#Once Upon A Time There Was A Boy And A Gun

[aria0fgold]

If only Akiren's bravado extends outside the metaverse then I could write a highly self-indulgent and full of whimsy story where Akiren got the bright idea of impersonating Kaitou KID just for the fun of it but alas... only Kaito can handle that... (And Lupin the 3rd).

[butterflytint]

in your web of lies - s. gojo

summary: as a devoted student of science, you put all your time just to that. Misfortune falls upon you when you are faced with being in the same class as satoru gojo, your longtime academic rival and essentially the bane of your existence. It goes one step further when his strange behavior seems to get even stranger as the web slinging hero of New York suddenly swings into your life. . . not that there's any correlation.

pairing: spiderman!gojo x fem!reader

warnings: college au, excessive banter, guns, violence, death/bloodshed mentioned, sexual content, smut, porn with plot, mentions of SA, p in v, oral sex, missionary, doggy style, riding, little sprinkle of dirty talk

a/n: this is based off the spiderman gojo art by @ aliyartss on instagram!

First weeks of any semester are always brutal.

The sound of traffic clogging and polluting the streets, brutal. The beginning of ringing headaches from the lack of sleep, brutal. The start of all-nighters to complete homework and study, brutal.

That’s just a small piece of the brutality that follows college students.

At least that’s what most students can relate to.

You glance over at Shoko, next to you as you settle into class. Being miles ahead of schedule was always way better than being even a second behind. So walking into the small lecture room ten minutes before class plays in your favor even if it was Professor Yaga’s class, the same professor you’ve had for two past semesters already.

“You look a little annoyed,” Shoko comments while flipping through her notebook.

“Sorry—I had a bit of a fight last night with my Dad,” you sigh out, shaking your head. Your finger slides along the edge of your own notes. “And I guess I’m just a little stressed about everything. The JJ Tech guys are having me spend extra hours and I can hardly get an hour to myself in the day.”

“Well chin up, we’ve got a long lab ahead of us today,” Shoko tapped playfully against your chin, her eyes down on her papers.

“Hm, right,” you mumble, eyes drooping at the chalkboard. “Wonder how you’re getting through this lab by yourself.”

“Hey, Satoru is my lab partner. You shouldn’t worry too much about that,” she chides. Shoko has a habit of not looking at you when she’s in the middle of doing something while conversating. “You seem like you have something else on your mind. You wanna talk about your dad?”

You eyeball the warmup problem he has on the board, jotting it down in your notebook. Your mind races with that conversation you had with your father just last night. How he wanted to have an assigned detail with you on campus, safely getting you to and from class. You have enough to worry about with finally shifting to yours and Utahime’s new apartment in a few short weeks without having to think about your dad.

Your impending argument was scheduled to continue once you saw him again since you didn’t even have a fighting chance when he got a call about a high-profile criminal striking again. You wonder just what could have transpired last night, apparently there were witnesses that sighted him.

“Not really.”

His fingers trail down the side of his torso, eyes screwing shut when he grazes that sensitive expanse of skin. Throbbing mercilessly, he hisses through clenched teeth, opening his eyes and glancing at the banged-up mirror on his wall.

That skintight suit was still clinging to his body like glue. He tears his mask off his head, tousling his white locks in the process. His head tips back when his gloved fingers brush over that tender place on his side.

A series of slow, deliberate breaths travel past his lips. Mindlessly, he reaches for a vial of painkillers. He doesn’t even count how many he tips into his waiting palm before popping them into his mouth and chasing them down bitterly with a bottle of water.

The boy grunts out as he falls back onto his bed, hoping he could sleep the soreness off before class tomorrow.

RING! RING!

Those eyes of his that had just shut after eons of forcing himself to stay alert and prepared for any attack were cruelly wrenched open once more.

RING! RING!

Another blasted alarm sounded from across his room, an alarm clock he simply can’t punch to snooze as he’d already bought a new one after abusing his previous two.

Satoru sat up, wincing at the sting on his side.

He groaned, gruffly peeling that suit off his body. Thoughts of the day ahead warped his mind. He had spent all night traipsing rooftops, swinging through the streets in pursuit of a gang of sloppy bank robbers.

He usually had fun trailing and taking down thuggish rogues, picking them off and bringing them to justice ever so casually. He got to feel the rush of the midnight air as he swung from building to building, between the streets. Arms and legs easily stretching and freely moving without a care in the world.

He loves it.

Last night, he had run that stolen van off the road without much effort. Everything went swimmingly until he had foolishly been launched into a brick wall mid-chase.

That had caused him to lose a bit of coordination during the fight that ensued shortly after. After stringing them up with his webs, he had swung back home only to stop yet another mugger on the way.

Once he had finally returned the woman’s stolen purse and made sure she got home safely, he gave himself the same protocol.

He tries to rush out of the apartment as soon as possible. He had enough on his plate to worry about with school, he could hardly keep up with his nighttime activities.

No, not that. His work as a vigilante made it difficult to have even a moment to himself. Let alone the fact his internship at JJ Technologies started earlier this month as well. So yes, he has enough on his plate with no room to spare for the breakfast his conscience had suggested.

“Yo! Suguru!” Satoru calls. He is jolted out of his thoughts when he approaches his best friend right by the theology building.

“Oh, what’s up?” Suguru turned around. “You watch the game last night?”

“Wha—no,” Satoru shakes his head, pushing his glasses up. He sheepishly sighs, “You know I’ve been busy with the internship and with homework.”

“Oh right,” Suguru mumbles teasingly. “The internship? Speaking of, did you see the news? They’re saying the man who banged those guys up pretty good last night was the mysterious Spiderman.”

“Will you shut up?” Satoru gasps, almost slapping him.

Of course, Suguru knew. He found out in a freak accident only a week after Satoru had been bitten. The freak accident being Satoru forgot to lock his bedroom door while changing out of his costume and his best friend walking in.

“Relax. No one knows,” Suguru reassures, he takes a sip of his coffee. “Only a small population of the public are still choosing to be delusional.”

“Yeah, delusional enough to believe Spiderman doesn’t exist,” Satoru scoffs.

“No, delusional enough to believe he does,” Suguru corrects harshly. “If I didn’t walk in on you half naked with that suit on and saw how you shot out a web before you realized I was in the room, I would never have believed those photos I saw in the news either.”

“Spiderman is a household name now whether you like it or not,” Satoru self-righteously points at himself with his thumb. “You wouldn’t believe how big of a fan the ladies are.”

Suguru shakes his head as he eyes his student portal on his phone. “Fuck, I have a history quiz today.”

“Shit, me too,” Satoru grunts, shaking his head as he walks past yet another sorority bake sale on his way down the main streets of campus. “Wait—we’re in the same class.”

“Oh—yeah,” Suguru fumbles with his phone as he points at Satoru. “I think I might ask Nanami to let me cheat off him—Haiba won’t mind but let’s face it, he’s not the brightest—Wait, you never mentioned what exactly happened last night.”

“Toji Fushiguro’s on the run. There was a sighting of him last night and I went to track him down but no luck. Then there was a bank heist on West 7th, I wish I got to fucking sleep after. Being flung against a brick wall is not as fun as it sounds. Fuck—wait I have class!” Satoru interjects, darting off in the middle of the conversation, leaving Suguru with a look of disappointment on his face.

“I have the same class,” Suguru frowns.

Yaga has always been quite the authoritarian, he knows what to expect from one of his star pupils as he strolls into class with a lazy smile on his face, ten minutes late.

“How nice of you to join us, Satoru,” Yaga’s tone isn’t as sweet as his words. “I should count myself lucky you showed up at all today, no less right before we worked on our lab assignment.”

That hand you have your cheek resting on slides up to palm at your forehead, hoping to soothe the forthcoming headache once that boy settles into his seat.

“We’re switching lab partners today,” Yaga declares, pen in hand as he scribbles and crosses out names on his seating chart. “I know you must’ve been comfortable with your partners from last semester, but I’d like you to find your name on the board and sit accordingly. This partner is who you’ll be working with for the final project.”

Satoru was perfectly fine working with Shoko. Their scientific caliber was on par with one another and despite the fact they butted heads quite often, they somehow managed to do quite well on their labs.

His mind traps him in praying he doesn’t end up with Yuki that he almost doesn’t realize the fact you were his new partner. He whips his head to the right, seeing your brows raise as you glance back at him.

Seriously? Him?   

No one can relate to how brutal it is having Satoru Gojo of all people as your classmate in your organic chemistry class.

Yeah sure, give you an assignment of reporting the development and properties of organic photovoltaic cells for renewable energy applications or even deciphering the molar mass of your father’s whiskey collection, you could make sense of it.

You could never make sense of this kid, however.

Satoru Gojo.

The irritating kid you’ve been battling to beat out for the highest exam score since middle school. The kid that ran into class late and hardly seemed all that present but still landed a score almost as high as yours every time. The kid that sat at the back of class, dozing off during lab. The kid that spent a decent chunk of senior year playing Digimon on his phone and still antagonized you before every science test you had.

That kid you thought you wouldn’t have to worry about after high school but were proved severely wrong when you saw him on your campus your first semester. That kid you hoped you wouldn’t have to run into anywhere else but still did somehow where you had been interning.

If there was a chemical formula to understand why you couldn’t stand him, your list of grievances would have to be simplified to fit on one page.

You’re seriously contemplating on marching up to Yaga and demanding a switch in partners. Someone else. Anyone else.

Trying to change Yaga’s mind on anything though, was a feat greater than what any scientist could accomplish.

Heaving a sigh, you plop your books down on the table. There was this severity in your movements that wove seamlessly into propriety. He peeks over at your color-coordinated notes all lined out in neat handwriting.

Yeah, he’s been competing with you in school for years. It’s not like he meant to, he was just great at just about everything he did. It’s not his fault!

He knew you couldn’t stand him, and he enjoyed that for some reason. Getting under your skin with quick quips were designed to be much more fun because of that. Since he is on the clock every hour of the day, he needs to let out his stress somehow. Punching bad guys is not enough anymore.

“Look at your notes,” Satoru cheeses, flipping through your book. “All shiny and pretty. You know, if you put more effort in, you could look the same.”

You shove his arm, snatching your book back from him, “Shut up. Don’t make me mad. Words can’t explain how pissed I am already.”

“Aw, you know I’m kidding,” he grins mischievously. “You’re not that bad to look at.”

You press your lips together as you inhale heavily. Your eyes raise to look dead straight at the front of the class before you turn your head to face him.

He catches that fire in your gaze that he’s not even seen in the most vicious of criminals and mutants he’s gone up against.  

“I don’t get why Yaga didn’t call Suguru out for being late either,” Satoru frowns, facing forward.

“Because Suguru isn’t late every day,” you point. “You are. And half the time, you leave early. It baffles me how you still pass all your classes.”

“Is someone jealous?” Satoru smiles.

As you shake your head, you look down at your notes. You’ve known Satoru for many years, but he was always just a classmate. He was also always the classmate you would barely beat out to get the highest marks in science or any other class. The classmate that would get under your skin way too often.

There was something about him that made you pay close attention to him.

“Oh shit!” one of the students in class shouts out, eyes glued to his phone. Needless to say, he’s garnered the attention of the entire class. “There’s a robbery going on right now at the bank downtown! Six-gun men have all the customers and staff held hostage!”

This earns a series of nervous gasps and prayers from the students. The hair on the back of Satoru’s neck stands up and he’s still in his seat as his peers flock toward the lab table of the student watching the news live stream.

“Wonder when Spiderman’s going to show up,” one of his classmates ponder aloud.

“Nah, he can’t do shit. You think a clown in tights is going to take down a fucking group of men with guns?” another kid snarks, causing Satoru to all but roll his eyes as he stands up.

Ah, the everlasting and everchanging debate as to whether the wall crawling vigilante was a menace or a savior of society.

If he wasted his time worrying so much about what people thought about him, he’d never get a single thing done. He drowns out their discussion as he strides to the door with his mission clear in his mind: Save those hostages.

“Alright boys! Glad we wrapped this up!” Satoru, or should one say, Spiderman dusts off his hands ever so casually.

He crouches down, leveling with the leader of the gang who happened to be tied up thanks to Satoru’s expertise webbing. He breathes freely with the knowledge that the hostages have rushed out of the bank, straight into the arms of their worried loved ones outside and the police.

When a vial of green in the pocket of one of the tattooed thug’s glints in the light, Satoru reaches to pull it out. He squints through his mask at the bottle of green, “What do we have here?”

As expected, the thug spits out, “None of your fucking business, you bug.”

“Quiet, will you?” Satoru harshly smacks the man’s forehead.

“Robbing a bank on a busy day like this for me?” Satoru tuts, a menacing lilt in his joke. “You should feel lucky I haven’t strung you upside down in your underwear out on the street lamps. But I’ve got somewhere to be unfortunately, so have fun in jail!”

With that, Satoru extends his arms out and a thick web sprouts out in the direction of the tall buildings lining the streets. If it was any other day, any other time of day, he would’ve stuck around. Spewed out some more quippy remarks, had a bit more fun with the goons.

But alas, he must get back in time before class ends. He knew the twenty minutes he had vanished for were going to raise questions.

He was absolutely correct.

“Satoru, where the hell were you?” Yaga all but yells at the boy stumbling back in. “Class is over.”

The entire class has their attention steering over to the late boy. He knew what he had to say, the lie didn’t need to be ridiculous but he knew regardless, he would still sound utterly stupid. He did not particularly give a fuck though.

“Little boy’s room,” Satoru casually responds, not a speck of shame in his rather comical answer.

This has the entire class locked in a deadly silence. That is before they split into a fit of boisterous laughter. Satoru revels in the fact he’s defused the tension he suspected he may experience.

You narrow your eyes, eyeing Satoru as he trudges over to his seat, tugging his collar into place. You let your eyes fall to the tabletop, looking over your work.

Typical. He leaves for God knows what and you’re stuck doing his work. If this isn’t precedent enough to request a new partner, you don’t know what is.

He’s not said a single word to you yet . . . How odd. You expect him to do no less than tease the living hell out of you or ask if you missed him.

All that swarms his mind however is what the hell is in this vial?

“What the hell is in this vial?” Suguru murmurs quietly as he inspects the glass tube.

“Beats me,” Satoru replies, swiping the bottle off him. “I need to figure that out.”

“Don’t you think that maybe you should’ve handed it over to the police?” Suguru asks, the sound of fellow classmates typing away on their laptops and chattering away in the campus library buzzes in the background.

“Police won’t do shit,” Satoru bites back, rolling his eyes. “If law enforcement was capable of anything, don’t you think that there wouldn’t be a need for Spiderman?”

“What about Spiderman?” Haiba butts in unannounced.

Satoru nearly jumps five feet in the air at the sudden intrusion. His six eyes that worked in his favor as a sixth sense to alert him of danger have helped him tremendously in combat time and time again, but not so much with nosy classmates.

Quickly pocketing the substance, he looks at Haiba, “None of your business.”

“Are you kidding? I spent all afternoon looking for footage from today’s robbery—I got nothing,” Haiba whines, flailing his arms in the air.

“I heard it was pretty cool,” Satoru boasts pridefully, earning a well-deserved elbow to the gut from Suguru.

Haiba trots off to go bother Nanami before Suguru faces his best friend again. “Oh fuck. Y/n is coming this way. Good luck.”

The vigilante’s eyes widen when he recognizes your stern, no-nonsense face and stride. Everyone is well aware of what that means, your kind and lighthearted behavior is put on hold in favor of your stern approach to your academics.

He half expects you to create a scene in the library but he knows you better than that. You never openly got angry, the worst he’s seen you do is roll your eyes. It’s one of the reasons he pokes fun at you as much as possible, hoping to see how he can make you crack.

Yet, you never do. You hold notebooks and files close to your chest as you march to a halt three feet away from him. Indifferently, you pull out a packet and hold it out for him.

“Since your bladder has never-ending issues, I did your part of the lab today,” you chide like you have a myriad of other things on your mind.

“Shit—you did not have to do any of this,” Satoru knows he should be frowning, but he’s not. A little leer spreads on his face, eyes wide and glimmering through the lens of those glasses he absolutely had no more use for since the day he was bit by that spider.

“Don’t bail on me again. Then I won’t have to do it,” you purse your lips at him before you turn around.

He is left there with nothing else to do but embarrassingly watch you walk away, clutching his lab report in his hand.

“Hold on,” Satoru mumbles to Suguru as he watches you sift between the aisles of shelves.

 Before either of them know it, he’s making his way to the aisle you are in. He’s eyeing you up and down almost skeptically, eyes lingering far longer than they should.

“Can I help you?” you quiz quite impertinently, your right hand pulling out a heavy book from the biochemistry section.

“Why did you do my part?” Satoru tips his chin down, a crease forming between his silver brows.

“Because you . . . didn’t do it,” you slowly iterate, grasping the book with both your hands as you flip through the pages. 

“Well, duh, but why?” Satoru repeats. “You didn’t have to do it. I ran out of class and left it all on you—you shouldn’t have done it.”

You take a deep breath, slamming the book shut, “If you really think I did it for you, you really don’t deserve to be in the same class as me at all. I did it so I don’t have to rely on you to get the work done. I’d rather have the work done right than have it half-assed. And here I thought you were much more clever than that.”

“I’m not stupid,” he smirks. “Just confused about a lot of the things you do sometimes.”

“Yeah, because you don’t know me,” you say, sliding that book back into the open slot on the shelf. You look up, reaching for another book that is placed well above your head.

“I know you. I know you’re your father’s daughter,” Satoru’s statement is playfully delivered yet it strikes you like a bus. His fingers stroke the spine of the book you were reaching for, relishing the fact you couldn’t reach it. He looks down at you, tugging the book out and holding it in his big hands. “You might just be stricter than the captain himself.”

“Why are you talking like you know my father?” you glare, folding your arms.

“Seen his interviews on the news. He’s one tough cookie—but it only makes sense when you’re a cop, huh?” he has a lilt in his head.

“Why are you saying stupid things?” you question, narrowing your eyes at him. “I already have enough on my mind, I don’t need you badgering me with nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense, it’s my professional opinion as your partner,” Satoru holds the book out with a ridiculously charming smile.

“Lab partner,” you fix his statement, reaching for the book but he pulls it back out of your reach, stupid grin still on his face. “Don’t play games with me, I have to get to work now, and you have to get there too.”

You pry the book from his hands and stride off before he can annoy you further. Satoru’s head turns, following you march off. He’s not sure why he’s trapped in staring at you for so long.

“I’m guessing you plan on finding out on your own as to what’s in that bottle,” Suguru interjects in the middle of Satoru’s wandering mind, popping up in the aisle.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Satoru fishes in his pocket, hoping that the touch of his cool fingers on the glass will telepathically reveal its identity to him. “If I had the equipment to do it on my own . . . it would be so much fucking easier.”

Suguru gapes at him like he’s stupid, “Hello? You intern at the biggest scientific research facility in the city.”

Satoru’s brows raise and the corners of his mouth turn down, weighing the possible next route to his answer.

“Okay, you have to log the results in the system like this,” you instruct your team. “Then you move on to the next step. Trust me you don’t want to forget logging that data, it could entirely throw off the process.”

You’ve been interning at JJ Technologies since last summer which has done nothing short of drain you of any free time whatsoever. It’s only been several weeks since you were moved up to lead a fresh batch of young interns. Luckily, you haven’t had to deal with teaching them in the laboratory with the equipment, just basic information and note-taking thus far.

That unfortunately was only the first of four hours at the facility. The next three hours, you would be holed up in the lab, inspecting and experimenting with nanotechnology. As tiring as it is, it is just as rewarding.

Knowing the amount of good that can be done with this research and work was a brilliant means of motivation. Society has advanced already as it is—the world of medicine has benefited greatly—billions of lives have the chance to improve. How could anyone give up on that?

Thoughts of what homework assignments you have yet to submit reign your brain. Hours and hours of straining your mind to intake as much information and apply it all in the lab was making you want nothing more than to crawl under your covers and call it a week.

With a hefty breath, you take a well-deserved recess to the vending machine. Hoping that this little trip for a snack can hold a candle to the sleep you oh so desire.

Satoru knows his assigned place of work is four levels down. He also is aware that his group had been dismissed ten minutes ago and he should be swinging his merry way through the streets to scout for trouble.

He is also entirely aware that he should not be on the twenty-something floor that had a chance of having an empty lab right about now.

Swiping his boss’s ID card is far too easy, shooting an inconspicuous web at any cameras of interest is just as simple.

The hard part is deciphering what is in this damn vial. The lights are dim inside the particular lab he steps into. A breath of relief pushes out of his lungs as he pulls the small bottle from his pocket, circling the stations to get to the specific equipment he needs.

There’s a limited amount of liquid in the vial, so he knows he must handle this process with care and precision. The story would be different if he had another vial or two.

You watch almost lifelessly as a bar of candy and a canned coffee drop down, landing with a dull thud. Mindlessly, you reach through the bottom flap, hearing the faint hinge as you pull out your restitution for break-free work.

Closing and harshly forcing your eyes back open, you try to keep your mind alert as you march on back to the lab to clean up. When you open the door, you’re not expecting this boy to whip his head up at you like a deer in headlights.

“Gojo?” you furrow your brows, one hand still on the door and the other clutching your food.

Gojo is stunned into silence, a laughable silence. When he says nothing, you tip your head down, “What are you doing here?”

“I just had some work,” Satoru quickly lies. “My manager needed me to look at something. I know you’re pretty happy to see me—your face says it all.”

“Oh, does it? Aren’t you supposed to be on the 20th floor?” you quiz, left eye twitching.

In most situations, when Satoru’s backed into a corner, he can somehow flip his way out of there or even sweettalk whoever he needed to. But he can’t explain why he actually feels bad lying to you, it makes his head whirl. “Uh—yeah, but I had to use some of the equipment up here.”

Squinting skeptically, you near him slowly. As you do, Satoru can’t help but gulp. He’s not sure what it is he should focus on. The fact he needs to come up with a way to convince you to not report him? Or the fact you are only a couple inches to his left, looking over his shoulder? The fact you look so adorable in a lab coat?

“What is that?” you peer down at the vial, noticing he has already placed a drop of that substance down on a microscope slide.

“Not sure,” Satoru shrugs. “I haven’t got the faintest clue.”

You continue staring at the chemical concoction, you flick your gaze at him, “Mind if I take a look?”

“Go for it,” Satoru shuffles a couple inches over, giving you enough room to peer into the eyepiece of the microscope.

He can’t help but tautly swallow, hardly able to pay attention because of how sweet you smell. He has to stop himself from telling you just that but he can’t let it get to your head. As effortlessly as he spins webs, he only hopes he’s half as graceful when feeding you some half-assed answer as to just what this chemical was and that his manager most definitely would give him such a compound.

“Hmm,” you hum, slowly turning the dial on the side of the instrument to lift and then focus what was in the slide. “Figuring out what is it shouldn’t be too tricky. I just need to measure the resonance frequency by breaking the substance down a bit more. Then determining the chemical properties shouldn’t be too tricky.”

Satoru’s brows lift and the edge of his lips turn down, amused clearly. “Wow.”

“What?” you blink.

“I always forget how smart you are,” he says airily. When you shoot him a look that seems to be a hybrid of threatening and offense, his nose crinkles and his glasses shift accordingly on his face, “That came out very wrong. I just meant—”

“So this is why you broke into my lab?” you cut him off, still squinting down at the substance.

“I didn’t break in,” Satoru defends himself. “I just figured no one would notice.”

“Why don’t you check over the logic in that again,” you suggest, eyes glancing up at him. “It’s hard to believe you’re the guy who almost beat me out for valedictorian.”

“And why’s that?” Gojo tilts his head, leaning his elbows on the table. It leaves you eyeing him from head to toe as inconspicuously as possible. Sometimes you forget how tall he is. The fact he towers over you serves as a friendly reminder he’s not just any old geeky kid from school.

Before you can give him an answer, his phone buzzes. He shoots a glance down at it, his pretty features sinking. The program he had compiled with Suguru to tune into the police’s radio communications to pick up on any crime alerts had pinged with notifications on his phone. There was a robbery currently taking place at a jewelry store three streets away.

“Shit—my aunt needs me to pick her up from her cooking class,” Satoru quickly lies, blinking unsteadily as he faces you. “It’s kind of far and not safe for her to ride the train by herself. I have to go. Sorry for bothering you—”

“Wait—” you hold a hand up, earning a wide-eyed look from him. It’s kind of endearing how earnest he sounds. “How about you go, and I’ll keep looking at this for you? Once I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

“You don’t have to,” Satoru frowns, sliding his backpack on, his Spiderman suit nestled neatly inside.

“It’s no problem. You go—don’t keep your aunt waiting,” you beckon him to get a move on. “I’ll see you at school.”

There you go again, being so incontestably kind yet being so severe while doing so. It’s when you crack a hint of a smile to ease him that he actually does as you say. That must be the first he’s seen you sincerely look at him.

Satoru rushes out the door and you glance down at the vial again, trying to understand what exactly the contents of it were.

Satoru has no time to think about how badly he feels leaving you with such a task. He’s too busy webbing his backpack up high on an alleyway wall after he’s changed into his suit.

Before he knows it, he’s already in the air, swinging loosely through the streets of New York. He feels the wind rush at him like it wishes to capture him, keep him in the sky with the moon. But with how quick he’s moving, he feels invincible—like nothing can touch him.

Satoru’s fallen into the same routine every night. Despite the fact he never gets the recognition in his personal life, he would not give up being Spiderman for the world.

Citizens walking the streets all gasp and point when they see the great Spiderman shoot past them like a comet. His white and blue suit makes him look like he was meant to be a part of a winter night sky, the sapphire blue spider emblem in the center of his chest casting a beautiful contrast in the ensemble.

He pays no mind as the silver meshy strings of his webs cling to buildings, aiding him in passing through the streets with ease. He also doesn’t stop himself from enjoying the occasional flips to impress the children out with their families and friends. Satoru insists it’s entirely necessary.

Once he spots the store mentioned on the police comms, he zips around the corner. Landing right above the entrance to the small jewelry shop, he pushes it open rather discreetly. It’s almost comical the way the goons inside haven’t the slightest clue that the Spiderman was crawling into the shop right above their very heads.

Thanks to Satoru’s wall crawling abilities, he’s able to cling to walls and ceilings with ease and without so much as breaking a sweat. So when he casually gawks down at the masked thieves, he tilts his head in amusement at how panicked the men look shouting orders to one another.

“Quick! Before Spiderman gets here!” one spits, stripping a diamond chain straight from the display case. When his friend breaks the glass case all together, he screams, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“The Spider’s not gonna come. He’s too chicken,” the other responds. “I’d like to see him try.”

“Cute,” Satoru chuckles above them.

This causes all four to whip their heads up at the masked vigilante. Satoru is only able to see their eyes through the cutouts but he can tell by the way their pupils dilate that they are downright terrified.

In the papers and in the news, Satoru is privy to the fact the general public is split on whether they see a need in all the flips and tricks that come along with Spiderman.

Satoru couldn’t care less though, he is wholeheartedly prepared to stand trial to attest to the fact that the flair is entirely necessary. He displays the testimony by the very way he does a backflip and lands with both feet and a palm planted to the ground.

“Y’know I left a really pretty girl all alone just so I could stop you?” Satoru teases lightly, straightening up and flexing his arms by crossing one over the other. “But hey, if that’s what you think, we can make this a lot more fun.”

One of the men reached for his gun, pulling it out and pointing it at Satoru. All he huffs out is a displeased and underwhelmed breath as he shoots out a web, yanking the gun back.

“Come on. Show a bit more effort. You’re killing me,” Satoru drawls like a six-year-old. His six-eyes alert him of an impending punch hurtling his way from his left, making him duck and grab the very goon’s fist in the process. “Missed me!”

The goon let out a threatening growl as he swung again, only to miss Satoru. . . over and over again. Satoru laughs childishly as he doges and parries off swings one after the other. Two of the others manage to finally point their guns at the arachnid hero, clicking the safeties with a string of snaps that causes the shop owner to gasp and cower further into the corner he was in.

Satoru rolls his eyes, delivering an unruly kick to one of the men that dominos into him clashing into his friend, knocking them both to the ground.

The hero giggles at the pathetic exhibition before him. He hardly bats an eye when one of the men throws something that resembles a marble to the ground. A cloud of smoke emits from the impact of the small pellet on the shiny limestone floor.

Satoru’s eyes widen behind his white and black mask. He moves to leap back but inadvertently breathes in far more than he intends to.

His head spins, or maybe it’s the room that is spinning, he can’t tell. All he knows is that his head is suddenly throbbing in pain, every nerve ending feels like it’s thrumming to burst within his very skull. Like they are conspiring against him and hoping to flee the purgatory of his mind.

His ears tune in and out like his head has been dunked underwater. Vision beginning to blur, he tries his best to plant his feet firm on the ground but to no avail. He’s hit with a great wave of despondency when he envisions his uncle’s dead body before him.

That and flashes of him in a beautiful house overlooking a balmy little coastal town, the sound of his laughter blends in with a girl’s and he cannot distinguish whose.

He hardly gets the chance to decipher the strange blend of images when he is suddenly hit in the back of the head with a crowbar.

Once again, the poor boy’s head rings and his head snaps down from the impact of the weapon to his skull. He lets out a pained groan, doing his best to gather himself and seize control of his sense again.

His vision begins to clear and all of a sudden, his six eyes begin to tingle and flash in his mind. INCOMING.

He listens to his instincts and ducks straight away, successfully dodging another deadly swing of that damned crowbar.

“Alright, party’s over,” Satoru scowls under his mask and flips back, snaking a well-aimed and well-timed web sticking to the man and tugging him back.

He punches him quite harshly in the face that it all but knocks him out. Satoru quickly lunges for the two goons in the midst of aiming their guns at him. The thieves don’t even process how quickly they are disarmed because Spiderman has already smashed their heads together.

