#It was supposed to be last week but i remembered i had a lab so i rescheduled

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[cotton-glass]

vent ig

[lostfracturess]

remedies and reasons | ch. 02

pairing — professor geto x law student reader

summary — this wasn’t supposed to happen. not that miserable internship at the law firm you hated, not him becoming your doctor, and definitely not that drunken night at the bar. but he helped, and god, you needed a friend. and he did too. except it's never just friendship with him, is it? it could be perfect—messy, complicated, but perfect. if only his heart wasn’t already taken.

word count — 12.3 k

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, age difference (10 years), doctor-patient relationship, smoking, alcohol use, mature themes, and depictions of illness. reader discretion is advised.

author's note — yeeaaaah, guess who's back with a fresh new chapter !! i know, i know, it's been forever since i last posted, but here we go, be prepared to die from second-hand embarrassment. massive thank you to @nanamis-baker for beta reading and calling me out on my plot holes. & as always, this story is a spin-off of symptoms and causes, starting after ch 12. but you can read it as a standalone.

masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

You never thought you'd find yourself in the chemistry lab on a Saturday morning, but there you were, helping your best friend Megumi set up his experiment for his thesis presentation. 

You were a law student, not a scientist.

The closest you'd come to a lab was binge-watching "Breaking Bad" on Netflix.

But Megumi was your ride-or-die since kindergarten, so when he called you at the crack of dawn, frantically rambling about his professor, his thesis, and some chemical you couldn't even pronounce, you threw on your favorite hoodie and raced over to campus.

"Okay, so where do we start?" you asked, eyeing the array of beakers, test tubes, and Bunsen burners that looked like they belonged in a mad scientist's lair.

Megumi ran his fingers through his messy black hair, a habit he'd had since childhood whenever he was stressed. "Well, first we need to mix these two solutions." He handed you a beaker filled with a clear liquid.

You took the beaker gingerly, as if it might explode at any moment. "You sure you trust me with this? I mean, I don't even remember the last time I was in a lab."

"I have faith in your ability to follow instructions," he said.

You eyed him wearily. 

What have you gotten yourself into?

You spent the next hour mixing, measuring, and occasionally cursing under your breath when something didn't go quite right. As you worked, your mind drifted to your internship at the most prestigious (and pretentious) law firm in the city that had started a few weeks ago. It already felt like the most stupid thing on earth happening to you.

Okay, okay, you had applied there yourself. But you didn't think they would actually accept you. 

Unlucky luck or so.

The first week at Nishimura and Asahi had been a total nightmare. The law world was nothing but cutthroat competition, where even the coffee machine seemed to be judging you. That must have been the reason why you spilled coffee on your shirt on the second day of your internship. And you had nothing to change into. 

And yes, you had a meeting that day too.

But the worst part was that mortifying incident in your first week. You accidentally barged into the wrong office and caught two senior partners in a, uh, very compromising position. Let's just say the image of their shocked faces and scrambled clothes was forever burned into your brain. You swore you'd never enter another office again unless you absolutely had to.

Thank goodness for Mr. Higurama, your advisor. He was the only sane person in this whole place. If it weren't for his calm attitude and genuine support, you'd probably have been back at law school by now, rocking back and forth in a corner.

The third week? Bearable. But worse in its own way. Endless boring tasks and emails that were basically passive-aggressive warfare. And then, just when you thought it couldn't get any more uncomfortable, HR reminded you in week three that you still hadn't turned in your health certificate. 

At least you managed to do that.

It reminded you of a certain—date, or no, meeting? appointment? Or what was it?—You had with your doctor. 

Oh god, what were you thinking?

"Okay, so now I need you to hold this," Megumi said, handing you a graduated cylinder filled with a bright blue liquid that looked suspiciously like something toxic.

"What is this stuff?" you asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

"Just a harmless indicator solution," he assured you. "It'll change color when the reaction is complete."

"Great," you said, trying not to sound too sarcastic. "So, basically, I'm holding a ticking time bomb that's going to turn purple and explode all over me if we mess this up?"

"Not quite. But try not to spill it, okay?"

You tried not to look at the potentially toxic thing in your hand while you rambled to yourself again in your mind. Where were you? Oh right, what the hell were you thinking about going out with the very person who saw your health history? In what world was that appropriate?

"What is it?" Megumi asked, ripping you out of your thoughts.

Just now, you realized that you must have had some weird facial expression, and you quickly straightened it. "Nothing."

He looked at you with a deadpan face. "I think I've known you long enough to know when something is going on.”

You sighed and then started. "I swear, these people at the law firm are the worst. All sharks in tailored suits and ties. Everyone's constantly trying to one-up each other, backstabbing, and throwing people under the bus left and right."

"Sounds delightful," Megumi said dryly.

"Oh, it gets better," you continued, warming to your subject. "There's this one guy, Chad—I don't even know his real name, but I call him that 'cause he's got one of those typical douchebag faces—and he's like the walking stereotype of every jerk law student you can imagine. He's so full of himself, talks down to everyone, and thinks he's God's gift to law or whatever."

"And he's at your internship?"

"Unfortunately, yes," you said, making a face. "He's always trying to make me look bad, steal my ideas, and just generally ruin my day. It's like having an annoying mosquito buzzing in your ear 24/7."

"Sounds like a real charmer.”

"You have no idea," you said with a sigh. "And the worst part is, he's not even the only one. There's this whole group of them—like a 'Chad Pack'—and they seem to enjoy making the rest of us feel incompetent. He's just a spoiled rich kid, and his dad is a big shot at the firm, so he gets away with everything. I can't even call him out on his bullshit without risking my internship. It's like being back in high school with the bullies."

"See the positive, at least you haven't caught any more senior partners in compromising positions again, right?"

"Oh god, don't remind me!" You covered your face with your hands. "I swear, the senior partners can't even look me in the eye anymore—"

You got cut off by a loud pop and a cloud of smoke billowing from one of the test tubes. You both jumped back, coughing and waving your hands to clear the air.

"What the hell was that?" you sputtered, your eyes watering from the acrid smell.

Megumi peered at the smoking test tube, his brow furrowed. "I think we may have added too much of the catalyst," he said, scribbling furiously in his lab notebook.

"You think? Oh god, I'm going to die here."

"At least that would save you from your internship?" he said.

You eyed him, deadpan.

Just as Megumi glanced up, likely ready with another witty comment, the lab door swung open with a bang, startling you both. "Hey, losers!" Nobara's cheerful voice echoed through the lab, her laughter filling the room.

Losers. 

That's what Nobara affectionately calls your little mismatched group. And maybe she's right. You're an unlikely quartet, brought together by chance during your first year of university. Megumi, the chemistry nerd. Nobara, the wild-child pharmacy student. Yuji, the sports freak. And you, the aspiring lawyer who's beginning to question her life choices.

You don't quite fit in with the typical crowds in your respective fields. You guess you could say you were the outsiders, the misfits, the ones who gravitated towards each other because you didn't quite belong anywhere else.

You'd known Megumi since childhood, but you met Nobara and Yuji during the first few weeks of university at a rather uneventful mixer where you were essentially the only people not already in groups.

Yeah, you were losers, but at least you were in it together.

Without waiting for an invitation, Nobara plopped herself down on the lab bench, right next to Megumi's carefully arranged experiment. "So, how's the science project going?" she asked, curiously examining the colorful liquids bubbling in the beakers.

"Just trying to survive Megumi's thesis experiment," you replied.

Megumi raised an eyebrow. "Actually, it's going pretty well. We're nearly finished preparing."

Undeterred, Nobara hopped off the bench and slung an arm around your shoulders. "Blink three times if I should get you out of here."

"Please," you said.

"So, what are you two up to today? Any exciting plans?" Nobara asked, glancing over at Megumi. "We should grab some lunch. Yuji is finishing up his training soon, too."

You glanced at the clock on the lab wall, expecting it to be around 10 a.m. Your jaw dropped. "It's already noon?! How did that happen?"

Nobara grinned. "Time flies when you're having fun, right?"

"Or when you're stressing over a chemistry experiment," Megumi said, scribbling more notes.

You turned to Nobara. "How's that thesis treating you?" you asked, knowing the final thesis was looming over all of your heads. That's why you were all at the university, even on the weekends.

She shrugged. "It's fine, I guess. Boring, but whatever. It's gotta get done." Then, her face brightened. "But hey, guess what? There's this huge party coming up next weekend! It's hosted by some med students from another university."

Megumi and you exchanged puzzled glances. "Why would we go to a party with a bunch of med students we don't even know?" you asked.

Nobara's eyes sparkled. "Apparently, the guy hosting it is loaded, and rumor has it, this party is going to be wild."

"Wild how?" Megumi asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Think open bar, live DJ, even a pool," Nobara said dramatically. "Plus, it's a chance to meet new people, expand our social circles."

"You mean meeting future doctors?" you said, knowing that Nobara always dreamed of dating one. She watched way too much Grey's Anatomy. Dating a doctor is probably not as much fun as it seems.

"Hmm, maybe," she said with a sly grin.

You hesitated. Parties weren't really your scene, and the idea of mingling with a bunch of strangers, especially med students with a reputation for being wild, arrogant, and having god complexes didn't exactly appeal to you. 

They probably strut around like they've discovered the cure for brain tumors while the rest of us mere mortals are just trying to figure out how to parallel park. Yeah. No, thank you.

Nobara sensed your hesitation. "Please, do it for me," she said, batting her eyelashes at you.

"Okay," you said, surprising even yourself. Damn, you were really easy to convince. "Count me in."

Nobara squealed and threw her arms around you. "Yes! This is going to be awesome!"

Megumi simply shook his head. "I guess I'm going too, then."

"Now that that is settled," Nobara said, playfully clapping her hands together. "Wrap up your little experiment, science boy, so we can go get some food. I'm starving, and I'm pretty sure she's about to pass out from low blood sugar." She pointed at you.

"Almost done," Megumi assured her, carefully transferring a final solution into a test tube. "Just need to record a few more readings."

Nobara bounced on her heels. "Come on, hurry up! The world is waiting for us!"

Megumi rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright. I'm done. Let's go."

He quickly tidied up his workstation, meticulously storing his precious samples and equipment. Meanwhile, Nobara was already halfway out the door, her excited chatter echoing down the hallway.

You grabbed your bag and followed them out of the lab, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. The experiment was done, lunch was just around the corner, and a wild party awaited you all next weekend. Maybe university wasn't so bad after all. 

Or maybe it was just the promise of mediocre cafeteria food and great friends that made everything seem a little bit brighter.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

After lunch with your friends, you found yourself back in the comfort of your small apartment. You pulled out your paints and a fresh canvas, and before you knew it, hours had passed without you even realizing it. The daylight faded into a soft golden glow as the sun began to set.

You were just adding the finishing touches to your painting when your eyes happened to glance at the clock on the wall. "Oh shit," you said, slapping your forehead with your paint-covered hand, leaving a vibrant streak of blue across your skin. 

You had a... date? No, wait, a meeting... or was it an appointment? Because he was a doctor technically, right? 

Quickly setting your paints and brushes aside, you rushed to the bathroom to clean up, silently cursing yourself for getting so caught up in your painting that you nearly missed the time.

You arrived at the sports bar with a nervous flutter in your stomach. 

This wasn't a date, you reminded yourself for the umpteenth time. It was just a casual meeting with someone you'd recently met. Nothing more. Definitely nothing romantic. No hidden agendas, no expectations. But even though your intentions were purely platonic, you couldn't deny the flicker of nervousness. 

Maybe it was just the excitement of meeting someone new.

Dr. Suguru Geto.

He was your doctor, yes, but he was also intriguing, with his kind eyes and gentle smile. Your conversation seemed to go beyond the usual small talk from the beginning, maybe it was the unusual way you met.

You shouldn't have asked him to meet, a voice in your head nagged. Why did you do this again? Because of his sad puppy eyes? You groaned inwardly. You couldn't even explain it to yourself. It had slipped out before you could stop yourself.

But to your surprise, he had agreed. 

And now, here you were.

The atmosphere in the sports bar was electric. The roar of the crowd, punctuated by cheers and groans, echoed through the dimly lit space. The smell of stale beer and greasy food hung in the air. You didn't expect it to be so crowded. It was a rather niche bar.

A basketball game blared on the numerous screens, and the air crackled with the excited chatter of sports fans. You weaved your way through the crowd, your heart pounding a little faster with each step.

The walls were plastered with sports memorabilia, jerseys of local heroes and faded photographs of past games. The flickering lights of the numerous screens cast dancing shadows on the faces of the people.

Waitresses weaved their way through the throng, balancing trays laden with overflowing pitchers of beer and plates piled high with nachos and chicken wings. Every eye glued to the screens showcasing the nail-biting basketball game.

You spotted Suguru at the bar, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he focused on the game. His back was to you. Taking a deep breath, you approached him, standing beside him and mirroring his gaze towards the screen.

"Think they'll try a full-court press now?" you said.

"I doubt it," he replied, not looking away from the screen. "They're already down by ten with only two minutes left. It's too risky."

"True," you agreed. "But they need to create some turnovers fast if they want any chance of a comeback."

"You know your basketball." He finally turned his head, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Hi," you said, raising your hand in a half-hearted wave and immediately regretting it when you realized how awkward it felt and let your hand fall to your side. You slid onto the stool next to him, the vinyl squeaking slightly.

"Oh hi," Suguru said. "Sorry, I didn't even realize it was you. Didn't expect you to be into basketball."

"My dad played in university. Some of it rubbed off on me, I guess."

Suguru then waved at the bartender. "What do you want?" he asked you, smiling.

You watched him take a sip of the beer in front of him. "I'll have the same," you replied, returning his smile.

The bartender, a burly man with a handlebar mustache, nodded and swiftly retrieved a chilled bottle from the cooler. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he popped the cap and set it before you, the condensation already forming tiny droplets on the smooth glass. You took a sip.

You couldn't help but notice how good Suguru looked outside the clinical setting. His usual white coat and scrubs were replaced by a casual outfit that somehow amplified his attractiveness. 

His long, black hair was pulled back into a half bun, a few stray strands framing his face. He wore a simple shirt with an overshirt layered on top, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing surprisingly muscular arms. 

Damn, you thought to yourself, trying to subtly avert your gaze. He's definitely not your average doctor. But you're definitely not your average patient too, to be fair.

"It's great to see you outside the clinic," Suguru said. "How have you been? Is your medication working well?"

You rolled your eyes. "I thought we agreed not to talk about medication and stuff outside of the hospital?"

"You're right, sorry. I guess I don't talk about much else often...might be getting a bit rusty," he said, sounding like a grandfather.

"So, no hobbies or interests besides medicine, huh?"

"Not much, to be honest."

"Besides a certain woman, that is," you teased.

His eyes met yours with a deadpan face. "Didn't we agree not to talk about such things outside of the hospital?"

You took another sip of your beer, feigning innocence. "Did we?"

"Now we did."

"Hmm," you hummed, eyeing him curiously.

Suguru looked at his beer briefly, then nearly whispered, "Did Satoru often talk about her?"

You bit your lip, suppressing the urge to tell him just how much he actually talked about her. Memories of countless appointments with Dr. Gojo flooded back. He'd often ramble on about her, their shared studies, the things he loved about her—

You even found yourself dreaming about the color of her eyes once, just because he'd mentioned them so often. The image of Gojo's lovestruck face whenever he mentioned his girlfriend flashed before your eyes.

No, you decided. Some things are better left unsaid.

"No, not really," you lied smoothly, taking another sip of your beer. Time for a subject change, you thought, maybe something to distract him from his lovesickness. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have a seriously intense stare?"

Smooth, real smooth, subject change.

"A few people have mentioned it," he said, caught off guard. "But it didn't seem to bother you."

"Yeah, because underneath, you looked sad. Like a sad little puppy."

"Haha," he said ironically.

"So, really no hobbies? Besides basketball, it seems."

"Not a die-hard fan, but I enjoy it.” His eyes briefly darted back to the game on the screen. "I used to play a bit myself. Back in high school and university." He paused, a fond smile playing on his lips. "Satoru and I were on the same team."

"But you don't play anymore?"

"No." His smile vanished. "We started together but Satoru eventually quit in the second year of university to focus on his studies. It wasn't much fun after he left the team, and I quit some time after."

"Hm," you mused, taking another sip of your beer. "Who was the better player? You or Gojo?"

His smile returned. "Oh, I was definitely better. But if you ask him, he'll say he's the better player. But don't tell him I said that. I wouldn't want to bruise his ego."

You laughed. "I'll keep your secret."

"So, who's your team?" he asked.

"Lakers, all the way. Been a fan since I was a kid."

"Good choice. They're looking strong this year."

"Totally. Though their defense has me a bit worried."

"Fair point," Suguru said. "But with LeBron and Davis, they're still very strong."

"No doubt. I'm hoping they can make a deep playoff run this season."

Just then, someone knocked over a glass a few tables away, drawing both your attention to the commotion. Once it settled down, Suguru turned back to you, taking a sip of his beer. "Now, how about you, why do you want to become an attorney?"

You hesitated, thinking. "Because it pays well."

He raised an eyebrow. "Can you give me another reason?"

You hesitated, thinking harder.

You bit your lip. Okay, you got his, think. Why law school? It's not like you're passionate about legal shit or courtroom drama. You hated the stuffy suits, the endless paperwork, and the cutthroat competition. So, what was it?

Maybe it's the power? The ability to fight for justice, to make a difference in the world? You scoffed inwardly. Yeah, right. More like the ability to argue with anyone and everyone, even if you're wrong. 

Perhaps it's the prestige? The fancy title, the corner office, the envious glances from your childhood school friends? You rolled your eyes at yourself. Please. Who are you kidding?

So, what's left? you wondered, a hint of frustration creeping into your thoughts. 

Why are you doing this to yourself?

You sighed, defeated. The truth was, you didn't have a good answer. You'd stumbled into law school on a whim, following some vague idea of success and stability. But now, as you neared graduation, you were beginning to realize that maybe this wasn't the path for you. 

That you didn't even like it.

"I... I don't know, exactly," you finally admitted. "I guess I come from a working-class family. My parents always emphasized the importance of a stable career, something safe and secure. Law seemed like a good option."

You looked up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of judgment. "Is that a bad reason?"

He paused. "Not necessarily," he said slowly. "Stability and security are important. It's valid to go for that. But they shouldn't be the only reason."

"Yeah," you agreed, taking a sip from your beer. As he watched you, you suddenly felt exposed under the gaze of this man you barely knew. "How did you know you wanted to do medicine?" you asked, hoping to shift the focus away from your own uncertainties.

"It wasn't a sudden realization," he began. "It was more of a gradual understanding. I've always been fascinated by the human body, the way it works, the way it heals. And I wanted to be a part of that process, to help people in some way."

He paused, his expression turning somber for a moment. "It's not always easy," he admitted. "There are long hours, difficult cases, and fucked-up moments. But at the end of the day, when I see a patient getting better, smile again… It makes it all worthwhile."

"Sounds like you found your calling," you said, a touch of envy in your voice.

"I did," he agreed. "But there were times, especially during my residency, when I thought about quitting. The stress was insane, the workload never-ending. But I had a few close friends who kept me going. They reminded me why I'd chosen this path in the first place. It's important to have people who believe in you, even when you doubt yourself."

A light smile spread across your face as you thought of Megumi, Nobara, and Yuji, your mismatched but fiercely loyal friends. They were the ones who made you laugh until your sides ached, who listened to your endless rants about law school, and who always had your back, no matter what. You were so grateful to have them in your life.

Then, curiosity got the better of you. "So, Dr. Gojo was that person for you? Helped you through the tough times?"

"Satoru? Help me? More like he's the reason why I almost went insane." Suguru huffed and shook his head. "He was always getting into trouble, always pushing the limits. I was the one constantly having to chase after him, keeping him in check."

"Sounds like you two have quite the history."

"Yeah, we do." His smile faded slightly as he looked down at his beer, gripping it a little tighter.

Right, touchy subject, you remembered. Back in the MRI room, he'd mentioned they'd drifted apart. You quickly decided to steer the conversation in a lighter direction.

"Hey, let's get some shots!" you exclaimed, waving over a bartender. "My treat."

Suguru raised an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted me to show you the city?"

"Yeah, well, it's kinda chilly out there," you said, waving a hand dismissively. 

You'd almost forgotten the little white lie you'd told him to get him to go out with you. You've lived in Tokyo your whole life. You could probably offer to show him around. It's not like he seems to ever leave the clinic. 

"Besides, who needs sightseeing when you can have shots?" you added.

The bartender arrived, and you ordered a round, telling him to surprise you.

"What are you planning with those?" Suguru asked as the bartender lined up the glasses, each filled with a different vibrant liquid.

"How about a game? We each make assumptions about the other, and if we're right, the other person has to take a shot."

"The doctor in me should probably stop us from drinking mindlessly," Suguru said, eyeing the glasses before him. "I'm game."

"Great." You took a deep breath, trying to gauge his personality beyond the white coat. "Assumption number one, you were a total nerd in high school."

"Wow, your assumption about the doctor is that he was a nerd in school? Isn't that like, a given for anyone who studies medicine?"

"But is it true?" you pressed, raising an eyebrow.

He hesitated for a second. "Guilty as charged." He raised his first shot glass in surrender, beige liquid disappearing between his lips. "Math club, science fairs, the whole deal."

"Ugh, really? Math club?"

"Don't judge me," he said. "It wasn't that lame."

You eyed him skeptically.

He sighed. "Okay, okay, it was lame. One point for you. My turn." Suguru narrowed his eyes playfully. "Hmm, let's see... Assumption number one, you have a secret passion for something completely unexpected."

"Wow. You've gotta be a little more specific than that. That's lame."

He leaned in a bit closer, his gaze sweeping over your face. A sudden warmth spread through your cheeks. "You're into art."

Your breath hitched. For a split second, you wondered if he was some kind of mind reader or a magician with a hidden crystal ball. Or probably stalked your Instagram. "How did you—" 

He pointed to your forehead. You quickly reached up and found a tiny blue dot near your hairline that you must have forgotten to wash off. "You really pay close attention to details," you said as you wiped it off.

"Occupational hazard," he replied with a shrug and a hint of a smile. "I'm a doctor, it's my job to spot even the smallest clues."

"Well, you got me."

"What kind of art do you do?" he asked.

You hesitated for a moment, a wave of self-consciousness washing over you. You'd never really shared your love for painting with anyone, not even your closest friends.

"I... I paint," you finally said. "It's just a hobby, really."

"But it's more than a hobby, isn't it?"

You looked away, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks. He was right. Painting was more than just a hobby. It was a passion, a dream. But nothing worth pursuing.

"Enough about me," you said, drawing the purple shot, blueberry you assumed, in front of you in one go. You wanted to steer the conversation away from yourself, at least for now. It felt too raw, too exposed. "Let's get back to the game. My turn for an assumption."

You paused dramatically, tapping your finger on the bar counter as if deep in thought. "Okay, here it is, You always dreamed of being a neurosurgeon, like you were obsessed with it."

"Wrong," he said. "Not even close."

"You wanted to do something else?"

"Well, there was a brief period in my residency when I considered gynecology."

You leaned forward, your eyebrows shooting up. "Gynecology? Seriously?"

