with each thrust, desperate to feel more of him. Soft pleas fell from your lips, “please…fa-faster…harder…f-fuck…more…please…Su-Suguru,” but he continued his pace. Only when you’d cupped his face in your hands, pulling him down for a kiss, and whispered to him, “Suguru, if you don’t move now I’m going to fucking bite you” did he chuckle, but started to pump in and out of your pussy faster and harder. 

“Is that a promise, angel?” he’d teased, and you’d hated the way your pussy clenched at his words. Unfortunately, Suguru seemed to like it.

His hips slapped against your ass with each hard thrust, and soon he was spilling for a second time that night, condom catching his release inside you. He’d pulled out and collapsed beside you, rubbing your clit with his right hand while his left arm encircled you, pulling you in for a rough kiss. The release you found from his fingers had you clinging to him desperately, moaning his name and maybe a few swear words. You wanted more. You needed more. 

You were sweaty and messy after all that, so he’d actually lifted you up and taken you to the adjoining bath, where you both soaked in the warm bubbly water for a while (once again, something your ex never gave a shit about, based on what Suguru had overheard at the coffee machine) before you had decided it was time to call it a night. Although your corporate nemesis assured you the room had been paid for till morning, you had mentioned that staying would have been crossing some boundary and had even denied his offer to drop you home on his bike. 

“You shouldn’t be riding,” you’d said, “We drank quite a bit…I’ll take a cab home, you can have the room for the night.” 

And with that, you were gone. Only the scent of your perfume and your combined sex lingered…

A/N: Hello! Thanks so much for reading. This was an idea that @ominouslywritinginmyhead came up with and hit me with so we decided why not write a Collab fic on it. We've pored over it and had several revisions and finally here it is! A small thank you to her for being a galaxy brain and dreaming up such delicious ideas. Also btw apparently in French they call an orgasm a small death so that's where that's at.

As always hearts and reblogs are much appreciated and comments will earn you kissies