They drop to the ground, leaving one more thug, quivering in terror. He points his gun at Satoru with a shaky hand, only to find that weapon of his leaving his very hands when Satoru tugs it at towards himself with the help of his webs.

“Last one, huh?” Satoru smugly says. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

The thug fumes as he charges at the vigilante, “I’ll fucking kill you. If not me, then the others!”

He throws a fist at Satoru, but he whips his head to the side, “Others?”

He then lands a punch of his own at the criminal before successfully dodging yet another hit. As Satoru’s third punch causes the thief to lose balance, he’s already in the middle of stringing the man upside down from the ceiling.

“Who are your friends—” Satoru stares at the tangled man, readying his fist to intimidate the thug. “And I advise you talk.”

“I’m not saying shit!” The thug spits, trying to wriggle free.

“You’ll be here for god knows how long. All that blood rushing to your brain, oof, must hurt a little.” Satoru threatens playfully. “And it’ll hurt like hell when I actually beat you to a pulp!”

“Shit! Okay! Okay!” the thief cries, panic-stricken sweat dripping down his forehead into his hairline. “I—I work for a guy named Jogo! He’s this freaky looking guy that wears this mask on his face—I’ve never seen him but he’s big in the group, works with some other guy—I don’t know his name.”

“Jogo,” Satoru mumbles wracking his brain to see if he has had a run in with him. “What is he up to?”

“I’ve got no clue! I swear!” the man attests frightenedly. “All I know is that they needed us to look for a specific relic—You see my partner you knocked out right there? He’s got a picture in his back pocket. Jogo sent a bunch of us on heists in banks and jewelry stores to see if we can find it but there’s no sign of it anywhere.”

Satoru steps back and grabs the photo from the pocket of the man the other thief had indicated. He pulls back the photo, glossing over it briefly.

It was a photograph of a box. Made of some sort of coppery-silver metal with engraved eyes on the sides of it. The irises though, were made of jewels—rubies.

“Going through a whole lot for this freaky looking thing,” Satoru waves the photo with a dexterous flip of his fingers. “Why are they going through all that trouble for this? And what’s in it for you?”

“Wish I knew why those guys want that thing,” the man shakes his head, eyes still wide. “They told us they’d give each of us a cut in all that we returned from the heists—Jogo is not someone to be messed with—he’d track us down and kill us if we went back on our deal.”

“Tch. You’re scared of the wrong people,” Satoru tuts, stowing away the photo for safekeeping. “Tell me what that thing was that your friend threw on the ground. That little ball.”

“That? I have no idea. The boss just gave my partner a few—I think that was the last one. He didn’t tell us what it was or what it did,” the felon explains.

Satoru feels his own fingers twitching in irritation, “Think again. Remember what it was and I’ll go easy on you.”

The criminal’s eyes widen, “I don’t know anything! I swear! Please don’t hurt me!”

“Goodnight,” Satoru grunts out, ramming his elbow into the man’s nose, putting him to sleep.

It’s a matter of seconds before Satoru is watching from a few rooftops over as the cops arrive on scene. The flashing blue and red lights flashing into the back of his very skull. He’s running through what the thug he interrogated said, trying to make sense of it.

Speaking of making sense, you’re lugging yourself out of the lab after finally making sense of just what that vial Satoru had given you contains.

The worry on your face embeds itself into your features as you stash the chemical in your bag. Why would his manager hand this to him?

You glance over your phone, seeing your father calling you as you’re walking towards the train platform. Taking a beat to answer, you speak into the receiver, “Hey, Dad.”

“Hi, sweetheart, are you on your way back? It’s getting late,” your dad says, chatter in the back cause your ears to perk. Radios and police codes being tossed around in dialogue.

“Yeah, I’m waiting for the train,” you reply, looking up and down the tracks. “Are you still working?”

“Yeah, captain duties, dear,” your father responds calmly, yet you can hear the annoyed strain in his voice. “That spider’s strung up a few men in a jewelry store downtown. Taking care of what’s left of this place.”

“Oh—you saw Spiderman?” you ask, watching the train stop in front of you, bracing yourself as the lashes of wind whipped at you full speed.

“No, he’s left his webs all over the place,” your dad grunts dishearteningly. “Damage control is going to have lots of fun with that . . . Mom’s going to be pretty mad at us tonight for missing dinner, huh?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” you nod like it’s obvious, sitting down and making eye contact with a gruff pair of men before quickly averting your gaze. “Maybe you should bring her flowers. She always likes that.”

“Yeah, maybe I will,” your father says. “Alright, honey, get home safe. I’ll see you in a bit.”

You think over what he says. Your father always mentions the elusive Spiderman. How none of his men have gotten even close to cracking the case on who the wallcrawler is. How Spiderman is somehow everywhere and takes care of crimes of all scales.

How could a man find the time to even do all that?

The desire to study a man like him plagues your mind far much more than you would like to admit. Who would pass up such an opportunity?

But more of what’s spinning in your mind like a deadly train is why Gojo has a vial like this?

Speaking of trains, when yours comes to a stop, you stand up to get off. It’s unfortunate that the subway stop couldn’t be closer to the next one you are supposed to take.

As you drag on down the street, you mull over what you plan to say to your dad when you try convincing him to simply leave you be once you move out because your safety is put more at risk from the distant and late commutes after classes and your internship.

There’s something in your gut telling you to rush, like you’re being chased or watched at the very least.

You toss a look over your shoulder, seeing those two rugged men about fifteen feet behind you. It’s well past dark and your heart hammers louder against your ribcage, a prisoner demanding release.

Facing forward again, you try to hurry as fast as you can but you feel helpless when you enter a scarcely populated street.

Fuck.

That’s when you break into a full speed run. You hear the footsteps behind you pick up. Your hand slips into your bag’s pocket to grab your mace or taser, but when your fingers only skim the glass of that substance Satoru gave you, you know you’re doomed.

You glance back again, thundering heartbeat blaring just as loud as your footsteps against rough pavement.

“Hey, pretty!” one of the leering men shout. They are far too close to you now. “We just want to have some fun!”

You reach for your phone to send an SOS message to your dad—but that’s exactly the moment the man grabs your arm. You scream in horror, trying to keep going but the other one grabs you too.

Against your will, they drag you into the deserted alleyway nearby. You’re still wriggling in their hold, hoping to free yourself. Thrashing, kicking, screaming, you try it all.

“Let go of me!” you scream. “My dad’s a cop and he’s on his way right now!”

“Shut up,” his friend spits. “You’re full of shit.”

“I’m not,” you grit your teeth. “Captain L/n—badge number 103—”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” the first man says. “You look better when you’re not talking. We gotta do something about that.”

Your eyes widen, and you try pushing, screaming as loud as your lungs can take. The elbow you throw against the jaw of one of the men seem to have done some damage. His head whips to the side but surprisingly his body shoots back about five feet, striking against the brick wall.

Your big eyes follow the man, seeing that wasn’t your doing at all. Of course, it wasn’t. How could a girl like you simply cause a man to fly across an alley and slam against a wall?

That’s when he appears like a fallen angel. In black and white, a glowing blue in the core of his chest, a symbol of hope.

Spiderman.

He’s against the wall the man had flown into, but you have to crane your neck a fair amount to look up at where he’s clinging to. You can hardly blink at the fact he’s against the brick wall with no reinforcements whatsoever, just his fingers and soles of his feet keeping him afloat, defying physics, logic, and gravity.

“You gotta be at least a little attractive to hit on a girl like that,” Spiderman tilts his head, voice light yet husky, young.

“Fuck,” the man closest to you now was backing away. “I didn’t do nothing! I’m—I’m sorry—”

“Ugh, shut up,” the vigilante drawls, dragging out his syllables childishly.

He drops down with the most impressive of flips you haven’t even seen gold medalist gymnasts do. After he effortlessly sticks his landing, he wastes absolutely no time in lunging at your assailant.

He punches him square in the side of the jaw, the pop loud enough that you gasp, stepping back.

The man lets out a frightened cry, and right when you almost feel bad, you’re reminded of how you screamed a few moments prior. Yeah, this terror is well deserved.

Spiderman delivers a seamless kick to the side of his opponent’s abdomen. The entrancement you’re trapped in doesn’t let you avert your eyes at all. His movements are like water, like a choreographed dance even Broadway level performers can never imitate.

A scientific miracle. Something inhuman. Someone untouchable.

The man falls to the ground after taking a quite deadly strike to the face. Your eyes go from the attacker on the ground to his attacker.

The superhero stands there, his back to you, silhouetted by the dingy light from the end of the alley. He turns his head to the right, and you’re guessing he sees you from his peripheral because he’s still not looking directly at you.

You want to watch him for much longer, the superhuman that saved you. The superhuman in a well fitted suit, defining every inch of his body—his muscles, his perfect height.

“You okay, miss?” Spiderman asks, turning to you.

“Y-yeah,” you rasp. “Is—he . . .”

“Dead?” he finishes, snickering. “No. Just sleeping peacefully till the cops get here. Which should be in about five minutes.”

You nod, humming in the little frozen state of yourself. Behind the mask, Satoru wants to do a million things. Ask you a million things. But he knows he needs to keep up the persona of the wall-crawler he his.

“You don’t want to get caught in the lengthy questioning the police are going to do, right?” Spiderman (Satoru) crosses his arms, leaning against the wall.

“Not really, no,” you hardly move at all as you speak.

“See? That’s why I like my way of business. Less paperwork,” the web slinger jokes. “I can get you where you need to be in a matter of minutes. Tell me where you were headed.”

You gulp, “Home. But what do you mean? I don’t think you have a car—wait a second.” That’s when the reality of the situation hits you. “You’re real?”

Satoru chuckles, “We’ve been talking for almost a minute now, lady.”

“I know, but,” you’re looking him up and down. “I thought those news reports were based on just pranks. Seriously—no one has seen much of you—I thought these criminals were just leaving webs everywhere as a sign of loyalty to their gangs.”

This gets the man to laugh again, his head is facing down, and he shakes his head. You’re staring again, it’s hard not to.

“Alright, miss,” Satoru looks at you, making sure he doesn’t accidently slip up and call you by your name. “Where were you headed? Home?”

“Yeah,” you say, watching him push himself off the wall and hold a hand out to you. You glance down at his hand, then up at his face. His mask is covered in synthetic fibers stitched to imitate webs.

“I know you’re shaken up by those guys and what just happened but please trust me,” he sounds inexplicably genuine, unaccountably sincere. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Your eyes soften, so does the rest of you as you place your hand in his. There’s a level of trust you don’t understand the strength of when you do so. It’s borderline undermined when he tugs you toward him quickly, eliciting a gasp from you.

“You might want to hold on tight,” Spiderman suggests, snugly sliding his arm around your waist, pressing you against him.

“What are you—,” you don’t have the opportunity to finish your question when you find that your feet have left the ground.

You grasp on tighter to him, heeding his suggestion without so much as a second thought. You look down, feeling the wind whipping in your hair. The sight below you is enough to draw a yelp. Well, anyone that is being swung through the streets of New York would. It’s only natural.

“Oh my god!” you scream when you feel yourself hurtling towards the ground.

He shoots another web in the nick of time before you hit the concrete, and you’re in the air again. You bury your face in his neck, clamping your eyes shut. Satoru holds you close, tightening his grip on you. This feels nice.

A part of him doesn’t want this little swinging spree to end. Maybe it doesn’t have to.

“Sorry. No seatbelts,” Satoru laughs. “Should’ve mentioned that!”

“You think?” you quiz, half gasping with the rush of the wind. “Wait! Where are you even taking me? I didn’t tell you where I live!”

“Just trust me!” he yells back.

You open your eyes, looking over his shoulder at the city. The lights don’t blur like you expect them to. You feel like you’re flying, like the moon was waiting for you to join with the stars.

Cars seem smaller suddenly. People look smaller. New York, though, looks just as vast as it always has been.

Once the initial fear shakes out of you, you stare at the city, “Woah.”

You turn to look at him—at Spiderman. He’s still focused on swinging you through the city with one arm. Studying his mask, you can see the fibers of fabric, polyester or something similar. There can’t be many people that can say they’ve seen Spiderman, let alone been this close to him.

You’re amazed, in awe of the impossible. Peace consumes you as you continue to gaze at the wonderous city you love.

Another swoop over rooftops and you feel him lowering towards one. You hold on again, hoping the landing isn’t so rough. Luckily, it isn’t.

You look around, realizing you aren’t on just any rooftop. You’re one of the rooftops of the building you live in.

“How’d you know I live here?” you quiz, brows furrowed and jaw slack.

Satoru has a bit of an oh fuck moment. Words almost fail him but he’s easy to recuperate.

“Well, your dad lives here, doesn’t he?” he points at the ground. “The captain?”

Your mouth that was agape slowly closes and your eyes drift to the edge of the building, “Oh. You know who I am.”

“I know who your dad is,” the man replies. “Seen him a bunch of times. So I’ve seen your face around the main precinct a lot and on the news.”

“You have?” you cock a brow.

“Yeah—hey, don’t worry about those guys. Just try not to be alone at night,” he advises, gesturing with his hands. “Guys see a pretty girl and don’t know how to act a lot of the time.”

You can’t help the slight brow raise when you realize he called you pretty. Satoru pays it no mind however as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Where were you coming from anyway?” he asks, pretending not to know.

“JJ Tech headquarters,” you answer, licking your lips discreetly to tame yourself from gawking at his lean yet muscular figure. Eyes lingering far too long on how the skintight suit fit him, accentuating everything.

Satoru catches this, smirking to himself, “JJ Tech, huh? You must be pretty smart.”

“Pretty smart would be an understatement,” you say. “I wasn’t even supposed to be there this late anyway. I should’ve been home two hours ago.”

Satoru’s ears perk up, he takes this as his opportunity to pry, “How come you stayed longer?”

“Just this guy—he ran in and asked me to help him with an assignment,” you grumble, rolling your eyes.

“Just a guy? He your friend or something?” he asks, leaning his back against the wall to the stairs.

“Or something,” you mumble.

“Oh?” Satoru pipes. This is the perfect moment to see what you think about him. To even flirt with you without any repercussions. “Does that mean he’s your boyfriend?”

“What?” you squeak, voice all high pitched. “God, no. No. He’s just a classmate. He pisses me off most the time—I can hardly stand him at all.”

Satoru scowls beneath his mask, not what I was hoping for.

“I still can’t wrap my head around the fact you exist,” disbelief clings to your tone. “You know you’re a scientific marvel, right? Scientists would kill to study you.”

He laughs, it’s a pretty laugh, one that feels hauntingly familiar, “You want to cut me open or something?”

“Oh, I’m not qualified enough to do something like that,” you wave your hands. “Who’s to say I can’t study your body in other ways?”

Satoru can’t help but smile, he sees that glimmer in your eye and you sound so innocent despite how inviting you phrased that. You don’t even realize it, but he smiles wider.

“You’re funny,” he laughs, shaking his head.

There’s a bunch of things on your bucket list, a lot of things you aren’t sure you’ll get to even accomplish. One of them being making thee Spiderman laugh was definitely not one of them.

“Thank you for saving me,” you say, pulling him from his little fit of amusement. “I thought I was . . . I thought they were going to get away with what they wanted to do.”

Satoru raises his head again, straightening up. It dawns on him that he’s responsible for you being out on that street this late. That if he had hurried up, he could’ve gotten back in time like he planned. He just feels lucky that he made it in time.

He made it just in time, and he’s thankful for that. But he truly hates the fact you almost got seriously hurt because of him. He’s at fault and he knows this will haunt you for a long time.

“Don’t thank me. It’s nothing any normal human being wouldn’t do,” Spiderman tells you, walking over to the edge of the building. “Just stay safe. And know you can depend on your friendly neighborhood Spiderman anytime.”

And with that, he dives off the side of the building. You suck in a harsh breath, rushing and leaning over the elevated stone along the perimeter. Looking down, you find that you have to follow the black and white blur swing up again.

You smile breathlessly, watching the amazing Spiderman soaring off.

“Suguru, it was all my fault,” Satoru paces his apartment . . . ceiling?

 He’s walking in circles upside down, feet sticking to the ceiling like it isn’t scientifically impossible. His mask off but his suit remains on.

“If I hadn’t left her there for so long working on that freaking solution, she wouldn’t have left so late. If I was even a second off, I don’t even know what could’ve happened,” Satoru’s white locks are swaying as he walks. Although he defies gravity, his hair doesn’t.

“You saved her though, that’s all that matters,” Suguru assured, stuffing the chopsticks with a mouthful of noodles in his mouth. “But how did she not recognize you? There’s no way you talked to her.”

“I did,” Satoru drops to the ground. He makes his way over to where Suguru sits on the couch, picking up a box of takeout. “Maybe she’s not as smart as she thinks she is.”

“Please,” Suguru eyes Satoru, handing him a pair of chopsticks. “Don’t underestimate that girl, she’s smarter than half the tri-state.”

“Sure, she’s cute and happens to be smart,” Satoru shrugs. “She’s just a girl though, not a threat.”

“Why did you bring up her being cute?” Suguru narrows his eyes, lowering his food. “That had nothing to do with the conversation.”

“What?” Satoru mutters, chewing on his noodles. “She’s beautiful—there’s no denying that.”

“Beautiful?” Suguru laughs.

“What?”

“You just took it one step further,” Suguru teases, laughing again. “You have a crush on her!”

“What? No, I don’t!” Satoru snaps.

“Now it all makes sense,” Suguru has a wide grin. “Teasing her nonstop, annoying her to get her to yell at you. Wow, you can just ask her out, y’know.”

“Okay, you’re on drugs,” Satoru squints at his best friend.

“Yeah, yeah,” Suguru dismissively says. “So did you get that vial back from her?”

“Obviously not, I’m not supposed to know about that as Spiderman. Only Satoru Gojo knows that,” Satoru states, pointedly gesturing with his utensils. “I’ll ask her tomorrow.”

“Hm, what are you going to do now though?” Suguru asks. “I mean about this Jogo guy that thug told you about.”

“I’m not sure,” Satoru mumbles. “I’ll have to look into that.”

“Shoko, you know I wouldn’t make up something like that.”

“I know! That’s not what I said, it just sounds insane. Like, Spiderman? The Spiderman?”

You stare at her flatly and Utahime rubs your shoulders, “That sounds terrifying. Did you tell your dad?”

“What? Are you kidding? No,” you quickly spit. “If I tell my dad that he’s going to station two cops to follow me twenty-four seven. I can’t have that.”

“Y/n, that could’ve ended very badly,” Shoko frowns dejectedly. “What if Spiderman didn’t show up?”

“But he did,” you say. “If he didn’t, I’d be dead, and all my stupid little worries would be gone. But you don’t understand—that man . . . wow.”

Shoko and Utahime pause to look at one another, the former quizzing, “You—you don’t have a crush on Spiderman, do you?”

“Not a crush, no,” you chuckle, sipping your coffee before you look down at Shoko from where you’re sitting on the picnic table. “Fascination, yes, I have that. But to be honest, he was incredible to look at—his body was . . . ugh, I don’t have anything appropriate to say.”

“Now, this is how I know you need to get laid,” Shoko chuckles. “Having a crush on a spandex wearing spider is insanity.”

“Is it?” you look at where she sits on the bench. “You experience what I did, and I’d love to hear your opinion.”

Shoko frowns at you, then at Utahime. That’s when the latter says to you, “Wait, didn’t you need to talk to Gojo?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, sparing a cautious glance to your bag containing that mix. “Got to go over that stupid project before class. Would it kill him to be on time? He’s always late.”

There’s no need to tell your friends what the fuck Satoru had given you to configure on your own. Not until you at least talk to him and get the full story. You have enough on your mind as it is, having Shoko and Utahime’s thoughts thrown into the mix would only rattle and confuse you further. It doesn’t help that one of them grew up with Satoru and knows his aunt and the other loathes him almost more than you do.

“I’m going to grab a croissant before class,” Shoko rubs her stomach. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

You hop off the bench and head on down towards where your Orgo class is. There’s still about twenty minutes left till class and Shoko falls behind to grab her baked good.  

Those memories of last night carry you where you need to be. You strut along the path with a purpose, your hair is effortlessly styled, makeup barely there, yet it somehow masks just how disheveled you truly feel.

“Gojo!” you call as you spot him by the bottom of the steps in one of the University’s vast courtyards, he just so happens to be in the midst of discussing something Digimon related with Haiba.

Haiba and Suguru’s eyes widen as they realize it’s you storming towards Gojo and not just any other girl.

Satoru flicks his gaze over as you walk over, stopping in front of him. He’s not sure what to say, he knows he should probably address the task he stupidly left for you to do but he hardly strings a solid greeting together without sounding stupid, “Hey.”

“Can I talk to you—in private?” you ask, your face gave away an austere look, like you were about to scold a child.

How can he say no?

He nods, standing up and following you down the side of the building. The two of you are supposed to be heading down to class that happens to be the other way but he doesn’t even question you when he’s whisked onto the school grounds.

His mind fumbles through the events of last night. He had two conversations with you. One as your savior and one as the guy you got stuck with for science class. He’s racking his brain enough to decide how to behave although the answer should be obvious.

The boy follows you behind the bleachers, looking around with an incredulous quirk in his brow when you step into the dark underside of them.

“Is everything okay?” Satoru blinks as you stop.

“Gojo.” You sternly face him, not saying anything else.

“That’s my name, yeah,” he sassily retorts. “Doesn’t answer my question though.”

“Don’t test me,” you hold up your index finger threateningly.

Cute, he thinks.

“Where did you get this?” you hold up the small vial. “And the truth this time.”

Satoru’s eyes lock onto the green liquid, unsure what lie he should curate this time. He could simply insist on the same lie as before, convince you that you were overthinking. Or he could tell you the truth, ultimately putting your life and his secret in danger, but hey, it’ll save him from looking entirely idiotic.

“I told you, my manager,” he states, reaching out to take it.

You pull it back, further from his reach and he wants to laugh at how easy it would be to take it from your hands in the blink of an eye.

“How stupid do you think I am?” you quiz.

“I don’t think you’re stupid at all,” he says, a smile goes with that shake of his head, his hair falling over his bespectacled blue eyes. “Just a little scary.”

“Listen, I know your manager didn’t give you this because he wouldn’t give you this.” You pointedly flash the vial in his face. “Do you realize what’s in here?”

“Wait,” Satoru’s smile fades. “You’re telling me you actually found out what’s in it?”

You nod haphazardly, more confused than skeptical, “You don’t know?”

“No—I don’t, what is it?” he asks, nearing you too closely without meaning to.

You lower your hand, “It’s a highly concentrated blend of hallucinogens and anesthetics. One sip could send a man into cardiac arrest—or worse, kill him.”

Your eyes are on his, but his eyes aren’t on yours. His are on the bottle of chartreuse in between your fingers.

“Satoru,” you murmur quietly, lowering the bottle into his indecisive palm, his fingers edging closer to yours but pulling back ever so gently before they attempt to muster the courage once more. You glance down at his long pale fingers, his skin glows sweeter than the moon itself.

Your gaze dips to your skin grazing his as you place the bottle into his hand. You let your hand linger against his, not sure why you don’t think of retracting.

Why are you just realizing how pretty he is?

The rims of his glasses glint as he looks at your face, studying your features like he’ll never get the chance to ever again. You blink yourself into snapping out of it, pulling your arm back and swallowing dryly.

“Sorry about the trouble,” Satoru quietly says, stowing away the vial.

“It’s okay,” you reply, voice rasping. While his eyes are focused on tucking the bottle safely, you say, “I don’t know what it is you’re hiding—I won’t ask, but please be careful.”

Satoru can’t help the grin he cracks, “I’m tougher than I look.”

And when he walks away, there’s a strange feeling that stirs in your gut. A feeling that tells you he may be right.

You aren’t sure why you’re still thinking about why he had that chemical in the first place. Did he make it himself? Did he buy it off someone? What was it intended for?

The rest of your organic chemistry class, you’re left there wondering what that boy is up to. You’re left wondering why he is missing class again today after you just saw him. And you’re left wondering whether Satoru thanks Yaga for never marking him late or absent at all. Call it favoritism, you suppose.

He thanks any deity that he can think of when he arrives on time to JJ Technologies before his manager questions him.

He finds some time to slip away, sneak up to your floor while you’re instructing your latest interns. He smiles, watching you scribble something down on your clipboard while you walk.

“Okay, this right here is just a sketch of one of our current studies,” you point at a holographic, digitized image that appears above a table. “This is a paradigm for a new discovery of nanoparticles. They’re commonly used to reduce the number of catalytic materials within chemical reactions. There are two fields within certain industries that they are applied to. Can anyone tell me what they are?”

The students all flip restlessly through their notepads, struggling to look for the answer to your question.

Satoru can’t hide the snicker he lets out. Half the student look back at him and you peer through the batch of preppy kids to see him.

“Petroleum refining and automotive catalytic converters,” Satoru replies, still smirking complacently.

You have a bit of a curl to your lips, eyes locked on his as you say, “Yes. That’s correct.”

Seeing him appear within your mix of pupils almost throws you off, but you know you have a certain image before the students so you keep yourself composed. You quickly instruct the students to write the answer down and head to their stations with their teams.

When the interns disperse, you cross your arms, face to face with Gojo.

“What do you want?” you ask, a sickly-sweet smile on your face.

“Oof, would it kill you to talk nice to me?” Satoru acts like a wounded soldier, palm across his abdomen.

“I feel like it might, so I’d rather not take the risk,” you say pointedly.

“Hm, right,” Satoru scoffs, he looks down. “You’re going to be alone now in the lab, right?”

“No, I’ll be in the lab but not alone,” you say. “My colleagues are going to be in there with me. You need something?”

“No, I wanted to ask you something,” his brows tense.

An odd sensation stirs in your stomach, “Ask me what?”

It’s been a while since either of you actually began interacting with one another somewhat civilly. You don’t know what it is that will come out of his mouth but you’re suddenly hopeful.

He grabs your hand, leading you off to the side, causing you to jerk your head around in case anyone’s looking.

Once you are beneath the mosaic mural of DNA helixes on one wall, Satoru stops, letting go of you. You try not to let the idea of his hand staying in yours distract you from what’s to come.

He tries not to focus on how soft your hand is, and once again how the fragrance of your perfume feels like candy on a summer day.

“You didn’t tell anyone about that bottle, did you?” he whispers, eyes darting between yours and the rest of the busy facility.

“No,” you shake your head. “Of course, not. I had a feeling you wanted to keep it private.”

Satoru looks at you, his smile reaching his ears, “Aw, how sweet. You care about me.”

You smack the back of his hand, causing him to hold it close to him possessively and rub it gently from the very slight sting of your slap.

“Shut up,” you snap, catching the way his blue eyes gleam behind his glasses. “Is that all?”

“No,” he states, straightening up and switching his tone from light and playful to serious. “You said it was deadly to take a single sip. That the properties within it were so overly saturated it could do serious damage. But let’s say . . . you needed to use it in combat . . . could you?”

The nature of his question startles you, “Combat? Like if soldiers were fighting?”

“Yeah, sure, like that.”

You’re blinking heavily, looking towards the place where the wall meets the floor, “Well, I suppose it could be used in a vaporous form. Like gas or something. That could do enough damage too.”

“Ugh,” Satoru closes his eyes and pinches his nose. “I was afraid of that.”

“What is it?” you peer up at him through your lashes. “You’re hiding something.”

“No—I’m not,” Satoru groans. He notices the suspicion on your face, “You got time for a snack in the cafeteria?”

Flaring your eyes over his, you glance discreetly at the time, “Fine.”

You begin to walk away.

“That was a yes or no question! Not a secret third response,” he trails behind.

“You got your answer, didn’t you?” you gesture to yourself.

“Yeah, but you seem entirely unenthusiastic about it,” Satoru grumbles. “A little energy may do you good.”

You hit the elevator button, crossing your arms, “I’m not here to appease you.”

“Appease me? Oh, god,” he lets out a baffled scoff.

“What?” you furrow your brows. “Poor choice of words?”

“Not exactly,” Satoru replies, loosely shifting to get into the elevator. “It might be nicer, I guess, to know if you actually wanted to get a snack with me and not as if I’m holding you at gunpoint.”

You roll your eyes, “You brought up a snack and I happen to be hungry. Where does gunpoint come in the mix? You really want me to do cheer like you came to my rescue?”

He almost laughs from the irony but he knows not to. He knows just as well that things could have gone extremely wrong the other night if he had not gone about everything carefully. There’s another sort of irony to him, a different form of saving.

“Mhm, but you like coming to my rescue pretty often,” he responds, a lopsided smile on his lips as he leans against the wall with folded arms.

You squint at him, the word rescue coming out of his mouth reminding you strangely of the danger you were in right in that alleyway.

“What does that mean?” you say with tightening eyes.

“You did my part of the lab report to save my ass, you helped me with that liquid, you kept that secret for me,” Satoru breaks eye contact, looking at the ground. “And that time in freshman year of high school.”

His final reminder steers your heart to a slow pace, your shoulders untense. You remember that event all too well.

“I’m a decent human being,” you explain as if it’s a scientifically proven, immutable fact. “It’s less about enjoying something but more of the fact I would be miserable and angry with myself if I didn’t help someone that needed it.”

Satoru lifts his head to level with you, his eyes are wide in a blank stare. That is right before he suddenly blurts a short chuckle. “Spoken like a true hero.”

Your eyes flit upwards as the doors to the elevator open. He leads you out into the hall, his strides are much longer than yours.

“Wait up! I can’t walk that fast!” you snap breathlessly.

His gaze flicks over to you, his eyes close behind his lens, laughing again. Bustling closely to him, you quiz, “Okay, well you still have a lot of explaining to do. Like where you got that green thing from.”

Satoru stops by the line of sandwiches. His head turns to face you, “Don’t you trust me?”

“Absolutely not,” you’re quick to counter. He throws his head back as you grab a saran wrapped sandwich from the stall and face it at him strictly, “You’re not normal. That’s what I’m realizing.”