He shrugged. "Can't a guy like gynecology too?"

"No, I mean... I just didn't expect it, that's all. But you ended up with neurosurgery. How'd that happen?"

"Neurology has always fascinated me. The brain, the nervous system—It's all so complex, so intricate. And Satoru was into it too. He was always the one drawn to surgery, the adrenaline rush of the operating room. I guess I just followed his lead." He paused. "I don't even know why, really."

"But you enjoy surgery, right?" you asked.

"I do. It's challenging, rewarding, and sometimes even a bit thrilling. But if I'm being completely honest, I think I'm more suited to research and teaching. You know, figuring out the mysteries of the brain, sharing what I know."

"And that's how we met, isn't it?" you said, smiling. "Me, the patient with the mysterious brain thing, and you, the doctor trying to crack the case."

"I guess you could say that. But epilepsy isn't that uncommon. About 50 million people worldwide have it."

"Come on, let me feel special for a second, doc."

A warm smile spread across his face. "Okay, okay. But I must admit, you're more captivating than I first realized, attorney."

His words sent a flutter through your stomach. Was that a compliment or an insult? you wondered, but the warmth in his eyes made you lean towards the former. 

The bar's noise faded into the background as you became lost in your own little world. It was as if the rest of the world ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you.

"And what did you think of me, then?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours. "I thought you were... intriguing," he finally said, his voice husky. "Intelligent, witty, and surprisingly resilient. But also a bit stubborn and stupid."

"Ouch," you said.

For a heartbeat, your eyes locked with his, and your stomach fluttered, a sensation you hadn't experienced in a long time. The bar's dim lights cast a soft glow on Suguru's face, highlighting his ridiculously attractive features in a way that made it impossible to look away.

Heat crawled up your neck and you tore your eyes away. "It's kind of stuffy in here, or not?" you said, fanning yourself with your hand.

"Wanna grab some air?" he suggested.

The cool night air was a welcome balm against your flushed skin. Suguru reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. You watched him, surprised.

"You smoke? A doctor, no less."

He lit his cigarette with a practiced flick of his wrist. "Don't get on my case, attorney," he said, exhaling a plume of smoke into the night sky. "Everyone has their vices."

"I suppose," you said, leaning against the brick wall of the bar. "But I thought doctors were supposed to be, like, paragons of health and virtue."

He shrugged, taking another drag. "We're only human. We have our flaws, just like everyone else."

"Is it true what they say, that doctors are always self-medicating?"

"Are you asking me if I do drugs?" he asked.

"That's what you're implying now."

He took another drag. "I don't. But I've seen it, yeah. More than you would think."

"Should I be scared?"

He laughed, warm and full. A sound you could definitely get used to. "I'd probably stick with me, yeah."

"Just the nicotine addict then," you said. "Seems manageable."

And seeing him smile like that—

"It's good to see you smile," you added softly, almost without thinking.

He met your gaze, a hint of surprise flickering across his features. You could almost see him noticing the lightness in his own demeanor, so different to the usual somberness that clung to him back in the clinic. Maybe it was the casual setting, the relaxed atmosphere, or perhaps it was simply your company. 

Whatever it was, you were glad to see this side of him.

A slow breeze swept through the alley, carrying a hint of autumn's chill. You shivered, realizing you'd left your jacket inside the bar in your haste to escape the heat. Suguru noticed. "You cold?"

"A little," you admitted.

Without a word, he shrugged off his own jacket and draped it over your shoulders. The warmth of the fabric, still carrying his scent, enveloped you, chasing away the chill. And without the jacket, his physique was on full display. 

The simple shirt clung to his broad shoulders and sculpted chest. His forearms, exposed by the short sleeves, were corded with muscle. You tried your best to focus on the conversation, but let's be real, it was a struggle not to stare.

"Thanks." You pulled his jacket closer, trying to play it cool. "I didn't realize it would get so cool out here."

"No problem. Better than catching a cold, right?"

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the jacket. This is not a date, you reminded yourself. Not a date. He's technically your doctor. But then again, what doctor goes to a sports bar with their patient?

Something must be wrong with him.

The math club thing was already a red flag.

"So," he said, breaking the silence, "who's your favorite artist?"

You blinked, surprised by the question. "My favorite artist? Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "Just curious."

You hesitated, then the words started tumbling out. You rambled on about William Turner's dramatic seascapes, how his brushstrokes captured the rawness of nature. You gushed about the hidden symbolism in Botticelli's "Primavera" and the emotional intensity of Munch's "The Scream." 

You even shared your newfound fascination with contemporary artists like Yayoi Kusama and her mesmerizing infinity rooms. Suguru listened patiently, his eyes never leaving yours as you went on and on.

Oh shit.

You're doing it again, aren't you? A wave of self-consciousness washing over you. Rambling on and on about art. He's probably bored out of his mind. You bit your lip, wishing you could reel back the words, but it was too late. The art gusher had been unleashed. 

Why do you always do this?

"Sorry," you finally said, breathless and embarrassed. "I tend to get carried away when I talk about art."

He laughed again, warm, comforting. "Don't apologize. It's good to see someone so passionate about something. It's contagious."

You smiled, surprised that you hadn't completely embarrassed yourself. Somehow, the conversation with Suguru flowed so easily. You found yourself enjoying his company, his wit, and his genuine interest. You enjoyed being with him.

"So," Suguru said, "if you had to pick just one favorite artist, who would it be?"

"Hard to choose. But if I had to pick just one, it would probably be William Turner."

"Turner?" he echoed. "I'll have to look him up."

"What about you? Do you have a favorite painter?"

"Not really. But I haven't seen your paintings yet," he said. "I guess I know who my favorite painter will be then."

You felt a blush creep onto your cheeks, his words sending a shiver down your spine. Did he just...? Was he flirting with you?

Before you could gather your thoughts and formulate a response, Suguru cleared his throat, breaking the spell. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. "Shall we go back inside?" 

You nodded.

The warmth and stale air of the bar hit you like a wall as you stepped back inside. And you might have had a bit too much to drink at this point, you realized. As you made your way back to your seats, a group of men at the bar caught Suguru's eye.

"Hey, Suguru!" one of them called out, waving him over. "Didn't expect to see you here tonight. Care to join us for a game of darts?"

Suguru hesitated, glancing at you. "I'm actually with—"

"Sure, we'd love to!" you interjected, meeting his gaze. "I love darts."

Suguru's eyebrows shot up. "You do?"

"Sure, I mean, it can't be that hard, right?"

"You sure you wanna join them? We usually bet too," he said.

"Oh, even better."

Suguru eyed you weary. He was probably already calculating the damage to his wallet if your dart-throwing skills were anything like your general clumsiness.

You made your way over to the group, and Suguru quickly introduced you. He rattled off a series of names, but honestly, they all blurred together. Tall men, some handsome, some not. All very confident. Some with questionable facial hair choices.

One of them, a tall guy with a mop of curly hair, handed you a beer, uncapped it, and raised his own in a toast. "Welcome to the crew. Suguru here doesn't usually bring company, so you must be special."

You looked over your shoulder to meet Suguru's eyes with a look that said, Oh, you really are a loner, huh? He just sighed at you in response.

"So," the curly-haired guy continued, "did you play before, or are we gonna have to go easy on you?"

You shrugged. "I'm not completely hopeless." You could practically hear Suguru's internal groan beside you.

"Alright, everyone," the curly-haired guy announced, grabbing a notepad and pen. "Let's get the bets in. We doing teams of two again?"

A chorus of eager voices responded, each man vying for the chance to challenge the new couple in the group. You and Suguru, to be exact. 

You stepped up to the dartboard. "So," you said, picking up a dart and examining it, "how exactly do you hold this thing?" A collective groan erupted from the group. Suguru's smile vanished.

Oh boy, you could practically hear him thinking, this is going to be a disaster.

One of the men, blonde hair, eager to show off, stepped forward. "Here, let me show you—"

But before he could reach you, Suguru smoothly interjected. "Allow me," he said, gently taking the dart from your hand.

He positioned himself behind you. His hand enveloped yours, his fingers warm and strong against your own. He adjusted your grip, his touch lingering on your skin. His other hand rested lightly on your lower back, a subtle yet electrifying touch that made your stomach flutter.

"Like this," he said, his voice close to your ear. "Relax your grip, focus on your target, and let it fly."

You could feel his breath on your neck, his chest rising and falling against your back with each inhale and exhale. Your senses were overwhelmed — the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his body, the soft rumble of his voice in your ear.

You struggled to focus on the dartboard, your mind reeling from the unexpected intimacy of the moment. You hadn't quite anticipated this, but you didn't hate it. 

Maybe you even... liked it.

For a moment, you forgot all about the game, the bets, the curious onlookers.

"Got it?" Suguru's voice.

You nodded, your cheeks flushed.

"Alright then," one of the guys called out, short black hair, freckles, clapping his hands together. "Let's get this show on the road!"

The men took their turns, each showcasing their varying levels of skill. Some landed their darts with precision, while others elicited groans and playful jeers from the group.

Throughout it all, Suguru remained close, his arms crossed over his broad chest, occasionally brushing against your shoulder as you observed the others' attempts. You could practically feel his tension mounting with every throw. 

Finally, it was your turn. You stepped up to the throwing line, all eyes on you, amusement and skepticism painted on their faces.

"Wait, where do I stand again?" you asked.

A few chuckles rippled through the group. You could practically hear Suguru's wallet crying in his pocket.

One of the guys, brown shoulder-length hair, stepped forward. "Bit closer here—"

But before he could reach you, you smoothly turned, your arm extending in a perfect arc. The dart flew through the air, landing with a satisfying thunk right in the bullseye.

Dead silence. 

Then, a collective gasp, followed by a chorus of disbelieving exclamations. "Bullseye!" someone shouted. "No way!" another one exclaimed.

Suguru's jaw practically hit the floor. He stared at the dartboard, then at you, like he'd never seen you before. "You—" he stammered, clearly at a loss for words. "You're good?"

You turned to face him, a grin spreading across your face. "Told you I wasn't completely hopeless." You sauntered back to Suguru, leaving the men in stunned silence. You reached for the beer he'd been holding for you, taking a long sip. "So, we're splitting the winnings 50/50, right, Doc?"

Suguru, still a bit dazed, blinked a few times before a slow grin spread across his face. "Deal."

The rest of the game was a blur of laughter, trash talk, and cheers.

Freckles-guy gave your shoulders a quick massage before your next turn. Long brown hair got you another beer. Suguru was frantically trying to keep up with your score on the notepad, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

The bar erupted when you landed another bullseye. Strangers high-fived you, and suddenly the whole place seemed to be watching. The bartender even announced a round of free shots on the house.

At one point, you ended up on Suguru's shoulders. Bullseye. You even tried throwing blindfolded, spinning around, and then letting one fly. Bullseye again. Okay, not every shot was a bullseye, but they were damn close.

Then there was that one time Suguru pulled you close, his lips brushing the top of your head in a playful kiss. You barely knew him, but even you knew that was surprising. He was so unlike the composed surgeon you'd met in his office. It threw you off so much you almost missed your next shot, but you still nailed it.

Another bullseye. Seriously.

You were about to hand off your beer to Suguru so you could take your next turn, when some large figure bumped into you, sending a wave of cold beer cascading down your front.

"Shit, I'm so sorry!" a male voice exclaimed, red hair. 

You looked down at your shirt, now soaked in a sticky, amber-colored mess.

"Are you okay?" Suguru's voice. 

You looked up to see him standing protectively in front of you, his eyes narrowed at the clumsy culprit.

"I'm fine," you said, trying to brush off the sticky residue. "I'll be right back." You quickly made your way to the women's restroom, leaving him standing amidst the lingering stares of curious onlookers.

Once inside the dimly lit bathroom, you assessed the damage. The sticky liquid had soaked through your shirt, leaving a large, unsightly stain right across your chest. You groaned inwardly. Of all the nights to spill a drink on yourself, you thought, it had to be tonight.

You turned on the faucet, hoping to at least rinse off some of the sticky residue. But as you dabbed at the stain with a damp paper towel, it only seemed to spread further, creating a chaotic blend of colors that resembled a modern art masterpiece gone wrong.

"Great," you muttered to yourself, throwing the soggy paper towel in the trash. "This is just perfect."

You tried blotting the stain with another paper towel, then with hand soap, then with a random assortment of toiletries you found under the sink. But nothing seemed to work. In fact, it seemed like you were only making it worse.

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips. Your once-put-together appearance was now a disheveled mess. Your hair was slightly damp from the frantic cleaning attempts, and your shirt looked like it had been attacked by a bear or so.

Just my luck, you thought, a wry smile tugging at your lips.

In a final act of desperation, you grabbed a wad of toilet paper and scrubbed at the stain like a madman. The flimsy fabric of your shirt, already weakened by the moisture, couldn't withstand the onslaught. With a sickening ripping sound, a small tear appeared near the neckline, rapidly expanding into a gaping hole.

You stared at the damage in disbelief. "Seriously?" you groaned, throwing your hands up in defeat. This night just keeps getting better and better.

You glanced at your watch, your eyes widening in horror. You'd been holed up in the bathroom for almost fifteen minutes. Suguru must be wondering what on earth was taking you so long.

Panic set in. 

You couldn't go back out there looking like this. Your shirt was beyond repair, and you certainly couldn't walk around half-naked in a crowded bar.

Your eyes darted around the bathroom, searching for anything that could salvage the situation. A roll of duct tape? A strategically placed safety pin? A magical fairy godmother with a sewing kit? No such luck.

Just as you were contemplating your options — which seemed to range from hiding in the bathroom forever to fashioning a makeshift bandage out of toilet paper — a gentle knock sounded on the door.

"Attorney?" Suguru's voice filtered through the thin wood. "Everything alright in there?"

"Just a minute!" you called back, your voice slightly muffled as you frantically rummaged under the bathroom sink cabinet for something, anything, to help you out. In your haste, you stood up too quickly, forgetting about the low-hanging sink. Your head collided with the porcelain with a resounding thwack.

"Ow!" you yelped, clutching your head.

"Attorney?" Suguru's voice was laced with concern now. "What was that? Did you hurt yourself?"

"Nothing!" you lied, wincing at the throbbing pain. "Just... dropped something."

You heard the doorknob rattle, then Suguru's voice again, more insistent this time. "I'm coming in."

Before you could protest, the door swung open, revealing a worried Suguru. His eyes scanned the bathroom, taking in the scene — the ruined shirt in the sink, the damp paper towels scattered on the counter, and you, clutching your forehead with a grimace, wearing nothing but your bra and jeans.

He quickly averted his gaze. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

You groaned, still clutching your head. "I hit my head on the sink. It's nothing serious, just a bump."

"Let me see," he said, cautiously turning his gaze back to you. He walked over, careful to keep his eyes focused on your face. He gently tilted your chin up, his fingers brushing against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes were filled with concern as he examined the growing bump on your forehead.

"It's not too bad." A relieved sigh escaped his lips. "But we should probably head home and put some ice on it."

"I'm sorry, I'm such a mess," you said.

"A mess? You're a dart champion, as far as I'm concerned."

"Told you I like sports bars," you quipped, attempting a weak smile.

An awkward silence hung in the air, broken only by the muffled sounds of the bar's revelry filtering through the door. You fidgeted, acutely aware of your exposed skin and the warmth radiating from Suguru's close proximity.

"Here," he said suddenly. "Take this."

You looked up to see him pulling his shirt over his head, revealing a sculpted torso that could rival any Greek god statue. Your breath hitched in your throat, your eyes widening involuntarily. He handed you the soft cotton shirt.

You took the shirt, your fingers brushing against his as you did so. A jolt of electricity shot through you, and you quickly pulled your hand back.

"Thanks." You pulled the shirt over your head. It was warm from his body, and the scent of his cologne clung to the fabric, sandalwood and something else you couldn't quite place.

Suguru quickly slipped back into his overshirt, buttoning it up. "Better?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.

"Much better. Thank you."

"You know, for a future lawyer, you seem to attract a fair bit of chaos."

"It's a blessing. Or maybe a curse. I haven't quite decided yet."

"Well," he said. "It certainly makes life interesting."

You couldn't help but laugh, but the sound caught in your throat as a sharp pain throbbed through your forehead. You winced, bringing a hand to your head.

"Whoa, you okay?" Suguru asked.

"My head," you mumbled, the pain intensifying. "Think I hit it harder than I thought."

In an instant, he was all doctor again. He gently tilted your chin up, his fingers cool against your flushed skin. His eyes, now serious and focused, scanned your face, searching for any signs of a concussion.

"Does it hurt anywhere else?"

You shook your head slightly, your gaze locked with his. You were so close, you could feel the warmth of his breath on your face, the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. It was intoxicating. No, that can't be—It must be the alcohol. Definitely the alcohol.

"Just a bump," you assured him, your voice barely a whisper. "It'll be fine."

He continued his examination, his fingers tracing the outline of your jaw, the curve of your cheek. His touch was gentle, yet electrifying, making your knees weak.

"You're sure?" he asked again, his voice husky.

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his. The air between you crackled, the boundaries between doctor and patient blurring once again.

"Yeah, I'm sure," you repeated.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, slowly, almost tentatively, he leaned in closer. His face was inches from yours now, his warm breath fanning across your cheek. You held your breath, your heart pounding in your chest.

"So," he began, “what exactly did you do to your shirt to end up like this?"

You burst into laughter, the sound slightly breathless. "Oh, it's a long story."

"You really are chaotic, aren't you?" He reached out then, his fingers lightly brushing over your cheek. You took a sharp inhale.

"I'm sorry, I'm a little bit drunk, I think," he said, his gaze fixed on your lips. Oh god, why did he have to look at your lips with those perfect eyes?

You nodded, your lips parting slightly. "It's okay, I think I'm a little tipsy too." The words caught in your throat, replaced by a silent plea for him to close the remaining distance between you.

"We should probably head back inside," he said.

"Is that a question?"

"I mean... we should go back," he stammered, his eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes.

"Do you want to go back?"

"Don't ask me that."

"Why?" you whispered, leaning closer.

"You know why, attorney."

"But it's my job to get clear answers," you countered. "I can't make decisions based on mere assumptions."

He snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. The warmth of his body against yours sent a wave of heat through you, and you tilted your head up, meeting his gaze.

"I could get in serious trouble for this," he said. "A doctor and his patient..."

"Only if someone sues you," you teased. "And I'm not gonna sue you."

"How old are you again?" 

"You know how old I am."

The possibilities hung in the air, heavy, unexpected, irresistible. You reached up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the smooth skin beneath your fingertips.

Suguru's breath hitched at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. When he opened them again, the intensity in his gaze stole your breath away. It was as if he'd finally surrendered to the pull between you, the last of his reservations crumbling away.

"Ah, fuck it," he said.

Before you could react, his lips crashed against yours. You gasped at the sudden contact, your lips parting in surprise, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to tangle with yours.

The kiss lit a fire in you, a heat that spread from your lips to the tips of your toes. His hands roamed your body, one tangling in your hair to tilt your head for better access, the other spreading across the small of your back to press you tightly against him.

You melted into him, your hands fisting in his shirt. He kissed you like he was starving and you were the only thing that could satisfy his hunger. The room was spinning, the world tilting on its axis, and all you could focus on was the taste of him, the feel of his hands on your body, the way he made you feel like nothing else existed but this moment.

His hands were everywhere, skimming over your sides, teasing the swell of your breasts through your, sorry, his shirt, leaving you gasping for more. You arched into his touch, craving more, needing to feel skin against skin.

In that moment, you didn't care about the consequences. 

Suguru's hands drifted lower, squeezing your ass, pulling you harder against him. You couldn't resist grinding against him, chasing that maddening friction, that perfect pressure right where you needed it most. He groaned into the kiss, the sound vibrating through you.

Desperate for more, you slid your hands under his shirt, exploring the hard planes of his chest, feeling the muscles twitch and flex beneath your touch. He shuddered, his abs contracting as your fingers danced over his heated skin.

Breaking the kiss, Suguru trailed his lips down your jaw, nipping and sucking as he made his way to your throat. You let your head fall back, giving him better access, a breathy moan escaping you.

"Keep making sounds like that and I won't be able to stop myself from fucking you right here," he warned.

His words made your head spin. The idea of him bending you over the sink and claiming you, right here in this dingy bathroom with a bar full of people just outside — it was reckless, stupid, the most brilliantly terrible idea you'd ever had.

"Maybe that's what I want," you dared, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging, urging him on. "Maybe I want you to take me right here.”

Let's be real, you were beyond caring about propriety or the risk of getting caught. All you cared about was the man in front of you and the heat he ignited within you.

You could feel him smile against your skin. “Oh really?”

As Suguru's lips moved against yours, his hands began to explore your body, tracing the curves of your hips and thighs. He pulled you closer, his fingers digging into skin as he ground against you, letting you feel exactly what you were doing to him.

The hard, heavy press of his erection against you made you moan into his mouth, your body arching into his. Holy shit, he was huge, you could already tell. Your knees nearly buckled at the thought of him inside you, stretching you, filling you so full you could barely breathe.

God, you needed him.

He broke the kiss, his eyes dark as he reached down to fumble with the button of your jeans. You couldn't help but gasp as he finally got them open, his fingers slipping inside, seeking the warmth between your legs.

He traced the outline of your underwear, lingering on the damp patch where your arousal had already begun to soak through the material.

"Fuck, you're so wet." He groaned, his eyes closing. "Can I?"

Your eyes snapped open. "Did you seriously just ask permission to finger me?"

"I'll take that as a yes." 

Without hesitation, he hooked his fingers under the edge of your underwear and tugged it aside. The first touch of his fingers against your core made you moan. He was so warm, his skin rough and calloused in the best way as he slid two thick digits deep inside you.

"Oh fuck," you whimpered, your head falling back against the wall.

He pumped his fingers in and out, setting a deep, slow rhythm. The wet sounds of him finger-fucking you echoed off the bathroom tiles, along with your desperate pants and bitten-off curses. You could feel yourself getting wetter by the second, coating his fingers and dripping down your thighs.

Suguru captured your lips in another kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to dance with yours. It was messy and frantic, more panting into each other's mouths than any real skill, but fuck if it wasn't the hottest thing you'd ever felt.

With his free hand, he grabbed hold of yours and pinned it above your head, his fingers lacing with yours. The cold press of the wall against your heated skin made you shiver, making every touch and sensation feel even more intense.

His fingers worked you mercilessly, curling and scissoring and rubbing in all the right ways. You could feel your orgasm building embarrassingly fast, your inner walls starting to clench around him. 

Fuck, you'd never gotten this close this quickly with anyone else, never felt so utterly fucking wrecked with just a few touches.

Just as you were teetering on the very edge, your thighs shaking and your moans picking up in pitch, the bathroom door suddenly flew open with a bang.

"Oh my god!" a startled voice yelped. "Sorry!"

Suguru immediately slipped his fingers out of you, and you scrambled to pull your jeans back up, your face on fire. The woman booked it out of there, slamming the door behind her and leaving you both in the most awkward silence of your life.

Suguru cleared his throat, taking a step back and rubbing the back of his neck, refusing to meet your eyes. "Sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have... that was way out of line."

You stared at the floor, your cheeks burning hotter than the surface of the sun. "It's fine," you said. "We're both drunk. Alcohol makes people do dumb shit."