Satoru grabs a sandwich and a sugary soda too and he’s about to follow you as you walk off to a table but is interrupted when the employee behind the register curtly clears his throat. A nonverbal cue to pay for you both.

Satoru lets out a throaty groan, fishing deep in his pockets for a crisp ten dollar note. He rounds the table to the other side, sitting down with you.

“You’re having all these revelations pretty late into our lives, aren’t you?” Satoru picks up the conversation as if there was no gap in between. “I’m a little surprised you just came to the conclusion I’m not normal.”

“Hm, I’ve known for a while,” you hum, turning focus to your sandwich.

Memories are thrust upon you from high school. When you first met him, he hardly spoke. He was short with his interactions and would hardly have the grace to offer more than five words. He clearly didn’t enjoy being around people.

Suguru seemed to help him out of this at some point because in your sophomore year of high school, he came to school as a completely brand-new person. His personality shown more, and he only then began pissing you off.

In a way, it was better than seeing him so down like he was before. Because of that, you have been more inclined to tolerate his shit a lot of the time.

“Listen, Satoru,” you sigh, not even noticing the way his body electrocutes at the fact you called him by his first name and not his last. “I’m very serious about my future. It means everything to me and to my parents. There’s only a certain amount of shit I can tolerate. And I can’t tolerate you slacking off at my expense.”

Towards the end of your warning, you look at him. He lowers his drink from his mouth, eyes straight ahead.

“Fair enough,” Satoru says. His head falls loosely between his shoulders, his hair glistening in the fluorescent lights. “It’s important for your parents too, that’s something I respect.”

Your brows uncinch.

“It’s important I get home on time for my parents too,” you sigh, looking at the time.

“You have an hour,” Satoru asks. “Why are you worried?”

Now he knows why you are worried. He still has to act oblivious, that’s all.

He sees the faltering blinks, eyes dancing here and there, mouth parted without a word ready to fly out.

Satoru takes another bite from his sandwich, talking with a full mouth, “Is your dad strict or something?”

Those anxious eyes morph into a revolted side eye, “You know who my dad is. You know what my dad is.”

“Yeah, he’s just the captain. Not some flesh-eating monster,” Satoru makes himself giggle.

You set your forearm on the surface of the table, rotating your body to turn to him, “My dad is a great man. He’s all law and order and then there’s my mom, also law and order. If I didn’t have enough on my mind, now my dad wants to assign a detail to me.”

“Assign . . .” Satoru shifts in his seat, lowering his meal. “You mean have a pair of cops following you around all the time?”

“Yeah,” you breathe.

Satoru’s eyes travel over your face while you’re not looking at him. If the captain does sign cops to tail you, that means that there’d be cops around him. Background checks, tailing him to get a sense of who he is . . . that could lead them to him being Spiderman . . .

“That—he can’t do that,” Satoru pipes, jolting you out of your little trance of eating. “That isn’t fair to you. You wouldn’t be able to hang around me—hell, they’d be standing right behind us listening to every word you say.”

Your lips turn down and brows raise, “I had no idea you cared so much.”

“Sure, why not?” Satoru dials down his emotion.

He supposes he’d have to stay away from you if your father went through with that after all. And he finds his heart twisting and turning from the very idea of doing that.

“He’s pretty stressed because of those string of bank robberies,” you exhale, Satoru’s eyes refuse to move from your face. “So my safety has gotten to his head too.”

Satoru’s blinks were slow, something that could be confused with lethargy, “Does he have any leads?”

“Not really. He just knows they’re all linked. He thinks Spiderman’s involvement is fucking everything up,” you say, remembering your encounter from last night.

“Hm,” and he can’t help but ask. “What do you think about him?”

“Spiderman?”

“Yes,” Satoru’s heart teetering on the edge.

“I think,” you begin, “he��s what our city needs. As a medical miracle, you decide to help others—that shows what kind of man you are.”

He has nothing to say for once. No quick quip, no fast remark. His mouth falls open, unsure how to respond. You were talking about his alter ego, but it felt like you were telling him.

“He’s pretty cool,” you nod, thinking about the vigilante.

He watches as you get up, saying, “I’ve got to get going, I’ve got to get work done before my dad picks me up.”

He feels like he has much left unsaid, but he still watches as you make your way out on your own.

Satoru is rooftop hopping, rushing back after he hit a dead end on a potential jewelry store he believed a heist may occur. That has been his routine that past week on top of annoying you in class and sitting with Haiba and Suguru in the library.

“Hm, okay. I just need to get a minimum of a C on this next exam to maintain my A,” Suguru mumbles aloud. “Satoru, you should maybe focus on your philosophy paper, you don’t want to get called out by the professor again—"

Suguru continues talking but Satoru is on a completely different planet. His gaze had flicked over to you walking through the maze of tables, and it was like an angel had stepped onto Earth.

The dim library of the university had mysteriously brightened tenfold. The incessant chatter of students around you crashes to a muffled halt as the faces begin to lose definition. All he can focus on is your pretty face. Your graceful smile. Your beautiful existence.

He feels his heart caper at the very sight of you laughing, the honeyed sound of it. His heart twists a bit more at the fact that it’s because of another guy.

“Hello!? Earth to Satoru,” Suguru breaks into Satoru’s eyeline. He looks back at whatever could have grasped his attention so unapologetically. He groans in frustration, “When are you going to tell her you want her?”

“I—what? I don’t want her,” Satoru snaps his head over at Suguru.

“It’s pretty obvious you want her, bud,” Haiba says with wide eyes and all Satoru can do is roll his own.

The sleep deprivation is catching up to him and he’s not sure how to remedy it. Those brief hours he does get to sleep he can hardly do so, he’s too busy trying to figure everything out. Where is Jogo hiding? Where is the next hit going to be? Why does he need that relic?

What could you be wearing tonight?

He has to shake his head like a wet dog, screw his eyes shut and bury his ears with his pillow. What is going on with him?

The next lab you have together, you spend most of it trying to figure out how to get through it working together and not competing against one another.

Afterwards, he wants to trail behind you, talk more to you but you’re tugged away by Shoko without fail.

 Every time.

Every time you sit on some staircase out on campus, step through the winding aisles of bookcases in the library, sit at some table in one of the cafes, Shoko or Utahime are always there.

He figures he’ll get the chance at JJ Tech but he’s barely seen you with how busy both of your schedules have been. His last resort is waiting for a perfect moment to get you alone. 

Satoru manages to catch up to you somehow once again in the library, studying for midterms.

“Here,” he places a bottle of chilled coffee in front of you on the table, it sat before your notebooks and thick textbooks like an almighty divinity.

Your eyes pierce through the coffee, then up at him, “How’d you know this is the flavor I like?”

You look tired, usually you can put yourself together enough to not seem so, but tonight it’s apparent. Your pens and highlighters are spread across the desk in a crazed frenzy.

“That’s the one you usually get at work, I don’t know. Thought you might need it,” he shrugs nonchalantly, sitting down.

You straighten up, wanting to smile but holding that feeling back, tying it down, “Oh, thanks.”

“I see you’re studying for . . .” Satoru tries guessing but squints at the papers you have strewn across the table, “what class?”

“Neuroscience,” you sigh, chewing on the end cap of your highlighter.

“Stop doing that,” he lowers you hand, essentially pulling the highlighter away from your mouth. He then opens the bottle of chilled coffee, handing it to you, “Here.”

You take it from him, eyes on his as you pull it towards your mouth, taking a sip. He leans back in his seat, his eyes roaming the papers you have laid out.

“Looks fun,” he drawls, looking through everything. “Have you had something to eat yet?”

“No, not yet. I’ll eat when I’m home,” you answer. “Have you?”

“No, me neither,” he says.

“Oh,” you ponder over what the situation is. “If you aren’t doing anything, we can go get something to eat right now.”

Satoru nearly stops breathing, he has every reason to frantically say yes. One: he happens to be starving. Two: he knows he’s going to be busy all night with studying and with his Spiderman duties. Three: he can sit and relax with you. Four: It’s you.

But he needs to get going, a potential lead came up in relation to Jogo he needs to check out right now.

“I can’t,” he wants to punch himself. “I have to help my aunt with something.”

Disappointment prickles through your body, a feeling you weren’t expecting in the least in a situation like this.

“Oh, that’s okay,” you gather your belongings.

“Wait—where are you going?” his eyes go wide, watching you pack your bag.

“Uh, home,” you say as if it were obvious. “Did you forget what we talked about that one time? Dad—security detail—never letting me breathe?”

“You can’t actually be worried about that,” Satoru says as you sling on your bag. “I highly doubt the captain will go through with that.”

“Just make sure you’re on time tomorrow for class, we have to work on that lab,” you tell him, flipping your hair as you adjust your bag on your shoulder. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“I have an issue with losing track of time,” Satoru frowns. “It’s not my fault.”

“Maybe use your glasses to keep an eye on the time. Are four eyes not enough? Do you seriously need six of them?” you challenge with a look over your shoulder before turning back to the exit.

He wants to laugh at the sheer irony of your question.

Satoru’s on a rooftop again. Another sleepless night is sure to pass him by. He follows lead after lead, suspect after suspect, but nothing.

That tip he got led him to nothing. Led him to nothing but missing class the next morning.

He’s thinking only about how guilty he feels, how he should apologize for bailing on you again during lab. Especially when you told him not to.

You count your lucky stars that you are sitting at home today worrying about your midterm exams approaching and not worrying in the lab.

Your father shows up at your door with a cup of hot cocoa, settling it down beside you. He has a cup of his own, a rare to see smile on his face as he sits down next to you.

“Thanks, Dad,” you beam, taking the cup.

“How’s studying going?” he asks.

“It’s okay,” you sigh. “How’s that heist case coming along?”

“It’s stressful,” he huffs out as well. “Got a bunch of different stories coming from the witnesses and that Spiderman jackass isn’t helping with my peace right now.”

“He’s not so bad,” you chuckle, taking a sip.

Your dad cocks a disgruntled brow, “That guy’s a menace. Just like that one news guy keeps saying.”

“That guy is crazy, Dad, and you know it,” this time you scoff.

“You calling me crazy, too?” your dad quizzes.

“No,” you set down your cup, “That’s not what I meant. I just meant that Spiderman has saved a lot of people. A lot of his good deeds go unnoticed because there are so many little things he does that don’t get broadcasted. Whatever—anyway, what are the witnesses saying?”

Your dad slowly lowers his offended brow and explains, “Witnesses from each location are saying they were knocked unconscious. Then there are witnesses who are also saying that the suspects dropped some sort of spray on them, then there are others saying it may have been a gas they inhaled.”

“Gas?” your nose scrunches.

“Hm,” your dad nods. “After they either inhaled or felt it on them, they started hallucinating. Some saw flashes of things they feared in their life, or of traumatic moments, or they were close to being driven to sleep by pictures of nice dreams. It all is difficult to figure out what it is. Our forensics team is having a shit time with narrowing it down since it may flush out of their system quick.”

You gawk at him, lost for words. It’s a highly concentrated blend of hallucinogens and anesthetics. One sip could send a man into cardiac arrest—or worse, kill him.

Your own voice rings in your head but his face is what appears before you. Those sparkling blue eyes and that silvery white hair. A flash of that green vial struck in an instant too.

“It’s all pretty confusing,” your dad exhales, taking a sip from his foamy drink. There’s a ring at the bell, steering his attention to it. He looks over at you, ruffling your hair, “You get back to it kiddo, I’ll see who it is.”

He walks out, closing your door and you look over that video about the fundamentals of chemistry, your notes splayed open with highlighters and sticky notes littering your desk.

But you can hardly focus—now that you’re thinking about Gojo all over again. This all has to be a coincidence, right? There’s no way Satoru Gojo of all people is affiliated with a high crime gang and drugging people to rob banks. There’s just no way.

But his voice rings in your mind once more—a memory of your conversation when he asked about that liquid being able to be used as a gas in combat. . . ‘I was afraid of that.’

The little three tapped choreographed knock on your door tells you that your father is on the other side.

“Sweetheart, there’s a . . . boy from your class here to see you,” your dad awkwardly says.

You blink the tiredness away, getting up and heading to the foyer of your penthouse apartment. Your hand rests on the railing as you descend down the stairs, only to stop halfway when your eyes land on snowy hair and silver framed glasses.

His sky-blue eyes lock onto yours, his blinks are restless, and his pretty lips are parted. You see him visibly gulp, like he was nervous to face you.

“What’re you doing here?” you finally say, remembering the fact he abandoned you once more today.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Satoru waits a beat till his heart tries to settle down. “Is that okay?”

You should yell at him, and you truly want to but for some reason you can’t. You huff out a sigh, beckoning him to follow you. As you turn around to lead him up the stairs, he’s once again scattering his field of vision everywhere.

He’s paying attention to the extravagance of your home. The chandelier in the foyer, the numerous potted bonsais and lilies, the expensive stonework polished floors, the ornamental china vases and molded ceiling. He shouldn’t expect any less from the daughter of the veteran police captain of the city and the successful assistant district attorney. Your parents were clear overachievers, mother and father both, it is no less than obvious you would be on a similar path of greatness yourself.

He eyes you rather shamelessly, it’s not like you have eyes on the back of your head. You glance over your shoulder at him.

Or maybe you do.

Satoru already felt scrutinized at the door when your father opened it. He should care a little more but finds that he doesn’t care one bit about the police captain’s protective gaze on him following his daughter up to her room.

You open your door, unveiling your bedroom to the boy. Suguru and Haiba would go nuts if he were to tell them he was standing in your room with you right now. Nanami would hardly believe him at all.

Your room is neat, that’s the first thing he notices. And it’s exactly how he pictured it. Furniture white, minimalistic and clean. The bed had four posts, sheer curtains draping down the top. You had white boards, bulletin boards, filled with excessive diagrams and notes. You had bookshelves in a corner of the room, lined with chemistry and medical textbooks where your desk was.

There was a wall of windows that overlooked the city, a balcony that had a set of Parisian doors to it. He wonders how much time you spent out there with your thoughts and what they could possibly be.

While he’s observing every element of your room, you face him. He has this wondrous look in those frosted eyes of his, a look that makes them look even wider. His lips part and when you look at him in the dim lighting from your study lamp, you notice the way his top lip prods out slightly over his bottom. That they have a pouted yet subtle curve to them that came to life when he smiled. That there was a soft pinkish sheen to them.

You wonder why you’re suddenly paying such close attention to him these days.  

“Here,” you speak, ringing yourself out of wherever your mind was going.

He cocks a brow, gawking at you rifling through your school bag. His puzzled expression deepens when you press a packet of paper against his chest. “What’s this?”

“Your part of the lab report,” you grumble, eyes cold yet thwarted. “Just memorize the material by next Friday before our presentation. I’ll make sure the rest of what’s left throughout the week gets done.”

Satoru’s entirely taken aback. You have every right to be mad but he wasn’t expecting you to still want to help him. His arm shoots out to grab yours before you can walk away. Your halted against your will, shocked as you gape at him trapped in the lamplight as it clings to his skin.

“Wait—that’s not why I came here,” he sighs begrudgingly. “I came to apologize. I’m sorry I missed class and bailed on you.”

“Twice,” you correct with furrowed brows.

“Twice,” he revises. “It was a shitty thing to do. And it won’t happen again.”

He swallows dryly as he stares at that cynical look on your face. He looks like a lost pet, waiting to be scolded by its owner.

“Promise?” you tip your head to the side.

“Promise,” he answers, he feels his heart tearing through his chest at how you’ve suddenly acquired a childlike disposition, one he’s never had the chance to witness before. And all because of him.

“Okay,” you smally smile, flashing your pearly teeth at him. “But if you bail on me again, I’m telling Yaga to give you a zero.”

“Got it—but how come you’re so sure he’ll give your word priority over mine?” Satoru challenges.

“Because you were the second smartest kid in high school, and I was the first,” you pointedly say. “I have a higher GPA than you, I have won three more academic awards than you have—and let’s face it, my attendance record outranks yours in an embarrassing way.”

Satoru presses his lips firmly and raises his brows in hilarity, trying to contain that laughter wanting to blurt out of him. He fails though, laughing anyway.

Your lips part as you stare at him, suddenly you’re so aware of how tall he is again, how he’s not as lanky as he used to be in high school.

“At least I’m not stupid,” Satoru tells you knowingly. “You could’ve ended up with a lot worse than me.”

“Really? Like who?” you cross our arms.

“Yuki—Haiba—Need I go on?” he speaks with a teasing tone.

“God, no. I got your point,” you hold your hands up in defense. Your nose twitches as you let your hands slowly fall to your sides. “You didn’t have to come all this way to apologize, you know. You could’ve just apologized tomorrow or over text, you have my number.”

“You wouldn’t have thought twice about forgiving me,” he puts his hands in his pockets. “Or murdering me.”

This evokes a laugh from you, cheeky and bright, this cold light of the moon suddenly feels like beams of sunlight embracing him, warm and comforting.

Then you point a finger at him, “But you have to tell me why you have that green liquid.”

Satoru can’t flip his way out of this corner. Another lie must suffice, “One of my friends from my neighborhood gave it to me—said he swiped it off some kid in his school. He wanted me to find out what was in it.”

“Oh,” you frown, all doe-eyed and innocent. “You should get rid of that thing. It’s dangerous.”

“Will do,” Satoru salutes with his middle and index fingers. He catches that little sideways twitch of your mouth, as you stare at him from the bottom up but stop halfway. “What is it?”

“I’m just a little shocked you’re not really how I thought you’d be,” you say. “Is that bad?”

“Depends,” Satoru eyes the room shamelessly, glancing at you before he sits down uninvited on your bed. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. We’ve known each other for like over half a decade—and we hardly ever really talked. I always thought you were some nerdy guy that had a bad attitude. I guess I thought you never really liked me.” You circle around the bed post to get closer to him.

Satoru’s brows are raised so far up high that they are practically skimming his hairline. He was talkative, just not with you at first. He feels like he might’ve been a bit blunt overall—but that changed for him when he became Spiderman years ago.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way,” Satoru says the unexpected. “I guess I just found you intimidating.”

“Me?” you point at yourself, sitting down. “Why? You’re, like, one of the most talented kids I know.”

“Because you’re crazy smart,” he blurts out, smiling as he can’t even maintain eye contact with you. He feels your body heat, just a few measly inches to his left. You’re in reach and he’s scared he’ll do something to cause you to slip away.

Your eyes widen at his words, and he seems to not be done yet with the way he sucks in a breath, hands resting either side of him on the comforter.

“You’re insanely clever and nice and it doesn’t help much that you’re pretty,” Satoru is shaking his head, meeting your gaze once again. Once again, gorgeous eyes stare back at him.

You furrow your brows, not remembering an instance in your life where you had seen him look so vulnerable for even a moment. Your eyes flick down to his pouted lips then back up to his eyes.

“You think I’m pretty?” you whisper.

“Is that even a question?” Satoru breathes.

You lean close, his icy blue eyes contrast his half lidded warm look behind his glasses. He inches closer, your noses brushing against each other.

Your lips are half a centimeter away from his. He can smell the scent of your lotion, the sweet scent of your lip balm. He’s so close to tasting it that he feels like he’s the closest he’ll ever be.

That tingling sensation shot up his spine and straight to his ears, not because of this tension.

It’s his six eyes telling him there’s an incoming threat. Footsteps. They’re faint, but he feels them coming this way.

He suddenly jumps up, grabbing the lab report and rifling through it, “Your dad.”

“What?” you’re taken aback, your face crinkling.

“He’s coming,” he says.

You blink at him, wondering if he’s just scared or if he didn’t want to kiss you in the first place.

“Listen, Satoru, if you don’t want to—”

Your door swings open, revealing your father. One hand rests on the knob and one on the door frame. The way he opened it indicated a sense of urgency, or a sense of wanting to catch Satoru in the act. The act being the boy making a move on you.

“Hey, sweetie, everything alright in here?” he eyes you quickly at the term of endearment but then keeps his razor-sharp cop stare on Satoru. He’s not doing anything to ring alarm bells, simply just thumbing through report papers like he gave the impression of initially.

“Yes, Dad!” You glare at your father. “I thought we talked about knocking.”

“Oh, sorry—I was just—” he attempts defending himself but your eyes widen as you tilt your head at him and he ushers himself out of your room.

“Jeez. You’d hardly believe I’m nineteen years old with a dad like that. What is he going to do after I move out,” you grumble. Your eyes slowly dance over to the boy who was standing up, “How’d you know he was coming?”

“I could hear his footsteps,” he says.

“Yeah, you told me like a whole minute before he actually was at the door,” you stand up, nearing him. “I know your eyes suck, but no one has that good a sense of hearing.”

“I told you that’s what I heard,” he defends himself.

You tighten your lips, watching him set the papers down with his eyes fixed on the door. His eyes are still but his mind runs a mile a minute. He’s ruminating on the fact he almost kissed you and that your father could have walked in. What’s worse right now though is the fact he is still standing in the wake of your missed moment.

“Satoru, something is up with you,” you stand up, taking a daring step forward. Your shoulders square in assertion, “I’m not sure what it is. But I promise you can trust me.”

He slowly turns his head to you, thinking about what to say but his breath stops short when you place your palms over his chest, gazing up at him.

He gulps, and he hopes you don’t see how his nerves are clearly rattling, shaking his very bones. His phone buzzes with the soft four chimed ring he’s all too familiar with and he curses himself and every other wrong doer in the whole city of New York.

“I . . . I’m sorry,” he grabs yours wrists. “I have to go.”

He goes around you, passing you without so much as another glance. You watch him leave your room and in the simplest of terms, you felt like shit.

You begin walking to your door to slam it shut when your father runs past you, frantically pushing his limbs through his police jacket, his other hand on his phone.

“Dad—what is it?” you question breathlessly.

“Sorry, honey, have to go in. There’s another theft in progress in the upper east,” your father explains in two quick breaths.

Your eyes follow him as you hear the front door shutting after he leaves, only a minute or so after Satoru did.

You can’t help that scowl you toss at your microscope on your desk, or how you sprint towards it to inspect the elements once again.

Satoru is thinking only about you. Only you, only you.

His cognizance on the fact he should focus on this heist is hardly doing him favors from how much he regrets not kissing you. If being caught by your father was a repercussion anyway, how bad could that have possibly been? Yeah, so what. Mild embarrassment, maybe a few threats here and there.

His hand wraps around the web he shoots at the side of the building, swinging straight through the shattered window. He has no time for histrionics, he just wants to get to the bottom of this case.

When the thugs turn to face the man that flew in through the window, they all drop what they are doing, scowling menacingly at the boy.

“Okay,” Satoru cracks his knuckles, tweaking his neck to the side. “Let’s wrap this up.”

That’s what prompts four burly men to lurch at the boy. Gojo makes quick effort to shoot at one’s face, gluing a sticky web to his eyes and hindering his senses completely.

He knocks over another one with a horse powered kick, pushing him into a glass display. He’s nearly amazed with himself by how rushed this fight is.

Another man comes at him with a closed fist, brass knuckles adorning them as they hurtle straight for Satoru’s face. With lightening reflexes, he swats the man’s arm, aiming the base of his palm straight up the man’s jaw. Except it isn’t his jaw he’s aiming for.

An anguished scream of agony leaves the man as he cradles his bleeding, broken nose. Spiderman towers over him again, kicking him in the gut while he’s down.

The fourth man fires several shots at Satoru, unfortunately for the goon, he hasn’t experienced just how the Six Eyes senses really benefit the Spiderman.

His gun is in Satoru’s hand before he knows it, a stringy web stuck to the end of it. The thief’s jaw drops, eyes reddened and wide when he witnesses the way the gun crushes in the vigilante’s hand, the pieces of it crumbling to the ground.

“This is getting boring,” Satoru whines immaturely. “I can’t believe I had to give up being with a pretty girl for this.”  

Forcibly tugging the man towards him with a web, Satoru delivers a lethal blow to the back of the man’s head, instantly knocking him out.

The sound of a glass rustling behind him draws his attention, the man he had knocked into the display was on his feet again. He has something in his hand that catches the vigilante’s attention, three small balls.

“Fuck no,” Satoru grabs the pellets by shooting webs again. “Not falling for this again.”

He lunges to the wall behind the man, psyching him out when he kicks off the wall and practically tackles the man to the ground.

“Not in the mood to get to know you,” Satoru frowns, his boot on the side of the man’s neck. “Where’s Jogo? And who gave you this?”

He hold up the pellets of gas, the stare of whitened eyes through his mask are enough to terrify the man.

“Please! I don’t know where Jogo is! I was just instructed to make this hit!” the man chokes out. “I got these through the—the lady we got that makes these—her name is Hanami—she works in a lab somewhere—we don’t know where. She has someone drop them off and she tells us where after the drop’s been made but—”

“You’re not telling me what I need,” Satoru steps down on the man’s throat harder.

“I—I can tell you where she gets her stuff from! In fact, I heard from somewhere that she’s got a guy on the inside getting her the goods. It’s at Myrtec Chemicals—one of her guys told me there’s a drop happening later tonight!”

“Thanks,” Satoru lifelessly smiles, kicking the man unconscious.

Shivering behind a wall of crates is not how you expect to be spending your Friday night. What you envisioned after a long night of studying was curling up with some popcorn and other snacks to watch a nice movie.

Most certainly not a group of men talking about people they are planning to kill.

“Man, I fucking hate the captain,” one spews. “I’d love to rip his heart out of his chest if I ever got the chance.”

You cover your mouth, trying to contain your gasp. The suspicion that Satoru may be involved with these men is tearing you apart. You haven’t seen or heard him in the last twenty minutes you’ve been here.

Standing outside the wired fence of Myrtec Chemicals is not how you want to go out. So slipping out now makes sense. You needed to make sure Satoru wasn’t linked to these guys and there’s been no sign of his loudmouth anywhere.

As you shift to run off as fast as you can so you can get to the bus stop at the edge of the next street, you accidentally bump your elbow into one of the big crates. A dull yet prominent thud reverberates through the air.

Fuck.

“What the fuck!”

“Someone’s here?”

“Who’s there?”

You know once again you’re cornered. Why must you test your luck so often? How on earth will you get out of this one?

“Hey! You!” a man is looking around the pile of crates, eyes landing on you.

You make a run for it but he grabs you—as expected. You cinch your eyes shut and a loud whoosh over your heads shoots through the air.

No way.

“Hey! Hands off her!”

The voice is hauntingly familiar. So is that black and white suit and that emblem of blue across his chest. That glowing spider—hope.

Spiderman leaps at the man that had grabbed you, striking him across the face. The other men shout out, rushing to grab their weapons, all the while the great Spiderman is making haste to scoop you into his arms.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Sorry about this.”

“That’s okay, been wondering about you for a while,” he says with ease, then he leaps and you scream out, not realizing you’re on top of a small security tower. “Stay put here, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod seeing the thumbs up he gives you as he falls backwards to the ground, flipping straight back into action.

You watch as he takes down the remaining men, but the fascination to him isn’t all that you think about. You’re trying to pinpoint that voice—that cadence and rhythm in it. It sounds an awful lot like—

“How’d you end up here?” the vigilante is hanging upside down by a web in front of you, attached to the top of the watch tower’s antenna structure.

You blink, retracting in place, “I thought my friend might be here, but I might’ve been wrong. I was just worried.”

“You get into trouble pretty often, don’t you?” he chuckles, still upside down.

That thought invades your mind again—his voice sounds too much like his. There’s no way. There’s just no way.

“Sorry about that,” you shake your head.

“Why’d you think he’d be here?” the man tilts his head.

“They’re using a chemical, aren’t they? Those thugs?” you quiz. “They’re using it on people when they ransack places like banks and jewelry stores. I analyzed the particles and managed to isolate where certain specialized compounds can be mixed and it traced back here. Thought I’d check it out.”

Satoru’s suspended in the air, his state of mind matches his physical state. Speechless, he does nothing but stare.

“Ugh, God, why are you so stupid for someone so smart?” he groans.

“Excuse me?” you quickly pipe, taking a step back as he lowers onto the tower’s rail with you.

His arm slips around you, and he murmurs, “You could’ve gotten really hurt. This was a very dumb thing to do.”

“I know that but . . .”

“Why’d you have to come, huh? You care about that guy or something?” he asks, shooting out a web to another building.

“Yeah, or something,” you quietly say, eyes on him. Your suspicion as to who is behind the mask is starting to piece together and you aren’t sure whether you should comment on it or not. “Wanted to make sure he was okay.”

He can’t even face you. Do you even know what you’re saying? He wants to chalk it up to delusion but a mind as sharp as yours can’t be subject to something so petty as delusion.

When your arms slip around his neck, you stare at him and you can practically see through him.

“Hold on as—” Satoru begins.

“As tight as I can, I know,” you finish, not even being as terrified as you were the first time he web slung you through the streets of New York.

He stops at the top of a building, one far too high above the ground. That is when you realize you aren’t on top of any old building at all. You gawk from this point, the highest point of New York’s famous Vessel.

You look down, overlooking the Hudson Yard and seeing that the structure is closed to the public due to how late in the evening it is.

“I’ve never actually been here before,” you marvel at the sight. “It’s beautiful.”

“Hm, it is,” Satoru mumbles, staring at your wonder-stricken eyes.

At the sound of his voice you turn slowly, facing him, “Thank you for saving me. Again.”

“Nothing to it,” he replies, his tone hinting at a smile you can’t see. “Think I might’ve chipped a nail back there.”

Your eyes flit over him, head to toe. While your eyes stay by his feet, you say, “I want to take off your mask.”

“That defeats the whole purpose of it,” Satoru states. “Then you’d see my face. It defeats the sense of mystery too when you find out who I am.”

“I think I already know,” your eyes settle back on the white blank eyes of the mask, wanting to see the blue you’d been thinking far too much about.

Satoru’s stunned silence screams over how you move toward him. Your searing palms set on his chest, he feels like he’s being scorched to ash with how close you are.

He makes no effort to move away or tell you to stop. He swallows his inhibitions when your hands hesitantly slide up his chest to the base of his neck. The tips of your fingers caress his collarbone and neck till they tug at the edge of his mask.

Satoru knows he should tell you that he can’t let you see but he wants it so bad at the same time.

That’s why he watches with withheld breaths when you inch your way as your pull up the mask, slowly.

The pale of his moonlit skin exposes itself to you while you gently tear the mask further up. His chin peeks out, the sharp cut of his jaw, then you see his soft lips, the ones you want to just lean in and kiss so damn bad.

So you do and he knows he’d be stupid to stop you this time around. Your mouth feathers over his before you finally press onto him. Your lips meet his, buttery soft, warming your cold ones by a single touch.

He kisses you back softly but you back away, his head following your back before you part lips. He gazes at you as you cradle the lower half of his face, easing him into letting you take the mask off further.

You pull it back more, seeing that pointed nose of his you were accustomed to watching crinkle as he smiled. Then you finally pull them away from his eyes and his hair. You aren’t so surprised anymore, not as much as you should be at least.

That snowy white hair, like a fresh fleet of ice had poured onto his head ever so lovingly. Then those eyes, God those eyes. The shimmering blue that twinkled so brilliantly in the amber light, the eyes you feel like you’re seeing for the first time without any pair of glasses or masks in the way.

For once, you are the one smiling and he’s left with a somnolescent look on his face, like he could fall over at any moment. His eyes are half-lidded, fixed on your eyes and fleeting down to your lips without any sign of subtly.

He bends his neck down, capturing your lips in his again before slipping his arm around you and his free hand to your face. Now even if you wanted to move away, you couldn’t. Key word ‘if’.

You feel the way he softly inhales from his nose, breathing in like he’s breathing you in. He’s gentle and yearning, like he’s wanted this for a long time.

He presses his lips a little harder, and you can’t help the little sigh you let out. If you were in this situation two weeks ago, you’d be running around flipping your lid at the revelation that Satoru Gojo was the Spiderman. Except now, that mattered slightly less to you.

You both pull away by a hair, noses grazing one another’s as you gaze into each other’s eyes. You pull back a little more to see his face in its entirety. A fallen angel.

The little fidget of your smile as you decide whether to smile or not is enough to have him take the lead and smile anyway.

“So you did want to kiss me,” you say cheekily, eyes glistening from the city lights, the winter air pinching your nose and cheeks.

“Yes, dummy,” Satoru responds with a quiet nuance of hilarity. His gloved hand remains on your face, his thumb pressing down on your chin.

Tipping your chin down, your mouth opens. The cool air of the night blends in with Satoru’s warm breath, swirling in a strangely comforting breath, one that bore escape.

He pushes his tongue into your mouth, doing his best to taste every bit of you because he missed the chance for far too many years. Here, there is no police captain father to rush in, no thug or criminal to interrupt, no man that could touch you. Other than him of course.

You taste like peppermint, like what he would envision a warm and loving Christmas with family to be like. He wants more—he needs more.

Your tongues twirl in tandem, pace still slow but you each feel a growing desire crushing on your souls. It’s heavy and bone rattling, enough that he pulls back to shake himself out of it.

“I should take you back home—your parents—”

“Dad’s going to be out all night with that heist and Mom drank too much wine at dinner and my brothers and sister aren’t going to say anything about me not being home,” you’re quick to arbitrate. “I’m a little cold though.”

“I can see that,” he laughs as you shiver, the frosty air intermingling with his warm breath to create a translucent fog. “I—I don’t wanna sound like I’m rushing but you can come home with me to my place. I can explain everything there.”

You press your tongue in between your teeth in thought before you grin, “Let’s go.”

You help put on his mask when he cranes his neck down to you. He grabs you and you know the drill, hold on tight and do not, under any circumstances, let go.

He’s swung you through the entire city again and you take the time to enjoy, this time trusting him without a shadow of a doubt. The city looks pretty from his view, you count yourself grateful to get a glimpse of that, and that he has shared this special thing with you.

He stops outside a half open window on the side of an apartment building, he helps you through the ledge, safely getting you inside. You take a few steps back and watch him crawl inside, dropping to the floor with the agility of a cat.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing this,” you say softly. “I can’t believe I kissed Spiderman. I can’t believe I kissed you actually. That’s crazier to me.”

Satoru tears the mask from his head, his hair all disheveled fell into his eyes, “That’s crazier to you? That you made out with me not that I saved your ass again?”

“Shut up,” you narrow your eyes, looking around. “This is where you live, huh?”

“Mhm,” Satoru answers, watching you. “So you looked into that liquid again. Why did you come all the way to that place? That was very dangerous. And very very stupid. You really came all that way because of me?”

You face him, the air still coolly frosting at the shell of your ears, “I thought you might’ve been involved with those guys at first but based on our conversations, I assumed that maybe you were trying to play hero.”

“And you showed up and realized I was,” Satoru peers down at you. “Idiot.”

“Hey, if I was an idiot, I never would’ve been there in the first place,” you jab your pointer finger straight into his chest. He lets out an exaggerated and overdramatic cough, clutching his heart as if you did serious damage. “Seriously, Satoru, I get why you couldn’t tell me but . . . were you planning on not being near me to protect that secret?”

He stills, the smile vanishing from his face. His icy hair falls over his equally icy irises, bottom lip pushing ever so lightly into his top one in a small frown.

“I didn’t mean to push you away. I tried to stop myself from being close to you—that day you were late was my fault,” he shakes his head, eyes wide.

“But you still saved me,” you justify.

“But you wouldn’t be there in the first place if it weren’t for me,” he counters quickly.

You lower your eyes, “I have a mind, you know? I can say ‘no’, and I can make my own choices. Staying to help you was my choice. And I don’t regret it.”

Your eyes lift to meet his, lights darkened in his apartment. The only thing illuminating the space is the moon, its incandescent glow spilling into the room as if it were sneaking in secrets.

Shining down on your clandestine meeting, you each are inching closer, lips feathering over one another’s before he can’t take it anymore and kisses you.

His hands thread through your hair, his fingers interlinking at the nape of your neck, pushing you against him. He’s kissing you like he wants to breathe you in, like you’re the air that needs to be in his lungs.

You let your tongue slide across his bottom lip, easing it into his mouth. You lap inside his mouth, exploring every bit that your muscle can physically reach, intertwining with his.

Feverishly, you keep kissing each other, and it simply isn’t enough. Panting like starved dogs, you want to whisper to him to take you to his room but it feels too far—and your mind is running in circles right now.

Between kisses, you reach back, shedding your coat and kicking your boots off. Fuck, why is it always so cold in New York? Couldn’t it be summer, so you had less layers to shed?

He’s reeling you back in every time your lips leave his for even a moment. Taking yourself away from him for even a split second is cruel to him, worse than battling a group of mutants as Spiderman.

Satoru appreciates your enthusiasm and your forwardness, considering he’s not as experienced as he’d like to be for you. Hey, it’s hard to date as a superhero. He just prays it’s not too obvious

Your hands are busy unbuttoning your pants as he backs you into the backrest of the couch, not as coordinated as he hopes. He is not all that concerned clearly because you find yourself on your back on his couch, him hovering over you, lips not leaving yours for even a slight moment.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he breathes, his hips in between your parted legs. “I can’t believe my luck right now.”

“You’re such a dork—” you begin to joke before he rolls his hips against you, that tent in his pants prods at the heat between your thighs and you gasp out in pure shock and thirst.

Your eyes widen when they shoot down between your bodies, seeing that prominent bulge at the front of his pants, so obviously emphasized in that tight suit of his. How had you missed that before?

“What was that?” Satoru teases, eyelids bonneting over his irises seductively, a coy smirk pulling at the edge of his mouth.

He tries to hide just how painfully hard he is but now he understands there’s no use. After all, he can still play with your head a bit—just a bit.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist.

And his lips are on yours again, swallowing in your gasps and vice versa. All the while, he ruts his hips against you, grinding and dry humping like two pathetic teenagers.

Each time he rolls his hips into you, you moan, humming into his mouth shakily. He’s taking each sound in with pride, he can hardly believe he’s drawing out noises like that from you, miss put together. His lips trek down your jaw, peppering kisses as he makes his way down your neck, a smile curling at his lips.

With hazy eyes, you let your hands skirt at his abdomen, trying to tug at the fabric at his waist, “How the fuck do you get this thing off?”

“You’re supposed to buy me dinner before you see me undressed, you know?” he chuckles against your jaw.

“Ha ha, very funny. Now take your suit off—I don’t want to play any more games,” you plead, your tone dwindles towards something most would call pathetic, but he knows better than to make that mistake. “Please, I just want you.”

Okay, maybe he’s wrong.

He doesn’t have the heart to wait any longer either. The command is clear in his mind, tear the suit off, but his fumbling hands make the effort stretch beyond eternity.

While he is busy with the strenuous task of undressing, you decide to get yours over with. With the desire to stop, go slow, take it all in, each of you are still keeping your eyes on each other—listening to the other’s breaths, taking in the sight of the other’s skin unveiling itself bit by bit. 

As ceremoniously as one could in a moment like this, you discard your top and kick off your pants. You regret the split second you look away because when you look back at him, his shirt is gone.

The spider suit has a variant of features, all that aid in the never-ending trade of fighting crime. That suit also serves justice to whoever it may be underneath it, but fuck it underscored just how beautiful Satoru’s body is.

In the dim light, you make out his chiseled abs, how his shoulder blades are sculpted like an artist spent every drop of sweat, blood, and tears into defining them. How those broad shoulders seamlessly crown the defined muscles of his biceps. Your eyes trail down his arms to his forearms, veiny and working to take off his pants.

That’s when your focus shifts to his chest once more. The plains of his torso display his corded abs.

And you’re counting. Five—six—seven—eight—For someone so rambunctious, he sure fails to flaunt his perfect eight-packed figure.

Your eyes lock in on his lower abdomen, how his waist his much narrower in comparison to the width of his shoulders. His hips hollow out as they carve out a defined line, trailing down between his legs.

Temptation is close to getting the best of you when you realize he’s been frozen in place for half a minute now. Shooting your attention back up to his lustful gaze, you’re suddenly hyperaware of the circumstance of you only in your bra and underwear.

“You’re staring,” you warn with a sharp look.

“Mm—and you weren’t?” he returns the same expression, smugly lowering to kiss you once more.

Any argument you wish to spew are revoked the second his lips are on yours again. Satoru’s hands roam your body. Despite the freezing cold of the winter, his fingertips are piping hot, searing your skin wherever they touch. Your hips, your waists, your face, your breasts, your thighs.

Those lithe fingers slide down your side, around your back and where the clasp of your bra is. And you want to giggle at how he’s struggling to get it unhooked.

“Need help?” you grin, leaning on your elbows.

“Shut up—I got it,” he grunts out. He doesn’t have it in him to admit that he’s suddenly registering the fact that it’s you. You’re the one underneath him right now. It’s your body he can’t believe looks this perfect.

His breaths stops when he manages to tear off that stupid bra from you, your fingers toying with the waistband of his underwear.

“Holy shit,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Hm?” you hum interrogatively, being cut off when he dives down. “Satoru—ah—”

He buries his face in the valley of your chest, kissing you harshly while making his way to your exposed nipples. He latches his mouth over one and your chest nearly caves in. A moan slips from your mouth, hands at the back of his head, curling in his hair while he sucks your tits so lasciviously.

“Fuck—Satoru—ah,” you try to keep your eyes on him but find yourself cinching them shut anyway.

“You sound so cute saying my name like that,” he gasps out, tongue flicking over your pert nipple, and hand massaging at the mound he’s left alone.

Chills dissipate over your arms and legs, causing you to let out shivers. Shivers that could be a mixed response of the cold air and at the sensation of his mouth sucking you.

Satoru begins to lower himself, trailing kisses down your stomach as he goes. He doesn’t stop when he reaches the waistline of your panties. His lips press on top of the cloth, over your pussy, his fingers curl into the waistband at your hips.

His eyes flick up to yours, a smile on his pretty lips as he takes in your expression, pure desire stitched in every crevice of your face.

He pulls down your panties, eyes fixed between your legs like he was seeing the holy grail itself. His mouth is watering at the sight before him. He can’t believe that after years and years of knowing you, this is the outcome. All the competition, the annoyed glances, quick remarks, all boiled down to this very moment. With you spread out underneath him like a slut.

“Fuck me,” he groans out, tossing your underwear to the side. He lifts your left leg, kissing your ankle and trekking his way up your leg. When he reaches your thigh, his tongue begins to playfully drag across your skin. “Mmm.”

With shaky breaths, you watch him get close and closer but then he stops. He mulls over every form of research he’s ever done. He knows if he puts his mind to it he can please you, he just needs a second to reel himself in. Quite unlike him.

You watch him carefully, seeing how his smile faded and how he’s swallowing down dry lumps. There’s a flush in his face that isn’t something you’ve seen before. Is he . . . nervous?

Your hands shift down, cupping his face. At the endearing action, his heart quivers, as do his eyes. That’s when his jaw slacks, tongue lolling out and licking up your pussy.

You suck in a fragmented breath, fingers trembling when he smiles again and does it again. The saliva on his tongue drips down from the tip of his muscle, dribbling straight down to your slit.

“Do you always get this wet around me?” he has a smile painted on his face that is reaching his ears.

“Can you for once put your mouth to good use?” you whisper back sharply, earning a deep chuckle from his as he lowers his face between your legs again.

Eagerly, he swipes a long languid lick from the bottom of your pussy to the top, milking out his spit as well as your arousal. His arms easily slip around your thighs as he now buries his face, lapping at your cunt like a starved animal.

A loud moan rips straight from your throat, you toss your head back from the sheer intensity. And you can’t help but cry out like that again, feeling his tongue circling over your clit over and over.

When he hears a rather high-pitched cry leave you, his chest swells with pride. He isn’t sure what he was so nervous about. He just can’t believe he’s the one making you feel this good—or you’re the one he’s ever had a moment of weakness like that for.

Tilting his head to the side, he angles his tongue. Licking, sucking slurping your cunt, he’s producing the lewdest of noises, getting absolutely high off your taste.

“Oh my god!” you whine, now rolling your hips on his face, fingers tugging his hair and digging at his scalp. “Do that again.”

“What? This?” Satoru feigns innocence, flicking his tongue repeatedly and quickly over your clit, teasing you.

You almost let a scream burst from you, slapping your palm over your mouth as he teases you. It dawns on you then that those blue eyes looking up at you, are the same very ones you took so long to truly see. He’s not in his glasses but that sight between your legs would’ve been just as gorgeous too.

His hands grip your thighs, pushing them closer to your chest. His jaw unhinges like he’s eating a meal, nose rubbing against your puffy clit as he feels himself become impossibly and painfully harder that he could cum right then and there.

Goosebumps ripple over your body, every cell in your body short circuiting. His fingers dig into your flesh in a bruising grip. With another wanton tug at his hair, he slips out a nasty moan, eyes deliriously rolling to the back of his head.

There’s a sense of greed in the way he’s eating you out. Hunger and lust intertwine together in his movements, he can’t get enough.

His hand comes down between your thighs, fingers swiping over your clit.

Your back is arching off the couch, loud and shameless cries escape you one after the other with no end in sight. With your vision beginning to blur like a flock of clouds rolling in before a storm, you feel a white-hot heat between your legs.

Your eyes flicker towards his face below you. His eyes were shut and his brows your furrowed adorably in concentration. His hair fell in soft tufts and his jaw and tongue are moving in ways you would never have fathomed to see before. Needless to say, he is so fucking sexy.

Feverishly rocking your hips as best you can to meet his insatiable mouth, you know your orgasm is closing in. Every piece of your being is only focused on this immense pleasure and straining to get to the peak point it so desperately needs.

He sees you becoming more and more restless, your legs shake more and your fingers tug harsher at his scalp. The way you’re practically screaming tells him all he needs to know, you are right there.

You scream when it hits you like a freight train. You’re cumming right on his tongue and gushing down his mouth. By no means does that indicate he is stopping though. He continues his motions through your orgasm, not daring to stop till you were done.

Free falling from a great height, you’re whining, clawing at his hair, his shoulders, anything. Pushing him away because of how criminally intense the feeling is. He stays right there, undeterred by your efforts to get him away from you.

Your eyes stay shut but your mouth hangs open, long and drained breaths filling the air. Satoru raises his head, “So fucking messy—I find it hard to believe you haven’t always had the hots for me.”

Meanwhile, you still are reeling in your post-orgasm state, chest rising and falling. Your eyes shift to Satoru straightening up, expanding his posture.

“You okay?” he says, devious tones underlying in his voice. Sincerity had flown out the window.

You respond halfheartedly anyway, “Mhm.”

You slowly move to sit up, biting your lip to ground yourself. Despite your head feeling as weighty as a boulder, you hold yourself up. Your hands reach for his briefs, fingers hooking into the waistband and tugging at them.

“Woah—someone’s impatient,” he chuckles.

“We both know you’d prefer this over anything else,” you say with a daunting lilt of your head.

“That might be true but—” he sucks in a sharp breath when your hand grazes over the precum soaked bulge in his briefs. “Holy fuck.”

Hearing his exasperated breaths draw a smile from you, urging your hands to tug his underwear down and freeing—no way.

No Fucking Way.

Judging by your reaction, Gojo understands through and through that you were expecting much less from him.

It isn’t like you expecting so much less, but you weren’t expecting so fucking much. A dire mistake on your end.

It’s monstrous, big enough that if you wrapped both palms around it, there’d still be uncovered length left. You tilt your head in awe, eyeing the slight curve in it. How his pale skin underneath doesn’t overmine the flush in his tip, the white precum seeding at the opening of it.

“Something the matter?” Gojo flatly whispers, fully aware of how long you’re staring. But by no means is he feeling the heat of it.

“No,” you quickly glance up at him, unblinking.

“Uh huh,” he accepts disbelievingly, a cocky smirk on his face.

You lean forward, wrapping your palm around it. You give it a few precautionary pumps, almost as if you’re petting a wild beast, hoping to tame it. When you hear the reaction it elicits from Satoru, you can’t help but fixate on his face.

His brows knit together and his mouth drops, heavy breaths escaping him. Not only that, but you feel it. You feel the way his dick practically jumps in your hand, sensitive to your touch yet wanting more.

Your chest swells with pleasure, letting your hand feel just what he has to offer. You can feel the ridges in it, the way his veins ran thick, pulsating in your hand.

“If I knew this was the most effective way to get you to shut up, I would’ve done it a long time ago,” you murmur, half-lidded eyes on his twitching face.

“Ngghh—Ahh—Shut up,” he shudders, one hand gripping the backrest of the couch, and the other reaching across his stomach, a feeble hope to ground himself.

“Why should I?” you tease, tugging at his dick as you begin sinking further down on your knees, eye leveled with his waist. “I like hearing you like this a lot more, Satoru.”

And just as you’re about to drag your tongue along the tip of his dick, something within him snaps. He shivers, grabbing you by the back of the head and pulling you to his lips. A soft moan slips from his mouth into yours.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer,” he breathes between kisses. “—I gotta be inside ya.”

Just then, you practically feel a second heartbeat between your thighs. There is no argument in the world that you could use to refute him. All you do is nod dumbly, giving yourself up to him.

He pushes you down, your back falling against the couch cushions beneath you. Satoru hovers over you, staring down at your face, truly studying it. His gaze flicks down when yours does too, to where your fist covers his shaft.

He shudders pathetically when your hand moves along his dick, pumping it impatiently. He notes the clear enthusiasm it elicits from you, how your body curves into him from how horny you were.

Satoru’s own hand reaches for his cock, jerking it slowly before he drags the tip up and down between your folds, gliding over your quivering hole enough to tease it but not give it what it craves so desperately.

You whine, feverishly bucking your hips up into his dick, hoping he takes pity and gives you what you want.

He chuckles darkly, “So needy.”

He slaps his tip against your clit and you gasp, legs jolting at the feeling. It is more than clear he enjoyed pulling a response like that from you, so he does it again. And when you jerk in place like that once more, he sadistically laughs in a way that you wouldn’t believe he’s a hero at all.

“Look at it when I put it in,” he quickly pecks your jaw.

You hesitantly look down, seeing how he coats his cock with all your arousal mixed with your cum. A little huff drips from your lips, watching how his thumb swipes over his tip, a little wet sound stringing as he fists his heavy dick.

While he aligns his cock with the opening of your pussy, your right hand flies to his left forearm and your left hand curls around one of the couch cushions.

He begins pushing it in, grunting as the softness of your walls cling to his tip, threatening to suck him in. Your jaw drops, choppy breaths falling one after the other at how it feels like he’s splitting you open.

“Shit,” he chokes, his hair tickling your face with how close he is. “You feel so fucking good.”

Your fingers tremble the further he pushes in. Your pussy wraps around him so deliciously that he has to remind himself to practice restraint—for your sake. Ever the hero, Satoru Gojo.

Your breath stops, realizing he has way more left to go when you spare a painful glance down. He isn’t even halfway in yet.

“Fuck—Satoru, you’re too big—it won’t fit,” you push at his abdomen, teary eyed.

“Then we’ll make it fit, baby,” he coos, swatting your hand away. “Nothing to worry about.”

When someone tells you not to worry, you learn, it is entirely appropriate to in fact, worry.

He angles himself to sink into you, glancing down between each of your bodies and up at your face, seeing your face contort into a pained yet pleasured expression. The more you become acquainted with his shape, the more it begins to feel good.

When he ruts himself against you, you let out a sharp squeal, clinging onto him. Your eyes feel like they are about to burst from their very sockets, in an almost cartoonish sense.

He watches you, a smirk on his restless face. He draws his hips back and jams them back into you.

“Oh fuck!” you cry, a crease forming between your brows.

“Aw, you look so cute,” he smiles, taking a breath to wince at just how snugly set he is inside you. “All the other guys at school would want to fucking kill me to get to have a sight like this.”

“You talk too much,” you shake your head, reaching up to grab his jaw.

“And you love it,” he pulls himself out till only his tip rests inside you, then he drives his cock back in you, stringing a shriek from you. He begins doing it repeatedly, thrusting in and out of you.

At first his pace is slow yet precise, the tip of his cock prodding so far inside you, you feel it kissing your cervix. Then he decides it’s better to make you work for it before he gives you his all.

His quickens his pace, his thrusts rough and catching you off guard with each one. Your legs wrap around his waist, ankles hooking behind him and toes pointing tautly.

“I’m beginning to think you go looking for trouble just to get the Spiderman to ruin you like this,” he accentuates his point with a well-meaning thrust.

The sounds filling the air are beyond your wildest dirtiest dreams. The sound of his heavy breathing is like music to your ears, just the way your moans are to his. The lewd noises of pap pap pap ofhis balls hitting your ass mix with the squelch of his cock drilling into your wet cunt.

The feeling of him on top of you—inside you, is something you can’t even comprehend the perfection in. Every inch of your body just feels so fucking good that you feel yourself teetering on the edge of delusion.

Your hands make their way up to the base of his neck, your fingers loosely intertwine behind his head. You moan again, letting your fingertips scratch at the back of his head.

Satoru pumps himself in and out of you. He can’t even help it—it’s like his body has a mind of its own. And now, he’s trying to have at least some form of restraint, trying his utmost best to not cum. It isn’t like you’re making anything easier on him.

He nearly falls apart when you pull his mouth to yours, gasping adorably as you let your tongue meet his. You’re sharing the same air at this point, and he fucking loves it.

You feel like you could cum at any given moment. You fixate on that feeling, realizing that you haven’t had time to yourself at all in the last few months. Certainly not enough time for a man to make you cum, let alone give yourself the time to do so.

Now though, you come to the understanding you were deprived. Satoru is giving you just what you needed after so long.

He knows that if his mouth stays on yours, he doesn’t have a fighting chance. So he parts from you, holding himself up by his arms and fucking you even harder.

Your hands jump to his biceps, whining as you do so. All the while, he soaks in your appearance. Your fucked out face, the way your tits are bouncing with every one of his strokes, and the way his cock is slipping so easily in and out of you.

When he suddenly pulls out of you completely, you hardly have beyond a second to realize he’s flipping you over. Your arms rest on the arm rest of the couch, while he adjusts your hips, getting you on your knees.

You turn your head over your shoulder, seeing his big strong hands spreading your ass, spitting down between your legs. You shudder, nose crinkling at the feeling of his spit dripping down to your pussy.

He then slides his dick between your folds again, coating it before he, without warning slips back into you.

He doesn’t ease into it like he did before at all. He has a quick, relentless pace from the get-go. His dick moves inside you like it wants to blend into your body, or perhaps go so far inside you that you feel him in your throat.

With this new position, you feel him prodding deeper than before. Your walls suck him in, helping the tip of his length brushing your cervix, this time at a higher intensity.

He angles his strokes better when his hands grip into your hips. With every lust driven thrust, you feel his fingers dig into your flesh even more. You’re more than certain it will leave a mark that you’ll be seeing for days.

“Fuck me,” Satoru breathlessly laughs. “You’re being such a good girl for me. You feel good?”

“So—so fucking good,” your eyes are closed, nails digging into the plush of his couch. “Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he darkly mutters.

He ruts himself into your pussy again, feeling the warmth that he never wants to ever part from. He clenches his jaw, trying to ground himself in the smallest way possible at the very least.

His pelvis slams against your ass with great fervor, over and over again. Your heads drops pathetically, forehead against the armrest as you jolt forward . . . forward . . . forward. Your shoulders blades contract, back arching and creating a beautiful crease down your spine.

While he’s fucking you, a part of him wants to bend down and lick up that expanse of skin. Right where the spokes of your spine take shape. Then his eyes fix on the way your ass meets his skin and he does not dare tear his gaze away.

“Mmm shit, baby,” Satoru throws his head back deliriously. “Sucking my cock in so fucking nice.”

Then he rocks his hips against you so zealously that the angle he’s at elicits a loud scream from you. Your body falls forward, knees shaking.

“Oh?” Satoru comes to a grinding halt. “Did I find something?”

He draws himself back and drives himself straight into your pussy again, realigning himself to hit that same spot again.

When you choke out a sob, he grins, “Looks like I have.”

You spare another glance behind you, meeting eyes with that complacent expression on his face. His strokes are quick, deep, and precise, skimming at your g spot just right.

“Oh my god,” you cry, arms and legs shaking. A familiar heat stirs in your core, an iron searing heat. One that feels much more intense than anything you’ve ever experienced before.

You look back again, seeing how Satoru’s washboard abs are glistening with a beautiful moonlit sheen. He throws his head back and you spy the way his jaw hangs when he moans.

Your trembling legs are on the verge of giving out and he feels your pussy clenching. He knows you’re on the edge. He hovers over you, his chest pressing against your back as his hand swirls your sensitive clit in circles.

His senses are clouding, vision blurring just as yours is. Every muscle in your body tightens without any direction, moving at their own accord. A million little tingles flurry over your body like blizzards.

Your throat is drying out from the sheer amount of stamina stringing out of you. And you weren’t even doing any of the work.

Your cunt tightens around him, clamping down on him. His ministrations on your clit get you right where he wants you, cumming like a whore on his dick.

You cry out, body spasming like you no longer have any control over it. You’re writhing beneath him, spilling the sweetest of moans that are going straight to his head.

“Yeah, baby, come on. You got this,” he’s whispering encouragingly in your ear, lips brushing against your helix. “Ah—ah—yeah, just like that.”

Stars stipple across the night sky of your vision. All flickering on and off as if children are playing with light switches in an empty house. Any rational thought flies out of your mind, all you can focus on is this feeling, ardent as a flame.

Satoru’s pace comes to a stop, hands slowing on your nub as he backs away. He chuckles as you slump into the couch, watching you catch your breath.

Once you do, you get back on your knees, turning to face him. He looks as if he’s about to spew some condescending rhetoric but you push him so he’s now seated.

“Your turn,” you say hoarsely, taking your place on his lap.

He surprisingly has nothing to say. Or perhaps he does but his tongue fails him quite severely in that moment.

You straddle his hips with your thighs, sitting up straight in his lap. Your arms are slung around his neck and he finds it so sexy the way one of your hands reach down to put his dick back in you.

As you sink down on his cock, both your mouths fall open, eyes on each other’s. Your arms are slung across his shoulders as you look him dead in the eye and bottom out. You softly whimper but fuck, the whimper that escapes him is worth more than any currency.

His brows pinch and nose scrunches, his pretty lips fall into a pout. One that you want to kiss off his lips so bad. His hands are on your ass, pathetically trying to guide you to go faster and move at the very least. And you do, but the speed you move at is far from fast.

You lift your hips up, and then slam yourself down, earning a strangled gasp from him. You do it again, eliciting the same reaction. Your arms slide down till your hands are at the nape of his neck, feeling the scruff of his undercut.

He moans again, this time wrapping his strong arms around your back and letting you take the reigns completely. He watches the way your cunt sheathes down on his cock repeatedly, your hair in your dazed eyes and all.

As you ride him, he can’t steer his eyes away from any part of you at all, especially your tits bouncing in front of his face. He can’t even help leaning forward ever so slightly, wrapping his mouth around your nipple, hoping it stifles his moans.

You let out a raspy cry, feeling the way his tongue flicks over your bud. His prior hope of suppressing moans is all but futile for you can hear how his heavy breaths spiral into pitchy whines.

Your hips gyrate, rolling against him and he’s already been edging himself to prolong his orgasm but now he knows he’s done for. His dick twitches, and he lets go of your nipple with a pop.

His hands come to rest on your thighs and he looks up at you darkly, “You on birth control?”

Your nails scratch tenderly over his nape again, you bite down on your lip and nod.

“Good,” he simply mutters.

He lets out a choppy moan again, eyes hooded and breaths heavy. His cock twitches inside you again, and with one final plunge in you he’s fallen completely apart. “Fuck—"

His cum spurts inside your pussy, ropes of white liquid shoot in you. The warmth of it invaded your space, hurtling deep in you before it begins leaking out of where the two of you are connected.

Shakily, you breathe as you look down, feeling his seed dripping down your thigh. You take a moment to breath, watching him come down from his high as well.