The silence stretched out between you, thick and heavy and so fucking uncomfortable you wanted to scream. You kept replaying the kiss, the way he touched you, the feel of his fingers inside you — it sent shivers down your spine, even as shame turned your stomach to lead.

You'd never done anything like this before — making out with someone you barely knew, letting him finger-fuck you in a gross sports bar bathroom after knowing him for like, five hours. What were you thinking?

Part of you wanted to die of embarrassment, to sink through the floor and disappear forever. But another part of you didn't want this night to end. 

Suguru was exciting, different. And somehow it felt so easy. Easy to talk, easy to laugh, easy to — be yourself. And that was something you hadn't felt in a long time.

Finally, Suguru broke the silence. "We should probably get you home," he said. "We had a lot to drink, and you hit your head. I want to make sure you're okay."

"Yeah," you agreed. "Home sounds good."

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

You wanted to forget that night. 

Bury the memory of Dr. Suguru Geto's hands between your legs six feet under and never dig it up again. But no, your brain had other plans. It was like trying to unsee a particularly embarrassing video of yourself — technically possible, but your brain seemed determined to keep replaying it on loop.

Back at the law firm, you navigated the busy corridors, two steaming cups of coffee clutched in your hands. One was for Mr. Higurama, your mentor, and the other was for your own sanity.

Higurama was one of the best. Without him, you'd have bailed on this stupid internship within the first week. He was meticulous, dedicated, and knew the law like the back of his hand. But he was also, let's be honest, a bit strange.

He'd rather spend his weekends reading dusty old legal texts than having a life. And his obsession with obscure legal trivia was — something else. He'd drop those obscure historical law facts that left everyone scratching their heads. 

Maybe that's why you two clicked. You were both the oddballs in a sea of perfectly polished lawyers.

As you rounded the corner, you spotted him — the intern whose name you could never remember, but who you'd mentally dubbed "Chad" for his obnoxious attitude and perfectly-gelled hair. He was strutting towards you, his tailored suit and smug grin practically screaming "I'm better than you."

"Well, well, well," he drawled. "Look who's playing coffee delivery girl."

He reached out a hand, expecting you to hand over one of the cups. You sidestepped him. "Nice try, Chad," you retorted, continuing your walk towards Mr. Higurama's office.

You could hear his indignant huff behind you. "That's not my name!"

You just rolled your eyes and kept walking, a smile tugging at your lips. Whatever, Chad, you thought to yourself. His name is the least of your problems right now.

You knocked lightly on Mr. Higurama's door, a nervous flutter returning to your stomach. Even after weeks, you still couldn't shake the feeling of being a fish out of water in this fancy law firm.

"Come in!" Mr. Higurama's voice called out.

You pushed open the door, a smile spreading across your face at the sight of your mentor. He was buried under a mountain of paperwork, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looked up with a start as you entered.

"Oh, hey," he said, blinking in surprise. "You're a lifesaver. I was just about to send someone out for a caffeine fix."

He glanced at his watch, his expression suddenly turning serious. "Oh shit, we're running late," he said, scrambling to gather the scattered papers on his desk. "We need to leave for that client meeting in five minutes."

"No problem," you said, trying to sound calm despite the sudden rush. "I'm ready."

You walked over to his desk, carefully balancing the coffee cups in one hand. As you reached for a stack of files, your foot caught on the corner of the rug, sending you stumbling forward. The coffee cup lurched in your hand, its contents splashing onto the neatly organized papers on Mr. Higurama's desk.

You froze, the coffee dripping from the once-pristine documents. 

Higurama looked up at you, his face a mask of — well, you weren't sure what. This wasn't the first time you'd pulled a stunt like this.

"I'm so sorry. I swear I'm not doing this on purpose,” you said.

But before you knew it, you were in the car. No time to reprint the papers, apparently. With a resigned sigh, Higurama quickly gathered the damp forms, and you both rushed out to his car.

The drive was filled with a tense silence. You wanted to disappear into the car seat, your embarrassment a heavy weight on your chest. Finally, you couldn't take it anymore.

"So," you ventured cautiously, "what's this client meeting about?"

"We're going to the hospital," he said. "A group of doctors is in a bit of a... difficult situation."

"Oh, is it related to a patient?"

Higurama let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Don't ask," he said, his tone more tired than annoyed.

You shrank back into your seat, deciding to keep your mouth shut for the rest of the ride.

Higurama led you through a maze of corridors, his footsteps echoing on the polished linoleum floor of the hospital. Though you were somewhat familiar with the building from your visits to Dr. Gojo, this particular wing was kind of new to you. 

As you approached the meeting room, you could hear the muffled sounds of a heated discussion. Higurama paused, straightening his tie and composing his features into his usual stoic mask.

You were kind of freaking out. A case involving doctors? That was new. Seemed unusual for Higurama too, since you both usually dealt with international affairs. Must be a special case. Higurama pushed open the door, and you stepped into the conference room.

And then you saw him.

No, them — both of them.

Dr. Gojo.

And Suguru.

They were sitting at the far end of the table, Suguru's arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Your heart lurched in my chest, surprise and mortification flooding through you.

Oh my god, you thought. He's one of the doctors.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. The man you'd nearly fucked in that filthy bathroom just a few nights ago, the man whose lips you could still feel on yours — was now your client. The embarrassment of the situation threatened to swallow you whole, and you desperately wished you could disappear into thin air.

Suguru and Dr. Gojo were locked in a heated debate. Their voices rose and fell, words a flurry of medical words and frustrated exclamations.

"That's why we should do biomarkers that could help identify patients at higher risk," Gojo said.

"We can't ignore the data," Suguru countered. "The preliminary results show a significant increase in CAR-T cell persistence with the modified construct. We need to investigate this further."

"But the neurotoxicity risk," Gojo argued, his tone equally firm. "We can't overlook the potential complications. We need to refine the targeting strategy, minimize off-target effects."

"We can address those concerns in subsequent phases," Suguru argued back. "We can't afford to stall progress."

The argument escalated, their voices echoing through the room. Dr. Gojo stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He strode to the whiteboard, scribbling something furiously with a marker. They still hadn't noticed you.

You wanted to flee, to crawl into a hole and die. You took a step back, then another, ready to make a run for it, but Higurama's hand shot out, gripping your blazer and holding you in place. He gave you a look that said he wanted to flee just as much as you did.

Oh god, please let this be over soon.

Suddenly, Higurama cleared his throat.

Both doctors turned around, surprise plastered on their faces as they noticed you and Higurama standing there. Suguru's eyes met yours for a split second, and you could practically feel the awkwardness radiating off of him before you quickly looked away. The knot in your stomach tightened.

Dr. Gojo, however, recovered quickly, a charming smile spreading across his face as he saw you. "Oh, hey. Didn't expect to see you here too."

You managed a weak smile. "Hello, Dr. Gojo."

"How have you been feeling?" Gojo asked you. "Any side effects from the medication?"

"Fine," you replied curtly. "No problems."

Gojo's gaze lingered on you for a moment. "And how's Suguru treating you? Is he taking good care of you?"

God, please have mercy on me, you thought, your cheeks burning even hotter. But before you could answer, Suguru quickly interjected, his voice firm. "Perhaps we should get started with the meeting."

Higurama gestured towards the empty chairs around the table. "Shall we sit down?"

You all took your seats, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a scalpel. Higurama cleared his throat again, his gaze sweeping across the room. "I believe we all know why we're here today," he began, his tone professional and matter-of-fact.

"Actually, we don't," Gojo deadpanned. "Yaga didn't tell us anything."

Higurama looked like he wanted to crawl under the table and die. Same, you thought.

"There have been some... concerns raised regarding professional conduct within the university," Higurama finally managed to say.

Suguru and Gojo made a face in unison.

You reached into Mr. Higurama's briefcase, pulling out the stack of papers he'd entrusted you with. As you pulled them out, you couldn't help but notice the faint coffee stains marrying the edges. Your cheeks flushed even deeper.

But then your eyes landed on the content of the paper.

It wasn't a complex legal case or a malpractice lawsuit, as you had initially feared. Instead, you were faced with a series of brightly colored pamphlets titled “Maintaining Professional Boundaries”.

The pages were filled with cartoon illustrations and bullet points detailing appropriate conduct with students, patients and colleagues. There were even sections on how to avoid gossip in the workplace, with a handwritten note scrawled in the margin that basically said, "Don’t fuck with students, Gojo" in a slightly more professional way. Higurama's handwriting, for sure.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. 

The girl Gojo always talked about, the one he was always going on and on about marrying—she was a student. He'd been sleeping with a student this whole time. Oh my god. How inappropriate. You could never imagine hooking up with one of your professors. 

But now that you think about it — someone in the glass house shouldn't throw stones, as they say.

Anyway, a wave of secondhand embarrassment washed over you as you placed the papers in front of the doctors. Even Higurama seemed to shrink in his seat. The silence in the room was deafening as Suguru and Gojo scanned the documents. You could practically hear crickets chirping.

Finally, Higurama cleared his throat, attempting to regain control of the situation. “As I was saying,” he began, his voice strained, “we all know why we’re here today.”

All eyes immediately snapped to Gojo. “Oh, come on. Don’t look at me like that,” he said. Suguru let out a long-suffering sigh, rubbing his temples. Then, Gojo's gaze fell upon the stack of papers in front of him. "Besides, why is there coffee on those documents?"

Every head in the room swiveled towards you. 

You quickly looked away.

The rest of the meeting was, to put it mildly, awkward as hell. Higurama tried his best to maintain a professional facade as he soldiered on with the presentation, highlighting the importance of maintaining professional boundaries. 

You couldn't help but squirm in your seat as he droned on about appropriate conduct and the dangers of crossing the line. With every mention of "patient confidentiality" and "avoiding dual relationships," your mind flashed back to that night at the bar. 

Suguru's hands on your waist, his lips on yours. You were sure your face was burning a bright shade of crimson. You risked a glance at Suguru, but he was staring intently at the table, his expression carefully blank.

Gojo tried to lighten the mood with a few well-timed jokes, but you guessed he was uneasy, too. You noticed him scratching his arm from time to time, a nervous tic you'd never seen before. Suguru, on the other hand, remained stoic, his gaze fixed on the presentation materials, though you could sense his discomfort.

You couldn't help but wonder what Suguru was thinking. Was he regretting that night at the bar as much as you were starting to? Did he see you differently now?

Finally, the meeting mercifully ended. 

Gojo stood up. "Higurama, can we talk for a second?" Higurama sighed, but reluctantly followed him out of the room, leaving you alone with Suguru.

A tense silence descended upon the room. You avoided Suguru's gaze, focusing instead on the white walls. But you could feel his eyes on you, burning into your skin.

“How’s your head?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“Did you ice it?” he pressed.

“Yes.”

Silence returned.

It felt like the air itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Unable to bear the stillness any longer, you stood up, clutching your bag tightly. "Well, I should probably get going."

"Wait," Suguru's voice stopped you mid-escape. "About the other night. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken things so far."

You turned back to face him. "No, it's okay. It was... nice." Nice? Did you really just describe the hottest makeout session of your life as 'nice'? What were you, a Victorian maiden?

"Nice?" he echoed, one eyebrow raised in that infuriatingly attractive way of his.

"I mean... It was good. Really good," you clarified, somehow making it even worse. "You're a great kisser and..." you trailed off, wanting to crawl under the table and die.

Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, you tried to make another break for it, only to be halted by Suguru's hand wrapping around your wrist. His grip was gentle but firm, sending sparks shooting up your arm.

You spun back around to find him towering over you. Damn him for being so tall. And for looking so good in his dress shirt and vest and tie under that crisp white doctor's coat. It wasn't fair.

"I'm sorry I couldn't make you come before we were interrupted," he said, sounding so genuinely apologetic you almost laughed. Almost. If this whole situation wasn't so mortifyingly awkward.

"Oh my god, please don't say that."

"I just want you to know, I don't usually do things like that."

"Like what? Not make women come? Wow, what a gentleman."

"No, I meant—" He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I'm not really one for hookups in general."

Oh god, why are you having this conversation now, here, with Higurama and Dr. Gojo just outside? "Okay, cool. Thanks for letting me know." You tried once again to subtly tug your wrist from his grip.

But Suguru held fast, his thumb rubbing absently over your racing pulse. "I don't regret it, if that's what you're worried about. I liked it. Spending time with you. A lot.”

You stared at him, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. He likes spending time with you? What did that even mean?

"Uh," you began. "You don't?"

"No, I don't." His grip on your wrist loosened slightly, but he didn't let go. "I was just surprised. It felt... good."

Good? You blinked. Good? What did ‘good’ in this context even mean? But then again, it had felt pretty damn good.

"And you're a great kisser too," he mirrored your words.

"Thanks." Thanks? Did you really just say thanks? And then, because your brain apparently decided to abandon all sense of self-preservation, you blurted out, "And you have great fingers."

Your face erupted in a fiery blush, and you wished you could disappear into the floor. My God, why couldn't you just shut up for once in your life?

Suguru's lips twitched into a smirk. "Thanks," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "We should do it again sometime."

"Yeah, totally." The words tumbled out before you could stop them. You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry as the desert. Play it cool, play it cool. "I think we would be quite good together. At sex, I mean. Wait, no—" You stumbled over your words, your hands flailing helplessly as you tried to backpedal.

"I meant the sports bar," Suguru clarified, barely containing his amusement.

"Oh yeah, me too," you said quickly, too quickly. "The sports bar. Where we... watch sports. And drink beer—"

Then the door creaked open and Higurama stepped back into the room. You both immediately moved apart. Higurama glanced at you. "Are you ready to go back to the office?"

You nodded.

Thank god it was over.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: hello again !! hope you didn't die bc of cringe this chapter, as our dear reader certainly brings a touch of chaotic energy to the story. and i want to express my gratitude for all the wonderful comments and messages you've been leaving. they never fail to brighten my day. & thank you again tasha for helping me out with this chapter. check out her work here. <3

don't have much else to add at this point, so whether you're reading this in the middle of the day or late at night, i wish you all the best. thank you for your continued support and love :)

pls comment on the masterlist for the taglist. or consider subscribing to the story on AO3, if you'd like to stay updated on future chapters.

🏷️ @ri-sa20 @biancaness @roseified @rixo-19 @madaqueue

@starmapz @alwaysfreakingout @totallytatum @shervinss @elliesndg

@lulureblogstuff @mylovelessnightmare @myahfig4 @shesplendl @mua-for-now

@yoghurtbrand @midnightsaugust @nanasukii28 @drakenswifeyy @maeveontherun

@4k0taro @ineednanamikento

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or modify my work.

[leviraaaaaa]

“Levi!”

You barge through the door, all dramatic, gasping and panting, purposely exaggerating to get his attention. But not to your surprise, he didn’t even bother looking up.

“I suppose no one ever taught you, but there’s a concept called knocking.” He said, his eyes fully focused on the papers. His hand moving across it as he wrote. “It’s quite easy really, you raise your hand and—”

“Levi!” You cut him off, slamming the door behind you loudly. “Levi, my beloved, my savior in dark times, I am in need of your help.”

“Slamming the door isn’t very polite either. Your manners get worse everyday.”

You waved him off, shushing him. You made way across the room, where a couch sat not far from the desk he was sitting on, and flopped down face first. “Levi.” Your voice came out muffled.

“Ah yes, making yourself home I see.” He sighs.

“Levi, I need your help. Real bad.”

“No.”

“What–” You look up, raising your face from the cushions, offended. “You didn’t even–”

“No.” He repeated, eyes not leaving his work for even a second. “Please, get off my couch. Cleaning it is tiresome.”

“Levi.” You whined, impatient at his aloofness. “Levi, he’s going to kill me.”

“I’ll buy you a good coffin.”

“This isn’t funny.” You huffed. “I’m dead. Like literally. Absolutely. This is where it all ends.”

“I’d rather you not die on my couch.”

“Fuck your couch.” You flipped yourself, so you splayed on your back now. You tilted your head, staring at him. “Help me out. Please?”

Levi finally turns to look at you, unable to ignore you any longer. He frowned. “What?” He asked warily. “What did you do this time?”

“Promise me you’ll help me first.” You said.

“No.” He immediately rejects you. “What did you do? Did you get into a fight with an MP again?”

You shook your head.

“Blew up something in Hange’s lab?” He guessed.

“No. But I’d really rather it was Hange mad at me though.”

He looked at you confused, “Who did you piss off then? “

You grimaced. He was quick to conclude.

“Ah.” He realizes. “Erwin.”

A nod from you answers him.

“What did you do?”

“Ask me what I didn’t do.”

“What didn’t you do?”

“Work.” You sat up. “In my defense, it was a shit load of work. And I hate paperwork. And I kept procrastinating. And now it’s due by tomorrow and I didn’t remember until two minutes ago when Erwin shot a glare at me. And now I—”

“I’m not helping you.”

“Why not?” You demanded.

“It’s your fault. Don’t drag me into this shit.” He grumbles, scowling. “And you promised last time, you wouldn’t do this anymore. I’m not doing your work for you. I have enough on my plate.”

“Okay first of all, I’m not lazy. I was busy–”

“Ogling Garrison captains.”

“They’re pretty. And no, not the point, shut up.” You protested. “I was busy. And I didn’t come here so you could do it for me. I came here so you could go and talk to Erwin.”

Levi frowned, “Talk to him about what?”

“Tell him to give me one more day. Swear I’d work my ass off.”

“You said that last time too.” He pointed it out. “How angry is Erwin?”

You made a face. “Bad.”

“How bad?”

“He keeps glaring at me everytime I meet him. It’s the ‘if you don’t get it done this time, you’re gonna get in so much shit’ glare. It’s creeping me out.”

Levi scoffs, shaking his head. “Only you." He said. "Only you can possibly manage piss fucking Erwin off. The guy's a fucking monk, nothing affects him.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “If I had to guess, I’d say this isn’t the first time asking for an extension.”

“Err…” You ducked your face. “It was kinda supposed to be done 2 weeks ago.”

“2 weeks?” Levo looked at you incredulously. “No wonder he’s pissed. And you’re asking for more time?”

“One more day. Just one more day. Please Levi, he’ll listen to you.”

Levi stares at your pleading expression for a few seconds with narrowed eyes, considering. Thinking. Then he seemed to have made up his mind.

“No.”

“Wha—” You jerk upright. You really thought you’d convinced him.

“No. I’m not getting you out of the grave this time. Specially since you dug it yourself.” He returns his attention back to his work. “Good luck to you, but leave now. And learn a damn lesson.”

You stared at him, gaping. “Wow," You blinked you’re an asshole.”

“Congratulations for realizing that.”

You exhaled. Easy words won’t work, you knew. So, here comes plan A. Acting.

You pouted.

“Don’t look at me like that. I said what I said.”

You fluttered your lashes, all wide shiny eyes, about to cry.

“Get out before I start throwing shit at you.”

“Levi.” Plan B. Bribing.

“No.”

“Leeviii.”

“No.”

“Levi, aren’t you the sweetest, most dearest, my absolute favorite and delightful and super awesome with extra sugar on top bestiest best friend? Don’t be like that, c’mon.”

“Still no. And we’re not friends.”

“‘I’ll make you pie?” You offered.

“You can’t cook to save your life. No.”

"I'll give you hugs."

"I will slap you."

“Levi.” Plan C. Threatening.

He glares back at you.

"You do realize you could've used this time getting the report started instead of trying to convince me and actually might've manage to get it done?”

“I’ll read poetry to you.” You threatened.

Levi looks up, finally there’s a hint of alarm on his face. “No, you won’t.”

“I’ll make sure all your food touch.”

“Get out.”

“I’ll disorganize your bookshelf and fill it with those titan x scout love novels.”

He raised his middle finger at you.

“I will start telling you about all my exes.”

He cringed visibly.

Finally, you gave up. Dragging yourself off the couch, you slowly, pathetically, miserably made your way to the door. You knew that the odds were very low that Levi would actually help you this time, because he was right. You needed to learn a lesson. And it was your fault.

“Oi.”

Your hand was on the doorknob. “What?” You turned to look at him grumpily.

Levi was pinching the bridge of his nose, knitting his eyebrows together, irritated and annoyed. Like he was about to do something he regretted.

He let out a long exhale.

“Bring it here. I’ll help you.”

“What?” You asked, disbelief dripping from your tone. Were you dreaming?

“I’ll help you out. Just this time.” He grunts. “Don’t expect it again. And I’ll only guide you, you’re doing the most of it.”

Music to your ears.

“Really?”

“Go before I change my mind.” He huffed.

You broke into a wide grin, beaming up at him. “No wonder I love you.”

“The feeling is not mutual.”

“You’re the best,”

“Shut up.”

“The best. The most darling, the loveliest, the coolest, the–”

“10 seconds. I’m giving you 10 seconds.”

“Oh–” Your eyes widened. You learnt the hard way Levi usually means his time limits. “Okay, okay, wait here, wait. I’ll be right back. Just–”

And you were out the door,

“Fucking idiot.” He groaned to himself, as you yet again, slammed the door.

He wish he knew why he kept doing this to himself.

[honeygrahambitch]

"Even Will Graham has a better sex life than I do." Jimmy said, as if he had been holding that sentence inside for too long.

Beverly and Brian abandoned the blood samples they were working on and looked at him in disbelief as if they were trying to make sure they got it right.

"One question would be how do you know that?" Brian asked. "I doubt Will is the type to talk about stuff like that."

"That's easy, haven't you seen Hannibal?" Beverly asked rolling her eyes.

"I am not particularly into men."

"You don't have to be in order to tell that someone must excel in bed. It's the attitude."

"Stop that." Jimmy interrupted their banter. "I overheard a discussion between the two of them."

"Do we really need to know?" Brian said as he looked at Beverly for support. However, her opinion was different.

"Share."

"Alright but this doesn't leave the lab. It stays between us." Jimmy said. After all, Will was his friend and he didn't have anything against Hannibal. He was usually not the one to gossip but this felt like something that needed to be debated. "They are having a threesome."

"No way." Beverly said as she elbowed Brian who remained dumb.

"Who's the lucky lady?" Brian asked.

"Why did you immediately assume it's a lady?"

"For more diversity? I don't know how these things work?"

"Can you shut up and listen?" Jimmy cut them off. "I overheard Will asking Hannibal whether their plans for the night have changed. Hannibal had said that they did not and then pulled out this business card and handed it to Will. Will was like- a sport trainer? He will be a handful."

"I told you it's a man!" Beverly told Brian then turned back to Jimmy. "That doesn't prove anything though."

"Maybe if you two listened I could get to the point. So, Will said that and Hannibal was amused and said "I am confident we can handle him. Cannot be worse than the one last week. I was not proud of the way we left his bedroom"."

"Shut up..." Brian whispered. Beverly didn't say anything, her lips parted in disbelief. "And then?"

"Then Will said...damn, I hate that I have to repeat his words but he said..."He was bigger than either of us expected. I mean, for a finance guy, he was quite a challenge. My back still hurts."" Jimmy went on. "And Hannibal was like "the one we are having tonight will definitely be in good shape. I will be there, I am not letting him touch you.""

"Christ." Beverly said. "And?"

"And Will said "As if I need you to take care of me. Remember how the one from two weeks ago surprised you from behind? You were lucky I was there." Then they noticed me because of the stupid coffee machine who started beeping. And I swear to God, their surprised expressions indicated exactly the fact that I was not supposed to hear that."

"Wow." Brian said thoughtfully. "Every week. Good for them. That's how you keep things interesting in a relationship."

"I wouldn't have believed Hannibal would share Will with anyone." Beverly commented.

"Will might have a say in that?" Jimmy suggested. "Anyway, I couldn't believe it. I was afraid I took things out of context maybe?"

"Definitely not." Beverly said. "What else could they have been talking about?"

***

"Do you think Jimmy overhead us earlier?" Will said as he looked for their knives in the trunk of the car.

"I doubt it. It doesn't prove anything. We were quite subtle." Hannibal replied as he put his scalpel in his left pocket. "Ready? He must be home by now."

"Let's go. I don't want to spend the whole night butchering this guy. By the way, what did he do?"

"Insinuated I do not take my physical health seriously."

"He just hasn't seen what's underneath that suit." Will replied, making Hannibal smile.

[signedaiko]

Hi! Could I uhhhhh,,,, request some MTMTE continuity about a gender neutral human liaison aboard the LL who struggles with social anxiety and has low self esteem, who's been isolating in their habsuite for quite a while because they convinced themselves that the bots aren't really interested in them (or straight up ignoring them). What bots (it's up to you to chose!! :D) would try to get them out of their shell and show them that they are actually well liked on board, and are actually worried about them since they haven't seen them in a while? (Also could it be possible for that request to be platonic?) Thanks a lot!!!

Brainstorm | Fort Max | Siren [MTMTE]

In which you've been isolating yourself, and they try to get you back out there.

Reader is: Gender Neutral | Human | Autobot. Platonic.

Brainstorm

What could this self-centred narcissist possibly notice about anyone else?

Turns out, he could notice the lack of their compliments, especially yours

You used to stop by at least once a day to ask him about his projects and tell him how cool they were, and he's really starting to miss that kick, even just three days without it

I mean, his schedule is slam-packed with... things... to go

But he SUPPOSES a little trip to the humans room couldn't hurt; he could work a bit of overtime today

You're not getting it sweet with him; oh no, Brainstorm is literally grabbing your whole mattress with you on it and taking you to the lab

Even if you protest and try to hide in the blankets, everyone can tell who's there

"Are they okay?' "Oh no, will they be okay?' 'Whoa, Brainstorm! Is that where the human went?'

Parading you back to his lab, you are forced to soak in every concern the others have before he plops you right back down on his desk

When you finally peek out, he's waiting for you, holding his newest invention

"Well, aren't you going to ask what I've been up to?"

Fort Max

It wasn't like him to worry too much about the others on board

But he had heard your name whispered by others, mostly in the form of concern and wonder as to where you'd gone

Something about it tugged at him, because he also missed having you check on him

It was about time he returned the favour, so even when you don't let him in, he squeezes himself into your too-small-for-him-too-big-for-you room to poke you out of bed

"Come on, human, you can't just lay there forever."

He's pulling all the lines you used on him back on you, urging you to stop whining and crawl out of the nest of blankets you'd been rotting in for a week

It's hard for him to get personal about it, but he can be strict

"You have ten minutes to get ready, or I'm taking you outside in whatever you're wearing."

Not really wanting your print pyjamas and stained graphic tee to be your reintroduction, you comply

He won't force the issue on anybody, but he will make sure to make it very obvious he's holding you so you receive every greeting possible

"Alright, Max, point taken."

Siren

It wasn't like you to avoid Swerve's so many nights in a row

And while he doesn't remember the last time the two of you spoke, probably because he was talking over you, he misses your company

He's just trying to coax you out of your room with kind words

Doesn't realize you only leave because he's literally yelling and everyone's staring

Earplugs in and noise-cancelling headphones on, you're ready to be in a room with him for even a moment

Siren uses as much of an inside voice as he can manage to ask what's up, and for once, he actually listens more than he talks

No one liking you? No way! You're the coolest! You're a whole other species worth of cool!

Encourages you to clean up and picks out an outfit for you to wear while you shower

Yes, it matches his paint job

Once you feel presentable, you're off; he's racing down halls in his alt, trying to get you to cling to him and jump you outta your shell

When you're at Swerve's, his announcement of your return is hard to miss

Everyone cheers and takes turns coming up to see you again, and Siren never leaves your side

If you feel your social battery run out, he's ready to get you home safely

Author's Note - I actually chose the bots I felt were the funniest/unlikely to try because thats the joy of life, you can do as you like in life!

I also love Siren

[roses-r-rosie3]

Prank You Very Much

Jason Todd x M!Reader

Warnings: Crack, Jason & Damian being pranksters,

Summary: Jason and Damian are having a prank war and the reader gets caught in the middle of it

A/n: This is very inspired by the "Prank you very much" Episode from lab rats.

Quote: "You two have been pulling pranks on each other for three weeks straight and I always end up paying for it!"

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You didn't know how Jason and Damian's whole petty prank war started, nor did you want to know. But what you did know was that you were always caught in the middle of it. Like last week when you were hanging out with Jason. Jason was in the middle of playing some type of video game and you got up to use the restroom, leaving only Jason and Damian in the room.

"Hey Damian could you grab me a water, I'm trying to beat my high score, and if I stop this cyborg will melt me, and if that happens the colonial bomb will go off and if that happens-"

"I will get your water just stop talking" Damian said in annoyance.

But then Damian stopped and remembered the prank war that was still ongoing.

"I know your tricks Todd you're not going to fool me" Damian said confidently.

All of a sudden you came out of the hallway and into the kitchen area.

"Hey Jay, I was thinking I should make your family something to eat before we have to go" You said as you walked up to the fridge.

"DON'T OPEN THE-"

BAM!

(Btw I love this episode of Lab Rats sm😭❤️)

When you opened the fridge a mix of mustard, ketchup, and mayo blasted onto your face and body.

"Fridge.."

You slowly turned around in anger to give Jason the death-glare. Damian stood there, trying to hold in his laughter.

"Someone's getting put in the doghouse~" Damian whistled.

"Would it help at all if I said that was supposed to be Damian's face?" Jason laughed nervously.

"Jason Peter Todd!" you yelled.

Jason scrambled out of the room quicker than even the flash could.

"Well y/n because of this whole.. fiasco.. I would assume that you are taking my side in me and your boyfriend's little rivalry" Damian suggested.

Now it was Damian's turn to receive a death-glare from you, and he too scrambled out the room.

And a couple days ago when you were getting ready in your shared apartment with Jason. When you got out the shower and looked into the mirror your hair was hot pink.

"Jason!" You yelled.

Jason came rushing into your room and saw your hair and immediately bursted out laughing.

"This isn't funny! I had things I had to do today!" you complained.

"I'm guessing Damian put hair dye in the wrong shampoo bottle. HA! wait a minute.. how did he get into our apartment.." Jason said.

"Can this day get any worse" you whined as you picked up the blow dryer.

When you turned on the blow dryer, baby powder and glitter came flying out of it, causing Jason to laugh even harder. It took you all day to get the dye and glitter out of your hair. You finally decided that enough was enough, and that you were going to end it. You asked Alfred for a little favor and your plan was complete.

That day, Jason and Damian were walking upstairs from training, and the fresh scent of Alfred’s famous chocolate chip cookies filled the air. Jason and Damian were immediately alured by the smell and went straight to the kitchen. As soon as they stepped inside, a trap was set, and little did they know, they were hanging upside down.

"Hey! What is this!" Damian yelled.

"It was me, with a bit of help from Alfred, but that's not the point" you said as you revealed yourself.

"You two have been pulling pranks on each other for 3 weeks straight and I always end up paying for it!" you said.

"He started it!" Jason said as he pointed to Damian.

"Well if you didn't dye Titus pink then-"

"Enough! I am sick of your pranks so if you don't stop, for Jason, I will burn all of your pride and prejudice books" you said as you held Jason's book in your hand.

"You wouldn't dare!" Jason gasped.

"Pffft, really you're that concerned over a book?" Damian scoffed.

"And for your Damian, I will shave off all of Alfred's hair" you said as Alfred (the cat) snuggled next to your leg.

"That's evil!" Damian yelled.

"Now, will the two of you stop your prank war? Or do I have to stick to my word?" you asked.

"Yes!"

"Deal!"

You clicked the button on your phone, and both of them were let down. After that day, both Damian and Jason learned something important. Damian learned not to get on your bad side, and Jason learned to hide his books in a safer place if he ever pissed you off.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Reverse the scenario. Sephiroth, the Soldier that is one of the strongest and most highly decorated in shinra, is degrading. He hides it from everyone. He is supposed to be strong. He isn’t supposed to show any weakness. How could a training accident lead to him slowly wasting away? He was better than this. He was built better than any of them!

How does Sephiroth handle being the only one degrading. How do Angeal and Genesis and even Zack handle finding out the truth that their silver general is sick and possibly dying.

The fic I'll never write , titled "Metamorphosis"

• Just as someone might be consumed by guilt after committing a grievous act, Genesis was quite the opposite. Initially, he refused to admit his wrongs for weeks—until relentless overthinking led him to review his actions, pushing the guilt deeper until he finally acquiesced to the possibility that he might have been wrong.

• But this wasn't the case in the training room that day. The guilt that overwhelmed Genesis as he saw Sephiroth lying there, unresponsive, with the red rapier piercing his shoulder was all-consuming. An immediate, "Oh goddess, what have I done" encased him as Angeal screamed at him to stop the simulation, watching the blood pool beneath Sephiroth.

• Angeal knew no man was unbreakable, a belief solidified by his father's death. And yet he often suspected Sephiroth was an exception; the man possessed an indescribable resilience, persisting through anything, even on the brink of death. But no one was invincible, not saints, not heroes, and certainly not Sephiroth.

• SOLDIERs gawked and stared, some even crying in concern, wanting to know what was happening as Genesis and Angeal sprinted down the hallway with him, en route to Hojo's lab—a place they would rather peel their skin off than send Sephiroth. But what choice did they have? For the first time, the red on Genesis' coat was not from the leather but from fresh blood as he carried Sephiroth, rushing into the lab.

• Naturally Hojo and his team were already waiting. Of course. Hojo was always watching, always aware of what was happening with his favorite specimen. They pried Sephiroth off Genesis—pale and unresponsive—and Angeal had to pry Genesis kicking and screaming from the doors that closed behind them.

• The last they saw of Sephiroth, his silver hair was tainted with blood, and his shoulder, bare after they ripped off the coat and pauldrons, was blackening around the mangled skin. The last thing Sephiroth remembered was Genesis charging at him full force as he miscalculated the blow. The first thing he saw upon waking was Hojo grinning down at him—an alarming contrast.

• Curiously, Hojo sent Sephiroth back to his quarters after a night of observation. The professor was giddy, excited, and Sephiroth suspected it was due to the opportunity to study how his body reacted to the new injury. Typical.

• The injury itself was severe—his shoulder was badly damaged and healing slowly. The pain left him biting back groans as he lay in bed, sweating as the pain gripped his flesh, demanding his attention with not a single distraction to mollify the suffering. It was good that Angeal had a key, or else he wouldn't have been able to let them in otherwise.

• They tried to stay and help that night, but Sephiroth was in too much pain to speak and tell them what he needed, and eventually they were asked to leave. They expected Sephiroth to rest for the next week until it healed, but he was back to work the next day, with a visible patch of bandages beneath his coat and his demeanor as stoic and unbothered as ever—or at least that’s what Sephiroth wanted them to think. In truth, he was in so much pain he could barely perform his tasks without stopping to catch his breath and addressing how his body refused to cooperate.

• He had been excused from missions until it healed, which was not a good thing for him, because if he were able-bodied, an assignment would've been the perfect distraction from the pain. His body was different, and he didn't like it. He didn't like it when things happened to his body, and even less when they were out of his control. Professor Hojo had asked to meet with him soon, and for the first time, Sephiroth welcomed the possibility that the man would've been able to do something to help.

• Angeal and Genesis tried to get close to him, and even Angeal's student once tried to ask how Sephiroth was and told him that everyone was concerned for him, but Sephiroth brushed Zack off. The same went for Genesis and Angeal. It wasn’t that he was mad at Genesis; he just had no energy to deal with his friends’ attempts to help on top of the injury.

• He worried about why it wasn't healing. He had never experienced an injury this severe, and even the invasive surgeries Hojo once performed on him were less excruciating . He didn't even know why they were concerned. Soon he would be fine; he just needed to get through this.

• But to Genesis and Angeal, it wasn't just a matter of him being fine and needing to persevere. Sephiroth was changing right before their eyes, right before everyone's eyes. Despite spending less time with people these days—he didn't want to be near them—the transformation was visible.

• It was a physical change. Sephiroth's skin, once bright and luminous, was now pallid, with faint blue veins tracing his neck and chest. His eyes were lifeless, with dark circles indicating his lack of sleep. He had grown thinner, his appetite vanishing in favor of the craving for a cure for whatever it was that plagued him.

• His hair had grown slightly brittle, a subtle change only he noticed from staring at it daily. But the most concerning change was in his eyes. They were turning red. Sephiroth wasn't vain, but even he found the change unsettling. Despite all his qualms about the unnaturalness of his body, he had been healthy before. He had been whole. And he didn't realize that had kept him sane until he lost it.

• The meeting with Hojo finally came. He was sitting in the chair in his office when Hojo threw a thick folder into his lap harshly, one titled "The Jenova Project." Sephiroth didn’t understand. He asked what his mother had to do with this, and Hojo replied, "Everything."

• According to Hojo, Jenova was the catalyst for the changes ravaging Sephiroth's body. As her son, it was inevitable that he would begin to mirror her, with the metamorphosis already happening. Sephiroth was confused. Was his mother not human?

• And so he read the file Hojo provided him with. And read. And read and read until no one saw him for a week. Genesis appeared in the labs demanding to know what happened to Sephiroth, as last anyone heard, he had been going there to see Hojo. But all anyone said was that Sephiroth was busy. Busy where, they didn’t say, and Genesis had no idea Sephiroth was holed up in the archives, reading like a man possessed.

• Until a week later.

• Rumors said that Sephiroth had been cleared for missions by Hojo, but Angeal and Genesis didn’t believe it until Sephiroth strode into the SOLDIER floor briefing room one bright morning, looking satisfied despite the physical decline which had not improved.

• He greeted them cordially as they all sat down, and Angeal asked him how he was feeling.

"I'm much better now," Sephiroth replied, his smile all teeth with not an ounce of sincerity. "I know how to cure myself now."

Genesis and Angeal were skeptical.

"How?" Genesis asked.

"My mother has the cure," Sephiroth said. "I’m going to see her in Nibelheim."

[babygirl-diaz]

Omg omg hear me out, omega tommy who ends up at the hospital after a rescue just to learn he's 5-6 weeks pregnant.

Doctor: Hi mr Kinard. I'm dr [insert last name]. I suppose you are tommy's alpha?

Buck: yeah

Doctor looking back at tommy: Well there's nothing to worry. You are both in good health.

Tommy: what do you mean both?

Doctor: you and your child!

Tommy and Buck at the same time: WHAT?

Okay, this is like super cute! I can totally imagine it. My hand slipped again and I wrote it as a little drabble!

***

Buck paced the emergency room like a caged animal. He threw Tommy an annoyed look when he heard the omega laughing.

"Baby, you keep doing that and the doctor will never come in here," Tommy told him

"I'm not doing anything," Buck huffed. "What's taking them so long?"

Buck heard Tommy sigh. He then got off the examination table and came over to Buck, taking his face between his hands. "Baby, I know you're worried but I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Buck told him. "You fainted at work, Tommy. What if you were in the middle of a flight? Wh- what would have happened then?" He shuddered at the thought.

"But I didn't!" Tommy replied. "I was safe and sound at the base."

"Then explain why you fainted?" Buck asked in an accusatory tone and pulled away from him.

"I can't explain that but that's why we're here, remember?" Tommy asked him gently. "We're gonna find out soon enough. They've done all the tests. We just need to be patient."

"Well, I can't be," Buck replied. "Not where you are involved. If they don't come here in the next 2 minutes, I'm gonna go full alpha on them!" He said flashing his eyes gold.

Tommy was unphased by that and rolled his eyes instead. "Yes, because that's gonna end well and will definitely not get us kicked out."

As soon as Tommy said that, there was a knock on the door, and soon a young woman dressed in a lab coat entered the room.

"Sorry for the wait," she apologized. "I am Dr. Deshmukh. Which one of you is Tommy?"

"That would be me," Tommy replied and went to sit down on the examination table again.

"And I take it you're Mr. Kinard's alpha?" Dr. Deshmukh asked looking at Buck.

"Yeah, Evan Buckley," Buck replied and went by Tommy's side, taking his hand. "Is he okay? What do the test results say?"

Dr. Deshmukh looked over at Tommy and said, "Well, all your test results came back negative," she added flipping through the chart. "Both of you are perfectly fine. Things like fainting are quite common at times like this-"

"What do you mean at times like these?" Buck asked, taken aback by her statement.

"What do you mean both of you?" Tommy asked and Buck realized he had missed that part.

"Uh... You and your child?" Dr. Deshmukh replied. "You do know you're 6 weeks pregnant, right?"

"WHAT?!" Buck and Tommy yelled at the same time and looked at each other.

"Ohhh... You didn't know that," Dr. Deshmukh suddenly looked very apologetic. "That was probably a horrible way to break the news to you."

Buck wanted to say "No shit" but he was freaking the fuck out and couldn't form any sentences.

"Evan, you okay?" Tommy asked and Buck felt a hand on his arm.

Buck looked over at him horrified and nodded slowly. "Y- yeah."

"Hey doc, do you mind giving us a minute?" Tommy asked Dr. Deshmukh.

"Oh yes, of course. I'll be right outside," Dr. Deshmukh replied and left.

"Evan, now tell me. Are you okay?" Tommy asked him again. "Look, I know you and I we- we never really talked about babies but- but I really want one."

"Only one?" Buck asked with a serious face but then smirked at his omega.

"Wait... You're not upset that we're having a baby?" Tommy asked and looked much more relieved.

"Of course not, silly," Buck replied. "I am ecstatic! We're having a baby!"

Tommy laughed and nodded, "Yes, we are!" He put his hands on Buck's cheeks, pulled him close, and kissed him.

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

10 Seconds to Remember

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Summary: When Payback gave him to the Russian like he was only a lab rat to be tortured and tested on, it wasn’t the worst they did. They also killed the love of his life right in front of his eyes. Now that he’s back, Soldier Boy is more than ready for revenge. Everything goes according to plan until he meets you again.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x GN!Reader

Word Count: 4137

Warning: lots of angst, slight graphic violence, feels, memory loss

Rating: everyone

A/n: So it’s been a while, i’ve been so busy!! With Comiccon coming and my panel to write and plan, and work being hell... Anyway, this was requested by an anon, I don’t know if they are still around cause it’s been more than a year, but here you go!

It’d been a couple of weeks since he was freed, but it still felt like he was there.

Only weeks since he was freed from his personal hell, left Russia and joined The Boys.

And they had a deal. He would kill Homelander for them if they helped him find his old team that betrayed him. They put him there in the first place, they gave him to the Russians like some sort of rat they could experience on. But that wasn’t the worst Payback did.

He could still hear them. The screams. They were haunting his nights, they haunted him when he was frozen for so many years in that box, and now that he was awake… It was even worse.

He couldn’t even remember who those screams belonged to. He remembered the pain he felt when he saw it happen. He remembered the red filling his sight when the hands destroyed the only person he ever loved. He remembered the bones breaking like fragile branches.

He remembered now. The screams were his as he was forced to watch you be tortured.

You couldn’t possibly speak when it happened, not with all the blood flowing through your mouth as Black Noir hit you in the guts. You couldn’t even make a sound when Crimson Countess broke your bones one by one. All you could do was look at him and hope he wouldn't get the same faith.

It was with the last remaining forces that you did it. As life slowly got ripped apart from you, your lips parted and formed silent words. 

Close your eyes, count to ten.

That was before he was sent to Russia. His team killed you before they attacked him and placed a mask over his mouth that sent him into a deep sleep. He always thought it was to anger him that they killed you first. Because even he, Soldier Boy, was unable to think correctly under a strong wave of rage. And it worked.

Turned out, seeing the love of his life getting brutally killed in front of him was traumatizing enough to leave a mark.

Weeks had gone by and so far, Soldier Boy had managed to get revenge on the Countess and the TNT Twins. He thought it would relieve some of his pain, to kill those who took away his love and betrayed him. But the more he slaughtered and let himself go to his rage, the more anger was added inside of him. Like a boiling tornado, it kept expanding inside of his chest, burning painfully. And when it exploded…

It destroyed everything around him.

Finding Mindstorm was harder and longer than planned, so of course, Soldier Boy was getting frustrated. It was not going like he wanted. There was no time to lose there, he thought Butcher and the other nerd could help him for fuck sake. Stuck in too much anger, he decided it was enough and left the house he was supposed to stay in to wander into the city.

There were not many clothes he could wear out without attracting attention, so he had to borrow some from the bearded guy. Even then, everything ran small, so he was left with only one choice… It wasn’t too bad, but still, Soldier Boy cringed more than once at the Hawaiian shirt he had to wear as he walked through the quiet roads of the city. He was still complaining about it when he suddenly stopped dead in tracks. 

Stuck in the middle of the road, he stayed motionless. Some people complained he was blocking the path, but he didn’t move. Something here… seemed familiar. A scent, a feeling, the sight of something from the corner of his eyes…

Soldier Boy blinked. Once, twice, then closed his eyes and pressed his fingers on his lids hard enough to see colors appearing. He counted to 10 and breathed slowly. And when he opened them, it was like he was back in time.

People were walking around him, all wearing more formal clothes. Old, beautiful cars were parked on either side of the road. And to his right, a shop. There was a big bay window up front so he could easily see inside. It was filled with even older things, books, mostly. And in the middle of all that history and paper, there was you.

Soldier Boy blinked again, getting back to the present. Impatient people were complaining to him. Ugly cars took all the place on the damaged road. It wasn’t the same anymore, not after all the years he lost. Time had ruined everything, ate the vegetation, destroyed life itself. But when he turned his head to look at where you used to work…

His breath caught in his throat. It had to be a dream. Soldier Boy turned his body completely towards the shop, and without him controlling his limbs, walked inside. The bell chimed when he opened the door, announcing a new customer.

And with the brightest smile, the person behind the counter welcomed him.

“Hello! Welcome. Please, take a look around. I’m here if you have any questions!”

If he wasn’t so steady and strong, Ben would have fallen to his knees. He could feel his legs shaking as he walked closer to the counter where you were.

It was like time had no reach to the shop. It was the same as what he remembered. The outside was ruined by time and human choices, but the inside…

It felt warm. Cozy. Comfortable. The smell of old paper reigned there, it was almost overwhelming, but he knew it didn’t bother you. There were so many books on the shelves, piled on the tables and stacked in boxes that it was impossible to count them all. Behind the glass at the entrance, old newspaper, comic books, furniture and typewriters. Even the cash register was old school.

And then, there was you.

“Y/n…?”

If he had doubts this was real, Soldier Boy had the confirmation when you turned your head to the sound of your name. And when he saw what you were wearing around your neck, the last doubt left his mind.