You both heave heavily, catching elusive breaths. Each of you slowly trail your eyes up at each other, staring for a moment before you both break into laughter.

He rubs his hands over your thighs, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you smile, tilting your head unconsciously. You flick your gaze over his face, seeing the damp mess his hair is now, sweaty and clinging to his skin. His eyes still have that wintered glimmer. A smile rests on his lips too.

“Can I ask you something?” you quiz.

“Shoot.” Ironic pun.

“Is the reason you’ve been getting under my skin a lot because you had a crush on me?” you ask.

“What? No,” he scoffs, hands on your hips. You cock a suspicious brow, your hands loosely skimming his neck. “You’re crazy.”

“Uh huh,” you nod sarcastically.

“You hungry?” he asks, raising his brows.

“Oh, like crazy,” you breath.

He grins, “Let me order something and I’ll get you cleaned up. Now where’s my phone?”

He stands up, carrying you easily with one arm as he reaches for his phone on the floor. You squeal, tightening your grip on him. “Satoru!”

He pays no mind as he’s already halfway through punching in his pizza order, “Hmm, how do you feel about stuffed cheesy bread?”

“I could go for it, yeah,” you say.

“Great. Done,” he clicks, a satisfied bliss on his face.

“You know have a lot of explaining to do, right?” you remind him.

“You don’t think I know that?” he scoffs airily. “I’d be pretty dumb to forget that with you badgering me around all the time.”

You open your mouth to argue and he laughs, “Kidding! I’ll tell you everything—I swear. Let’s get you cleaned up first. Food should be here by then so I’ll explain while we eat.”

“Okay, but I like hot showers—if you put me under cold water I’m feeding you to that mutant lizard thing on the news,” you warn as he carries you off into the bathroom.

“Oh—I wouldn’t dream of it,” Satoru says. “Besides, can’t take that risk. The city needs me.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you choose to keep your sarcastic remark to yourself. Instead, you lean your head against his shoulder, letting him whisk you away.

hope you guys enjoyed as much as i enjoyed writing this!! likes and reblogs are appreciated!!!

[rxreid]

hi!!! would you be up for writing a soft dom bellamy x best friend reader fic/oneshot? maybe he gets jealous when he sees other guys flirting/talking about y/n in a sexual way. and bellamy being protective, pulled reader away and confesses his love to her?

realms of friendship - b.b

also requested: “hi gurll i didn’t know 100 writers were still active you’re feeding me bc no one writes bellamy smut anymore 😞 i just need porn with a plot please surprise me and keep em comin !” + “hi this is my first time asking but can u plsss write blake smut. like literally anything im so deprived of him im begging.”

warnings: SMUT! unprotected p in v, that’s pretty much it. brief mention of a gun?? but not kinky. technically takes place in s3 of the 100.

word count: 5.1k

characterisation: reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns & feminine terms.

comments: here u go anons!! i hope this is okay…it’s far from the best thing i’ve written, but i wanted to write a bellamy fic whilst i was sure i had some free time. it might be a little ooc, only because i’m not super used to writing for him yet. nevertheless, feel free to send in more request for blurbs/hcs/fics! the first two are more likely to be answered quickly <3. if you don’t wanna read the smut, there’s a divider before it gets spicy :)

“I just think if you popped a couple of buttons open, maybe let your hair loose once in a while, the guys in camp would be all over you,” Jasper shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans into the backseat of the rover, his lips carrying that same ‘carefree’ smirk he’s had since getting out of Mount Weather.

Murphy snorts, sitting opposite Jasper in the trunk. “As if,” he snickers, his nose crinkling in amusement. “The guys in camp are already all over her, she’s just too frigid to give them a try, ain’t that right?” he grins, leaning forward to rest his hands on the leather of her seat, placing his chin on the edge as he peeks into the front. She internally grimaces at his proximity, twisting in her spot to lean against the window, her brows slightly furrowed at the two boys.

“Shut up,” she grumbles quietly, mirroring Jasper’s position and folding her arms, the expression on her face betraying her distaste for the topic of conversation. She's aware that the two boys are purposely trying to rile her up, but that doesn’t make them any easier to deal with when they get like this.

In the backseat, Jasper kicks his feet up, somehow managing to stay upright despite the bumps in the track as Bellamy roughly drives the four of them back to camp. “Yeah, right. Like who? You?” he muses teasingly, raising a brow at Murphy, as if daring him to take their game further.

“Hell yeah, me,” Murphy retorts cockily, still flashing his borderline predatory grin to her. “With a face that pretty and an ass like that, I can’t understand why she’s not been snatched up,” he smirks, his words complimentary in his own mind yet being perceived entirely different by the recipient. He keeps his gaze on her as he talks to Jasper, briefly glancing over at Bellamy in the driver's seat. The older boy’s nose is turned up in disgust as he listens to the conversation, the veins in his hands becoming more prominent from his grip on the steering wheel.

She scrunches her nose up too, her cheeks heating up at Murphy’s words, feeling a wave of embarrassment pass through her body. She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply, and he takes it upon himself to lean further over her seat, his chest fully pressed against the back. “What? Not even a thank you?” he taunts, his grin getting wider at the way she squirms under his stare. “Eh, whatever. You look better with your mouth shut. Plus, I can think of other ways to keep it occupied,” he snickers crudely, lifting his arm as he begins to reach his hand around her chair.

In an instant, Bellamy’s fingers are clasping Murphy’s wrist, his grip too tight to pass as merely playful. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, his voice stern as he pushes him into the back of the rover once more. “Back off, Murphy, you don’t need to be so close to her,” he mutters gruffly, his lips slightly pursed into a scowl.

A huff escapes Murphy’s lips as he’s roughly pushed back, thudding into the seat opposite Jasper again, who’s tickled by the entire situation. “Ow. Jeez, Blake, loosen up a little. She knows I’m just fuckin’ with her,” he grumbles, his thumb and pointer finger wrapping around his wrist to soothe the ache of Bellamy’s previous grip. “She’s dead weight, anyway. Dunno why we bring her on these trips if we can’t have some fun with her.”

Bellamy glares at Murphy through the windscreen mirror, his protectiveness for the girl beside him flaring up. He knows he should probably tone it down to avoid suspicion of any deeper feelings for his best friend, but he can’t let her be mercilessly teased when he knows she won't stand up for herself. Plus, the insinuation of her friends bringing her on supply runs purely to sleep with her makes his skin crawl. “Stop being a fucking perv,” he snaps, his grip on the wheel tightening slightly as his hand returns to it.

Murphy furrows his brows, clearly displeased with Bellamy’s interruption of his fun. “I’m not bein’ a perv,” he retorts, his voice laced with offence, “I’m just lettin’ the lady know that she’s got options if she wants it,” he shrugs, rolling his eyes over dramatically, his ego bruised.

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t want that, and she sure as hell doesn’t want you,” Bellamy grits, pressing down on the gas a little harsher, his mood souring at the thought of spending any longer in the vehicle whilst Murphy shamelessly flirts with his friend. friend.

“Now shut up for the rest of the drive or I’m throwing you out and you’re walking back to camp. Both of you.”

Her eyes go slightly wide at Bellamy’s defence, raising her brows in surprise. She looks back at Jasper and Murphy, who are both staring at her incredulously, and shrugs her shoulders. The rest of the short drive is spent in silence, with nobody wanting to get onto Bellamy’s bad side again. Her gaze remains focused on the landscape flying by, thoughts wandering to the boy beside her, as they most often do.

Upon the group’s return to Arkadia, Bellamy pulls into the garage, the roaring of the rover dying in an instant as he shuts it off. “Out,” he orders gruffly, earning a grumble from both Murphy and Jasper as they hop out of the vehicle, slamming the doors behind them before heading away from the garage. She follows suit, watching Bellamy climb out too, and she instinctively starts heading away, not wanting to catch the brunt of his lingering moodiness.

“Not you.”

She stops in her tracks as his words echo through the empty garage, slowly turning around to face him. “Not…me?” she questions, her brows arched. She’s half expecting him to tell her she’s forgotten something, or that she needs to help him unload the rover, but the way his expression has softened tenfold from just minutes ago makes her slightly uneasy.

“Not you,” he repeats, his voice softer, taking a few steps towards her. “What was all that about? Why were you just sitting there letting Jasper and Murphy talk about you like that?”

A dry chuckle escapes her lips, and she fights the urge to roll her eyes at the memory. “Used to it by now,” she shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Murphy’s been that way since the dawn of time, and Jasper’s new emo phase has him acting like a dick 24/7. It’s whatever,” she huffs, puckering her lips as she stands awkwardly, her gaze shifting around.

“It’s just not ‘whatever’ though, is it?” he retorts sarcastically, narrowing his eyes at her as he steps closer once more. “You shouldn’t let them believe they can talk to you like that, it’ll just get worse if they think they can get away with it. I know what guys are like,” he says, the idea of her being so compliant with being objectified stirring a flame deep in his heart, his instincts screaming at him to shield her from such taunts.

She snorts at his sass, amused by how insistent he’s getting. “I really don’t care about what they have to say, Blake,” she says, shaking her head slightly and shrugging her shoulders. She’s speaking truthfully - the teasing she endures from other boys in camp is practically an everyday occurrence by now.

“Bellamy,” he corrects.

“What?”

“You’re my best friend. It’s Bellamy to you, not Blake. You know I don’t like that.”

“Okay…” she says, dragging her syllables out briefly. “I don’t really care, Bellamy,” she repeats.

“I do,” he shrugs simply, placing his hands onto his hips. She, too, narrows her eyes at that, scanning his features from any ulterior motive to his words. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his brows slightly furrowed as usual, but his eyes carry a hint of concern, and she’s trying to figure out why without straight up asking.

After a few seconds, she sighs softly, tilting her head backwards as she lets out a groan, a little embarrassed by the entire situation. She lets her head fall straight again, looking over at him. “Bell, I appreciate it, I really do, but I don’t want you barking at your friends for me. I can handle it.”

He chuckles at that, and she’s almost offended that the one thing to make him laugh is the thought of her defending herself. “Listen, you can tell me to back off, tell me whatever the hell you want, but you should know by now that I’m not the type of guy to stand by when you’re evidently uncomfortable, princess. If they pull that shit again when I’m around-,” he says, placing his hand on her shoulder and leaning down slightly, raising his brows, “-I’m gonna say something.”

“You’re really annoying,” she deadpans, her eyes still narrowed as he leans to be level with her.

“Not annoying, just protective of my friends,” he shrugs, his hand trailing down to lightly skim across her arm, stilling there. “And you happen to be my best one, so you get the brunt of it.”

Rolling her eyes, she lets out a huff, her gaze roaming the garage. “Gee, thanks, lucky me,” she grumbles, her brows softly furrowed together.

He hums, straightening up once more as he looks down at her. “Damn straight, lucky you,” he grins, a rare sight from the usual scowl adorning his lips. His gaze is downcast, a twinkle in his deep brown eyes always prominent when his focus is on the girl before him. “And stop that, you’ll get premature wrinkles,” he mutters teasingly, lifting his free hand to smooth out the dip between her brows with his thumb.

A faint blush dusts her cheeks as his thumb swipes across her skin, her gaze briefly dashing to his teeth poking behind his lips before back to his eyes. She’s used to him being somewhat touchy, always greeting her with a reunion hug or squeezing her shoulders when she needs reassurance, but something in the air feels different with him tonight.

“Why’d you really defend me against Jasper and Murphy, huh?” she murmurs, her eyes roaming his features skeptically.

He doesn’t answer her verbally, but his grin widens cheekily as he steps forward again, his thumb moving to swipe her jaw, silently signalling his next move.

“Don’t,” she mumbles, her eyes widening a smidge as she pieces together what he’s boldly getting at, her own mind running a thousand miles per hour. She finally uncrosses her arms, letting them fall slack at her sides, subtly opening herself up to him. If Bellamy Blake, her best friend, kisses her right here in this garage, she might just have to face a year's worth of pent up emotions, and she’s not sure she’s ready for that.

“Why not?” Bellamy whispers, his grin widening as he slowly leans in. At first he was teasing her, but the closer he gets, the more tempting it is to close the gap.

“It’ll change everything,” she retorts quietly, unable to stop herself from taking a peek at his plump lips, his cupids bow littered with stubble.

“No it won’t.”

“Liar.”

“We’ll see.”

With that, he leans in, closing the gap until his lips are ghosting over hers, their noses brushing together. He doesn’t take it any further, keeping their lips a mere few millimeters apart as he waits for her to make the final move, his own lips curved up in a smile so bright she thinks she might go blind.

She huffs at him, seeing what he’s playing at. “I hate you,” she grumbles, all prior thoughts ditching her brain as she presses her lips against his, feeling him chuckle into the kiss as they both close their eyes. He’s slightly chapped, but she hadn’t expected much different, so she’s not bothered. She has no room to complain when her best friend, likely the most sought after man in Arkadia, is kissing her so sweetly.

Sweetly doesn't last too long, his lips pressing against hers with more insistence as his hand gently squeezes her arm, his other cupping her cheek. He pokes his tongue out, swiping it across her bottom lip in a silent ask for entry to her mouth, wanting to deepen the kiss he’s so desperately been waiting for. When she keeps her lips firmly pressed together, he furrows his brows.

“Lemme in,” he mumbles against her lips, trying again with his tongue.

“No,” she retorts quietly, closing her lips up immediately to keep him out.

“Why not?” he groans gruffly, pressing his forehead against hers, a hint of a pout on his face.

She pulls back fully, her hands lingering in the air by his waist, not quite willing to place them yet. “Not until you tell me why you’re kissing me,” she whispers, her voice holding a vulnerability that wasn't there minutes ago.

Shaking his head in amusement, he drops his gaze briefly to quietly laugh at her question, before looking at her once more. “Are you seriously asking me that, princess?” he grins, his forehead creasing. “Why does anyone kiss another person?”

She looks up at him, her mind racing with possible answers. For love? For lust? For the hell of it? “I dunno,” she decides is the best answer, shrugging her shoulders.

“Are you really gonna make me say it?” he chuckles, his thumb moving to brush across her chin.

“Yeah. Say it,” she mutters.

Bellamy huffs, smirking at her obliviousness. “Okay, listen carefully, yeah? I…want to kiss you…because I like you, ‘kay? Romantically. R-O-M-A–”

She cuts him off with a smack to his chest at his sarcasm, her cheeks flaring up. “Yeah, yeah, okay, I get it!” she grumbles, letting her head fall down to his shoulder on instinct, wanting to shield herself from his teasing. His grin only widens as she hides her face from him, his hands going to her waist as he nudges his nose into her hair.

“Might even go as far as to say I love you,” he whispers, gently moving her hair out of his way to ghost his lips against her neck, his touch a lot softer than she ever would have anticipated.

“You don’t,” she retorts, lifting her head just an inch to open up her neck to him.

“I do,” a kiss to her pulse point.

“You don’t.”

“I do. Can’t stand hearing other guys talk about you like how they were earlier,” a kiss to her jaw.

“You don’t.”

“I do, princess, and you love me too,” a kiss just below her ear.

“I-” she cuts herself off with a groan, knowing she can’t in good conscience stand here and tell him she doesn’t love him.

Bellamy chuckles at her groan, tilting her head to make her look at him once more. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he mutters cockily. “You gonna let me in now?” he questions, his lips hovering above hers for the second time in a few minutes.

“Fine,” she scoffs.

The gap is closed once more in an instant as he presses his mouth to hers, wasting no time before slipping his tongue into her parted lips. He hums at the taste of her, living up to everything he’d ever imagined and more. Her world narrows down to just him and his mouth, her hands finally placing themselves on his waist, fingertips skimming beneath his tan shirt. She can’t help the small moan that passes her lips as he laps his tongue against hers, kissing her like a man starved.

He laughs against her lips again as she moans, hooking his hands under her thighs and hoisting her up, directing her to wrap her legs around his waist. She does so without hesitation, though she’s slightly stumped by his haste.

“Eager, much?” she mutters as she pulls away, the string of saliva between their mouths breaking as she talks.

A grin breaks onto his lips once more, and he looks over her shoulder as he quickly navigates out of the garage and down the hall, heading for his quarters. “You want me to slow down? You wanna drag this out any longer than we already have?” he grunts out, barely even straining under her weight in his arms as he walks through the remnants of the ark.

“No,” she replies quietly, tucking her head into the crook of his neck.

“Exactly.”

He finds his quarters relatively quickly, even with his vision slightly impaired by her hair. Nudging the door open, he takes them both into the room, ensuring it’s closed behind him before he gently lays her down against the pillows, his frame hovering above hers. She’s been in his quarters many times - they usually hang out in one another’s rooms - but she’s never been beneath him, and she has definitely never felt his growing arousal against the junction between her thighs. Yet, here she is. There’s a first for everything.

She can’t tear her gaze away when he sits up on his knees, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere in his room. She squeals as he roughly tugs her boots from her feet, followed by his own, their shoes additionally being tossed aside. Her eyes roam his now bare chest, and she audibly gulps. It’s not like she hasn’t seen him bare chested before, of course she has, but never this close, and never with the knowledge of what he’s about to do to her.

“Rude to stare,” he mutters, pressing himself between her legs as he dips his head to her neck, starting off with light, gentle kisses.

She rolls her eyes at that, her knees nudging his sides and her arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Well, apparently we’re more than friends now, so I think I’m allowed to,” she mumbles, tilting her neck to grant him better access.

A chuckle escapes him, and he can’t argue with it. “Fair enough,” he murmurs against her skin, biting down softly on her flesh before letting go. “Can’t tell you how many times you were here in my room,” he mumbles, rolling his hips slowly against hers. “Sittin’ pretty on my bed… or at my desk,” he grunts, his hands holding her waist, slipping beneath her shirt. “And I couldn’t stop imagining having you like this.”

At the roll of his hips she lets out a small gasp, her eyes fluttering closed. Her hand worms into his hair, tugging on his curls as he continues his assault on her neck. “And yet you called Murphy a perv?” she teases breathlessly, her head dropping back against his pillow.

He growls at the mention of Murphy, pulling away from the love bite he’d been curating to look down at her. “Who’s the one who actually got the girl, huh? Yeah. Me. Fuck him, the little freak,” he grumbles, his fingers tugging on the hem of her shirt. “Lift,” he instructs quietly, his tone immediately changing to a more delicate one with her.

She obliges, reaching to grab the hem of her shirt, sitting up slightly and lifting it over her head, tossing it into the forming pile. She reaches behind her back, fumbling with the clasp of her bra before finally getting it undone, leaving it covering her breasts.

He narrows her eyes at her as she teases him, not letting it last long before he grabs her bra straps, carefully tugging them down until she’s fully exposed, her bra joining the pile.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, his hands moving to knead her chest without hesitation, and he feels any remnants of blood running straight to his crotch. “Way better than I imagined. Perfect, even,” he mutters, hastily leaning his head down to capture one of her buds in his mouth, swirling his tongue as he groans around her.

Giggling at his haste, she keeps both hands tangled in his hair, her back arching slightly towards his mouth. “Mm, baby, you gonna stay there forever?” she breathlessly murmurs with a grin, watching as he spends at least a few minutes lavishing at her chest.

“God, I could get used to you calling me that,” Bellamy groans, finally letting his mouth leave her chest. “I’m coming back to you two. Mark my words,” he mutters, giving her a final squeeze before he sits back on his haunches. He fumbles around with his toolbelt, mindlessly throwing it - along with the gun nestled in it - somewhere in his bedroom, before his hands begin to work at his zipper.

She looks up at him, biting her lip at the obvious tent in his cargos. She decides to occupy herself whilst he’s busy, undoing her own zipper and lifting her hips, wiggling out of her pants. They both finish undressing at the same time, gazing at one another with massive grins as they take in the sights.

“Shit, I can’t fucking wait to be inside of you, princess,” Bellamy blurts out, his curls loosely falling across his forehead as he leans over her again, his hands roaming her hips with intent.

Her lips part at his words, a little shocked, but she's not sure what else she was expecting him to say. “You can’t just say things like that,” she whispers breathlessly, grinning up at him as she pushes back his curls.

“Yeah? Why can’t I?” he mutters, catching her wrist in his hand and pressing a lingering kiss to her palm. He looks down at the space between them, the sight of her in just her panties sending him borderline insane. “Any- fuck, any other time I would usually love a little foreplay, but I’ve literally been waiting a year for this, and I don’t think I can wait another second,” he huffs with a grin, looking down at her for approval.

She nods in agreement, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and tugging him down, sealing their lips together in another kiss. It’s much more desperate now, their shared hunger evident in the way their tongues bind together, a mess of pants and pent up longing. His fingers hook into the sides of her underwear, tapping her hips twice so she lifts them, before slowly pulling her panties down her legs, his lips never leaving hers.

Bellamy reaches his hand carefully between her legs, caressing her hip for a moment before finding the spot between her thighs, the tip of his middle finger sliding through her folds. He groans against her mouth, elated to be greeted by a slickness evidently just for him. “D’you always get this wet,” he mutters against her mouth, pressing sloppy kisses against her lips between his words.

She gasps quietly at the contact, shaking her head. She definitely is not usually this aroused, and she’s certain it’s because of how long her body has been waiting to feel this specific set of hands against her skin.

“Oh, yeah?” he grins cockily, moving his lips to her neck once more. “So this is all for me, princess? Just me?” he teases, his fingertip lightly caressing her now, teasingly moving around and avoiding where she needs him most.

“Yeah,” she whispers, her hand tugging on his hair, desperate for more contact. “Bell, I thought you said no foreplay,” she whines.

He beams at her whine, feeling a rush of pride at how quickly he can reduce her to a mess of desperation, even on their first time together. “Yeah, yeah, I got you,” he murmurs against her neck, reaching his hands down to free himself from the confines of his boxers. He groans as the cold air hits his skin, slowly positioning himself between her thighs. A quiet moan leaves her lips at the sensation of the head of his cock running between her folds before he slowly sheathes himself fully, having to bite down on her shoulder to muffle his moan.

She can’t help but whimper at the sheer size of him, her eyes widening as he eventually bottoms out. She hadn’t had the chance to actually see him before he conjoined their bodies, but god, she can feel every inch and crevice of him, pressed snugly against the wall of her cervix.

“Fucking hell, you’re tight,” he grunts, gritting his teeth as he pulls back from her neck, watching the space between their bodies. He slowly pulls all the way out, before pushing back in, his hands on her waist keeping her steady. “Couldn’t ever conjure up a dream this good,” he mutters, his voice strained.

A moan is all she can let out, her brows furrowed as he steadily begins to move. She’s on the same wavelength as him, trying to register that this is really happening, she’s not dreaming, and her best friend is definitely fucking her.

He moves to grip her thigh with one hand, pulling it up around his waist as he finds a rhythm, deepening himself within her. His strokes are steady and forceful, each one perfectly designed to elicit that sweet moan from her lips as he works, his thighs tensing with the exertion. “Mine,” he growls, punctuating his words with a particularly harsh thrust.

She whimpers sharply at his words, her legs curling around his waist, heels digging into his ass as he picks up the pace. She reaches for him again, one hand gripping his bicep as the other grasps his hair. “Oh my god,” she moans, her eyes slipping closed as her back arches up towards him. “Fuck, there’s perfect.”

Bellamy grins at her moans, a rush of satisfaction coursing through his veins. He angles his hips to replicate his previous thrust, driving into her from that same position. “Right here, princess?” he groans out, his other hand holding her hip with a bruising pressure, feeling her clench around him. “Oh, yeah, you liked that, huh? Lookin’ so gorgeous beneath me, fucking perfect, every inch of you.”

The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, her moans gradually increasing in octave as he learns his way around her body, figuring out what works best for her. His cock slides in and out with ease, twitching within her as his tip smacks against her womb, letting him know just how deep he is. She can barely think straight, her mind a whirlwind of Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy. Her eyes open once more, instantly met with his own warm brown ones looking back at her, his gaze unwavering as he studies her expression, committing every movement of her face to memory. He grins wolfishly at her as she looks at him, driving his hips into her with a newfound force, desperate to see her face contort with a release.

Unexpectedly, he sits back on his calves, bringing her with him. His hand moves to her lower back, looking up at her as he quickly encourages her to move with him. “There you go, princess,” he mutters, one hand holding her hip to guide her. She obeys, of course, her nails digging into his shoulder blades, imprinting crescent moons into his skin as she moves her hips on top of him, whining loudly whilst he drives up into her, meeting every thrust she makes. “Good girl, fuck, so pretty like this.”

The moan that escapes her is borderline deafening as he praises her, her head dropping into the crook of his neck. Her body moves sensually against his, her breasts bouncing against his cheeks with every movement she makes. He presses a kiss against the valley of her breasts, grunting as he feels the coil in his stomach tightening. “I love you,” he mutters against her skin, his tongue darting out to taste her. “So fucking much. Should’ve done this so long ago, baby, god, should’ve done this back at the dropship,” he moans, twitching inside of her as his release rapidly approaches.

She whimpers relentlessly against his neck, her hand bunching up his hair so tightly she’s worried she might rip it out. She would respond if she could, but she’s too focused on the pleasure he’s giving her, feeling drunk on every jolt of his cock within her.

Bellamy whines a little at the grip on his hair, his head tilting back as he uses all of his strength to pound up into her. He keeps one hand on her lower back, the other reaching down to find her clit, rubbing tight circles against her, needing to feel her come around him. “So close, princess,” he gasps, his free hand moving down to grip at her ass, kneading it between her fingers. “So fucking close. Gonna come and make you mine for good, yeah? Nobody’s gonna say shit about you anymore,” he moans, his head still thrown back.

Nodding rapidly, she pulls back too, her eyes roaming his exposed neck as she continues moving, despite the ache in her thighs. The sight of his Adam's apple bobbing, the small stubble gracing his chin and mouth, the way his lips are parted, it’s all too much. His tongue darts out to lick his upper lip, swiping across the scar there, and she can’t take much more, tugging his hair to smash her lips against his yet again.

He groans against her mouth, unable to keep himself upright as he falls fully against the bed, his back hitting the mattress. From here, he can angle his hips to drive up into her at a brutal force, her ass smacking against his thighs with every thrust. He can feel her walls tightening around him, knowing he’s just as close as she is.

“Come with me, princess. Let me make you feel good,” he whispers against her lips, her clit dragging against his pelvis with every harsh pound he delivers to her.

It's not long before he’s thrusting in harshly one final time, coming with a loud grunt of her name and spilling deep into her womb, painting her as his.

His orgasm spurs on her own, her body convulsing around him as she comes, his tongue swallowing her moans, along with a muffled screech of his name. She pants heavily, pulling away from his mouth and collapsing against him, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. “Holy fucking shit,” she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to his tanned skin.

He huffs out a laugh, his pupils wide with bliss, wrapping his arms around her as she collapses. “Yeah, holy fucking shit,” he repeats, his hand slowly running up and down her back, trying to soothe her trembling body. “You okay?” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Was that okay?”

She grins against his chest, her eyes closing and her body relaxing. “That was more than okay,” she whispers, slowly lifting her hips so he slips out of her, softening now, the both of them able to get more comfortable. “You’re like…way better than I imagined,” she teases.

“Oh, you thought I’d be bad, huh? I don’t have a reputation for nothing,” he smirks, sitting up with her in his arms and shuffling them around so they're pressed against the pillows, her head on his chest. the slight sheen of sweat over the planes of his muscles isn’t a bother, an overwhelming sense of comfort washing over her.

“Mm, actually, you were totally shit,” she teases, snuggling closer to him, feeling the exhaustion begin to settle in.

“Liar,” he grins.

“We’ll see,” she mutters tiredly, echoing their previous words. “But, for the record, I love you, too.”

congrats if u made it this far <3 ty for reading i promise they’ll get better 😔

[justabigassnerd]

Harsh Words

Pairing - Tim Bradford x teen!reader

Word count - 8,707

Warnings - angst, fluff, running away, Tim is a bit of an ass, mentions of getting hurt, swearing, brief mention of guns, inaccurate police scenes, mentions of verbal abuse/threats, Kojo is once again the best boy

Summary - in a bad mood, Tim snaps at you, prompting you to run away and sending everyone into a panic

A/N - hey y'all it's once again time for a new request! this was sent in by @callsigns-haze so I hope I did your idea justice! I really enjoyed writing this fic (it's me I love angst what did you expect)? but I won't ramble, as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

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Tim had been through the wringer. He was convinced that no one else he knew had it as bad as he did right now. He’d broken up with Lucy and been kicked out of Metro. Just when Tim had thought life was finally going well for him, the rug got pulled out from underneath him and he felt like he was at rock bottom with no way to pull himself back up.

You, however, were completely ignorant of Tim’s foul mood and were cooking dinner for the both of you at home. You knew Tim had been working longer and later hours since he started working with Metro so you’d been taking it upon yourself to start cooking dinners most nights so that Tim had something to eat whenever he got home or could take any leftovers to work for lunch. You perked up slightly when you heard the door open but hearing the way it slammed afterwards made you flinch slightly, reminding you of the children's home you had spent years of your life in.

“Hey.” You say softly as Tim enters the kitchen, smiling shyly. Your gaze flicks over to Tim before focusing back on the meal you are cooking.

“Hey,” Tim replies gruffly, barely acknowledging you and only briefly petting Kojo who approaches him happily.

“Was work busy today?” You ask innocently, trying to keep the mood light. You didn’t know what it was that was bothering Tim but you had instantly picked up on his off mood that had been hanging over him for the past few days.

“It doesn’t matter,” Tim grumbles, poking around in the fridge and various cupboards for stuff to eat.

“I’m making dinner. Do you want any? It’s almost done.” You offer, noticing Tim scavenging as if he wasn’t aware of the food you were cooking.

“No,” Tim says, taking you aback slightly at the sharpness of his tone.

“I’ll box up whatever’s left and you can have it for lunch or something if you want.” You say, beginning to plate up some food for yourself while Kojo whines at Tim's lack of attention, attempting to get in front of him to get the attention he usually gets from him.

“Kojo, get out of the way.” Tim scowls, using his foot to carefully move Kojo out of the way. He didn’t intend to hurt Kojo, but the dog’s persistence was beginning to get on his nerves.

“Is everything okay? Is something bothering you?” You ask innocently, worried about Tim with the way he was acting with everything around him.

“It’s none of your business. Don’t stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong. I can’t get a moment’s peace around here.” Tim snaps, eyes full of anger as he glares over at you, your eyes wide and lips parted slightly in shock. Tim had never spoken to you in such a way before and all it could do was remind you of the way people would talk to you in the children's home you were in. As the words replayed in your head and the smell of the dinner you cooked wafted under your nose, you felt your stomach turn, your appetite suddenly gone.

With your appetite now non-existent. You decided to quickly pack all the food you had cooked away, store it away for later and then clean up after yourself. You petted Kojo on your way out of the kitchen, feeling sorry for him after the way Tim had dismissed him and he followed you as you made your way to your room with Kojo hot on your heels, not wanting to face Tim. Who after you left the kitchen, had made his way to the living room. As you sat in your room, you thought more and more about the way Tim had talked to you, you began to feel more and more unsafe in what you had previously thought was the safest place in the world for you. As the unsettled feeling begins to seep in, you decide you need to just get out of the house as soon as possible so you grab your school bag and a duffle bag, scooping things into them before turning to Kojo who whines and lays his head in between his paws, seemingly sensing your intentions.

“I’m sorry, buddy.” You apologise to Kojo, petting him as you crouch down at his level. You wished you could take Kojo with you but you knew it wouldn’t be fair to Kojo to be dragged along with you. You knew Tim wasn’t upset with Kojo like he was with you. After zipping up the bags, you sling one over each shoulder and make your way to the kitchen to grab some food and put it in your bag before hearing the tv in the living room and making your way there with Kojo following behind you like a shadow.

“Hey, Tim. I’m going to Juliet’s house. We’ve got a project we need to work on and she invited me over.” You say quietly, trying not to distract Tim too much when you realise he was watching a football game. In his foul mood, Tim hadn’t even noticed that you had elected to call him by his name instead of calling him ‘Dad’ like you had grown accustomed to.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Tim mumbles, his eyes remaining fixed on the game and barely giving you a second of attention. At his dismissive tone, you nod and turn to head out of the house, apologising quietly to Kojo once more before exiting the house, and closing the door behind you. After you left, Kojo whined loudly, pawing at the door and pacing in front of it anxiously.

“Kojo shut it!” Tim scolds Kojo from the living room, making Kojo let out a longer defiant whine while lying down in front of the door watching carefully as if you would come back in if he waited long enough.

Meanwhile, you were making your way to the nearest bus stop, putting your headphones on as you blink back tears. You wait patiently for the bus to arrive and you climb on, pay for your ticket and take a seat at the back of the bus, curling into yourself and allowing your built-up tears to fall down your cheeks as the bus begins to pull away from the stop. You watch the world go by as you listen to music and as the bus drives past the bus stop closest to Juliet’s house, you pull your phone out of your hoodie pocket and hide your location from Tim as well as shutting your phone off completely. You knew it would’ve been wiser to have left your phone behind at the house but you liked the security of having it just in case something happened, even if you wanted nothing to do with Tim right now.

You rode the bus until the end of its route, getting off at the last stop and making your way along the familiar paths you used to take when things got too much for you at the children’s home. You follow the route that was burned into your memory, silently wishing you had brought Kojo along with you just for company. When the familiar run-down cabin comes into view, you’re reminded of all the times you had sought refuge there on particularly bad nights. The cabin was on the outskirts of the city, somewhere that you knew people wouldn’t think to look if anyone did think to look for you.

Not that anyone ever looked for you when you left.

As you enter the cabin, you’re hit by the chilly, damp air that had been festering in the cabin that had remained untouched for a while now. You make a beeline for the small mattress that lays on the floor, immediately pulling your blanket out of your bag and prepping a sad-looking bedspread. Once you made up some semblance of a bed, you grabbed a container of food you had packed and ate a little bit of the food, trying to save what you could. Once you had eaten, you pulled your hoodie off, bunching it up and turning it into a makeshift pillow before lying on the mattress, tugging the blanket around you tightly. The cabin was not built to keep the cold out and you had regretted not bringing anything warmer. As you curled up, more tears filled your eyes, spilling out from under your eyelids. You couldn’t believe Tim had flipped on you completely and you didn’t know what you had done to get that treatment from him. You also found yourself missing Kojo already. He always curled up with you on the bed and provided you with the companionship you needed in this moment. You continue to cry quietly until your exhaustion begins to get the better of you, making you slip into a restless sleep.

The next morning, Tim wakes up in a slightly better mood than he was last night. He was still annoyed and upset that he was back on patrol instead of working with Metro, but he figured that he should be grateful that he at least still had his job within the LAPD. As Tim gets ready to take Kojo on his morning walk, he finds his dog still lying by the front door, whimpering softly.

“Come on, buddy. Let’s go for a walk.” Tim says, grabbing Kojo’s lead and clipping it onto his collar but Kojo remains in place, refusing to move.

“Kojo, you love your walks why are you acting like this?” Tim grumbles, tugging lightly on the lead to try and entice Kojo to get up. When Kojo remains in place, whining softly at Tim who lets out a strong sigh.

“Kojo, come on,” Tim says through gritted teeth, gently nudging Kojo with his foot and encouraging him up onto his feet and out of the door. Kojo trailed behind Tim dejectedly, clearly not enjoying the walk as much as he usually did. Taking in Kojo’s dampened mood, Tim decided to cut the walk short, heading back home when he had enough of Kojo’s constant tugging to go back home. When he got home, Kojo laid himself by the front door once more, continuing to whine softly.

“What has gotten into you?” Tim wonders out loud, glancing at his dog with a confused expression as he walks past, making his way to his room to shower and get ready to head to Mid-Wilshire. As he finishes getting ready for work, Tim goes to the kitchen to grab himself some coffee before leaving the house, petting Kojo on the way out before trying one last attempt to get Kojo to go and lie down somewhere more comfortable and when he’s met with resistance he gives up and makes his way out to his truck to head to work.

Upon arriving at Mid-Wilshire, Tim heads into the station, and nearly walks straight into Lucy, stopping in his tracks and awkwardly clearing his throat.

“Good morning.” Tim greets her awkwardly with a curt nod, side-stepping around her and making his way to the locker room to get changed into his uniform. He knew things were awkward with Lucy. He had broken her heart by breaking up with her and also shattered his own in the process. He had loved Lucy so much and it wasn’t an easy choice for him in the slightest. He did it to protect her. Tim knew he was too broken to maintain a relationship with her and he knew that Lucy deserved better and she would find better. After changing into his uniform, Tim heads to the rec room ready for morning roll call. Grey soon steps into the room once everyone has gathered and begins the roll call. After everyone is dismissed, Tim is stopped by Grey before he has the chance to leave.

“Bradford. Doctor London is here and she’ll be joining you on a ride along for a psychological evaluation.” He says, already predicting Tim’s reaction before he has even finished his sentence.

“Are you serious?” Tim asks, looking at Grey like he’d grown a second head.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Grey asks, folding his arms across his chest as he raises an eyebrow, seemingly challenging Tim.

“No, sir,” Tim says, backing down and shaking his head.

“I thought I didn’t. This is required to tell us whether you’re fit for duty. Go and get it over with and we’ll take relevant action wherever we need to. You’re also riding with Thorsen today.” Grey says, gesturing towards the door with his head as Tim lets out a weak sigh, nodding his head and making his way out so he can go and talk to Doctor London much to his annoyance.

“Sergeant Bradford,” Aaron says, noticing Tim and waving him over as Tim rolls his eyes, approaching him and who he could only assume was Doctor London.

“You must be Doctor London,” Tim says, stopping in front of the two and eyeing up the woman who nodded nervously.

“I am, yes,” Blair says, offering her hand out for Tim to shake which he does.

“Officer Thorsen, go and grab the war bags. Doctor London, you can follow me to our shop.” Tim says, already wanting to get the day over and done with.

“You’re already very dismissive of this evaluation,” Blair notes, watching as Tim rolls his eyes.

“I don’t need this but I’m tolerating it for the sake of my career,” Tim says, glancing over at Blair and folding his arms across his chest, a protective gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by Blair.

“I got the war bags,” Aaron announces, entering with the two large bags and shotguns, smiling oblivious to the tension between Blair and Tim.

“Good. Put them in the trunk.” Tim says, already beginning to open the door and getting behind the wheel while Aaron puts the bags away before getting into the passenger seat while Blair gets into the back seat.

By the time it had gotten to their lunch break, Tim was fed up with Blair and her attempts at delving into his psyche. They headed back to the station to head out to where the food trucks were so they could grab something to eat. As they get food, Tim notices Angela sitting eating and crosses to sit with her.

“If I hear one more theory about why I act the way I do I’ll actually go mad and need psychiatric help,” Tim says as he plants himself in the seat opposite Angela, noticing the slight laugh that escaped her.

“I’d pay to see that.” Angela jokes, continuing to eat as Tim rolls his eyes.

“Glad you take joy in my misery,” Tim grumbles, aggressively stabbing his fork into his food as Angela’s eyes widen slightly in shock at the aggression.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to poke at you. I know things are pretty rough right now.” Angela apologises, feeling bad about teasing Tim in a vulnerable time for him.

“It’s okay,” Tim says quietly, offering Angela a soft smile to try and reassure her that everything is okay.

“So, how’s y/n doing?” Angela asks, lifting her drink to her lips and taking a sip as Tim’s eyebrows furrow slightly.

“What?” He asks, confused by the question at first.

“y/n? How is she doing?” Angela repeats, growing concerned by Tim’s reaction as the gears begin to turn in her head.

“Oh, I think she said she was going to a friend’s last night. Something like that.” Tim shrugs and continues to eat his food as Angela processes what he said and frowns.

“What did you do?” Angela asks, making Tim look at her, shocked.

“What? Why do you think I did something?” He says, anger seeping into his tone in his defensiveness but Angela wasn’t one to back down against Tim.

“What. Did. You. Do?” Angela says, enunciating each word as she leans forward slightly in challenge to Tim. The two share a silent staring contest for a moment before Tim lets out a huff and leans back against his chair.

“She just went to a friend's house. I think she said something about a school project.” Tim reiterates watching as Angela sighs in frustration.

“Tim. Can you confirm she’s there? It’s not like you to use the phrase ‘I think’ when it comes to y/n. Usually, you know where she is every second of every day.” Angela says, confused by Tim’s nonchalant attitude towards your wellbeing.

“Fine. If it makes you feel better. I’ll pull up her location now.” Tim says exasperatedly, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening the tracking app in his phone. As it opened, his eyebrows furrowed, and he flicked between looking at the map and the data bars in the corner.

“What’s wrong?” Angela asks, concerned by Tim’s reaction.

“Just give me a second.” Tim starts, refreshing the page and beginning to panic a little when your location doesn’t show up.

“Tim. What’s wrong?” Angela asks. Once again, Tim doesn’t give an answer, closing the app and opening his contacts, scrolling through the various phone numbers as he fights to recall which friend you had said you were spending the night at.

“Her phone must’ve died. I’ll call her friend’s mom.” Tim mutters, barely audible to Angela but she hears regardless and watches anxiously as Tim calls the number and lifts the phone to his ear, listening to each ring with bated breath.

“Hey, Tim.” Juliet’s mother, Eve greets as she picks up the phone.

“Hey, Eve. I just wanted to call and check on y/n. I think her phone must be dead or something because-”

“Sorry, hold on a second. y/n? She’s not here Tim.” Eve says, cutting Tim off.

“No, she told me last night that she and Juliet have a school project or something they needed to do.” Tim insists, wondering why Eve was telling him otherwise.

“Hold on, let me just grab Juliet and see if she’s spoken to y/n. But I promise you she’s not at our house, Tim.” Eve says hurriedly and Tim then hears her calling for Juliet to come to her so they can talk.

“Hey, Mom. What do you need?” Tim hears Juliet ask as she enters the room.

“Sweetie, have you heard anything from y/n today?” Eve asks, and all Tim can focus on at the moment is the silence that falls over the phone.

“No, we haven’t talked since we left school yesterday. Why, is everything okay?” Juliet says, worry seeping into her voice as the question her mother asked her begins to settle in her mind and alert her to the fact that something could be wrong.

“Tim…” Eve mutters into the phone, noticing the dead silence on the other end of the line.

“I have to go. Let me know if you hear anything from her.” Tim says quickly and apologetically before hanging up the call and looking at Angela who had watched the entire call with a worried expression.

“What happened?” Angela asks, concerned as Tim shoves his phone in his pocket.

“y/n didn’t go to her friend’s house last night and she hasn’t heard from her since they left school yesterday,” Tim says, already bracing himself for an angry rant from Angela but instead she grabs all her stuff and gets to her feet.

“Come on. We’re talking to Grey and we’re getting search parties going.” Angela says, gesturing for Tim to get up and follow her which he does, hurriedly grabbing his trash so he could throw it out before heading into the station with Angela who marches straight into Grey’s office.

“Sergeant Grey, we need to organise some search parties. y/n has gone missing.” Angela says, giving Grey no time to even ask why the two had barged into his office unannounced.

“What do you mean she’s gone missing?” Grey asks, concern creeping across his face when he registers what it is that has just been said to him.

“She left the house last night claiming she was going to a friend’s house but when I called her friend’s mom she told me that y/n never came over and that she and her friend hadn’t spoken since they left school yesterday,” Tim explains, once again trying the phone tracking app and fighting the urge to chuck his phone across the room when it once again comes up with no location.

“Did anything prompt this or do you think she was taken?” Grey asks, wanting to make sure he has all the facts straight before they start doing anything and Tim feels all eyes on him.

“I was an idiot. I was so upset about everything that happened with Metro and Lucy and I took it out on y/n. It’s my fault she’s gone.” Tim says, explaining what happened as the realisation sets in.

“We’ll find her. Do you know any places she’d go to other than her friend's houses?” Angela asks, approaching Tim and resting a hand on his shoulder to quietly reassure him.

“She never mentioned anywhere. She’d always come home if she felt unsafe or anything. Shit.” Tim starts, suddenly realising the weight of his actions and swearing quietly.

“What is it?” Grey asks.

“I made the one place she felt safe feel so unsafe that she left. I have no idea where she could’ve gone. She could get hurt or worse.” Tim says, the anxiety evident in his voice as he begins to pace nervously.

“Tim. Calm down. Look we’ll get officers looking for her. Here, send me a clear picture of y/n and we’ll send it to everyone patrolling so they know who they’re looking for.” Angela says, standing in front of Tim to stop his pacing. At Angela’s words, Tim nods, fumbling with his phone, his shaking hands fighting to remain steady as he finds a picture of you that would help officers recognise you if they saw you. Tim sends the picture to Angela who then forwards it to the appropriate people.

“Let’s get out on the streets and look for her. We’ll find her.” Grey says with a nod, getting up from his desk and gesturing for Tim and Angela to get out and start looking. But before Tim heads out to grab Aaron, he opens his texts and sends you a message, hoping by some miracle you’ll see it.

‘Hey, kid. Where are you?’

‘I promise I’m not mad or upset. I’m worried about you. You can come home.’

Across LA, you were still hiding away in the cabin that had been home to you on those rough nights. As you sat on the mattress, you felt tears welling in your eyes as you thought about the night before. It reminded you of the one other time you had been fostered and how you had been so badly treated that you hid away in this cabin until you decided that going back to Stan’s children’s home was a better option. You remember the harsh words they had thrown in your direction, how nowhere was safe for you. You had never had a home before until you met Tim. Tim had taken you in and given you a safe place to call home. You had an adorable dog who you loved most in the whole world. But you were scared to go back. You knew you wouldn’t be welcome. You knew Tim probably wanted nothing to do with you after all your pestering. You couldn’t blame him if he wanted rid of you. You should’ve known he would get fed up with you and want you gone.

After a few minutes of sitting on the mattress and feeling sorry for yourself, you then decide to dig through your bag and find your wallet, looking at all the money you have and counting it quickly. You knew you couldn’t use your card to make any payments because the LAPD would clock it almost immediately and be able to track you down before you even had a chance to realise your mistake. After counting your money, you figure you have enough to buy more food if you need to and you have enough to get a bus out of LA. You weren’t quite ready to hop a bus and leave LA but you wanted to make sure you had the money in case you wanted to leave. You wanted to at the very least give yourself a day or two to really think about whether it was worth staying in LA or not. As you feel your stomach rumble slightly, you dig in your bag for some snacks to tide you over. You hadn’t brought a lot of food with you so you needed to make sure it lasted as long as possible. As you eat, you feel a surge of emotion rush over you and you put the food down, burying your face in your knees and sobbing into them.

You had never felt so alone and unwanted in your life.

Unbeknownst to you, Mid-Wilshire was in panic mode with the news that you were missing and everyone was looking for you. They had no idea where you could be so their plan was to cover as much ground as possible and hope they found you quickly.

“Tim, where are we going?” Aaron asks, questioning where Tim is driving to as they begin their search. Tim doesn’t reply, instead just stops outside his house and jumps out, heading into the house before Aaron even has a chance to process what was going on. As Tim unlocks the door and enters the house, he notices that Kojo is still in the place he was when Tim left in the morning.

“Oh, Kojo… I’m sorry, buddy.” Tim apologises, crouching down to pet his beloved dog, realising that Kojo was acting up because he knew something was up with you.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on or are we just making a pit stop so you can pet your dog?” Aaron asks, appearing in the doorway and looking at Tim, confused.

“Are you-? no! There might be some clues as to where she is.” Tim says, straightening up and heading to your room. The movement somehow encourages Kojo to follow him. Aaron also takes the initiative to follow Tim and when they enter your room he elects to stay put, not touching a thing while Tim looks through your desk drawers, leafing through old school work for any sign that could point him towards your location. As Tim looks around, Kojo hops up on your bed, whining as he lies down and studies Tim’s movements carefully.

“She’s taken clothes, her wallet, basically everything someone needs if they’re trying to run away,” Tim says, his voice growing angrier with each word said. None of his anger was directed towards you, but rather at himself for pushing you to run away.

“Okay, so we know she intentionally left. Our next port of call would be to check bus stations right? If she wanted to get far she’d need to get a bus or an Uber or something.” Aaron points out, snapping Tim from his panicked state and grounding him enough to realise that Aaron was making a good point.

“You’re right. Call that in. Get people checking bus station cameras, whatever they can.” Tim says, making Aaron nod and step out of the room to radio about checking buses. As Aaron steps out of the room, Tim pets Kojo once more, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“You knew something was up with y/n, huh? You knew and I brushed you and her aside. I’m so sorry, buddy.” Tim apologises quietly, feeling guilty that he couldn’t open his eyes for more than a second the night before long enough to realise your intentions when you left the house. He wished he could go back in time and not have raised his voice at you. He took his anger out on you and you didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. Sensing Tim’s mood, Kojo shifted and rested his head on Tim’s lap offering a wordless comfort that Tim appreciated, but didn’t feel deserving of.

“Hey, I’ve called it in. We should head to the nearest bus station and check their CCTV and talk to any bus drivers if we can.” Aaron says, appearing in the doorway again.

“Yeah, just give me a second. You can go and wait out by the shop.” Tim says with a nod, waiting for Aaron to leave the room before he gently shifts Kojo off his lap.

“I’ll be back. Hopefully with y/n.” Tim whispers softly to the dog, petting him one last time before leaving the room and heading out to where Aaron is waiting outside.

“Come on, let’s go,” Aaron says, already beginning to get into the vehicle before Tim has even had a chance to lock the front door.

“I’m coming.” Tim says, locking the door quickly and hurrying to the shop and getting behind the drivers seat, starting the engine and beginning the drive to the bus station he knew was closest to his house.

When they arrive at the bus station, they were both quickly aware of the stares they were getting as they enter the station and making their way to the ticket booth to speak to the employee.

“Hello, officers. Can I help you?” The employee asks, glancing between the two of them and Tim could see the slight fear in their face as they spoke.

“I’m Officer Bradford, this is Officer Thorsen. We just have a few questions about something, is there someone we could speak to, and who could allow us to look through some security footage?” Tim asks, watching as the employee grows more nervous.

“Yes, I’ll grab my manager. Give me a minute.” They say quickly, scurrying off to go and find someone who could help them. As they wait, Tim looks at the various boards they have displayed in the station, showing the various buses and where they go to. As his eyes scan the board, he feels more fear swirling in his stomach making him feel nauseous as he reads city names he knew were far away. He had no clue if you had hopped a bus going to a different city or a different state and that thought alone terrified him.

“Officers? I’m James, the manager. We can head back to my office.” Tim and Aaron turn around to come face to face with the manager and they nod in tandem, following James back to his office.

“Thank you for meeting with us,” Aaron says gratefully as they enter the small office, all three men sitting on the available chairs in the office.

“No need to thank me. What brings you here today?” James says, dismissively waving his hand before focusing on the two as Tim digs into his pocket, pulling his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it so he can show James the picture of you.

“Have you seen this girl? If she had come here it would’ve been last night. Probably sometime around eight or nine pm?” Tim asks, showing the photo to James who studies the picture closely, eyes squinting slightly as he takes note of every detail.

“It’s hard to say for sure. I mean we get so many people coming in and out of here I’m sure you can understand that it’s hard to confirm that. I was mostly working back here last night but we can check the security cameras? They’re not the best quality but it’s worth checking.” James says, frowning slightly and letting out a slightly irritated huff at himself when he doesn’t recognise you in the photo.

“It’s worth a look,” Aaron says, nodding as James motions for the two to come around his desk so they can look at his screen and what the security cameras had captured the night before.

“This is the camera angled at the ticket booth, assuming she bought a ticket here rather than online.” James muses, eyes scanning the various people appearing on the screen.

“I can’t see her. Shit.” Tim sighs, bowing his head in shame when skimming through the footage shows him nothing of use.

“Okay, we clearly need to look elsewhere. James, if it’s okay with you I’m going to put you in contact with someone who will want you to send over the footage so they can do a more thorough check. But thank you for being so cooperative.” Aaron says, digging in his pocket for his card, scribbling a contact down and handing the card to James before he and Tim head out of the office. Tim rushes by Aaron, getting into their shop as quickly as possible and the second he is in his seat he pulls his phone out of his pocket and texts you again.

‘y/n, please come home.’

‘Or tell me where you are and I’ll come and get you. It doesn’t matter where.’

‘If you don’t want to see me, that’s fine too. I can send someone else to get you instead.’

‘I’m just really worried about you. Please let me know you’re okay.’

Tim types and sends multiple messages, his mind reeling with worst-case scenarios about what could happen to you. While he knew you left the house intentionally to run away, he also knew that you could get hurt or worse and he’d have no idea where you were.

“Maybe we should head back to the station. See if anyone has found anything.” Aaron offers as he gets in the passenger seat and Tim’s head snaps to look at him, a furious look on his face.

“You’re telling me you want me to give up looking for my kid?” Tim asks, the anger evident in his voice as he glares at Aaron who almost shrinks back in his seat under the intensity of the glare.

“I’m not saying that. But someone might have some information so it’s worth checking at the station.” Aaron says, holding his hands up defensively and trying to calm the tension.

“Plus, you probably need a break. You’re stressing out and it won’t help you or y/n if you’re running yourself ragged right out of the gate.” He continues, watching as Tim lets out an irritated huff sitting back in the seat and moving to grab the wheel.

“Fine, but if anything comes in while we’re on our way back we’re going there,” Tim says, starting the engine and beginning the drive to the station. On their way back, no calls came in so they arrived at the station disappointed. Tim makes his way to the break room, grabbing some snacks and pouring himself a coffee, while his back is turned, he hears the door open and glances over his shoulder to see Lucy entering.

“I heard about y/n. I’m so sorry.” Lucy starts quietly, while Tim shakes his head, knowing he is unworthy of any sympathy from her. When Tim remains silent, Lucy takes a small step closer, making Tim turn to face her properly.

“I still may be mad at you for what’s happened but y/n isn’t a part of that and I feel awful that she’s missing. I’m going to do what I can to find her. I’d never wish for someone’s kid to go missing, no matter how much they upset me.” Lucy says softly as Tim looks away, trying to regain control of his emotions. It was hard enough for him to manage his feelings regarding everything that happened prior to you going missing. Now he not only had the extensive fear of never seeing you again but also the emotions of Lucy showing him any compassion after what he did sent him into a spiral and he didn’t know how to handle any of them.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Tim whispers, furiously blinking in hopes of keeping his tears at bay. In seeing Tim’s broken state Lucy glances over her shoulder, and when she sees no one nearby she steps closer, winding her arms around Tim and hugging him tightly. The embrace takes Tim aback at first, stiffening up at the sudden comfort before he hesitantly wraps his arms around her, ducking his head to rest it on her shoulder.

“Let it be known I’m still upset with you,” Lucy whispers, reiterating herself as she feels Tim nod against her shoulder.

“I know,” Tim replies quietly, knowing he didn’t deserve any kindness from Lucy at this moment but relishes the embrace while it is being held. After a few seconds, Lucy releases Tim from the embrace and looks up at him for a moment. The two held a stare for a brief moment before Lucy cleared her throat and looked away from him.

“I’m going to head out and see if I can find anything. I’ll let you know if I do. Take care of yourself.” Lucy says softly with a nod before backing away and exiting the break room, leaving Tim alone with tears in his eyes.

When Tim’s shift came to an end after a few more hours of searching, he didn’t want to leave and everyone knew it. He tried desperately to get Grey to let him work overtime but Grey shook his head.

“Bradford, you need to go home and rest. You’ll be no good to anyone if you’re dead on your feet. The night shift will keep an eye out for her and listen out for any reports. The moment we find anything out you will be informed.” Grey says sternly, folding his arms across his chest and watching Tim carefully as he sighs.

“Fine.” Tim concedes, barely listening to Grey’s goodbye as he makes his way out to the locker room to get changed and head home. As Tim leaves the locker room, he is painfully aware of the pitiful gazes the other officers are giving him. He knew most of them had probably recognised who you were from the picture.

But Tim didn’t want their pity. He wanted to find you.

When he got home, Tim was positively miserable. He opened the door and couldn’t help but frown when he saw Kojo lying in the hallway, feeling even more guilty when Kojo approached him, sniffing at him before whining softly.

“I’m sorry,” Tim whispers, reaching down to pet Kojo gently. After discarding his bag on the floor, Tim makes his way to the living room, collapsing on the sofa and burying his head in his hands as he sighs loudly. Tim felt awful about this whole situation. It was his fault you were gone. When he lifts his head, he decides to check his phone and see if you’ve replied. Instead, he just sees his messages and no proof you had read the messages.

That night, Tim could barely sleep. He tossed and turned in bed, aware of Kojo’s irritated huffs as Tim rolled over for the hundredth time. All he could see when he closed his eyes were images of you getting hurt. Every time he thought he was getting close to sleep he thought of a new scenario and he was wide awake in seconds a continuous loop that played out over the entire night.

When the next day of searching yielded no results, Tim was fully panicking going into the second full day of searching. He knew if more days passed without finding you, there’d be an even lesser chance of finding you. Everyone was walking on eggshells around Tim, he was more irritable, and he’d snap at anyone who asked him a question that neared too close to the topic of you. There was still no evidence that you were in LA yet there was no evidence you had left either. It was like you disappeared off the face of the earth entirely. When Tim left the house on the morning of the second full day of searching, he was hoping today would be the day someone would find you.

In your secluded cabin, you were running low on food so you had to make a choice. You needed to decide whether you would go into the city to buy food, or not risk it and just get out of the city entirely. When your stomach growled louder, you figured it would be best to go and grab some food from the nearest store you could find and then you could head back to the cabin and pack up to be ready to head to the nearest bus station to get out of LA.

After all, you were certain no one was looking for you.

You head out of the cabin, tugging on a hoodie as you leave and make your way down to the nearest corner store. You browse up and down the aisles, looking for various snacks that could last you a long journey and that weren’t too expensive so you could afford a ticket to whichever place looks most appealing to you when you get to the bus station. You end up grabbing a few of your favourite things that you knew would last you a long journey before you could buy more food. Once you’ve picked what you want, you approach the counter, smiling at the employee who scans your items and then gives you your total. You dig out the appropriate cash and hand it to the employee, thanking her as she hands you your items in a bag. As you leave the store, the employee grabs the phone by the register, immediately dialling the police.

Lucy was the first officer on the scene after the employee called in a sighting of you and was now currently standing in front of the employee, getting all the information she could.

“She came in and bought some food. Just snacks, chips, water, stuff like that.” The employee, named Molly explains, fiddling with her fingers.

“Did you see which way she went once she left?” Lucy asks, getting ready to make notes.

“Yeah, she exited and went that way,” Molly says, walking to the door and pointing in the direction you had walked.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Lucy says quickly, wanting to search the area as quickly as possible. She knew the LAPD hadn’t thought to look this far since most thought you’d be in the centre of the city or gone entirely. She and the other officers decided to spread out and search the area, making sure to instruct everyone to not tell Tim unless there was good news.

As Lucy patrols the area, searching for places you could potentially be hiding. She finds her gaze drifting to the woodland area just on the outskirts of the area. Her eyebrows furrowed as she studied the area, thinking of all the potential places you could be hiding in there.

“Hey, I’m going to check over there,” Lucy calls over to a nearby officer, pointing out where she’d be heading before beginning the short trek up to the area. She walks around, keeping an eye out for anything that could be a place for you to hide, one hand on her gun holster just in case she needs it. After about half an hour of searching, Lucy stumbles across a cabin and she figures it is the perfect place for someone to hide out if they don’t want to be found so she approaches the door, pounding on it and calling out.

“y/n, are you in there?”