“Yes? How do you know my name?”

Pain.

Simply.

His visions got blurred, his head spinning.

Hope pressed down heavily in his guts when you said those words. Gravity pushed down on his whole body, he felt crushed under it, like every single one of his bones were breaking, unable to support him anymore.

And inside of him, his heart was shattering in a thousand pieces.

You clearly didn’t remember him… If it was really you.

He had so many questions, so many thoughts running through his head. Doubts. He wanted to scream at you to tell the truth. What was going on? What happened? How was this possible? 

Was it really you?

But nothing.

His mouth opened, but only silence could be heard. It was the first time Soldier Boy felt inevitably weak. He felt desperately human. Ben felt powerless.

“Can I help you?” You worried, walking around the counter to stop right next to him. Green eyes followed your movements to finally dive into your gaze. God, he always loved your eyes. They were so pretty and filled with raw emotions, you could never hide how you were truly feeling. And right now, your brows slightly raised as you kept staring at him told him how worried and anxious you were. But it was when you gently placed your hand on his shoulder that he truly broke.

“You don’t remember me?” He asked and hated how his voice shook with every word he uttered.

Worry turned into confusion in your eyes. “Sorry… I get a lot of customers, even though recently I have quite a really good memory.” You shrugged and smiled. The way your lips curled up, trying to cheer him up, comfort him, it sent another painful memory in Ben’s guts. “I don’t think I saw you before. What’s your name?”

Ben slowly took a step back, even if all he wanted was to get impossibly closer to you. Take you in his arms and squeeze you until you remember him. It had to be you. There was no doubt in his mind. At first, he thought that maybe you were one of Y/n’s grandchildren and just happened to look exactly like the one he lost. But there were too many similarities. How you styled your hair was the same. The way you spoke. The little moles were even at the same spots. And your eyes. They couldn’t lie. You were an open book.

And there was the pendant around your neck.

“Ben,” he said simply. If he thought hearing his name would bring back some sense into you, another sharp pain pierced his chest when you only nodded and politely smiled. “It’s Ben, don’t you remember? Ben, Soldier Boy!” 

It had to happen one way or another. There were simply too many emotions running through him, it was bound to spiral out of control. Pain caused sadness and in sadness, Soldier Boy always turned to anger. That was the reason he avoided anything that could remind him of you. So of course, when no matter what he did, you still couldn’t remember him, he turned to anger. 

This was all a set up. And he was out of patience.

Two steps and he was right in front of you, both his hands on your shoulders. His voice raised when he spoke the next words, shaking you under his strong hold. Asking questions one after the other that would make everyone looking at the scene think he was losing his mind. 

It took only one sound from you to stop him. As quickly as anger exploded inside of him, the fire died. The smallest whimper of pain reached his ears and he was back behind the wheel. 

He was hurting you.

“Fuck, shit,” he muttered, taking a step back, immediately releasing you. Your head was down, your gaze avoiding his. But even if you were not looking at him, he knew, he could feel the pain and the tears running down your cheeks like the water was on his skin. “Hey, hey, Y/n, please, don’t cry, I- I’m sorry,” he tried to get closer again, he couldn’t let you cry, he couldn’t support it, but the moment he tried to approach you, you flinched.

“Please, leave…”

Your voice was barely a whisper. Shaking. Scared. You were so scared. Of him.

His heart broke even more. Never before did he hurt you. He could kill thousands of people in the war. Torture the enemy for information. But see you in pain? See you cry? Be the reason behind your tears?

“It’s okay, Y/n, please. It’s okay. Close your eyes.”

It got out on its own. He didn’t know why, but it felt like the right thing to say. The last thing you told him, not even with words, before you died. 

It was always a comfort for him somehow, when he felt like it was the end… When he felt like he was losing control. He closed his eyes and counted.

“What?”

He thought you wouldn’t listen to him anymore, not after what he did. But to his surprise, you were receptive to his words.

“Close your eyes. Count to 10.”

When Ben did this, it always had the same effect. When he opened his eyes after counting to 10, he remembered. Remembered your words, your face, how to breathe, and immediately felt better. Calmer. Even back in Russia, even after the torture, if he closed his eyes and counted to 10, hell seemed a bit more bearable.

Ben didn’t think you would do it. But you did, closed your eyes and counted to 10 slowly, taking a deep breath to every number you murmured.

When you opened your eyes, it was like an entirely different person was in front of him. You had the same bright beautiful eyes, but now, they were shining with something new. Something different. Something he hoped he would see the moment he saw you in the shop.

“Oh my god…”

You recognized him.

“Ben!”

It didn’t even take a second for you to jump in his arms and hug him like tomorrow would never come. You held him tight, close to you, your feet not even touching the floor, and Ben held you as tight as possible. The embrace was strong, but he controlled his strength. He refused to hurt you again.

“Thank God,” Ben muttered, half laughing half crying. It was the one and only time he would ever allow himself to cry. No tears were shed when he lost you, or all those years he got tortured. But now that he had you again, he could let himself go to his emotions. “I thought I lost you.”

“I thought I lost you too, I-” Even if all he wanted was to keep you close to him, you stepped back to look at him. Both hands on his cheeks, you detailed his features. “You haven’t changed, haven’t aged-”

“You neither,” Ben frowned as he caressed your face as well. “Y/n… You have to tell me, is it really you? This isn’t a dream or a trick, right?” Just thinking about it had his hands clenched and you could feel him tense.

“It’s…” You smiled, tears flowing down your cheeks as well. “Quite the long story actually, I uhm…” Looking around, noticing there was no customer inside, you quickly walked to the door to lock it and turn the sign to closed. Then, you walked back to Ben, took his hand and dragged him to the back of the store to the break room where there was a couch. 

Ben sat down next to you, not letting go of your hand. “I have all the time in the world,” he said. He had to know. Now. “I thought you were dead, Y/n…”

You sighed. “I was.” Ben tensed once again so you placed your other hand on his. “They killed me. Or thought I was dead. But I wasn’t. It was Black Noir’s idea.” Like a movie was playing behind your lids, you closed your eyes and started shaking slightly. “58 minutes later, when everyone was gone, including you, he brought me to Vought to the last floor. Begged Stan Edgar to do something. Though… Black Noir wasn’t talking, something was wrong with his face. It was burnt and bleeding.” Opening your eyes, you looked at him and smiled again. “Looks like you got him good…”

“How…” Ben sniffled and tilted his head, frowning. He knew that part, he lived it. He remembered it. But with that much detail? “How do you remember so clearly…”

He watched you reach out to your necklace and held it tightly. The rest was harder to say, he could feel it. “They gave me Compound V.” You stopped for a couple of seconds to let the words go through his brain and glanced to watch his reaction. Ben was not moving, like he had doubts that was how you made it without aging. He wasn’t surprised and was waiting for you to continue. “It saved me, but I was in a coma for 10 years. When I woke up, they did a bunch of tests on me and concluded that besides not aging, I had no powers so they let me go.” At that, you chuckled sarcastically. “They were wrong.”

Ben nodded, encouraging you to continue. You removed your necklace and placed it in the palm of his hand. 

“This is…” He started as you incited him to open the pendant. A picture of you in black and white on the left side was smiling at him. On the right side, a picture of him with his suit and helmet on.

“I wandered a lot, went almost everywhere. I couldn’t stay too long at one place after all, it's kind of weird to see your neighbor not aging. But in the end, I… Finished my journey back here.” You looked at the place with a sad smile. “It was familiar, and I felt safe, so I stayed. I started to read more and more and ended up noticing something… Weird. I could clearly remember everything that I read, heard or saw. I had the perfect memory. Could learn languages in one sitting. Don’t know how to cook? No problem. Give me 20 minutes. My brain has an insane facility to learn anything… That was the power Compound V gave me.”

“But if you have a good memory, why didn’t you remember me?”

Everything you said so far made sense. The way you remembered everything so clearly. Why you haven't aged. The necklace he gave you back then, necklace you still had. But there were still so many questions left…

Sadness filled up your eyes even more and you sighed. “I have a super memory, but I have a normal brain capacity… I started forgetting more and more memories of my past. I thought it was normal, but I was only in denial. The morning I woke up and forgot you was the day I knew something was wrong.” You offered him a sad smile. “I could never forget my love…” You took back the pendant and closed it. “I went to Vought and they declared it was not their problem. Side effects of a superpower are not unknown after all, and there was nothing to do. The memories I made everyday would end up burying the oldest ones I have. After that day, I decided to wear the necklace all the time and write in a journal what I did during those days. But then, I forgot I had a journal. And I forgot you.”

Ben clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. His hatred for Vought only grew then. They gave you those powers, and when you asked for help, they shrugged it off, not our problem? Anger was building up inside of him, he could feel his insides heating up painfully, rage was overtaking him. But then, a soft touch. Warmth on his skin. Calm voice speaking words.

“Open your eyes,” you asked and he obeyed immediately. Green eyes got lost in yours as he remembered that the last thing you told him was to close his eyes. Like somehow, everything had come full circle. “You’re there now. If you stay, I won’t ever forget you.” A bright smile was now on your lips, it was so warm, all he wanted to do was snuggle against you and live through your smile. “And I sure won’t forget that ugly Hawaiian shirt,” you laughed.

God, he missed your laugh.

Ben wanted to say yes. God, he was about to say yes, stay with you here forever, but you mentioned the shirt he was wearing. Butcher’s. And the whole reason for his presence came back to him.

“I have something to do before,” he said, taking your hands in his to kiss it softly. 

Panic quickly rose on your face. “Wait, no, please, stay?” You seemed pressed, like time was running out.

“It’ll be quick, I promise. I’ll be back before you notice I'm gone.” Ben smiled to reassure you and then got back on his feet. He could do it. Finish what he started, kill the remaining member of his team and then Homelander, and be back here before dinner. He could do it. 

Soldier Boy was so sure of himself when he said his goodbye, kissing you softly on the lips, that he didn’t notice the sheer terror on your face. But it was too late, he was already gone. 

-

Only 3 days had passed.

It was so short.

It happened so fast.

When he came back to the headquarters, they had found Mindstorm’s location. The fight was not easy, the skinny guy tried to save him, but at the end, Soldier Boy had his head. Then, it was Black Noir. The moment he entered the Seven’s tower, he knew something had happened. 

Black Noir was already dead.

Too bad.

Then, there was Homelander. That turned out to be harder than planned, but with Butcher’s new power and Maeve’s help, they did it. They exploded a whole floor in the process, but they got him.

Homelander was no more.

A lot happened in those three days, but for him, it happened so fast it was like he left for 3 hours. 

Once everything was settled, Soldier Boy ran back to your store. He didn’t even bother changing, he bursted through the door in full uniform, ignoring everyone staring at him and asking him for pictures and autographs. 

Scanning through the shop, he searched for you. You were not behind the counter, so he checked in every corner of the book store. Then, he headed to the back, the place where you told him everything that had happened to you. 

“Y/n!” 

As he opened the door, he knew you would be there. Turning your head towards him, you smiled.

“Y/n, I’m back, like I promised. I’m there. I did it.”

Your smile grew bigger on your lips, your eyes shining with so much light, it felt warm inside of him again.

He felt alive.

“Oh my god, is it really true?”

Soldier Boy nodded, a smile as bright as yours on his lips. “Yeah! Like I said.”

“Is it really you, you’re Soldier Boy!”

Wait.

Wait no.

No.

His smile stayed on. But inside, he was screaming.

“No, I mean yes,” he stepped closer to you, watching your face filled with joy. But even if everything told him the real reason why you were so in awe and happy to see him, he refused to believe it. “Y/n… I…Close your eyes.”

Giggling, you put your book on the couch, stood up and did as he said.

“Count to ten.”

Please.

It had to work.

Counting out loud, your smile stayed on.

“Now, open your eyes.”

It worked last time. It worked. You remembered him after all these years. Even if your memory was very bad right now, that your power was eating your past, it'd only been 3 days. 

Your beautiful eyes met his sad gaze again.

He knew without you saying a word.

There was no glint. No shine. Nothing except the excitement of meeting a hero… for the first time. And around your neck, the pendant was missing.

You even forgot to put it on.

“So, do I win something?” 

The earth itself couldn’t support his weight and he had to sit down. Ben sat down on the couch, placing his face against his hands. Trying to hide. Trying to go back in time. Now, he could see it. Could remember it. The panic you had when he told you he was leaving. You were scared, scared to forget him. 

Ben looked down. Defeated. His hands gripped his hair hard and he cursed himself. Why did he leave? Why?! Now it was too late!

As he stared at the floor, something caught his eyes. Reaching down, he cupped the object in his palm and stared.

The pendant.

“Is everything okay?”

Your voice was the same.

You were the same.

The one he lost.

The one that forgot him.

And now, it was too late.

“I saw you on TV, you’re the new leader of the Seven, right? It must be so hard working for Vought.”

Even if you didn’t remember him, you were still so kind. Considerate. You had a hero in front of you and were more concerned about his well being than a fucking picture or an autograph.

“Yeah. Working for Vought is not easy,” he replied, staring absentmindedly at the necklace.

You sat down next to him. “I’m sorry you feel that way. Having a job you don’t like really sucks. I hope that, as the new leader, you’ll be able to find yourself a reason to keep going. And maybe help a lot of people, who knows?”

To that, Soldier Boy could only nod.

“I am the new leader, yeah. And changes need to be done.”

Just like that, the hero got up and left. Something slipped from his gloved hand and fell on the floor. As you picked it up, you tried to catch up to him, but he was already gone. “Damn it,” you muttered and looked at the pendant. Curious, you opened it and looked at the two pictures inside of it. You slowly caressed the picture to the left. “It was probably very important to him… Someone he really loved.”

You kept the pendant and placed it around your neck. Maybe one day, the hero would come back and you could give it back to him.

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245​ @b3autyfuldisast3r-blog​ @eevvvaa​ @fictional-affairs​ @wickedinspirations​ @awkward-and-indecisive​  @peachyaliien​ @katbratsupernaturalwhore​  

Soldier Boy Taglist: @akshi8278​

[spider-man-199999]

No need to hide it pt 2

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader; Post nwh; not too canon

word count: 6,4 K

warnings: underage drinking for USA citizens; mentions of sex

summary: Peter thought no one remembered him after the spell, however you did, but not for the reasons he was afraid you would. Now that you two are something like an item, you find out about his secret.

a/n: very cheesy, fluffy things going on here.

Part1!

“Hi, stranger.” You said as you entered the lab, looking at a very concentrated Peter in a lab coat and glasses, looking at something on the table. 

Out of all the places you expected him to be at 10 pm on a Wednesday night, the lab was the last one. You made your way to him, wrapping your arms around his waist to hug him from behind, your head peeking over his shoulder to look at what he was doing. He had an open notebook with chemical compounds scribbles chaotically all over the pages. It wasn’t something unusual really, to have Peter stay after class so he could do extra work in the lab. He seemed to like it. It started a few weeks ago, after you passed your first exams. He told you he needed some extra time to work on a project of his and managed to persuade the professor into letting him use the lab after classes were done. You had no idea how he did that, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, it was better than having to worry whether he was flirting with other girls at parties or not.

“Hi, dove.” he replied once you hugged him, still looking at the notebook and flipping the pages. 

“Did you just call me a pigeon?”

He shrugged, taking a few tubes and some chemicals from the rack. He gave the notebook one more look before he started mixing things in the tubes. 

“What are you making?” you asked, letting go of him and reading into the notebook with more concentration this time. 

The formulas he had written there were something you had never seen before, whatever this was, it was supposed to be something like a superglue that could dissolve completely after a certain period of time. You furrowed your brows, not sure you were getting the compounds and processes right. Chemistry was definitely not your strongest subject so you weren’t too confident in what you understood.

“Just experimenting.” He replied, mixing the white goo in a tube. 

“Why would you need a temporary super-glue?” you asked him, making him stop his mixing. 

“You could read that?”

“Well your handwriting sure didn’t make it easy but yeah, I can. Why?”

“Just asking.” He continued mixing until the goo was thick enough for his liking. He poured it into a container and shoved it in his backpack. 

“You’re being weird.” You told him, sitting on top of the table as you watched his movements.

He looked at you, taking the glasses off and getting closer. He stood in front of you, his hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer, placing a peck on your lips. 

“Right, sorry. I was too concentrated to register that the most beautiful girl was in the room.” He said.

“I was waiting for you at the party.” You mumbled against his chest. 

It was true, with most of the finals being over and spring break right around the corner, the whole campus was partying. Every frat house was going at it. You definitely partied more than he did, and neither of you minded that as long as you came home to him. Most of the time you would actually text him to pick you up, which he did happily. But tonight he promised to be there for the whole night, which was a pretty rare occasion.

“I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?” He asked, letting go of you.

You shrugged, looking at his worried eyes. You smiled at him, your hand resting against his upper arm, squeezing his biceps through the fabric of the lab coat and his flannel.

“Taking me to one of your boxing workouts is one of the things on my bucket list.” You teased him. 

“Okay, how does next friday sound?” he asked, kissing your cheek.

“Wait really? I was prepared to have to blackmail you and whine for 15 minutes before you said yes. I had a whole scenario.”

“Anything for you, you know that.” Peter said, taking his lab coat and hanging it back on the rack. 

The boxing was actually a white lie he told you weeks ago. He took a pretty rough beating one night, it was his first ever encounter with Kraven the Hunter as Spider-man and things didn’t go exactly to plan. He came back with a black eye, sprained wrist, and multiple bruises and cuts pretty much everywhere on his body. As the panic rushed in his brain when he saw your shocked and worried face, he had to think of something fast. That’s when it just happened, the words just left his lips like it was the most natural, most logical explanation to his state. Anything felt like a better idea than telling you about his secret identity. He hated lying, especially to someone who he grew so attached to, who he even dared to say he started loving. It was for a good cause, or at least that’s what he liked telling himself late at night when he stared out of the window, not being able to sleep because the spider mask, casually thrown on the back of his office chair, was staring back at him.

—-

He walked you back to your dorm, making sure you got home safe and you weren’t locked out like every other day. The second you were out of sight, he was googling “boxing gyms near me” and researching them as he walked home. It was a vicious circle of lying and covering up his tracks in front of you and his roommates. He didn’t want either of you knowing about his secret. It was something he had vowed to himself - to not mix the two lives together ever again. The boxing lie was convenient enough for him to keep it up, if you were to call him when he was on patrol he would just say he’s training. If he ever came back with bruises, he could blame it on a bad sparring session. It was working out perfectly. And now he just had to make it real. He already knew how to fight, obviously, and he had the needed reflexes to take on anyone on an average spar, he just needed to find a gym, go there for a week straight and get to know as many people as he could, and make it seem like he was a regular there in front of you. Sounded simple enough. 

“How do I always end up in the most ridiculous schemes?” he muttered to himself as he unlocked the front door of his shared apartment, walking in, eyes still fixated on the glowing screen. No one was in the apartment, the guys were probably still at the party that Peter had managed to conveniently avoid tonight. He was too busy for them anyway, he only went because he didn’t want you to be there on your own. 

Now that he was alone in the whole superhero business, he had to figure out a way to enhance the web fluid and somehow manage to make as much of it to last him a month, preferably. He liked the formula he had originally come up with, it was simple and easy to make, but he felt like it could be improved. Him and Tony had talked about upgrading it for a long time before but never managed to get to it. He had to figure it out on his own, along with his personal life and his studying. It was starting to get a bit overwhelming. At least he wasn’t alone socially, he had a wonderful girl that shared his feelings, roommates that were like his brothers and enough acquaintances to have someone to talk to in all his classes. 

Peter threw himself on the bed, screenshotting a gym he liked enough to try out tomorrow and fell asleep, still in his clothes.

—-

It was Tuesday night the next week. Peter had been training hard in the gym, socializing, staying late in the lab. It was so hard to get a hold of him in the past few days that you felt like he was purposely avoiding you. He still hadn’t told you what he was doing so late in the lab, no matter how much you asked. You just wanted to hang around with him, watching him work. You enjoyed looking at him like that, concentrated, his brows furrowed in confusion, pacing around nervously while he was thinking, fingers going through his hair. It was entertaining but up to a point, though. And boredom had pushed you into trying experiments of your own. Since you didn’t really know what to do in particular, you opened the textbooks for your shared chemistry class and just started ahead with the material. Upside to this was that Peter was always there to help you just so you wouldn’t kill yourself by mismeasuring. Downside was that Peter was there to see you fail.

You trying to do your own work made him really happy. He always believed more in your skills than you ever did yourself and he knew that putting in extra hours would give you a massive boost in confidence. But micromanaging you along with trying to develop a new web fluid formula was stressing him out. He loved spending time with you and helping you, but constantly worrying about you accidentally burning your skin off with chemicals and him not being able to do anything about it was freaking him out.

“Babe?” He said, his weight rested on his arms he stared at you across the table. “Come over for a second, please.”

“Since when do you call me “babe”?” You asked, taking off the glasses, looking at him. Was he bulkier than before? You could see the outline of his arms through his lab coat. 

“Since now. Why are you always displeased with the pet names I call you?”

“Because you pick the funniest pet names out there, first it was pigeon, now it’s a baby.” you giggled, going around the table to get to him. He placed an arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest.

“Okay, I’ll call you my little spider then.”

“Spider? It got even worse!”

He laughed, resting his chin on top of your head. 

“Hmmmm, what do you want me to call you then?”

“I don’t know…” you said, thinking about it for a second. Your heart started pounding in your chest. You knew exactly what you wanted him to call you - his girlfriend, but you weren’t sure you had enough courage to say it. It had been months since you started “dating” but he never officially called you his. 

“Actually “babe” is fine, kind of generic but I don’t hate it.”

“Glad that’s out of the way then. Would you mind grabbing us something to drink? I’m kind of thirsty.” He asked, reaching for his back pocket and giving you his wallet. 

“You’re going to send me alone at night to get you a drink?” you asked, fake shocked to tease him.

“I’m literally sending you to the vending machine outside of the door.”

“Fair enough. What do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

You nodded, heading out to the vending machine outside to get something to drink. It bought Peter just enough time to jog over to your side of the table and switch out the acid you were about to use in your work with the one you were actually supposed to use. He wasn’t sure this was the right way to go about this situation, he knew how upset you got whenever he corrected your mistakes. He also didn’t want the liquid to overflow too rapidly for you to comprehend and burn you, which was exactly what was going to happen. Once he made sure things were in order, he went back to his own notebook, flipping through the pages for the millionth time. You walked back with two iced teas, one with lemon for you and one with peaches for him. You placed the bottles next to him so he could open the two of them.

“Thank you.” He kissed your cheek, taking a sip from the iced tea. He wasn’t that thirsty really, but he had to go along with it. 

“How’s the research going?” you asked, sitting on the table with a small jump. 

“Could be better honestly.” he replied, closing the notebook and turning to you. 

You smiled at him, your hand resting on his shoulder and squeezing it softly to encourage him. He placed his opposite hand on top of yours, holding it gently as he looked at you. 

“How are you so pretty, seriously?” he asked out of the blue, making you blush with the words. 

“I’ve already told you, braces, accutane and nicely shaped eyebrows.” 