“Lucy?” You whisper, barely audible as you stop shoving things into your bag. You debate remaining silent and hoping that Lucy doesn’t come in but after hearing Lucy’s voice, you realise how much you missed being around everyone. How much you missed your home. How much you missed Kojo. How much you missed Tim. Before you can get up and open the door, Lucy does it for you, entering and stopping in the doorway when she notices you.

“y/n…” Lucy starts, beginning to cross to you carefully, stopping just in front of you and crouching down to be at your level.

“Hey, Lucy.” You say weakly, attempting a small smile.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding out the last couple of days, huh?” She muses lightly, looking around the small cabin as you nod.

“I used to come here a lot when things were rough before.” You say quietly, making Lucy frown slightly.

“Did something happen with you and Tim?” Lucy asks carefully, watching as you nod.

“He seemed off the last few days and when he came home… I don’t know maybe I annoyed him but he snapped. It reminded me of bad times and I just wanted to get out of there.” You admit quietly, tears springing to your eyes.

“Hey, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sure Tim didn’t mean to snap at you. I know he cares for you.” Lucy says softly, willing to put her own anger and upset towards Tim aside to mend your relationship with him.

“I know. But it really hurt at the time.” You say, sniffling slightly to try and keep your tears at bay.

“I can imagine. I won’t force you to talk to Tim straight away but we can get you back to the station, you can have a shower and change and I’ll get you something proper to eat. Does that sound good?” Lucy offers, smiling gently as you nod.

“That sounds good.” You reply, a single tear slipping down your cheek. At your response, Lucy helps you pack your things away, picking up your bags and escorting you down to her shop so she can get you to the station. Once she gets you inside, she grabs you a spare t-shirt and pair of sweatpants for you to change into as well as handing you a towel so you can shower. Just before you disappear for your shower, Lucy asks you what you’d like to eat so she can order it to arrive by the time you finish your shower. Once you’ve picked what you want, you go for your shower and Lucy steps out of the locker room, opening her texts and messaging Tim.

‘We’ve found y/n. She’s okay, I’ve brought her back to the station.’

The moment Tim receives the message, he perks up, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as he finally relaxes. He was desperate to drive back to the station right then and there, but he was in the middle of watching Aaron giving a ticket to a driver they had pulled over for reckless driving. And as much as he wanted to jump in the shop and drive off, he knew he couldn’t leave Aaron behind. Tim waits impatiently for Aaron to finish the exchange, silently willing the exchange to go quicker so he can get back to the station and check on you. When Aaron had finally finished giving the ticket out and sending the driver on their way, Tim was crossing to the shop as quickly as possible.

“Thorsen, come on we need to get going,” Tim says quickly, waving Aaron over.

“What’s up?” Aaron asks as the two get into the shop.

“Lucy found y/n. She’s at the station.” Tim says, already beginning to drive back to the station. Tim was fairly sure he was nearly breaking several road laws on his way back but all he wanted to do was get to the station. When they finally made it back to the station, Tim barely turned the engine off and pulled the keys out before leaping out of the shop and rushing into the building, quickly locating Lucy.

“Where is she?” Tim asks hurriedly, barely able to focus on anything.

“She’s in the break room. Tim, she told me what happened, take it easy on her.” Lucy urges softly, looking up at Tim.

“I will. Thank you for finding her. I owe you big time.” Tim says gratefully, knowing Lucy probably wanted nothing to do with him after this but he wanted to make sure she knew he owed her. After Lucy nodded in acknowledgement, Tim moved around her and made his way to the break room where you were sitting, picking at the food in front of you as you looked up to see Tim.

“Hi…” You whisper quietly, struggling to maintain eye contact with Tim as he softens, crossing to the chair opposite you and sitting in it.

“Hey, kid,” Tim says, studying your expression carefully as you tear up.

“I’m sorry.” You say, wiping at your eyes harshly.

“No, I’m sorry. I took my anger out on you the other night and you didn’t deserve it.” Tim says, stopping you and taking the chance to apologise himself.

“I didn’t tell you about this before but I’ve been fostered once before. I was about seven when it happened but the people were assholes. They constantly shouted at me and threatened me. When you snapped at me it just reminded me of them.” You explain, too afraid to watch Tim’s reaction as you explain yourself.

“y/n. I’m so sorry I reminded you of them. I never wanted to remind you of anything like that. I wanted to provide you with a safe home and I took that away from you.” Tim apologises, feeling guilt sinking in his stomach as he realises how much he hurt you with what he did.

“But I’m sorry for scaring you. I saw your messages just before you got back. I hurt you too.” You apologise, frowning as Tim shakes his head.

“I deserved it. You didn’t.” Tim insists, and while you knew you could bicker back and forth with him about who hurt who more, you were exhausted.

“Can we go home?” You ask, watching as Tim nods, already standing up from his seat and packing your food away so you can eat it at home.

“Of course we can. Come on, I know a certain someone has missed you the most.” Tim says as you pick up your bags following Tim to his truck and getting in so Tim can take you home. The moment Tim parked the truck, you got out and made your way into the house, smiling widely when you saw Kojo who perked up upon seeing you, leaping up from where he was lying on the floor and practically leaping up at you as you crouch to his level, pushing you onto your back and smothering you in kisses.

“I’ve missed you so much, Kojo.” You say, giggling as Kojo continues to lie all over you, whining happily as he continues to lick at your face.

“Kojo, come on buddy, let her breathe,” Tim says with a laugh, his words making Kojo back off slightly, sitting alongside you as you sit up, petting Kojo as he pants happily. When you get up, you decide to put your bags back in your room, putting your clothes and blanket in the washing machine to wash them before heading into the living room and curling up on the sofa while Kojo and Tim join you. Kojo curled up under your arm, snuggling close to you as Tim put the tv on.

“It’s good to have you home, kid,” Tim says softly, smiling over at you as you smile back.

“It’s good to be home.” You admit, petting Kojo as you focus on the tv, the drama of the last few days seemingly a thing of the past.

Being with Tim and Kojo was where you belonged. They were your family and you wouldn’t trade them for anything. You knew Tim had problems when it came to opening up about anything, but you had learnt not to push so hard this time, and maybe one day he’d find someone to open up to about it so he’d feel less alone. But for now, you were just going to enjoy the afternoon with your loved ones. Grateful to be home.

Tim Tags (comment or ask to be added):

@starlightandsouls @whirlwind2005 @callsigns-haze @fore45fore @reignsboy19 @xi1dius @plutotcles @lives-in-midgard @mystical-258 @malindacath

[4only1]

Hiiii there!

So I don't know about your rules so if you uncomfortable it's okay!!! 😊

Can you write a story where shingen and reader are married but reader doesn't want to be married and just wants a life of her own. So she runs away not knowing she was pregnant and when she finds out, she decideds to keep the baby and gives birth to twins a boy and a girl. Awhile reader is happy, shingen has gone completely insane looking for her.

Every day some dies do to the fact they couldn't find reader. But shingen learns where reader is hiding and goes himself to get only to find out she has given birth to gun and his twin sister.

They rest can be up to you! 😊

Thank you! 😊

Fear and Loathing

Yamazaki Shingen x Reader Word Count: 912 Warning: Angst (I can't help myself) Masterlist ------------------------

It was all you felt for this lifestyle you had been forced into. Fear and loathing. Fear for the man you married, for the members of the clan who despised you enough to try and get rid of you. Loathing of the man you married, for the lifestyle forced upon you. 

Marriage was a silly thing to you. If it were actually your decision, you never would have married, let alone a man like Shingen Yamazaki. The man he once was had now become lethargic, empty, depressed. You didn’t like your married life before, and you certainly didn’t like it after his defeat. 

Once you were informed of the Yubitsume to take place, you couldn’t stay here any longer. It didn’t matter that you had supposedly sinned, you needed to leave. In the dead of night, you vanished. Nobody knew exactly how you left without so much as a trace, but it didn’t matter. What did, was the fact that Shingen was furious, with the other woman, with everyone who didn’t notice, but especially with you.

The bloodshed that followed was only contained once his brother, Shintaro, claimed they would find you. How he needed to put the clan first, and let them take care of finding you. Soon, one month passed, then two, then three, and as they did, Shingen became more restless. Where did you go, and what were you doing?

It was a taste of freedom unlike any other, one you had never known. You travelled far away, hidden within the depths of a small prefecture, no one knowing of who you truly were. You made a life for yourself, working at a small shop, supporting yourself, no longer constricted by the rules of the Yamazaki clan. Until you found out you were pregnant.

It wasn’t expected but not exactly surprising. You had been expected to give birth to the heir at some point, and it just had to be when you decided to run away. You decided to keep it, more trouble would come if you didn’t, and maybe if you delivered the heir, you could bargain for freedom for yourself. It was selfish, but you never asked for this life, and certainly not this child. 

As your pregnancy progressed, you became depressed at the fact of giving birth to the Yamazaki clan's heir. You couldn’t do this, this child would tie you to the clan forever, regret sank in. It hit even harder when you discovered it was twins.

Meanwhile, the Yamazaki clan was in shambles. Their leader had gone mad trying to find you, often taking his frustrations out on those around him. A trail of blood followed him, and it bleed for you. He was desperate as the months passed. He needed you, you didn’t have a choice, once he found you, you were never leaving his side again.

It was a week after you had given birth, over nine months since you ran away, that he appeared. Like you escaping through the night, his figure was a shadow, watching you, waiting. He was shocked to be greeted not only by you, but two infants as well. Exhaustion was obvious on your face, but it also held another emotion he couldn’t quite place.

“You’ve been hiding all this time, even after you discovered you were carrying my children. This game is over, it is time to return.”

He was blunt with his words, as always. He expected immediate action from you, instead, you remained seated, looking at him, that same indescribable emotion on your face. 

“I don’t think that will happen. I have served my duties as the wife by giving birth to the heir of the clan. You don’t need me anymore, and I don’t need you.”

“You don’t get a choice, you are to return and continue to be my wife”

A long pause followed. He wouldn't take no for an answer. Until...

“I’m so tired”

Your broken voice spoke. Broken things can be fixed, Shingen thought. But something stopped him, you stopped him. The two infants laying in their cots caused him to pause, if he had you, you would break further, maybe even die.

If you love something, you’ll let it go, and he might just have to do that. You were broken, and he couldn’t fix you, even if he lived in ignorance to your condition, forcing you back into the clan, by his side, it would forever plague him. 

The thought of knowing you were alive was better than keeping you by his side, forever spiraling until you faded away. He couldn’t leave without something though. 

“I will take my son with me, the daughter shows no promise for anything special, she will remain with you.”

You offered no argument as he took the child, as he was leaving you offered on final remark.

“His name is Jonggun, but please, give him a proper name. And let us forget we ever met.”

He would never know what happened to you or the daughter, and although he had your son, it was too painful to look at him. He avoided the son, again falling into a deep depression. It wasn’t until he was dying protecting the child he had taken from you, that he finally understood.

It finally clicked what that look on your face was. He hadn’t seen it since you first left, nobody having the nerve to show it in front of him. It was normally mixed with another emotion as well, but this time, it stood alone, by itself.

It was loathing.

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

I can't help myself, I love writing unhappy stories. I like to try and make the prompts possible in the storyline, it's just more enjoyable for me. Careful when you say, the rest is up to you, because I will turn it into an angsty story. TBH I originally was gonna make reader die, but couldn't make it work.

All my Shingen stories have the common theme of reader dying or running away, just how I like it.

[yueichihara]

"Shut up!" - LaDS reactions.

LaDS boys reacting to you screaming at them to shut up.

Summary: How hard can it be to ask for a little peace and quiet when you're finally having a little bit of time for yourself? But they dismiss your request and have the audacity to pester you even further.

These are short stories, about a tired MC who keeps being called out to work, and whenever they're free they go out with the boys and spend no time to chill at home to recharge. So they snap.

cw: angst, mentions of dead people, mc facing hardships, a little fluff, raf being oblivious, snapping at rafayel

Tags: @sxremmie

Xavier - pt. 1 - 637 words

Rafayel - pt. 2 - 944 words

Caleb - pt. 3 - 952 words

Zayne incoming...

Sylus incoming...

•It had been an exhausting day at the hunter's association. More than that actually. The transport to the area affected by metaflux was delayed, causing you all to arrive later than expected.

•Upon arrival, you and your team had to walk through the bodies of several people lying on the ground, dead. The wanderers had taken almost a hundred. You managed to destroy them, but this was not a celebrating situation.

•All of you came back to the association with gloomy expressions, once again forced to remember the cruel parts of your work.

•You didn’t want to go home nor be alone today, so you took the bus heading towards Whitesand Bay. Not wanting Rafayel to be burdened with your overwhelming sadness, you decide to get off a few stops earlier and walk to the Studio.

•Your cellphone chimes in a joyful tune and you check it to see a new message from him in all caps. “HELP. PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE CLOSE.”

•Dismissing the ‘help’ part, you're about to type that you're nearly there. Knowing his antics, he might just want to see you ASAP.

•A second message comes in before you hit send. “IT'S A WANDERER. I CAN'T DO THIS ALONE”. After the incidents that took place today, your body reacts instinctively, tensing and getting ready for battle, all tiredness gone.

•Gun on the ready to start shooting, you make your way through the studio, finding a light on at the end of the corridor. Kicking the door open, you scream: “Get down, now!” You point your gun and survey the area, but Rafayel is just standing there in front of his canvas, analysing it.

•Ignoring your reaction, he beams at your arrival. “There you are, cutie! Thank me you were around, I need your help with this piece.”

•You put down your gun, too stunned to speak or react, letting Rafayel pull you closer to the painting.

•There, in the middle, stands a halfway done luminivore. Your brain is slowly trying to catch up, understanding what just happened. You hear Rafayel yapping as he usually does when he's happy, but the situation is making your anger rise to the surface.

•This guy had just lured you in making you think there was a wanderer that he couldn't take care of. And you had rushed in scared something would happen to him only for it to be one of his stupid paintings.

•“... and then there's also the issue of the colour. It's been a while since I fought one and I'm not sure this hue is correct. Didn't you just come from work? What did you see today, maybe that will help me with-”

•“Shut up.” You barely mumble out.

•He stops, looking at you curiously. “What?”

•“SHUT UP!” This time you look at him, hair moving out of the way, letting him see the anguish and tears streaming down. “Do you have any idea what kind of scene I pictured when I received your message?”

•“I-” His posture changes, and he seems to slowly realise the mistake he'd made.

•“I thought you were hurt. I thought that I wouldn't be able to stand it if something happened to you. Do you have any idea the things I watch wanderers do? They KILL people, Rafayel. This is not something to be playing with.” Your words come out in a rush, you taste the salt of your tears and the sweat you had yet to wash off from the day.

•Your body suddenly gives out, exhaustion and sorrow washing over you. He catches you then, before you hit the floor. His arms are gentle but steady around you, and he turns into a hug. “I can't begin to apologise to you, my love.” You feel his hand brushing your hair, the other making circles on the small of your back. You end up curled in his lap on the floor, slowly drifting to sleep. He's talking but you can't hear him anymore.

•You wake up the next day, probably. A ray of sunshine comes in through a small gap in the curtains, its intensity signaling it was probably noon already. You reach for your phone and remember it's your day off.

•Rafayel walks in and smiles at you, turning on one of the warmest lights. You look down at yourself and see you'd been changed and your wounds had been taken care of. He sits next to you but not as close as he tends to.

•You look up at him and open your mouth to apologise for your outburst from yesterday. Yes, he was in the wrong for sending such a cryptic message that was so easily misunderstood. But he didn't know what you had gone through that day, nor should he know. It's supposed to be classified information. Also, you shouldn't be bringing your work troubles home.

•“Don't” He cups your face, cutting you off. “I have no idea what went through with your mission yesterday, but I shouldn't have written such a message. And I should have paid more attention to the state you were in. I'm sorry, babe.” He kisses you on the cheek.

•A few tears fall away and he wipes them off. “Let me take care of you today, yeah?” You barely nod before he takes your hand and guides you to the bathroom. “How about we start with a warm bath? Not to be mean, but I think you really need it right now.” He looks at you and you realise you were still dirty and stinky from the day before. A chuckle and a laugh comes out of you, and you see his expression soften.

[rubysunnday]

to leave you behind

a/n: let's not talk about how long its been or the fact this is likely (maybe) the last time i'll write for s&b...

summary: reader takes jurda parem instead of nina and kaz is losing it

To Y/N, they'd all accepted their imminent deaths far too easily. They'd done the impossible, they'd broken into the Ice Court. They were not about to die in a tank, a few hundred metres from the Ferolind and freedom.

She glanced over at Kaz. They'd hardly spoken since he'd fainted in the prison wagon. He'd been avoiding her gaze whenever they'd been together and barely acknowledging her existence.

Y/N was growing tired of it. She loved him, she'd come to accept that truth whilst wafting through the crowds at the Ice Court. Perhaps, deep down, hidden and suppressed, he loved her too.

But she had been waiting for too long. Her heart was aching and her mind was tired of the not knowing, of the constant hatred and love all at once.

Y/N looked from Kaz to the rest of their group. She loved them all in different ways. She trusted them all and knew that she'd gladly die for them all.

Which made the next decision that bit easier.

She turned to Kuwei. He noticed her gaze and looked back at her. Y/N didn't speak. The boys eyes widened.

"You don't understand -"

"I understand, Kuwei," Y/N said softly.

Kuwei reached into his pocket and pulled out the little leather pouch that had begun this whole heist.

"Y/N, what are you -" Kaz trailed off as his eyes fell upon the pouch, its rim stained with a rust-coloured powder.

"You're all out of tricks, Kaz," Y/N said, taking the pouch from Kuwei. She shrugged, a sad smile on her face. "What else is there?"

"No, Y/N, don't be ridiculous," Inej warned.

"Personally I think this is my greatest idea yet," Y/N replied, trying to hide her shaking hands. "Besides, not everyone gets addicted after the first dose."

"You can't risk it, Y/N!" Inej exclaimed.

"No, Y/N, she's right, it's not worth it," Nina said. "I'll do it."

"No," Matthias said, shaking his head furiously.

Y/N laughed tiredly. "I have no one to fight for me, Nina," she said softly, trying not to look at Kaz. "You do."

The voice echoed out from amongst the Fjerdan ranks, counting down, getting ever closer to the end. Y/N took a deep breath in. She mentally counted to three and then turned to look at Kaz.

She was aware of everyone else around them trying not to look. Y/N shifted her weight from right to left, bringing herself closer to Kaz. Their elbow brushed.

Y/N raised her hand and gently placed it against Kaz's cheek. She let her thumb trail over his cheekbone. He flinched, his eyes closing tightly. Y/N swallowed the disappointment.

"I expect ten percent of your cut for this, Kaz," she whispered.

Before anyone could realise what was happening, before Kaz could ground himself back into reality, Y/N tipped the parem into her mouth, forcing herself to swallow it in one stodgy swallow.

Instantly, her blood began to thrum, power surging through it, the fire making it grow hotter. She could hear her heartbeat, pounding away over and over and over again. Her cheeks were burning, sweat was running down the back of her neck.

Her fire was screaming to be released. All it needed was one spark.

No.

It didn't need any spark.

Y/N could feel it at her fingertips. It throbbed.

Her gaze moved across the Fjerdan soldiers. She could feel the gunpowder waiting to be lit. She could hear the pistols being loaded and cocked. She could feel the flicker of the flames dancing off the torches they held.

She tilted her head to the left. She focused her gaze on a bomb filled with gun powder.

Her fingers snapped. The fire shot across the space between them and hit the fuse, burning it up in seconds.

The bomb exploded.

Orange light lit up her face, she could feel the heat burning her skin. It was thrilling.

Everything was burning around her and Y/N could still feel fire burning through her veins, desperate to be released into the night.

Y/N took a deep breath in, letting the cold air burning her nose as she did so. As she exhaled, fire flowed from her fingers, lighting up the sky as it soared across and over the soldiers, sending them all scattering to the sides and into the water.

"Drive," Y/N said softly, looking ahead, staring at the fire as it burnt its way along the ground.

Kaz looked at her, a hint of fear in his eyes.

In the middle of the True Sea, there was no fire. Y/N's desire to burn the whole world to the ground had faded to a dull ache. Instead, it'd been replaced be a reluctant sense of acceptance for what was to come.

She was sat on the main deck of the boat, her legs dangling over the edge. It was quiet out here. Everyone seemed to be avoiding her and, when they did run into her, giving her pitiful looks.

Y/N sighed, tilting her head back, letting the ocean spray hit her skin.

"I'm presuming you can't just burn it out your system."

She didn't even react. "No. I'll be burning myself from the inside out."

Kaz stepped forward and pivoted on his heel so he had his back to the railing. He leant backwards, holding his cane loosely in his hand.

"I won't take anymore," Y/N said quietly.

"I wasn't going to mention it," Kaz replied.

"Then why are you here?" Y/N asked, turning her head so that she was looking at him.

Kaz didn't speak. He didn't acknowledge that Y/N had spoken for a while. Eventually, he looked down at her.

"I wanted to talk before it begun."

Y/N nodded, turning back to look at the water churning as they passed. "I fear you're too late."

Kaz glanced down. Her hand rested on the railings, shaking even as it sat there.

As the sun rose, the aches set in. Everything hurt, from her jaw to her toes. All Y/N could do was lie there, shaking, trying not to cry. Inej sat with her for a few hours, her cold fingers combing through her hair, massaging the back of her neck.

Nina, they had decided, was going to be a last resort. If she absolutely had to, she would lower Y/N's heartbeat enough that she went into a coma, allowing her body to work through the drug without causing her too much pain.

Every candle on the ship had been extinguished. Y/N could feel them burning even if they were the other end of the ship from her.

A few hours later, her skin began to burn. She lay on the bed, wearing the thinnest shirt she could find, unable to tolerate anything else touching her. All the blankets had been thrown to the side and her shirt was soaked in sweat. Y/N kept her eyes shut, trying to fall asleep, trying to pretend that what was happening to her wasn't happening.

When the tremors began, Matthias was sat beside her. In her delirous state she'd vaguely realised that they were all taking turns to sit with her, to watch her.

They're waiting for you to die.

"Do you need me to get Nina?" Matthias asked, gently dabbing her sweat covered forehead with a wet cloth.

Y/N shook her head. "No... not, not yet."

"Do you -"

"No," Y/N said, clutching her hands into fists. "No, I can't fall down into it, I can't Matthias, I can't."

"Okay, okay," Matthias whispered, dipping the cloth back into the water and then placing it back on her forehead.

Y/N didn't remember Matthias leaving. One minute he was next to her, the next he was gone and -

"Kaz?" Y/N whispered, turning her head to look at him.

"Y/N."

He'd undressed to just his shirt sleeves, rolling them up to his elbows. He still had his gloves on and his cane was resting against the wall next to him. But he was there.

"Why... what -"

"We're taking turns," Kaz said, his voice hoarse and quiet. "It was mine."

Y/N smiled but, as she did so, the aches overwhelmed her. Her bones felt like they might burst through her skin and her head was pounding, being squeezed through a vice. Her skin was burning, her face was on fire.

She groaned, arching her back as she tried to escape the pain, to free her sweat covered back from the mattress.

A cold hand landed on her arm, pushing her back onto the bed. Y/N groaned, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her heart was pounding, she could hear it.

"Kaz, I can't - can't do this, I can't -"

"Don't give up," Kaz said, leaning forward. His hands were bare, holding her arm down and combing through her hair. "Don't, promise me."

"I can't, Kaz, I can't," Y/N sobbed. "Please, please just -"

"No, don't you dare," Kaz replied, his voice firm. "You're not dying on my watch, Y/N."

Y/N cried, her back arching again, her nails digging into her palm.

The door opened. Kaz looked over, watching as Nina quietly walked in.

"I could hear her heartbeat getting faster," Nina replied, shutting the door behind her. "I wanted to check..."

Kaz looked back at Y/N. He turned to Nina. "Please, Zenik," he said quietly. "Just do it."

Nina stepped forward and sat on the edge of the bed. She took her wrist and pressed her fingers to her pulse point.

"Kaz," Y/N said, whimpering. "Kaz?"

"I'm here," he said, leaning forward. "I'm here."

"Stay till the end," she whispered, her tremors slowing down, her eyes growing unfocused.

"Y/N -"

"Promise me."

"I promise you," Kaz whispered, hand stroking her hair back from her face. He watched her eyes close as Nina gradually slowed her heart down. Y/N's eyes closed and her grip on Kaz's hand weakened, her body going limp as Nina put her body into a coma.

Kaz held tight to Y/N's hand. "I'm not going anywhere, Y/N."

[spacecola7]

The Years - Ghost x Reader

Ghost who met you well into your military career, an expert strategist and even better with guns, Price had added you to the team after a year of working on various missions with you.

You weren’t simple though. After joining the military to help pay for med school, you had found out that you were better at killing people than you were saving them. They’d offered to transfer you and just have you work as a medic, but you continued on and eventually found your place in the American special forces.

Price had seen your cunning, your tactical brilliance, and your speed in the field and claimed you for the 141. For the past four years you had worked with them, never not by their sides unless you were on leave.

It was in these time periods, away from you, that Ghost sat in his flat and did nothing but think of you. The way you keep your hair braided and the breath you take before firing your rifle. The fact you hate the color yellow and love Chinese takeout. Think about when a year into your time with them, right before Price had asked you to join, that your husband had cheated on you.

You had told him this story in the dark confines of a bar as Gaz, Soap, and Price had a vicious game of billiards. He hadn’t spoke the whole time, watching you with a focus not on your face but on the rage he had to keep in check

They had finished a mission early and were allowed to go on leave for the holidays, or until you were needed again. The car in your driveway had been the first sign. Upon opening the door, the moans trailing down the hallway and the clothes strewn on the floor told the story. You hadn’t bothered to go in crying, simply grabbed your handgun and kicked open the door. The bitch looked just like you.

“Did you kill ‘em?” was all Simon asked as you had trailed off, fist clenched around a heavily nursed glass of bourbon.

“No. I think back and I wish I had, but no. I could have got away with that back in Texas, but here, you brits don’t have justified murder.”

So you had joined the team, growing reckless in the field. It took a bullet to the thigh and a knife wound to the abdomen, along with four ripped stitches, for Ghost to wrestle you to the ground and demand. Demand for you to care enough about yourself to not die. To not leave him.

You came back from that final leave of absence stronger. Smiling even, as Gaz had pulled you into a hug so tight it made Ghost twitch thinking about the jagged wound in your stomach.

For those next years you had grown closer to your team, learning to rely on them and they you. Things become simple. But you aren’t simple. And so things get complicated when Soap mentions bringing in some girls after a particularly successful mission.

You tolerate the strippers for all of thirty minutes before you storm out, the sight of one of them eyeing Ghost like he’s not Simon Riley but instead a way to get an extra fat tip.

The boys are too drunk to notice him immediately follow, except Price, whole smiles to himself before turning back to the girl prettily sitting on his lap. It takes Ghost a few moments to catch up to you as you walk out of the barracks.

“Ghost leave me alone.” you shout before he can speak.

“Why did you leave?” he calls out after you, grabbing you by the shoulder and turning you to face him.

“Because I’m not in the mood to watch you all oogle women in four inch heels and minimal clothing all night.”

He curses below his breath.

“You’ve never ‘ad a problem until now. So what the hell is wrong with you tonight?”

You can feel the way he searches your face, mask doing little to conceal the desperation in his eyes. His hand on your shoulder tightens imperceptibly, every inch of his body wired to the way your expression shifts.

“Ghost.”

He chases the centimeter you back away from him, sensing the way you recoil from the honesty he’s asking of you.

“Tell me.”

You sigh.

“That girl wanted to fuck you.”

“She did.”

Your lip curls and you turn once again and stalk to your room, fully intending on slamming the door in his face. Except he doesn’t grant you that pleasure and shoves himself through after you.

“Ghost what the hell do you want from me?” you practically snarl at him.

“I didn’t want to fuck her.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“You do.”

This makes you pause, looking him up and down. Standing in your room, chest heaving from chasing after you and eyes practically blazing. He breaks the silence first, taking a step forward as his hands clenched at his sides.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what.” you ask, more confused than before.

“For not being good at this. Not…not good at any of this. I didn’t think it was worth trying to learn. I didn’t know.”

“Know what?” you cry, closing the distance between you two.

“You feel the same.”

He says it as a question, not a statement the way it should be. The way he intends it. He’s not brave enough to say that like he knows what’s right and wrong. Not after he’d spent years in love with you and hadn’t said a damn thing.

“I do.” you let the anger out in your response to hide the tears in your eyes.

Ghost pulls you into his arms. The tears fall. Your body trembles in his grip. He hushes against the hair of your scalp.

“I’m sorry, love.”

Your arms lift to wrap around him, burrowing your face into his chest and breathing him in to calm the shaking that racks your body. When you finally calm, he lifts you gently and places you softly on the bed. It takes a few seconds to get comfortable, but he soon has you curled into him as he strokes long lines down your back.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” he whispers.

“Me too, Simon.”

[rosesandoranges90]

Caught you staring

The blue lock boys catching you checking them out.

G/N READER X BLUE LOCK

CHARACTERS: ISAGI YOICHI, BACHIRA MEGURU, CHIGIRI HYOMA, NAGI SEISHIRO & REO MIKAGE.

Isagi Yoichi

"Hello boy next door."

you though as you strolled through Shibuya Crossing on a brisk morning, your gaze fell upon an adorable guy with striking blue eyes and the most charming smile you'd seen in years. He was enjoying a hot drink from one of the nearby cafes, swaying to the rhythm of the music in his earbuds. Captivated by his presence, you lost focus and collided with a light pole, resulting in a painful "thud."

"Oh my god, are you okay?!" he exclaimed, concern etched on his face as you let out a pained groan and clutched your shoulder. You thought to yourself that this was definitely going to leave a bruise while he gently placed his hands on your shoulders. Flustered, you shrugged off his touch, trying to conceal your flushed cheeks.

"I'm fine! I-I wasn't looking, thank you!" you stammered, hastily merging into the crowd, hoping to disappear among the throngs of people. As you glanced back one last time, you caught him watching you with a worried expression that quickly transformed into a warm smile.