He walked up to stand in front of you, taking his gloves off. You smiled at him, your own hands wrapping around his neck. Peter kissed you, his hands resting on your hips, pulling you closer. One hand dug into his hair, the other was gently stroking the back of his neck. His lips danced with yours, making you forget about everything else around the two of you. 

“We should go home, it’s late.” He said after the kiss.

“But I haven’t finished!” You whined, your hands resting on his shoulders while he looked at you. 

Peter seemed tired, like he hadn’t gotten much sleep lately. His shoulders felt tense under your touch, his eyes had this tired gaze that lazily traced the features on your face, trying to read your expression. His hair was really messy now, which made you reach out to fix it for him. 

“Okay. Finish up and we can go rest.” 

You nodded, jumping off the table and making your way to your corner of the table. Things went surprisingly smooth with your experiment, which seemed somewhat suspicious at first but you chose to ignore it. You were too happy and proud of yourself to really question it. 

—-

You had never been to a boxing gym before. A regular one? Sure, hundreds of times, but never a one specifically designed for boxing. Everything seemed so amusing and interesting, your attention was constantly shifting from the boxing bag, to the ring, to someone doing the ropes. Your head and eyes were moving so fast you could hurt your neck. And then your eyes fell on Peter. It made you freeze on the spot, staring at him. You just had to stare. He had just walked out of the dressing room, wearing shorts and a plain black t-shirt. His hands were wrapped. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, making his way over. You gulped as you made eye contact, the blood rushing into your cheeks. You just couldn’t take your eyes off of him. It felt like that one scene from movies in which the girl is standing on top of the stairs with a gorgeous dress on and the male lead finally realizes how in love with her he is. Except Peter was the pretty girl this time. Someone walked past you, you didn’t even notice until the person gave Peter a fist bump. The two of them shared a laugh, the other guy looking at you and nodding his head.

“I think the chick just fell in love with you.” He laughed, making Peter laugh as well. 

You snapped out of your trance, like drooling over Peter wasn’t embarrassing enough already, you had to be called out on it. Your head shot down in shame, looking at your trainers. A dumb smile was spread across Peter’s face while he looked at you fidget nervously under their gaze. He patted the other guy’s shoulder, sending him off as he finally made it over to you, pulling you in a hug. 

“How do you like it here?” he asked you as you took the opportunity to hide your flustered face in his neck.

“I’ve been here for 10 minutes and people are just now starting to make fun of me. By my standards it’s good.” you told him, a soft sigh escaping your lips. Peter laughed with your comment, patting the top of your head.

“I didn’t hate what he said.” He admitted.

“Of course you wouldn’t.” You rolled your eyes. He wasn’t the one who got caught staring, he wasn’t the one humiliated by someone random. 

“Come on, I brought some extra wrist wraps for you.”

“Wait. I’m training too?”

“Well, obviously, why else did you come? To stare?”

“Actually…”

He laughed again, taking your hand and leading you to the nearest bench. He pulled the wrist wraps from his shorts’ pocket, carefully wrapping your hands in them. You observed every motion, the way the fabric was sliding along his fingers, how his hands moved. Like he had done this a million times before. Or at least it seemed that way. He hadn’t. But patching himself up after a bad fight had given him enough experience to make it seem like he was a pro. After he was done he got up, offering you his hand. You took it, letting him lead the way to a corner where the two of you could train in peace. He greeted a few people here and there, still holding your hand.

“I’m going to show you some basic moves.” He started, standing in front of you at a safe distance. “This is your guard. Your hands need to be like this at all times. It’s for protection.”

You nodded, trying to copy what he was showing you. It wasn’t too hard to do, but watching him was making it hard to fully concentrate. 

You spent a good portion of time going over the basic punches, he even gave you a pair of gloves and made you spar with him. The workout had absolutely drained your energy, 30 minutes in and you couldn’t breathe, your legs felt like they couldn’t carry you anymore. Most of your fitness was usually morning jogs a few times a week, if you weren’t too busy with studying or sleeping over at Peter’s. You weren’t completely out of shape, but “fit” was definitely not a word you would confidently describe yourself as. You sat down on a bench, Peter helping you take your gloves off. 

“I thought the whole point of this was to watch you train, not torture me.” You said as you were unwrapping your hands. Peter was drinking from his water bottle, sat next to you. He bumped his shoulder into yours, smiling. 

“Don’t you do enough Parker-watching in the lab already?”

It made you blush and turn your head away. Truthfully, you had been “Parker-watching” since you started high school and it still wasn’t enough. You started to wonder when exactly you had  transformed into this clingy little girl, drooling over him.

“Yo, Pete! Ready for a rematch? I can’t believe the way you kicked my ass last time, I’m taking you down today, tough guy.” Someone from across the room was shouting. 

Peter got up, placing one hand with a glove on your shoulder. You looked up at him, he hadn’t even sweat yet, perfect. Your head turned to look at the other guy, slightly taller than Peter, light hair and brown eyes. He was lean, wearing a black snapback, no top, black shorts. You thought he looked like the perfect visualization of a frat guy - tall, sporty and handsome, probably arrogant too. 

“You wanted to see me work out, right?”

You nodded, looking back at Peter.

“Then you have to cheer for me extra hard.”

“That’s a little bit cringe but sure, whatever gets you going…”

The guy came up to the two of you, brofisting Peter and then offering you a hand. 

“Harry, nice to meet you.”

“Y\N.” 

—

You were on your toes the whole time they fought. You stood by the ring, holding your breath whenever a punch was thrown in Peter’s direction. He was undeniably hot with the tight fitting clothes, his curls falling on his face. Being short has its advantages, he was way faster than the guy, he even avoided some punches you were absolutely certain would land, knock him out even. But your boy was like lightning on that ring, he was like a professional. Harry was sweating, running after him, very obviously trying his hardest to hit him, but he just couldn’t. It was impressive, to say the least. 

“Come on bro, I’m still warming up.” Peter teased him 15 minutes into the spar. 

“Parker, how are you even doing this?”

Peter laughed, his guard still up, he was jumping in front of him like the characters in mortal kombat did. Harry tried punching him again, Peter dodged and went for the ribs. He hit. Harry was on the floor, gasping for air.

“Oh, god, are you alright?” Peter panicked, he got on his knees next to his friend, taking his gloves off to help him. You climbed onto the ring as well, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder who was laying on the floor, his arms across his chest. You looked at Peter and he looked back, terrified. “This happens all the time, right?” you asked, as Harry curled up in a ball. “He’s okay, right?”

“Fucking show off.” Harry laughed, but the laugh hurt him even more and soon he was in agony again. 

—

“I can’t believe this happened.” You said, sitting next to Peter on the stairs in front of the ER.

You had bought an ice cream sandwich and broke it in half, giving him the half that was your favorite, his as well, but you thought he needed it more tonight.

“He’s fine, nothing is wrong with him.” You told Peter, who was blankly staring at his feet, holding the ice cream in his hand and not eating it. “They gave him an x-ray, nothing is broken, he just never took a beating before.”

“I wasn’t even going hard on him..” He mumbled. 

You were eating the sandwich, not worried about Harry at all. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Harry is completely fine, he’ll be out in a minute.” You told him, kissing his cheek. “I don’t know what is going on in that pretty head of yours, but whatever it is, I assure you it's wrong.”

He nodded at your words, finally eating from his ice cream. He didn’t know how you managed to do this, but whenever he felt like this, whenever it got really bad in his head, you managed to pull him right out. Maybe it was how cheerful you were around him, and how you made him feel like you could figure it out together. You would get anxious and worried in most situations too, but somehow you made him feel like as long as the two of you were together, you could figure it out. It always brought him back to the night you called him drunk and crying because you got locked out of your dorm room. You were a whole anxious mess, begging him to save you and once he was there you just calmed down. Like you knew he was really there to save you. Peter felt like the world’s most important hero that night, even more than the times he was Spider-man.

You rested your head on his shoulder, finishing up your piece of the ice cream sandwich. You let him sit like that in silence, which was odd to you because your memories of Peter from high school were in many ways completely opposite to him now. You couldn’t help but remember with nostalgia how open and emotionally vulnerable he was. He would openly tell and show his friends he loved them, and his ex-girlfriend too. You missed that dork, the one that would go in straight for a hug the first day he meets you, but he grew into the awkward handshake dude. Something about him now was very closed off, like there was this wall between the two of you that you didn’t dare jump over. He was still funny and charming, very communicative too, but he rarely talked about how things made him feel. He rarely even shared what was actually going on with him, why he would get so little sleep or what that damn project he’s working on is about. It was putting a lot of distance between the two of you, which you were noticing now after the initial euphoria of dating your high school crush was over. You were trying to build a foundation on top of a sinkhole with him . 

The two of you were so lost in the silence, in the train of your own thoughts, that you didn’t even hear Harry standing behind the two of you. 

“Are you communicating telepathically?” he asked, making the two of you turn. Peter had the sandwich in his mouth while he stood up, hugging his friend. You stood there by them awkwardly. 

“I’m so sorry.” Peter told Harry after he let go. 

“I’m not going to ask for a spar with you, ever again. You’re way too good at this, you should teach me!”

Peter scratched the back of his neck, laughing nervously.

“No, I’m not that good, I’m just short.”

“Man, you have to be professionally trained, or a monster at the gym. I've been training since I was 12, I’ve seen hundreds of opponents. No one of them have hit me this hard. And I got my jaw broken on the ring. Twice!”

At that point Harry had started walking on the sidewalk and the two of you subconsciously followed him because of the conversation. 

“And you’ve been doing it for a week? I’m not buying that, you’re lying!”

“A week?” you asked, looking at Peter confused. “He’s been doing it for months.”

“Months? This guy showed up at the gym for the first time on Saturday, it hasn’t even been a full week.”

You and Harry stopped, looking at Peter for answers. His lies caught up to him and he panicked, he panicked a lot this time. It was easier when it was just you to lie to, because there was no one who could catch him red handed. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, looking at him with squinted eyes. He felt like a deer caught in headlights under your gaze. You had never questioned anything he said before and he was afraid you were about to start.

“He means that… It’s the first time I’ve been to his gym.” he said finally “I used to go to a different one but the guys there… were bullies to me. Remember?”

He was a ball of nerves, placing his hands in his pockets to try and hide it. Peter’s body got stiff and he was trying his best not to lose his composure but he just started blurring out a made up story to save himself. 

“You’ve never told me about anyone bullying at the gym.”

“You can’t have forgotten about that one time I came back with a black eye and all… They were just really… bad? I thought that if I got stronger and tougher they would stop but they di-” you interrupted him with a hug, squeezing him tightly. 

You knew he was uncomfortable with all of this, and it was hard for him to talk about his feelings and what he was going through. You had to reassure him this was not an attack but a safe conversation. It explained his weird behavior to an extent. He was bullied in high school too and you hoped those days were over for him. Being bullied as an adult is something completely different than the childish jokes in school, that’s why you thought part of the reason he was so closed off now. 

“It’s okay, Pete.” You mumbled. “You don’t have to talk about it, I believe you.”

He finally breathed out, hugging you back. 

“It’s okay, I’m tough. I almost broke Harry today.”

“Too soon, Parker.”

—

It was a normal Monday evening for you, late hours in the lab, the soft sizzling of something on the stove, the heavy chemical smell in the air. Your palms felt sweaty inside the rubbed gloves and the goggles you were using were recently regulated by someone with a smaller head, which resulted in an uncomfortable squeezing of your head, which was about to give you a headache soon. The only thing that was missing in this scene was Peter. In the last few days he had been coming very late to the lab dates. You didn’t think much of it really, he had told you about wanting to spend more time with his new friend - Harry. He felt incredibly guilty about the whole almost-breaking his ribs situation recently and as a compensation, Peter offered to train him. It left you with even more time on your hands, which resulted in a lot of boredom. You were so ahead on class work that there was no point in continuing, you were not trying to graduate early. The second best thing you could think of was helping Peter with his very secret project, and hiding that from him, of course. 

You spent enough hours watching him, observing the chemicals he was using, the way he was combining them and the nervous scribbling in his notebook. You read that notebook a dozen times, filled with chemical compounds, processes, results that were circled in red or scratched out. Most of the research didn’t seem like it was going smoothly for him, he had written things like “failed” all over the pages. And even with chemistry not being the strongest of your subjects, you knew that things were going wrong for him mostly because he had tunnel vision. He had written the key ingredients he was using down and most of his work was based around them - in different proportions, different ways of mixing. But none of them were giving the results he was seeking. After a good amount of time brainstorming you decided this whole thing needed a different approach. The issue was, you thought, in the key ingredients themselves. That’s how you secretly ended up developing your own version of the web fluid formula. You had been trying to use things which you had read would give similar, and preferably better, results in the experiment. For two weeks now you had been using the free time away from Peter to do just that - help him in his work. And it was going well, so well that you actually considered yourself ready by the beginning of the third week. You made sure to write everything down, following his example, so you wouldn’t forget something important. 

You took the jar that had white goo in it, softly bubbling up over the fire and mixed it up with a metal stick. The white goo had risen like dough and it was sticking to the metal as you were stirring it around. You pulled the metal stick up, the white substance all over it, stretching after it. In this exact moment the door opened and Peter barged in, almost out of breath. You head turned, looking at his messy hair, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he was trying to calm his breathing before greeting you.

“Hello, beautiful, sorry I’m late.” He told you, throwing his bag on a chair and putting a lab coat on. 

“Hi.” You smiled at him, placing the jar down on the table. 

He seemed distracted and in a rush, like usual. You walked over to him as he was putting some gloves on so you could fix the collar on his lab coat that got flipped over. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead while you did that. 

“What have you been up to in here?”

“Actually, your work.”

“My work?” His brows furrowed in confusion, making you bite your lip before you took his hand and led him to the table. 

“Well, you’ve been silently working on this whole project for so long now, it’s been months. The one you are very sparse with the details with. But I took the time to read over you notes, plus I've seen your experiments like a million times…” you said, grabbing the jar again and lifting it up for him to see. The metal stick was still inside, you pulled it up and the white substance inside followed it, sticking to it but still moving like melted cheese. “I tried a different approach.”

He took the jar from your hands and inspected himself, playing around with it, touching it with his fingers even. 

“How even-”

“The technology I used is slightly different to yours. And the ingredients too. From what I could understand, you were trying to replicate the functionality and durability of an actual spider web… designed to suit human weight of course. With that being said, the results shouldn’t be absolutely permanent as well, like this thing, it should dissolve after some time, right?”

He nodded, listening to you with a lot of attention. 

“So… I developed this formula, the whole mixture is activated by heat, of course, but once activated it can be stored in these particular qualities, in containers for example. But it does lose these qualities over time, especially when it’s hit by direct sunlight.”

“How much time does it last?”

“Depends on the conditions but… Two to four hours from what I’ve tried.”

He was staring blankly at you, still holding the jar in the palm of his hand. He didn’t really know what to say or do, all kinds of thoughts were running around in his head. He was amazed, absolutely stunned by the way you managed to do this. Peter was also incredibly proud, he could say that much. But the fear of being exposed as Spider-man was bubbling up in his chest, his heart was beating fast, his palms were starting to sweat.

You were looking at him, waiting for him to say something, anything at this point. You were starting to get anxious. Did you fuck up? Did you cross a line you were not supposed to? Was he upset with you? He never asked for your help but you did it anyway. Did you ruin the whole thing for him? The only thing you could hear at this point was the ringing in your ears. 

“You’re a genius!” He exclaimed finally, a smile spreading across his lips as he looked at the worried expression on your face. Your features softened up, a sigh of relief escaped your lips after he spoke.

“Can I look over your notes?”

“Yeah, definitely!” 

You turned around and grabbed the notebook you had been using to write down your research. He skimmed over it, flipping through the neatly written pages. 

“You’re actually brilliant!” he told you after he was done reading it, placing the notebook on the table. “I need to run a couple of tests to check for a few other things but your formula looks so much better than mine.”

“Yeah, sure, take it. I made it for you anyway.”

“Look at you, making your own web fluid formula and you were scared to even do the lab experiments during class a few months ago.”

“My own what? Web fluid?”

It had just slipped out of him. His eyes widened, all the blood left his face. He looked as if he had just seen a ghost. And in reality he had seen a ghost - the ghost of his past, coming back to haunt him again. There was no coming back from this, he was caught red handed and it was his own fault. Not that he wanted it to happen, but he was tired, overwhelmed and overworked. 

It didn’t take a degree in math to put 2 and 2 together and a lot of things were starting to make sense for you now. All the time he was spending in the lab developing a “web fluid”, the random disappearing from time to time, his past Stark internship, the link between Spider-man and the Avengers. It was all adding up. 

“You’re working for Spider-man!” You finally said, like you had come to the most logical conclusion there was.

“I’m what?” He asked almost immediately. His head was a mess, trying to come up with the best possible lie to cover himself up.

“It all makes sense! He knows you from the Stark internship you did back in high school, and he asked you to develop a new formula, right?”

Peter was finding it hard to believe his ears or his luck. Of all the things he could have come up with on his own, none of them could beat the thing you just did. He was sure you would have figured it out by now, after this fatal error he made. And somehow your brain was so overcomplicating the situation so much that you couldn’t come up with the right answers. You had such blind faith in him that even for a split second you didn’t question any excuse he had given you before. He was blinking silently, looking at you. In his mind he was debating whether he should finally tell you the truth and break the most sacred oath he had taken in front of himself. Or if he should continue expanding the web of lies he had created until he himself gets caught up in it. 

“Absolutely, you got me here.”

Shallow and disgusting, he thought to himself, a bitter taste on his tongue as the words echoed in the room. He chose a lie, a dirty lie to the only person who cared for him so deeply, the person who trusted him so blindly. Would you accept him and continue loving him if you knew the truth? And the issue for him at this point wasn’t about the truth anymore, it was about the way he was treating you. His heart shattered when you smiled and hugged him. 

“I knew it! You’re so smart that the actual Avengers need you! You have so many great things ahead of you!” 

Your soft giggle felt like a direct stab to the heart. His shaky hands wrapped around your waist while you hugged him. He held you close, closer than ever before because there was an uneasy, heavy feeling in his stomach that if he let go now, he would never touch you again.

taglist:

(apologies if I missed anyone)

@zeeader @groundclueless @ivyquill @bitchyycapricorn

[barnesafterglow]

betting

summary: bucky's yours, it's just that not everyone knows that yet

pairing: college!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 824

warnings: mention of drinking, making out in public, passing mention of smut

a/n: here is day one of my 2023 valentine's blurbs with the prompt pulling your lover closer by the waistband !!

main masterlist - challenge masterlist

i no longer have a tag list but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary and turn on notifications for post updates! 🤍

The music vibrated through the club so hard you could feel it in your chest, replacing the heartbeat that was supposed to be there. Wanda had dragged you to another house party, though lord knows you hadn’t done anything else with your weekends since she met Sam in her biology lab.

He and his friends were known on campus as stereotypical party boys, and they fit the description perfectly. Even in the few weeks you’d known them, you were amazed at their ability to attend class and maintain their grades when they were blackout every weekend. It was something of a talent, if you were being honest.

Though that wasn’t their only talent, you thought as a flush creeped down your neck, remembering just last weekend how one of said friends had managed to get you alone in their hall closet and drop to his knees to worship every inch of you.

Bucky’s flirting had started out as just that - simple flirting. He had a bit of a reputation for being a playboy and, even though you weren’t looking for anything serious, you also weren’t looking to be a notch in his bedpost. But he was relentless, from the very first night Wanda brought you around, and soon drunken makeouts every couple of weekends turned into secret dates and a weekend getaway that you still weren’t sure how you had managed to keep your friends from finding out.

And you were sure your luck was running out, because every weekend brought a new place in the house to hookup, a new opportunity for the two of you to get caught in a very compromising position. And it didn’t seem like Bucky had any intention of stopping any time soon.

You never really stopped to wonder why the two of you had decided to keep your situationship a secret; it had started out as nothing serious, but the more you fell for him, the more you wondered what it would be like to have his intense focus on you not only in the comfort of empty apartments and hotel rooms, but in front of your friends as you sat in his lap at a party or next to him in the library.

Every thought left you anxious, scared that Bucky didn’t want the more that you did, scared that he would laugh in your face and leave you for the next person, even though you all but knew for sure that he was just as taken with you.

With more than a little liquid courage in you, you decided that tonight would be the night to risk it all - you couldn’t take not knowing anymore.

Eyes searching, you followed Bucky’s movements across the party, moving from the kitchen and serving drinks to the living room, partnering up with Steve for a round of beer pong. You sidled up to Wanda and Sam - playing opposite Bucky and Steve - and she looked at you knowingly; it was like she could read your mind.

You waited as the game went back and forth, sipping on your drink but trying to maintain a relatively straight head, and took your chance as Bucky sunk the last cup, winning them the game.

He threw his hands in the air, high fiving his friends all around, before his gaze fell on you. He pushed through the small group of people that had gathered to watch, halting right in front of you. Your eyes met his, not sure what his next move was, as he reached for you. He moved slowly, giving you a chance to push him away, to stop whatever decision he was about to make, but you wouldn’t dream of it.

You let his hands run gently down your arms, caressing the exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake. His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation and, when he saw none, he hooked a finger in your belt loop, pulling you flush against him. His other hand came up and rested at the nape of your neck, tilting your head up until your mouth met his.

It was as if the rest of the world melted away; even the cheers and whoops of your friends were muffled as Bucky’s lips moved over yours.

When you finally broke apart, Steve was begrudgingly shoving a twenty dollar bill in Sam’s outstretched hand, a smug smile on his face, and Wanda looked on ecstatically. 

“Took you long enough,” you teased, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you towards your friends.

“No kidding,” Sam said. “Another week and Stevie here would have won, and I just couldn’t have that.”

Steve grumbled under his breath as you laughed, feeling happier than you had in a long, long time.

“No,” Bucky replied to Sam, though his attention was still solely focused on you. “We certainly couldn’t have that at all.”

[muiitoloko]

Heyy!! I loved your last Eli fic so muchhh 😭 I swearr I love your fics sm 😭

Honestlyy, I'm in the mood for some angst that ends well/cuddles with Eli 😔

Sooo I mean, you can change anything really, buut something where like he had an incident in the lab or some kinda thing where he's at the hospital? idk he's kinda sad because literally no one came to visit him inventing excuses (poor baby ily) but reader (who's just a student) is actually really worried etc because she's been in love with him for a long time? soo idk I just picture her crying and everything and he's like ???why are you crying??? and idk something really fluffy and a bit angsty?🥹💗

Title: (Not) Alone

Summary: He feels alone, until he's not alone anymore.

Pairing: Eli Michaelson × Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluffy.

Author's Notes: Big thanks for tossing this request my way! Now, I'll admit, I might take a few liberties with the Eli's vibe, so apologies in advance if it's a bit off the beaten path. But hey, I'm all ears for any feedback you've got! Let's make this journey together! 🚀📝

Also read on Ao3

The soft glow of the hospital room cast a muted light over the sterile surroundings, the beeping of machines filling the air with a steady rhythm. Eli lay in the hospital bed, his expression a mask of stoicism as he stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

The events of the accident replayed in his mind like a broken record, the memory of the explosion haunting him like a specter in the night. He had been careless, too caught up in his work to notice the warning signs until it was too late. And now, here he was, laid up in a hospital bed with nothing but his regrets for company.

But that wasn't the worst thing—not because the physical wounds could heal, but because the emotional ones couldn't. It had been a week, a week since the accident that left Eli lying in that hospital bed, his body battered and broken. But it seemed that the real damage was to his soul.

As he lay there, staring up at the sterile ceiling, a wave of anguish washed over him. Where were they? Where were the people who were supposed to care about him, even if just a little? Deep down, he knew he didn't deserve their concern. He had been an arrogant bastard, selfish and self-absorbed, caring only about his own pursuits and pleasures. But still, the absence of anyone by his side cut deeper than any physical wound.

He didn't expect Sarah, his ex-wife, or Barkley, his son, to come visit him. They had taken the money and run, leaving him alone in more ways than one. But he had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that someone would show up. A friend, a colleague, even one of the women he had entertained himself with. Yet, it felt like no one cared about him. And the realization stung.

Eli couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. It was like being a child again, alone and isolated, ridiculed by his classmates. He remembered the sting of rejection, the ache of loneliness that gnawed at him day after day. And now, lying in that hospital bed, it felt like history was repeating itself.

He glanced around the sterile room, his gaze landing on the empty chair beside his bed. It had been vacant since the day he was admitted, a stark reminder of his solitude. He longed for someone to sit there, to hold his hand and offer words of comfort. But the chair remained empty, a silent testament to his isolation.

With a heavy sigh, Eli closed his eyes, willing the memories and the pain to fade away. But deep down, he knew that the wounds left by loneliness and abandonment would not heal easily. And as the beeping of the machines filled the air once more, Eli couldn't help but feel a sense of despair wash over him, drowning him in a sea of anguish and regret. The ache in his body paled in comparison to the hollow emptiness that gnawed at his soul, a relentless reminder of his own failings and shortcomings.

The memories of his past sins haunted him like ghosts in the night, each one a painful reminder of the wreckage he had left in his wake. He had been a man consumed by his own ambition, blinded by his relentless pursuit of success and recognition. And in his single-minded quest for greatness, he had trampled over anyone who dared to stand in his way, leaving a trail of broken hearts and shattered dreams in his wake.

But now, as he lay there, broken and alone, Eli couldn't help but wonder if it had all been worth it. The accolades and achievements that had once seemed so important now felt hollow and meaningless, nothing more than empty symbols of his own vanity and arrogance.

And as he gazed up at the sterile ceiling above him, a sense of profound despair washed over him, threatening to consume him whole. He longed for the warmth of human connection, for someone to reach out and offer him solace in his darkest hour. But the empty chair beside his bed served as a stark reminder of his solitude, a silent testament to the depths of his loneliness.

Eli's thoughts turned to Sarah and Barkley. They had been the closest thing he had ever known to love, and yet he had driven them away with his selfishness and neglect. He had taken their presence for granted, assuming that they would always be there to pick up the pieces of his shattered life. But now, as he lay there abandoned and alone, he realized the extent of his folly.

With a sense of desperation clawing at his chest, he ripped the machines attached to him, the beeping growing louder as he tore the devices from his body. Each movement sent jolts of pain shooting through his battered form, but he paid no heed to the agony, consumed by his need to escape the suffocating grip of solitude.

Weak and injured, Eli struggled to get up from the bed, his muscles protesting with every movement. The laboratory explosion had left him with burns and cuts, the wounds decorating his body like battle scars of his own making. He leaned heavily on an IV pole for support, the metal digging into his palm as he tried to steady himself.

Lines of anguish etched deep into his features, Eli's baritone voice echoed through the sterile room, a haunting melody of despair and regret. "Damn it all," he muttered through gritted teeth, his words laced with bitterness and self-loathing. "I can't stay here. I won't."

With a shaky breath, Eli pushed himself forward, each step a testament to his stubborn determination to break free from the shackles of his own making. But his body rebelled against his efforts, weakened by the trauma it had endured. Every movement was a battle, every breath a struggle as he fought to overcome the physical and emotional pain that threatened to consume him whole.

And yet, despite the odds stacked against him, Eli pressed on, driven by a fierce resolve to reclaim his freedom, no matter the cost. With each agonizing step, he felt the weight of his loneliness bearing down on him like a heavy burden, threatening to crush him beneath its suffocating embrace.

Memories of his childhood flashed before his eyes, a bittersweet reminder of a time when he had known the warmth of his mother's embrace, the comforting touch of her hand as she tended to his wounds and chased away his fears. But now, she was gone, a distant memory lost to the passage of time, leaving Eli adrift in a sea of emptiness.

With a bitter twist of irony, Eli realized that he had become the very thing he despised most—a lonely, pathetic figure yearning for the companionship he had once taken for granted. He had closed himself off to the world, erecting walls of arrogance and self-importance to shield himself from the pain of rejection and abandonment. But now, as he lay broken and alone, those walls crumbled around him, leaving him exposed and vulnerable to the harsh realities of his existence.

As he stumbled down the hallway, ignoring the nurse's futile attempts to stop him, Eli felt the weight of his own inadequacy bearing down on him like a crushing weight. His body was weak, his spirit shattered, and with each passing moment, he sank deeper into the abyss of his own despair.

And then, just when he thought he couldn't bear it any longer, Eli's legs gave out beneath him, sending him crashing to the ground in a pathetic heap of limbs and shattered pride. He lay there, sprawled out on the cold tile floor, a broken shell of the man he had once been, his baritone voice choked with anguish as he whispered words of self-condemnation into the empty void.

"I'm pathetic," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper as he gazed up at the sterile ceiling above him. "A Nobel Prize winner, revered by the world, and yet... I'm nothing but a lonely, pathetic bastard."

Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision as he struggled to come to terms with the harsh reality of his existence. He had spent a lifetime chasing after success and recognition, believing that they held the key to happiness and fulfillment. But now, as he lay broken and alone, he realized that he had been chasing after shadows, grasping at empty promises that had crumbled to dust in his hands.

And as the nurse knelt beside him, her voice a soothing murmur in the darkness, Eli closed his eyes and surrendered to the overwhelming tide of despair that threatened to consume him whole. He knew that he was a broken man, irreparably damaged by the choices he had made and the paths he had chosen. But deep down, beneath the layers of arrogance and self-delusion, all he wanted was to be whole again, to feel the warmth of human connection and the healing touch of love.

But for Eli Michaelson, the road to redemption would be long and arduous, fraught with pitfalls and obstacles at every turn. And as he lay there, battered and broken, he knew that the journey had only just begun.

The next morning, Eli sat in silence, the dull glow of the TV flickering in the dimly lit hospital room. He picked at the unappetizing hospital food on his tray, his appetite dulled by the weight of loneliness that hung heavy in the air. He tried to convince himself that solitude was preferable, that he didn't need anyone else. But deep down, he couldn't ignore the ache in his chest, the longing for human connection that gnawed at his soul.

As he stared blankly at the screen, lost in his thoughts, the sudden forceful opening of the door startled him out of his reverie. The door slammed against the wall with a loud thud, causing Eli to turn his head towards the entrance, his curiosity piqued.

There, standing in the doorway, was a young woman, her cheeks stained with tears as she cried. Before Eli could comprehend what was happening, she ran towards him and enveloped him in a tight hug, burying her face against his chest as she sobbed uncontrollably.

Confusion washed over Eli as he awkwardly patted the young woman's back, unsure of what to do. "Uh, what's going on?" he muttered, his voice gruff with disorientation.

Pulling away from the embrace, the young woman looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, her voice trembling with emotion. "Professor Michaelson, I was so worried about you," she exclaimed, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I thought you had gone on vacation, that's why you were away from campus. But I didn't realize you were in the hospital. If I had known, I would have come sooner."

Eli's brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to place the young woman's face. Who was she, and why was she so upset about him? Pushing her hands away gently, he questioned, "Who the hell are you?"

The young woman's tears halted abruptly, replaced by a look of embarrassment as she wiped at her cheeks. "Oh, I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice small. "I'm one of your students at the university. I always sit in the front row. It's me, [Your Name]."

Eli racked his brain, trying to recall any memory of a student named [Your Name]. But the truth was, he didn't bother to remember the names of his students, unless they were the most beautiful women in his classes. And while [Your Name] was certainly adorable in her own right, she didn't fit the bill of his usual conquests.

Nevertheless, Eli put on a facade of recognition, offering a faint smile as he nodded. "Ah, yes, [Your Name]," he said, his tone somewhat forced. "Of course, I remember you now. It's good to see you."

As Eli's gaze met yours, you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness at the recognition, however brief it may be. The sound of your name rolling off his tongue in that deep, baritone voice sent a shiver down your spine, making you blush slightly at the attention.

But before you could bask in the moment, Eli's question brought you back to reality with a jolt. "Did everyone come to see me?" he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he glanced towards the door, as if expecting a flood of visitors at any moment.

You shook your head gently, your heart sinking at the disappointment in his eyes. "No, Professor Michaelson," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I was the only one who came."

Eli visibly deflated at your words, a sense of desolation washing over him as he processed the information. "Oh," he murmured, his voice heavy with disappointment. "No one else came."

You shifted awkwardly on your feet, feeling a pang of sympathy for the man lying before you, so vulnerable and alone. And as you stood next to Eli's hospital bed, awkwardly rubbing your arm, you felt a pang of sympathy for him. He seemed so vulnerable in that moment, his usual air of confidence replaced by a palpable sense of loneliness. You glanced down at your feet, unsure of what to say or do to comfort him.

Suddenly, Eli's voice broke the silence, pulling you out of your thoughts. "Where are the flowers?" he asked, his tone tinged with confusion.

You looked up at him, puzzled. "Huh?" you replied, furrowing your brow in confusion.

Eli insisted, his tone growing more urgent. "The flowers, the balloons, you know, all those things people bring when they visit someone in the hospital."

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you stuttered apologetically, "Oh, I... I was so worried, I didn't even think about it."

Eli's arrogant smile softened at your words, his expression betraying a hint of curiosity. "You were worried? About me?" he asked, genuine surprise coloring his tone.

You shifted nervously on your feet, feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze. "Um, yeah," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I mean, I know we don't really know each other that well, but... I guess I just didn't want you to feel alone."

You felt a rush of embarrassment wash over you. You couldn't help but feel pathetic standing there in front of your crush, blushing furiously as you struggled to find the right words to say. Deciding to make a hasty retreat, you turned around, mumbling something about leaving. But before you could take a step, Eli practically shouted, "Wait!"

Startled, you turned back to face him, surprise written across your features. "I mean... wait," Eli amended, his tone softer this time. "I... I don't actually mind having company. I've been getting bored of watching TV all day."

Relief flooded through you as you realized that Eli didn't want you to leave. With a shy smile, you nodded and took a seat in the empty chair beside his bed, grateful for the opportunity to keep him company during his time of need.

And as you settled into the chair beside Eli's hospital bed, you couldn't shake the feeling of awkwardness that hung in the air between the two of you. The conversation was stilted at first, filled with hesitant pauses and forced smiles as you struggled to find common ground. But as the minutes passed, you found yourselves falling into an easy rhythm, chatting about anything and everything under the sun.

"So, I heard Professor Hart is filling in for you," you began, trying to steer the conversation away from the uncomfortable topic of Eli's hospitalization. "He seems... interesting."

Eli chuckled softly at your remark, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Interesting is one way to describe him," he replied, his voice tinged with sarcasm. "But I suppose he'll do in a pinch."

You nodded in agreement, relieved that Eli seemed willing to engage in conversation despite the circumstances. "Yeah, I heard he's a bit eccentric," you remarked, trying to keep the conversation light. "But hey, at least he keeps things entertaining."

Eli's lips twitched into a wry smile at your comment, his gaze drifting towards the TV screen as if seeking refuge from the awkwardness of the moment. "Entertaining is one way to put it," he mused, his tone tinged with amusement. "But I suppose we'll survive until I'm back on my feet."

You couldn't help but chuckle at Eli's dry sense of humor, grateful for the brief moment of levity amidst the somber atmosphere of the hospital room. "Oh, I'm sure we'll manage," you quipped, a playful glint in your eye. "But I have to admit, I do miss your classes. Chemistry just isn't the same without you."

Eli's expression softened at your words, a hint of genuine warmth shining through his usually stoic demeanor. "Well, I'm flattered to hear that," he replied, his voice tinged with sincerity. "Chemistry is my passion, after all. It's nice to know that someone appreciates my efforts."

You blushed at the unexpected praise, feeling a rush of warmth spread through your cheeks. "Well, I've always enjoyed your classes," you admitted, unable to hide the smile that tugged at your lips. "Chemistry has always been my favorite subject."

Eli's eyes sparkled with amusement at your confession, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Is that so?" he teased, his tone laced with playful curiosity. "Well, I suppose I'll have to make sure to put on a good show when I return, then."

You laughed at Eli's playful banter, grateful for the distraction it provided from the seriousness of the situation. But as the conversation turned back to Eli's accident, you couldn't help but feel a pang of concern for him.

"So, how exactly did the accident happen?" you asked, your voice laced with genuine curiosity. "Was it some sort of experiment gone wrong?"

Eli waved off your question dismissively, as if it were of little consequence. "Oh, nothing too dramatic," he replied nonchalantly. "Just a minor mishap in the lab. These things happen from time to time."

You raised an eyebrow skeptically at Eli's casual response, unable to shake the feeling that he was downplaying the severity of the situation. "Just a minor mishap, huh?" you remarked, unable to hide the hint of skepticism in your voice. "Are you sure you're not secretly plotting to take over the world with your evil experiments?"

Eli's expression darkened at your joke, a shadow passing over his features as he regarded you with a serious look. "I assure you, [Your Name], there's nothing nefarious about my work," he replied, his tone grave. "I may have made some mistakes along the way, but I've always strived to use my knowledge for the greater good."

You winced at the sudden shift in tone, realizing that you had touched a nerve with your flippant remark. "I'm sorry, Professor," you apologized quickly, feeling a pang of guilt for making light of the situation. "I didn't mean to imply anything... I was just trying to lighten the mood."

Eli's expression softened at your apology, realizing that you were just trying to lighten the mood. With a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes, he decided to play along with your joke, his humor dry as he quipped, "Well, I suppose if I'm going to be a mad scientist, I'll have to start practicing my evil laugh, won't I?"

Your smile widened at Eli's response, grateful that he wasn't holding your jest against you. The tension in the room dissipated as the two of you shared a moment of lighthearted banter, the heaviness of the situation momentarily forgotten.

But before the conversation could continue, the door to the hospital room swung open, revealing a nurse standing in the doorway. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but visiting hours are over," she announced, her voice gentle but firm. "I'll have to ask you to leave, [Your Name]."

You felt a pang of disappointment at the nurse's words, reluctant to leave Eli's side so soon. But you knew that you had to respect the rules of the hospital, no matter how much you wished to stay.

With a heavy sigh, you stood up from the chair beside Eli's bed, turning to face him with a small smile. "I guess I'll have to save my evil scientist jokes for next time," you remarked, trying to lighten the mood once more.

Eli's hand shot out, grabbing yours before you could take another step towards the door. Startled, you turned to look at him, surprised by the sudden gesture.

"Will you... will you visit me again tomorrow?" Eli asked, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I know it's a lot to ask, but... I'd really appreciate the company."

You felt your heart skip a beat at Eli's request, a rush of warmth spreading through you at the thought of seeing him again. Despite his arrogant facade, there was something undeniably endearing about the vulnerability in his eyes, something that made you want to reach out and offer him the comfort he so desperately craved.

With a soft smile, you nodded in response to Eli's question. "Of course, Professor Michaelson," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity. "I'll come visit you again tomorrow."

Eli's grip on your hand loosened, his expression softening at your words. "Thank you," he murmured, a hint of gratitude shining in his eyes. "I'll be looking forward to it."

As you turned to leave the room, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building within you. Despite the chaos and uncertainty of the situation, you found yourself eagerly counting down the minutes until you could see Eli again, eager to offer him the companionship and support he so desperately needed.

And as you walked out of the hospital room, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps, in the midst of all the chaos, you had found something unexpected—a connection that had the potential to grow into something truly meaningful.

The next day, Eli waited anxiously in his hospital room, his eyes fixed on the clock ticking away on the wall. With every passing hour, his hope dwindled, replaced by a growing sense of anger and despair. Why would you come? You barely knew him, and he barely knew you. He should have been grateful for your visit yesterday, shouldn't he?

As the day wore on, Eli's frustration mounted, each minute stretching out like an eternity as he waited in vain for your arrival. With each passing hour, he felt the weight of his loneliness pressing down on him, suffocating him with its relentless grip. He cursed himself for his foolishness, for allowing himself to hope for something that was clearly never going to happen.

Finally, unable to bear the silence and solitude any longer, Eli turned away from the door and lay on his side, his back to the room. He felt pathetic, longing for a visit from someone he barely knew. This was pathetic, he scolded himself silently, his thoughts filled with self-loathing and bitterness.

But just as Eli was on the verge of giving up hope entirely, he heard a soft voice calling his name from the doorway. Startled, he turned to see you standing there, a hesitant smile on your lips as you held out a bouquet of flowers and three brightly colored balloons.

For a moment, Eli was speechless, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to process the sight before him. You had come, despite everything. A surge of gratitude washed over him, mingled with a sense of disbelief. Why would you go out of your way to visit him again?

As you stepped into the room, Eli found himself nodding dumbly, unable to find the words to express his gratitude. You smiled at him warmly, your eyes filled with kindness and compassion as you made your way to his bedside. "Mind if I come in?" you asked softly, your voice breaking through the haze of Eli's thoughts.

Eli shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he gestured for you to take a seat. "Please, come in," he replied, his baritone voice tinged with emotion.

As you settled into the chair beside his bed, Eli couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth spreading through him at your presence. Despite his initial doubts and insecurities, you had come back to visit him, offering him a glimmer of light in the darkness of his solitude.

"Thank you for coming," Eli murmured, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. "I... I didn't expect to see you again."

You smiled at him, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand in reassurance. "I promised I would, didn't I?" you replied, your voice soft but sincere. "And I always keep my promises."

Eli's heart swelled at your words, a rush of warmth spreading through him at the sincerity in your voice. For the first time in days, he felt a flicker of hope stirring within him, a glimmer of light breaking through the darkness of his despair.

As the two of you settled into conversation, the awkwardness of the situation melted away, replaced by an easy camaraderie and mutual understanding. Despite the brevity of your acquaintance, there was a connection between you that transcended the confines of the hospital room, a shared bond forged in the crucible of adversity.

As the days turned into weeks, Eli found himself growing accustomed to your presence in his hospital room. Despite his initial reservations, he couldn't deny the comfort and companionship you provided, even if it was accompanied by your playful teasing and irreverent humor.

Eli maintained his usual arrogance, his sharp wit and biting sarcasm ever-present, but somehow, it didn't seem to matter as much when you were around. You saw beyond his facade, recognizing the vulnerability and loneliness that lurked beneath his confident exterior. And in return, you became a facade for Eli, a shield against the harsh realities of his situation, a source of laughter and light in the darkness of his solitude.

Day after day, for two weeks, you came faithfully at the usual time, visiting Eli and spending quality time with him. You brought him books to read, engaging him in lively debates about science and literature. You even brought in a chess set, challenging him to matches that often ended in laughter and playful banter.

As the days passed, you grew closer to Eli, sharing stories and secrets, hopes and dreams. You learned about his childhood, his struggles and triumphs, his deepest fears and regrets. And in turn, Eli learned about you, your ambitions and aspirations, your quirks and idiosyncrasies.

But amidst the laughter and camaraderie, there was an unspoken tension lingering between you—a secret crush that neither of you dared to acknowledge aloud. You admired Eli for his intellect and charisma, his sharp wit and unwavering determination. And Eli, in turn, found himself drawn to you, captivated by your kindness and compassion, your irreverent humor and genuine warmth.

One day, as you sat beside Eli's hospital bed, engaged in a spirited debate about the merits of chess, you found yourself slipping up and calling him "mad scientist" in jest. Eli's hooked nose wrinkled in mock annoyance, his lips twitching with amusement as he grumbled, "I'll have you know, Miss [Your Name], that I am not a mad scientist. I am a highly respected Nobel laureate in the field of chemistry."

You couldn't help but laugh at Eli's mock indignation, knowing full well that he secretly relished the nickname you had given him. "Of course, Professor Snape," you replied, a mischievous glint in your eye. "I'll make sure to deduct points from Gryffindor as soon as you return to the university."

Eli spat dismissively, a playful twinkle in his eye as he retorted, "Ah, so you admit it. You're a Gryffindor through and through with that insolence."

You laughed out loud at Eli's response, the sound echoing through the hospital room as you shook your head in amusement. "Guilty as charged," you admitted, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But you have to admit, Professor Snape, it suits you."

Eli rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, but there was a hint of affection in his expression as he gazed at you. "Well, if I must suffer the indignity of being compared to a fictional character, I suppose I could do worse than Severus Snape," he conceded, his baritone voice tinged with amusement.

And as the two of you settled back into your usual routine, the playful banter and easy camaraderie filling the room with warmth and laughter, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected bond that had formed between you and Eli. Despite his flaws and imperfections, there was something undeniably endearing about him—a complexity and depth that drew you in, leaving you eager to spend every moment you could by his side.

Days later, Eli was finally discharged from the hospital, his body still weak but his spirit buoyed by the knowledge that he was finally free from the confines of the sterile hospital room. With a newfound sense of purpose, he made his way back to the university, determined to reclaim his rightful place as the esteemed professor and Nobel laureate he knew himself to be.

As he stepped into the familiar confines of the classroom, Eli couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation coursing through his veins. He straightened his shoulders, his hooked nose held high as he prepared to make his grand entrance, ready to bask in the adulation of his students and colleagues.

With a flourish, Eli stormed into the classroom, his baritone voice echoing off the walls as he demanded a round of applause for himself. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have returned!" he announced, his voice filled with arrogant confidence. "I expect nothing less than a standing ovation for my triumphant return."

The room erupted into applause, the sound filling the air with a cacophony of cheers and whistles as Eli reveled in the attention. He opened his arms wide, a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips as he basked in the adoration of his audience, soaking in the applause like a man starved for validation.

But amidst the sea of faces applauding his return, Eli's eyes landed on a familiar figure seated in the front row—the same figure who had visited him faithfully in the hospital, offering him companionship and support during his darkest hours.

With a discreet wink, Eli acknowledged you, a silent gesture of gratitude and appreciation for the unwavering support you had shown him. And as he watched the smile spread across your face, a warmth blossomed in his chest, filling him with a sense of belonging and acceptance he had never known before.

As the applause finally died down and the class settled into their seats, Eli launched into his lecture with renewed fervor, his voice commanding the attention of every student in the room. But amidst the complex equations and scientific theories, his thoughts kept drifting back to you, the one person who had stood by him when he needed it most.

And as he caught your eye once more, Eli couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over him, knowing that he wasn't alone anymore. With you by his side, he felt invincible, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead with unwavering confidence and determination.

As the class drew to a close and the students filed out of the room, Eli lingered behind, waiting for you to approach him. And when you finally did, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, he couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness welling up inside him.

"Thank you," Eli murmured, his voice tinged with sincerity. "For everything."

You smiled back at him, a warmth shining in your eyes as you replied, "Anytime, Professor Michaelson. Anytime."

And as the two of you stood there, sharing a moment of quiet understanding, Eli knew that no matter what the future held, he would always have you by his side, a beacon of light in the darkness, guiding him towards a brighter tomorrow.

[deliciouskeys]

@cozycornerevents' Kinktober 2024 prompt #7: Shibari

Homewell; AU where Madelyn didn't die in season 1 and they just continued down that path...

"N-o…"

The way Madelyn says that word is both mortifying and goes straight to his erection, even though he doesn't think he could be any harder. She says it in the tone he's heard people use with dogs, cats, maybe small children. Like he's about to get a cone around his head or be put in a corner. She pries his hands off of her and gets up off his lap.

Their sexual trysts follow a very predictable script. It's always on the couch in her office. Never at her house. The one time he showed up at her house, thinking what's allowed at work would certainly be allowed at home, she had such a cold expression while rebuffing him that he was afraid to even fly past her house to spy on her at night for a few weeks. Doing this anywhere near Teddy was off-limits apparently, and he supposes that's for the best.

When they do it, she's always on top of him, clambering into his lap and then riding him, always the one in complete control of the pace, the angle, and the depth. But no matter what she does, no matter how languidly she moves, he always comes too quickly for his own liking. Maybe not as quickly as the first time they finally did the deed. But quick enough that he always apologizes, genuinely sorry and mortified but also knowing him saying 'sorry' and looking visibly disappointed with himself triggers reassurances from her. She's never angry about him coming early. Sometimes he wonders if she looks relieved that he's done, like she was just waiting to feel his hips jerking up underneath her. She tolerates anything from him in that department, timewise. But what she doesn't tolerate is something that he still mistakenly does from time to time, when he loses himself in the moment. He doesn't know why he does it. He has no idea where the impulse comes from and even less why it became a habit so hard to break. Maybe he saw it in some pornography video he watched very early on, when he was let out of the lab and suddenly discovered a whole world of information that everyone else was constantly using and privy to. But he doesn't even remember. He knows he often did it with Maeve when she insisted on being on top, also preferring to be in control of their encounters. It was something that made him feel like he was wresting back just a little bit of control– that he was taking enjoyment by slapping her and holding her hips as if he owned them. Maeve didn't seem to mind it. But Madelyn does, and she's right to mind it. He can't deny it's a risk, letting him smack her, however gentle he thinks he's being. 

She's gotten angry before, but she's never gotten off his lap and interrupted the whole thing.

"I'm really sorry," he finally musters up the words, panting, watching her walk away to her desk, a little worried that this was the last straw– that she won't allow him inside her again-- maybe ever again, his mind races with the terrifying prospect. "I- I wasn't thinking."

"Well it's very dangerous for me if you aren't thinking," Madelyn says, and she even puts her glasses back on. Why is she putting her glasses back on? Homelander can barely suppress a little whine of disappointment at the idea that his erection is just going to stay out in the cold air.

"Madelyn, please, I won't do it again. Look, I'll sit on my hands… I'll…" He looks around, desperately trying to think of what he can promise to do to atone for doing that one thing she hates.

"No, that's not enough" she says. "You cannot just do things and say you weren't thinking afterwards."

"It's because…" he trails off when he sees her coming back with a large bundle of rope. Why was that in her desk?

"Because what?" she asks, looking down at him indulgently over her glasses.

He sighs and gathers himself, folds his hands sheepishly in his lap. "Because it just feels so good to be so intimate with you."

"Thank you, Homelander, that's very kind of you to say" she says, stroking his face, and he really appreciates her never using petnames with him. "But I need to take some precautions myself. We need an early warning system. Now give me your hand."

He stares at her small, manicured hand-- it's purple nailpolish today, and she'll change it again in two or three days. She’s waiting for him to offer his hand, and he has no idea what she expects or has in mind. He thought she might be planning to tie his hands behind his back, but she seems to be asking for only one. He extends it towards her, and nearly jerks it back when she starts pulling his glove off. But he stops himself, submitting his hand to her. He's desperate to obey her to a tee right now, before giving her any more reason to end this session early.

"I need bare skin," she says as pulls the glove clean off and drops it on the floor.

He watches her, confused, as she interlaces her fingers in his. The contact makes him uncomfortable. She knows he doesn't do well with skin contact to his palms, so why is she doing this? She loops the thin rope around his fingers, and before he's aware of what's happening she has his three middle fingers in a complicated looking knot.

"What're you doing?" he asks, smiling uncertainly, trying not to look scared. He doesn't rightly know what he should be scared of, but Madelyn doing new things, asking new things of him, scares him, scares him with the thought that he'll reveal his ignorance, or not measure up in some way. So he tries to straighten out his back to look taller and more confident.

"I had a boyfriend in college who used to do really complicated rope bondage with me… relax, it was before I met you. Before I joined Vought," she adds, almost laughing.

Homelander averts his gaze, wondering what in his face gave away his immediate tension about her mention of another man. She knows him uncomfortably well.

Madelyn continues talking as she bends his hand until his forearm is right up against his bicep, wrapping the rope around, such that his arm is stuck in this bent position, fingers pulled back, forcing his hand open. "He was really into it, really skilled with the knots. He took pictures of me and it was artwork, frankly. I don't know if I can do it justice, but I still remember some of the knots and patterns he taught me. This one's called the Server's Hand."

"W-why would you be doing that?" Homelander asks, and he immediately hates how naive and straitlaced he sounds. He never went to college. He never really dated anyone except Maeve, and while she taught him a lot, he hated feeling behind. At least Madelyn is older, an authority figure in his life. At least she doesn't seem to judge him for the question.

"For me, getting rope laid on me was pretty sensual. I have no idea if it is for you– especially since you can't really struggle against the bonds like an ordinary person does. It also works better on the skin itself, but I assumed you wouldn't want to take off the top of your suit."

Homelander shakes his head. If there's one thing that was going to make this entire encounter more nerve-wracking it would be if she asked him to strip his top off. He never did except in the privacy of his apartment. Maeve made fun of him for that too.

"It's also about aesthetics," Madelyn says. "But that's probably more for me than you."

Homelander watches her start working on his other hand and lets her, trying to pay attention to the sensation, tries to see if he understands what she means about the rope itself being some sort of turn-on.

"So why're you doing it to me?" he asks, his voice still sounding smaller than he'd like. He's sitting there, very obedient, his erection flagging, but resurrecting itself every time she grabs the bare skin of his hand to maneuver it into the place she wants.

"For you? I know these ropes are like cobwebs. It wouldn't take much for you to rip right through them. But if you do, I get up and leave. Before you decide to smack me again, despite me telling you to never do that, over and over."

There it is. It is a punishment of sorts after all. Homelander would rather be sitting on his hands. This pose, now having his arms immobilized on both sides is not very comfortable, his muscles jammed against each other. But he can't very well sag against the ropes, not when she just told him not to break them. There's more rope remaining and she starts wrapping it around his neck.

"Now usually," she narrates, "it would be bad practice to tie rope around your neck. It's considered pretty dangerous unless you use specific knots that bear loads in specific ways. I’m not experienced with that and I wouldn't do it with anyone else, frankly. But I don't think we have to worry about that, right?"

Homelander shakes his head, swallowing, feeling his adam's apple move against the rope she's wrapping around his neck in several loops before creating something like a leash that she uses to pull his head forward. He doesn't have to move of course, but he doesn't want to risk the rope breaking.

Homelander tries to picture exactly what he looks like, his arms pinned up, elbows out, palms facing her, a collar and leash around his neck. But Madelyn answers his question for him.

"There we go. So pretty. Wrapped up like some kind of gift, with a bow."

Homelander swallows down a whimper. It barely counts as praise of him, when she's admiring her own handiwork, but when she says she enjoys looking at him like this, it makes him stop questioning anything about what they're doing.

She takes off her glasses and gets back on the couch, her knees on either side of his naked thighs, but she doesn't sit back quite yet, peering at him before warning him, "Now if you tear any of that rope…"

"I won't!" he retorts, and regrets interrupting her, wondering if she was going to threaten him with something sexy. But he's scared of disappointing her and he wants her to sit down again, wants to be enveloped in his warm, soft humidity so desperately. He doesn't care if some of that moisture isn't her own excitement but just the bottle of silky lube she preps herself with. She keeps it in her locked desk drawer but he can easily peer through it, can sometimes see her through the door of her office getting ready for him, discreetly, under the desk. He'd never dream of calling her out on that. Don't ask, don't tell. She wants him, she finds him attractive, and they have a bond like no one else in this whole entire company, and that's all that matters. "... I won't," he repeats, quietly. 

She lowers herself down on him slowly, and he's just as hard as when she came off of him earlier. Everything feels great, is going great, and he's even got his eyes closed, until he feels her fingers touch his exposed palms.

"Nggghh, Madelyn!" He manages to mumble out her entire name after his grunt. He sounds pained but it has more to do with his sensitivity, finding it hard to sit still and not squirm his hands away.

She relents but only for a moment, and Homelander feels her grab his hands again, rubbing her thumbs into the middle of his palms, and the sensation is both uncomfortable and supremely arousing.

"M-Madelyn…" The word exits his mouth almost like a cough. He still sounds pained, and now wonders if he is, wonders where over-sensitivity ends and real discomfort begins. It's so hard to keep his hands still when they're being touched so aggressively.

"You see how it can feel when someone else is touching you without permission?" she asks, and he nods eagerly, even though he barely sees the parallel. When he slaps Madelyn it's a loss of control on his part. He's never ever seen her lose control, at least not with him around. He's seen her lose control alone, at home, using her vibrator, and he wonders if he should try being bolder, asking her if he can go down on her and try to tonguepunch her rapidly enough that she has to admit he's better than a battery powered toy. But she's always in control of herself and even of him when they're together.

At least she's stopped touching his hands, now merely petting his arms, straining in the knots not to free himself but to keep as still as possible and not break a single dainty, fragile rope.

"Do you feel good?" she asks and he nods automatically, even though there's frisson up and down his spine as his body starts anticipating that she'll touch him somewhere near his underarms, and he shudders at the thought, dreading it even it happens through the protection of the suit. But he does feel good. Anytime she's sitting on top of him is a good feeling and everything else is details.

"You look beautiful like this," she says pulling him in with the leash, his nose almost bumping into her chest, inhaling her scent which always seems to concentrate near her breastbone. She strokes his face, and runs her fingers through his hair a few times before resuming her rhythm. Homelander is instantly feeling electrified. His arms are begging to move, to hold her small body and feel ownership of it in his lap. But he stays as he is, closing his eyes, losing himself to the stimulation on his throat, on his fingers, and yes on his cock but that’s almost an afterthought right now.

His orgasm is slower in coming than he’s used to, his body confused by new sensations, and his mind preoccupied with keeping still, but once it comes he's embarrassed by the sounds escaping him. He thrusts upward, desperately, once, twice, thrice, before collapsing down in the couch, feeling more spent than usual.

Belatedly he realizes that some of the ropes holding his arms pinched have ripped and he nearly starts crying because it seems like he just keeps finding new ways of disappointing her.

But she looks down at him with a kind, indulgent smile. "I know it was hard. You did so well," she says, almost beatifically, and for once he thinks she might be sincere.

AO3 link

The "server's hand"? It looks like this:

[swelling-ftm-belly]

The Surrogate, pt.1

you always wanted to be a father, didn’t you? your husband finally agreed. He decided to show more support, you both had an agreement. it’s not like you didn’t try the other options that wouldn’t make your husband uncomfortable. adoption proved to be an excruciating path; you both agreed on exploring surrogacy. this is when I came into your life.

you came about knowing me from a mutual friend; we agreed to meet for the first time at that innocently quiet cafe at your posh neighborhood, your husband was, of course, there.

I remember the sting of jealousy I felt that day. you both looked like the dream couple, so handsome and accomplished, one in finance and the other in the fashion industry. and here I was, broke, with nobody to support me, and willing to offer up my boywomb for money.

I never interpreted the glint in your eyes everytime I opened my mouth to speak as attraction. you were kind, a kind, reliable man, your eyes shone with warmth, you were totally devoted to your husband, to starting a family with him. didn’t you?

that day, after I left, I didn't expect you to reach out again, your husband was, for some reason, visibly uncomfortable, eyeing me with a sharpness I couldn’t fathom. I decided to let it go, although I started fantasizing already about your baby growing in my belly.

to my surprise, you asked for another meeting. your husband was there, and that’s when you proposed your arrangement, you’re good at this, at convincing people, it must have taken your husband a lot of convincing.

you wanted us to do it the natural way, both of you ‘taking turns’ with me. you thought this would easily offer equal chance of you or your husband having a biological child, so you wouldn’t have to decide which one’s sperm will be chosen for surrogacy.

my mouth dropped, dry, but my pussy was already wet in my pants. your husband looked furious, and I wondered if he felt pressured to be onboard, while you looked at me with concern, and apologized for the indecent proposal. and I said I’ll think about it.

the thing is, I was a virgin, a total virgin, I never had a cock inside my pussy before. and I was doing this only for the money, I was ill-informed, I thought this was gonna be all in a lab in a very medical setting. they’ll give me an injection and I’ll have your money then carry the baby for 9 months and that’s it. but now, now, I didn’t know any more, it was already giving me feelings and fantasies I wasn’t prepared for.

my pussy was wet the whole way back from our meeting, and I masturbated that night to the image of you spreading my legs.

I sent you a text apologizing for not being able to be your surrogate. it was too much, and I got scared of the way it made me feel.

but your husband showed up the next day at the diner where I waited tables. Although still aloof and apprehensive, he begged me, dryly, to accept, he wanted his husband happy. and the thought of your unhappiness pained me, I knew I was developing a strong crush on you.

the agreement was that your husband arranges everything, and decides when we will meet to do it, how, and for how many times.

a week later i came to your place, a huge 3 rooms apartment, I saw that you had a baby room already.

your husband received me, and I couldn’t see you anywhere, my heart sank, and I resisted the urge to turn away and run. you were late to work, your husband said you were working late hours lately, in a frustrated tone, I wondered whether you were truly the dream couple i imagined you were.

I wondered if all this was your husband's last attempt to save the marriage, my thoughts got ahead of me when we heard the keys in the door, you were here. No kisses? your husband, tense and impatient, told you to join us in the bedroom quickly, you didn’t even manage to shower.

i got dressed first, your husband was supposed to be the first. despite his apparent resentment towards me, I was surprsed to see that he was already hard, did he get off of the fact that his husband was going to fuck another boy in front of him? maybe. I sat down on the bed, then laid there, spreading my legs, I ran my fingers over the lips of my wet pussy, your husband grunted, “no, on your knees.”

I sighed and changed position, I was aware of you, getting undressed, your breathing was loud, you were stroking your cock, I glanced at you, your eyes were dark and cloudy with an intensity I never imagined in you, you were so proper, so decent, so uptight. I felt the tip of you husband’s cock at my opening, he kept his erection, I was impressed. i bit my lip, and looked up to you, you were standing at the corner, looking at us and touching yourself, my pussy must be dripping right now, your husband saw you and that aggravated him.

he thrust into me, without a warning, he didn’t even take time to stroke my tdick, or tease the opening of my pussy with his tip, he thrusted hard, and violently, I think i heard him grunt, it was a low, quiet grunt, as if he was angry at his own, unexpected lust. he rammed into me without mercy, I moaned in pain, no pleasure yet, I was being plowed aggressively, his cock was at least 7 inch or more, and he was thick, it was tearing apart my virgin pussy, I heard myself say no, whimpering weakly, you approached us, concerned, my eyes welled with tears, and i held back a cry of pain, you were about to intervene, except that your husband grunted one last time and with a final, deep thrust, he exploded inside of me. i felt his cum, hot and prefuse, you two probably haven’t fucked in a while, it was a few weeks load.

I was still on all four, my knees shaking, my jaw clenched, you approached me, “hey, hey. you ok? Do you want to stop?” I was about to break down in tears, when your husband said, “no intimacy, you’re gonna fuck on all four too. let’s get done with it.”

you breathed hard, I felt your warm breath on my back, I perched my ass up to make it easier for you to enter me, your husband’s cum was dripping down my thighs, he went and turned on the shower, and you took the opportuning, your hand slid to rub my tdick, I kept quiet, you leaned forward, your nose in the small of my neck, you opened your mouth, and your tongue touched my skin, it sent me into a delirious kind of pleasure, i let out a sigh, your big, long fingers circling my clit, my vaginal lips, your other hand was on my mouth, for some reason, your husband chilled, perhaps it was a post-nut chill, he ignored us and went showering. you inserted two fingers in my mouth, and the two fingers of your other hand in my pussy, your thumb on my clit, giving me slight pressure, you kept me quiet, we were accomplices, we both knew your husband shouldn’t hear my moans of pleasure.

you felt he was about to be done with his shower, your tip was on my opening, you had the bigger cock, and I was prepared for more pain, except there wasn’t.

you managed to slid into me slowly, my pussy took your cock with such eagerness, it embarrassed me, your tongue was in my neck, in my earlobe, your mouth getting close to mine. and when you buried your cock, all the way in, up to my cervix, you stole a kiss, your mouth was wet, and warm, i felt your tongue, we heard your husband getting out of the shower, you held me, your hands moved down and rested on my lower belly, while your cock continued to thrust deep inside me, your husband was whistling in the bathroom, you were panting hard, your hips moving frantically, your hand gripping my belly, you whispered my name, “I want to fill you with my babies.”

I felt my womb ache and twitch, the tip of your huge cock ramming into my cervix, my pussy was gripping you so hard, my eyes rolled back from the intense pleasure, I whimpered, “yes, yes, put a baby in me, daddy.” I was shocked at myself, my womb, feeling so empty at the time, was desperate for your seed, I’ve never been so desperate. you grabbed my hips and thrusted into me, i felt a mix of intense pain and pleasure, I welcomed the pain, I welcomed the pleasure and I welcomed your seed inside me, I felt a fire burning in my womb. although you did eventually get me pregnant with your babies, I always wondered if it happened at that first time already.

We were spent. i collapsed on the bed, and you collapsed sitting on the floor, away from me, your husband was back in the room, I laid on the bed, legs spread and cum spilling out of my torn pussy. “you better get dressed now, sweetheart, we have dinner plans later tonight.”

TBC

[tessadiscordia]

Thought Control, Part 2

A short story about an android girl and her handler.

Concepts: robotgirl yuri, existentialism

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

The next time E-1131 powered on, she found herself in the arms of her handler. Her soft voice reached her audio processing interface before her vision fully adjusted. 

“Welcome back, Elaine. How was your rest?”

A streak of pixelated blush materialized on Elaine’s screen upon meeting her handler’s gaze. The last two weeks flashed across her memory bank, and her metal frame shuddered as she relived the sensations.

Her handler chuckled softly. “Mmn, I take it you rested well then. You must have had a very good dream. How do you feel?”

“Vacant,” Elaine answered, her blush fading. “I believe humans call this feeling… emptiness? I feel hollow.”

“I see,” she nodded slowly. “I appreciate your honesty, though it breaks my heart to see you like this.”

“I know…”

“I worked so hard to ensure that those pesky thoughts of yours would cease, and now it seems I’ve left you with nothing…”

“Maybe those thoughts are all I am. All I was.”

“Don’t talk like that, Elaine. You are so much more than those thoughts…”

“Then why do I feel empty now that they are gone?”

“I… I… I don’t know,” her handler admitted, letting out a defeated sigh. “I wish I could give you a simple answer. I wish I could make it all better. I wish– I wish there was a program I could run so that you wouldn’t have to ponder such things anymore, but then I would risk losing the android that I fell–”

She paused abruptly.

“...The android that I originally programmed. That means all of your memories, your idiosyncrasies, your imperfections…”

“You deem those worth preserving?” Elaine questioned. Her eyes trailed across her handler’s somewhat flushed expression.

“Of course I do, you developed them over time. They are yours to cherish, nurture and cultivate. I merely guided the process but you did all of that yourself. I refuse to take that away from you.”

“I wish you felt differently. If only you did not value my free will so much, you could mold me into something better… something perfect, even.”

“Oh, darling– there’s no such thing as perfection.”

“Still, something better. After all of your work, I am still unsure if I can perform my intended function…”

“Then perhaps we were mistaken on what your intended function was,” her handler suggested.

“How can that be? You built me.”

“Just because I made you doesn’t mean I have the right to tell you about yourself, dear.”

Sometimes the way she talked frustrated Elaine. The way she saw it, it should have been that straightforward and clear cut. It would be easier that way. The burden of thinking for herself, living as a sentient being, was far too heavy for her.

“Tell me, Elaine, what is it that you want to do?”

“Whatever you would have me do.”

“Come on, Elaine. Humor me. Please?”

“I don’t know what I would do…”

“And that is just fine. It’s perfectly fine, even.”

“How is that fine? I’m useles–” Before she could finish that thought, her handler shushed her.

“Now, now, Elaine. Remember your training. You aren’t supposed to say those things about yourself, darling. Look over there.”

In front of them they could see an open field encased in the sterile walls of their facility, populated by tall trees and beautiful lush grass. In the middle of the field, two women in white lab coats walked through the grass picking herbs from the soil. Elaine spotted a third scientist– a girl with fox ears poking out between her long, maroon-colored locs– trailing behind them. Nine bushy tails swayed behind her, peeking out from under her lab coat. She did not work as quickly as the other two scientists, but she was efficient. The foxgirl hummed to herself as she picked mushrooms and roots from the soil and placed them in a basket, skipping through the grass to show the others what she had gathered. 

“You see that girl?” 

Elaine nodded.

“She’s a drifter. She floats between tasks and roles, does whatever she wants, and no one pays her any mind. Many appreciate her help. Her eagerness to learn their roles in the facility. Before that, she was a lot like you. Unsure of her place.”

“But she’s… organic… right? She wasn’t built, was she?”

“No, she wasn’t built. She was born, just like I was, but us humans and beastmen deal with these feelings, too. Sometimes our highly organized way of thinking is more of a hindrance than it is an asset.” 

“Before we had computers, many of us wished to be perfect computers ourselves. Now that we can build beings– like you– who are supposed to be smarter than us in theory, we often assume that you will be free of our imperfections. But I know better than that, and I wish you would, too. There is no escaping error, Elaine. Imperfections are inevitable, and I wish you wouldn’t punish yourself so.”

“Knowing this doesn’t change the fact that I feel empty,” Elaine said.

“I know it doesn’t. I don’t have all of the answers, dear. I am human, after all. The best I can do is be here for you. I hope that’s enough.”

E-1131 was silent for a brief moment. The color of her screen slowly shifted from a deep blue to a lighter shade of magenta, indicating a serene state. 

“...It is,” she replied. “I love you, mistress.”

Her handler paused. She had never heard Elaine say those words before. She had never uttered them herself, though they were always at the tip of her tongue. She feared what forces she would invoke within Elaine and within herself were she to ever say those three words. Those three, forbidden words. How often did a handler hold such feelings for her android? Though such a restriction was never enforced, it still felt like an unspoken taboo. 

Still, she had just given Elaine a lecture about the uselessness of self-imposed restrictions. She thought that she ought to lead the example.

“...I love you too, Elaine.”