"Hm…Pretty."

Bachira Meguru

"That cute guy is here!'

You said in your head as you pedal through the picturesque Mizumoto Park on a warm, sunny day, your thoughts drift to the charming guy practicing football nearby. His infectious grin and sparkling eyes draw you in as he skillfully maneuvers the black and white ball. Lost in admiration, you realize you've been staring a bit too long when—

THUMP!

Grateful for the bushes that softened your fall, you find your bike sprawled across the path. As you extricate yourself from the prickly foliage, a voice offers, "Let me help you," and you feel a pair of hands lifting you up. To your surprise, it’s your crush, who brushes the leaves from your hair with that signature smile that seems to outshine the sun. "You alright? That sounded like a nasty impact," he asks with concern.

"Yup! Fine…fine…um…um…thanks…Have a great day," you stammer, hastily grabbing your bike and pedaling away. Once you feel you've put enough distance between you, you glance back to find him watching you intently.

"Hope I see them again soon"

Chigiri Hyoma

"I need to know this guys hair routine…"

you thought to yourself while passing a charming guy whose stunning red hair outshines even the brightest rubies on a crisp fall evening. As you admired him typing on his phone, you accidentally collided with a friendly vendor carrying a box of gala apples. Snapping back to reality, you hurriedly caught the apples that nearly fell and placed them back on her stand, bowing in apology.

"I'm really sorry, ma'am! I wasn't focused; I'll pay for the ones that dropped." She reassured you, "No, no, dear, it's fine." You let out a sigh of relief, feeling your cheeks flush as you noticed a few curious glances from onlookers. Just then, the cute redhead chimed in with a playful remark,

"Huh, am I as sweet as a candy apple to distract you like that?" His mesmerizing scarlet eyes locked onto yours, and your face turned as red as one as you quickly turned and hurried away, only to glance back and see him still chuckling.

"Cutie."

Nagi Seishiro

"What a doll"

Those words echo in your mind as you spot a striking guy with white hair engrossed in a light gun arcade game. Despite his expressionless demeanor, you find it hard to look away from this towering figure, only to stumble over a "wet floor" sign. In a desperate attempt to shield your phone, you brace for impact as you hit the ground.

Your head throbs, your body is sure to be sore with bruises come morning, but miraculously, your phone remains unscathed. As you lie there, relief washes over you for surviving another day, and then a large hand reaches out to you. "Nice save. You good?" the baby-faced gamer asks, waiting for your response. Blushing, you grasp his strong hand, feeling the effortless pull as he lifts you up. Embarrassment floods you, and you avoid his gaze while rubbing the back of your neck.

"Thanks… Well, have a great rest of your day," you stammer, quickly withdrawing your hand and making your way out of the arcade, your cheeks hidden by your scarf. One last glance reveals him staring at you with those captivating green eyes.

"Pretty"

Reo Mikage

"What a handsome dude."

You think to yourself as you notice an elegantly dressed young man browsing through some luxurious handmade suits in the department store, you're passing through. His deep purple hair frames his face perfectly, captivating you so much that you accidentally bump into a male mannequin, causing it to teeter.

You manage to catch it just in time, but the mannequin's wig, reminiscent of your uncle's toupee, slips off. Suddenly, laughter erupts from across the store, and you wince as you turn to find the handsome guy you were admiring watching you with amusement.

"Are you alright?" he asks, approaching with a playful grin. You're too busy trying to smooth out the wrinkles in the polo shirt, which you caused, but you manage to offer him a polite smile. "Yeah, I wasn't paying attention... Sorry," you reply, reaching for the wig to put it back in place when his gentle hand wraps around your wrist, making you blush. "Don't worry about it," he says, taking the wig from you. "Honestly, it’s an improvement; the wig makes the suit look tacky."

You can't help but giggle at his remark as you slowly back away and exit the store, lightly tapping your temple and muttering "idiot" to yourself repeatedly. Just before you leave, you glance back one last time to see the charming young man waving at you, still grinning and chuckling softly.

"See you another time, beautiful."

(This was kind of rushed but it's readable. Hope you enjoy!)

[guppybibi]

𖦹 pairing: Dad!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!reader

𖦹 content: Crack & fluff, not proofread, ooc i think, d/n = daughters name, mild cursing

𖦹 notes: more self indulgent fics, this is bad lmao

And the world’s best husband who constantly makes his wife worried sick, award goes to Simon Riley! May we get a round of applause to commend this man? No? Alright, I’ll see myself out then. Hey, he doesn’t do it intentionally (most of the time). You gotta live a little, it’s not like he’s doing anything reckless. Oh but who can blame your heart when it dropped to the pits of your stomach upon seeing Simon carry your cherubic little toddler on one hand? He’s balancing her there like she’s a trained cheerleader! Maybe in the future, but she could barely even balance her own bobble head! Sure you may have been a teensy weensy bit over dramatic about it but accidents should be prevented as much as possible.

“Darlin’ look it’s fine, she’s even giggling.” He says just a little bit too casually, referring to your daughter who’s currently enjoying the little circus act they were performing. “Nope, put her down right this instant.” You command, and if Simon was scared of one thing it’d surely be you when you're angry. Guns and weapons would never compare to the fury of his wife. With a huff from him and a whiny complaint from your daughter, he sets her down onto the grassy yard.

“Oh what a killjoy, mama..” She puffs up her rosy cheeks, crossing her arms as she feigns hurt. You chuckle, looking up at Simon before speaking. “She’s got your accent. The rosy cheeks too.” You comment, lowering your head down to see your daughter avoiding eye contact with you as she acted offended.

"Which cheeks-”

“Nope, don't continue that sentence.” You could practically hear the way his lips formed a pout, copying your daughter. Pathetic, who knew a burly military man could get so soft for his little girl? “Awh come on eh? Don't be such a killjoy ‘luv.” He teases, using the same tone his little girl used.

Or maybe that one time Simon was blasting music the loudest the speaker could handle, it had a few curses and swear words here and there but his baby girl wouldn't pick up on it. He doubts she's even listening to daddy’s ‘bad’ music taste, so he's in the safe zone for sure!

Oh boy was he wrong…It was one of those days, you two were sharing chores—with you washing the dishes while he vacuumed around the house and hummed along to the song playing. While D/N was happily stacking her ABC blocks, she was silently listening to the song her daddy was playing. Even mumbling some of the parts since her daddy keeps putting this certain song on repeat. She barely knew the alphabet to begin with so she wouldn't even pick up on the words on the song, right?

“Mama!” She calls out, bringing her empty baby bottle as she signals for more milk. “Oh yes baby, I’ll fill your bottle right after I finish these.” You respond gently, rinsing the soapy suds away. “No, now bitch!” And with those words alone it felt like the toddler broke the sound barrier, silence filling the Riley’s usually noisy home when Simon slowly turned off the speaker. You and Simon share a look that plainly said “What the fuck.”, the man set the vacuum aside as it was time for another parenting lesson.

“Kiddo, that's no way to speak to your mum.” He lectures gently, taking her feelings into consideration. “Mama told you she’ll help you after, right? It's bad to call her names, mama sacrificed a lot for you.”

"But-” “No buts, kiddo. Your mum didn't spend 7 hours pushing you out and I didn't have to watch her scream out in pain like a demon just for you to curse at her.” Simon hoped he wasn't too harsh with his child, knowing they're tiny hearts are pretty fragile at this age. But he wasn't going to let it just slide, he watched his baby girl approach her mother and apologize. A smile gracing his face when he sees you forgive her and place a delicate kiss on her chubby cheek, he goes up to you once he sees the child take off to play in the living room.

“I think we should start considering the swear jar now.” You comment, placing a hand on your hip. “Definitely.”

“No more playing songs with any swear words from now on, Simon.” “Yes ma’am.”

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - Part 17 - Next

You were looking at the table with your cup of coffee in front of you.

So... calm...

You could think before hearing the loud bang.

You immediately got up running, worried to know that the hallway from where that was coming was where he was locked up.

Your heart almost stopped for a second when you saw the door to his room wide open.

Swansea lying on the floor unconscious.

What alarmed you the most was that he didn't have his axe with him.

Daisuke: "What happened?!"

He ran to the scene. While you were searching Jimmy's room from top to bottom, making sure he wasn't there.

"Stay with Swansea and lock yourselves in Jimmy's room! At least he won't be able to get in there! Now! Now!"

You helped Daisuke move Swansea to the room and closed the door once they were both inside.

You ran through the hallways to head directly to the nursery, hoping to arrive before him since it wasn't locked because you no longer felt the need to close it.

The baby's cry made you realize that you had arrived too late.

Anya: "GET OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!"

The woman was holding a chair from that place, the baby was crying loudly lying alone on the bed, Curly was watching from his stretcher, breathing heavily.

Jimmy: "I just want to talk to the captain, get out of my way."

He had the axe in hand, he looked completely out of his mind.

The moment you saw him raise the axe, you drew the gun from your uniform, took off the safety, and the first thing you did was aim for his head.

To quickly lower your aim and shoot behind his knee, making him scream and fall to the ground in an instant.

You immediately jumped on him to pin him to the ground, kicking the axe out of his reach.

You saw him open his mouth and didn't hesitate to put the gun against his cheek.

"You don't have the right to say a single word."

He fell silent upon feeling the metal against his face, looked around the room, and fixed his eyes on Anya, who for the first time held the baby to try to make her stop crying.

As soon as Anya picked her up, she immediately left the room; she didn't want to be near that man, and the need to keep an innocent creature away from such a monster gave her the strength to carry the baby and leave with her.

You were soon alarmed by several footsteps, and when you looked at the door, you sighed seeing the rescue team, feeling tranquility after such a long time.

They first took care of Curly, followed by Jimmy for the wound in his leg, and then soon continued with Anya and the baby. She had to give a testimony about the events in order to press charges against Jimmy, the baby being her strongest evidence.

You had to get Swansea and Daisuke out of the room where they had hidden, they took the older one to make sure he was okay, he was still just unconscious from the blow to the head he received when he was thrown to the ground.

You sat next to Daisuke in the rescue ship, staring at the floor distractedly.

The boy placed his hand on your shoulder, making you turn to look at him slowly.

Daisuke: "You saved us, you did it"

You felt how he hugged you and rested his head on your shoulder, feeling your uniform soak with his tears.

Daisuke: "We're going back home..."

A few men interrupted you to ask for your testimonies so they could finish their report on the trip and the inconveniences you encountered.

You didn't even know how you were able to answer all the questions they asked you, your mind was on autopilot, responding monotonously until they let you go.

"Is everything really going to be how it was before?"

You asked Curly, sitting next to him, they had changed the bandages again, his wounds disinfected and carefully treated, he no longer bled constantly, he had an intravenous line, and his bed was much more comfortable than the stretcher he had been on before.

"Of course not..."

You rested your face on his chest, hiding there, feeling his arm resting on your back.

"Can I tell you something?...It's...Very important"

He made a hum and waited for you to tell him what you had in mind.

You leaned closer to his ear to whisper what you wanted, he looked at you for a few seconds somewhat puzzled, but soon seemed happy as he let out a pained chuckle, nodding his head.

You hugged him gently, nothing was going to be the same as before, but you were going to do everything possible to ensure that at least everyone would be happy after such a tragedy.

[aanoia]

Orphic (pt.1)

pairing; Ao'nung x Sully!reader Orphic; (adj.) mysterious and entrancing; beyond ordinary understanding words; 3,719 warnings; injury, mentions of death Pt. 2; Pt. 3 Important note; this is sort of a continuation of a previous story that can be found on my Wattpad. It's not required to read that story, in fact it was written years ago (now it's very poorly written, but then it was my best writing). It will give backstory on your parents. Speaking of your parents, you were born to Tsu'tey and Y/n. Tsu'tey died the same death as in the movie, and Y/n died during childbirth. Jake and Neytiri took you in and named you after your mother. You're basically twins with Neteyam :) Bold is English :) the normal text is Na'vi

Decided to stray from my Marauders era for the time being, as I rewatched the Avatar movies and that phase is coming back. This is mostly a trial to see if I want to post this series on Tumblr, or just on Wattpad. The format will probably change a bit as time goes on :)

The ground beneath her rushes past as her ikran races through the air, following closely behind the group of older warriors. She stays steady on her ikran, completely in tune with her surroundings as her sharp eyes scan across the moving terrain. The unpleasant hum of the skywalker machines fill her ears, and her lip subconsciously curls into a sneer. Into view comes a train upon its foreign tracks, two helicopter-like vehicles hovering above it. 

“Ground team, move.” Her father’s voice instructs in her ear. The track explodes, sending the front of the train flying and causing the aircrafts to veer off track. The experienced warriors dive, and she aches to follow suit, but she refrains. Only two others stay high in the sky, her brothers, Neteyam and Lo’ak. She knows they crave the same thing she does, to go down and fight with the others. However, their father’s orders echo in their minds. The group of Na’vi work swiftly, bringing down the aircrafts and searching through the various cargo bins.

“Yo, we have got to get down there,” Lo’ak says, looking at his elder siblings with an excited look on his face.

“No way! Dad will skin us!” Neteyam protests.

  “Come on, don’t be a wuss!” Lo’ak half shrugs, and his ikran changes directions, beginning to dive.

Y/n sighs, glancing at Neteyam, “Come on, little brother, we can’t let him have all the fun.” She grins, and flies after Lo’ak.

“Lo’ak! Y/n! Get back here- argh!” Neteyam groans, before reluctantly going along with them. The trio land, and Y/n gracefully dismounts her ikran, swinging her bow across her shoulder. Once again, she’s scanning her surroundings, taking note of any possible dangers, anything that could hurt her brothers.

“Come on, let’s go!” Lo’ak urges, already running into action.

“Lo’ak!” Neteyam growls, running after the boy. 

Said boy runs to a supply crate, where a warrior hands him a gun. “Go boy, take it.” Lo’ak happily takes the firearm, ululating proudly. Y/n and Neteyam walk towards him, the latter rather pissed off. 

“You don’t even know how to use it.” He sneers, glancing distastefully at the gun in his hand.

Lo’ak successfully loads the gun, a smug grin on his face, “Dad taught me.” He raises the gun in the air, pretending to aim at something. “I bet you can’t aim.”

Y/n rolls her eyes, “Lo’ak, you can’t either.”

“Yeah- but I bet he’s worse than I am.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Neteyam mutters. A warrior calls out, and once again their father’s voice fills the air.

“Gunship’s inbound! Fall back!” He yells, and the three kids immediately take off to their ikrans. Neteyam urges the two others to run faster, and they all push. However, their efforts are in vain as an explosive goes off behind them, sending the three flying in the air. Y/n yelps, landing on a jagged piece of metal. She hisses at the pain searing through her back. She sits up, reaching behind her to find her fingers coated in a wet substance.

“Shit, dad is gonna kill me.” She mutters to herself, pushing herself to her feet. “Neteyam!? Lo’ak!?” She spots her father, turning over a blue body. She rushes over, dread filling her body. “Dad- is that-”

Neteyam groans, his face scrunched in pain, “Dad?”

Jake takes Neteyam by the back of his neck, lifting him up to check his back for any injuries. Upon seeing none, he growls at the boy. “What are you doing here, boy? What the hell were you thinking?” He glances at Y/n. “And you- are you alright?”

She bites her tongue and nods, “Yes, I’m sorry, sir.”

“I’m- sor-sorry,” Neteyam grunts out, pain lacing his words as Jake lifts him over his shoulders.

“Go, Y/n. Now.” She nods upon her fathers demand, and rushes back to her ikran. She quietly calms its worried squawks, and takes off in flight. She follows the group through the mountains, trying to ignore the stinging in her back as she hangs her head low, afraid to meet her father’s stern gaze.

A loud horn blows as they make it home, and many Na’vi cheer and whoop upon their arrival. Y/n lands on the rock with a solemn face, and she winces softly as she dismounts, not so graceful as last time. She pets her ikran’s face gently, cooing.

“You did good, girl, thank you.” She whispers, restings her forehead against her ikran’s.

“Fall in.” Her father commands and she sucks in a breath. She pulls away from her ikran, following her father’s orders. He looks at the three children with an irritated look, and Y/n can’t help but notice the hints of worry mixed in. “You’re supposed to spotters. You spot bogeys, and you call ‘em in. From a distance.” He growls, looking back and forth between the children. “Does any of this sound familiar? Get here!” He commands Lo’ak, and the boy steps forward, joining the line. “Jesus, I let you three geniuses fly a mission, and you disobey direct orders.” In a softer voice he adds, “Kiri, can you go help your grandmother with the wounded? Please?” Y/n hisses softly as her mothers hands gently caress the skin around her wound. 

Kiri glances at her father, “My brother is wounded.” She says in an obvious tone.

“It’s fine.” Neteyam reassures.

“Baby girl, please.” Jake pleads as Tuk gazes curiously at the scene. “Tuk, go with her, go!”

“Dad- sir, I take full responsibility.” Neteyam tries as Kiri and Tuk sigh and join their grandmother.

“What- no, he doesn’t.” Y/n butts in, glaring slightly at Neteyam.

“You do. That’s right. ‘Cause you’re the older brother, you gotta act like it.” Y/n looks at him with a distasteful look. She’s the eldest. She was born many moments before Neteyam was. She looks at her feet, a dull ache in her chest.

“MaJake.” Neytiri says softly, a nice change in tone. “Your son, and your daughter, are actually bleeding.”

Jake looks between the two, and his gaze settles on Y/n. “You said you weren’t hurt.”

“I’m fine, sir.” She says quickly.

He stares at her for a moment, before sighing, “Just go and get patched up. Both of you. Go on, dismissed.” She hesitates for a second, but with her mother’s urging hand on her lower back, she walks, leaving Lo’ak alone to deal with their father. 

Neteyam grunts in pain, hissing slightly. Y/n watches quietly from the corner of the room, having already gone through this. Lo’ak laughs, arms crossed as he taunts his brother. Their grandmother, the Tsahik, shakes her head at his antics as Tuk hands Neteyam a bowl and gently instructs him to drink.

“I would use yalna bark.” Kiri says out loud, standing to walk to her grandmother. 

“Oh, you would? And who is Tsahik?” Her grandmother asks, continuing with patching her grandson. 

“You are grand- move!” She shoves Lo’ak over. “You are, Grandmother. But yalna bark is better.” Neteyam hisses in pain. “Stings less.”

“Mighty warrior.” Lo’ak teases, earning himself a slap to his leg from his grandmother.

Y/n tunes the group out, zoning in on a spot on the floor. Her hands clasp tightly around her beaded necklace, one that belonged to her birth father. She wonders if he would have let her go down and join the rest, or if he would also have her be just lookout. Would he be angry at her, the way Jake seems to always be? She’s heard many stories about him. He was a great warrior. The People trusted him to bring them to victory against the sky people, and he died attempting to do so. He was mighty, and she feels like anything but. Her thoughts shift to her mother, Jake’s best friend. She was kind, and fierce. People would always speak of her fondly. She had to end her father’s suffering, breaking her own heart in the process. And then, once Y/n was born, she died. All Y/n has left of her is her name.

She will forever be thankful to Jake and Neytiri, who have filled the position of her mother and father. But she can’t help but wonder how her life would be different if her birth parents were alive. She feels a presence beside her and sighs softly, glancing over. 

“Hey, sis, you alright?” Neteyam asks softly, looking over at her.

She nods a little, “Lo’ak got grounded.” She says quietly as said boy leaves with Kiri.

He hums, “I heard. No flying for a month.” He sucks in a breath, thankful he somehow avoided the punishment. Y/n nods and Neteyam studies her for moment. He notices the way she protectively holds onto her necklace. “Are you thinking about Tsu’tey again?”

“I always am.” She responds, back to looking at the floor. “I miss him, and I don’t even know him.”

He scoots a bit closer, nodding. “It’s alright, sis. He’s with Eywa, and he’s watching over you. I’m sure he’s proud of you.”

She makes a face, “Yeah, maybe.” She glances up as Neytiri and Jake walk into the tent. She makes brief eye contact with her father, but quickly looks away. His sad gaze lingers on the girl, but upon Tuk’s begs to be picked up, he looks away.

Neteyam sighs softly, wrapping his arm around his sister’s shoulders, “Either way, you have me, big sister.”

Y/n glances at him, a ghost of a smile on her face. She holds out her pinky, “Little brother.”

He grins, locking his finger with hers, “Big sister.”

“No matter how old we get.” She finishes softly, shaking his pinky like a handshake. “Thank you, Neteyam.”

He half shrugs nonchalantly, “It’s no biggie.” He pulls his hand away, and ruffles the top of her head. “I'll leave you to ponder, I need to speak to father.”

She smiles, “Try to keep your head.”

He stands, “I'll do my best.” And he walks towards their parents. 

Y/n uses this chance to sneak off unnoticed. She silently slips out of the tent, and once she's a good distance away, she calls for her ikran. She takes a deep breath, and jumps from the edge, landing seamlessly on her ikran. The two immediately take off, and she ululates loudly as they go. Once his wings meet a steady rhythm, she spreads her arms out, basking in the final moments of sunlight. The warmth of the rays brings comfort to her skin, and she sighs deeply. The built up stress slowly fades away and her muscles relax. 

Moments like these, completely alone and serene, not a worry in the world, are her favorite. It’s the only time she can truly relax. However, she doesn’t get many. The tight leash her father holds her on seems to be suffocating. She can never leave without notifying someone - and even then she can never leave by herself. Her father’s fear of something happening took over her life. So, whenever she gets the chance, she slips away, giving herself a moment of freedom. 

Her ikran perches on the side of a cliff, and Y/n carefully climbs onto the small landing. She rests against a rock, looking up at the night sky. Her ikran purrs softly and curls up beside her, resting his head on her lap. She gently pets him, caught up in her own world.

Her serenity was interrupted by the hum of vehicles below her. She furrows her brows as her ikrans head perks up. She peers over the edge of the landing, her eyes searching for the noise. A seemingly rogue amp suit trudges through the forest, gun at the ready. She glances at her ikran, and in only a moment she’s on his back, stealthily gliding down. The sun slowly falls behind the trees, and the world gets darker, but she doesn’t turn for home. The pair land in the trees, and she silently instructs her ikran to stay back. 

She runs through the trees, tracking the noises of the amp suit. The bow slung across her shoulder gently hits her thigh, and her ears perk up at every sound. She eventually catches up with the suit, and watches intently from the trees. A young man occupies the suit, and she notes his particular ugliness. Her stomach settles uncomfortably, and she swallows thickly. 

“Mule, do you read?” Her dad’s irritated voice fills her ears, and she freezes. The sound catches her off guard, and she falls short of the branch she was reaching for. She yelps as she loses her balance on the tree. She shrieks, flailing her arms as she falls. She hits the ground with a thud and a groan, and the amp suit already has his gun pointed at her.

“Well, what do we have here?” He sneers, a nasty look on his features. She grunts, pushing herself to her feet despite the ache in her ankle. She doesn’t answer, instead slowly inching her hands to her bow. “Don’t you touch that thing.” 

“Mule, I asked, "Do you read?””

“It’s getting dark out, did mommy and daddy not tell you to be home before the light dies?” He takes a step closer to the girl, and she bites her cheek, glancing around.

“I do not speak English, dipshit.” She sneers, glaring up at him. 

“What was that? Speak English, beast.” A squawk fills the air, and the man's attention is drawn. Y/n takes this moment to dart between the robot's legs, pulling her bow off her shoulders. She swiftly climbs on top of the tree, pointing the arrow at the man. He points his gun, and fires aimlessly. The arrow leaves her bow, and strikes beside his head. She loads another arrow, and a searing pain shoots up her thigh. But she holds steady, and releases this arrow. The suit slumps, and falls to the ground. 

Y/n glances down at her thigh and a pained look crosses her face, she lifts her hand to her throat. “Devil dog, I read.” She grunts out.

The answer is immediate, “Where’s your playground?”

She stumbles down the tree, calling for her ikran before answering, “By the mountain-” She hisses. “South side.”

There’s a pause, “Are you hurt?”

She sighs deeply, her ikran landing beside her. “Yes. I’m coming home.”

“No, stay where you are.” She takes off. “Mule, do you read?” No answer. “Goddamnit, Y/n.” She makes it home quickly, and her siblings immediately crowd her. 

“Y/n- what were you thinking?” Neteyam rushes out, pushing past his siblings.

She grunts, feeling slightly dizzy from her bleeding bullet wound, “My leg.” She mutters, afraid to look down at it. 

“My daughter!” Her mother shrieks, shoving the growing crowd. “My child- what has happened?”

“Mama-” She slides off of her ikran into her arms. Her leg gives out and she screws her eyes shut.

“Y/n!” It’s her father this time, who also shoves through the crowd. “Shit, Y/n- move! Everyone move!” Neytiri picks up the girl and follows after her mate, her face etched in worry. 

“I’m sorry-” She whispers to her parents.

“Shh, save your energy, child.” Neytiri instructs softly as she sets her down on a fur blanket in their tent. Mo’at rushes in, gently pushing Jake aside to assess the wound. She makes quick work of setting up her supplies, a deep frown on her face.

“Y/n!” Neteyam rushes inside, despite his father’s protests. He slides next to Y/n, taking her hand tightly.

“We must remove the bullet. It will hurt, grandchild.” Mo’at says calmly. “Are you ready?” Y/n swallows thickly and nods.

“Okay,” She whispers, dreading the next few seconds. Her fear proved to be justified, as the pain of large makeshift tweezers digging through her thigh is unbearable. She tries to stay quiet, but a few whimpers and cries manage to escape. She relaxes once the bullet is removed, and sighs. “Ouch.” She mutters, sniffling softly.

Neytiri frowns at her daughter, “What were you doing out there so late?” Jake watches from the front of the tent, a hard look in his eyes.

“I just wanted-” She hisses. “To be alone, for a moment. I lost track of time.”

“And the sky people?”

“Came out of nowhere… he was alone. I was watching him, and then dad called for me, and I fell.” She doesn’t make eye contact with anyone, shame filling her body.

“Where is this man?”

“Dead.” She replies grimly, slightly relieved as Mo’at wraps her thigh. 

“You killed him?” Neteyam asks quietly, wonder in his eyes. Y/n nods solemnly. “Woah, cool.”

“Not cool.” Their father butts in, stepping forward. His hard gaze sets on his eldest. “I’m disappointed in you. You defied multiple rules. Don’t go anywhere alone. Don’t go out when it’s getting dark. Don’t interact with the sky people.” His arms are crossed, and his jaw clenched. “You could've died, do you realize that?”

Y/n’s gaze lowers, and she nods. “Yes, sir.”

Neytiri gives her mate a pointed look, “She could have died, so be thankful she didn’t. She has already received the punishment of her mistakes. All you must do is comfort her.”

“A shot to the leg isn’t enough- she should be grounded.”

“MaJake.” The heat in her eyes successfully quiets the man, and he sighs, shaking his head and storming out of the tent. Y/n frowns, sitting up slowly.

“I’m tired.” She mumbles.

“You cannot walk on your own, granddaughter. Your leg requires healing, and you must give it time to do so.” Mo’at says, a rare gentle tone in her voice. “I shall have a healer bring you crutches.”

Y/n nods, “Thank you, grandmother.” Mo’at nods and collects her things. She exchanges a few words with her daughter, before walking out. Her presence was replaced by a crying Tuk. She runs in and jumps into Y/n’s arms. “Woah- Tuk?”

“Are you dying?” Tuk asks, her eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, no, no, Tuk. I’m alright. I’m not dying, silly.” She says softly, kissing Tuk’s forehead.

“Is your leg going to be cut off?” Lo’ak questions, much too excited about the idea, as he walks in.

“You wish.” She grins. Her siblings can always cheer her up, even if they aren’t trying to do so.

“I think you’re an idiot.” Kiri mentions.

“I think father agrees with you.” Y/n shrugs, still holding tightly onto Tuk. “Is my ikran okay?”

Kiri nods, “You’re ikran is just fine.”

She smiles gratefully, “Thank you. Now, let me sleep. I require slumber.”

Y/n sits, gently humming to herself as she makes a necklace. It’s only been a few days since she was injured, and she’s spent her down time making things for the people she’s loved. She’s already finished the things for her siblings, her mother, and her grandmother. All that’s left is her father. She must admit that she contemplated even making him one, but he really does mean the world to her. She’s determined to make this necklace perfect for him. 

She glances up at the sound of ikrans landing, and her family is there. She hides the necklace quickly, and lifts herself up. She uses her crutches to step outside of the tent, a questioning look on her face.

“What’s going on?” She asks, and meets Lo’ak’s eyes. The boys gaze drifts to the ground and her brows furrow.

“All of you, go. I need to speak with your mother.” Jake demands and no one protests. The group of them go around the tent, and instead of giving them space, they eavesdrop on the conversation. The adults manage to get a few private words exchanged before the children listen in, “This thing. This Quaritch.” Y/n’s ears perk at the name. The villain of her parents’ stories. “Whatever he is- he walked right in here. He can walk right under Eywa’s nose.”

“This is our family! This is our home!” Neytiri defends.

“This is about our family! This is about our little ones.”

“I cannot. You cannot ask this.” Her mother steps past Jake. “I cannot leave my People. I will not.”

“He’s hunting us. He’s targeting our family.”

“You cannot ask this!” Neytiri snaps. “The children. Everything they’ve ever known. The forest. This is our home!” She yells, her voice urgent. 

“He had our children. He had ‘em under his knife!” There’s a moment of silence before Neytiri let’s out a shaky breath. 

“My father gave me this bow as he lay dying.” It wasn’t difficult for Y/n to know which bow she was speaking of. “And he said “Protect the People.” You’re Toruk Makto!”

“This will protect the People!” Jake yells.  “Quaritch has Spider.” Y/n gasps softly, looking at Kiri with sad eyes. “And that kid knows everything. He knows our whole operation, and he can lead them right in here.” The eldest kids share a look. “If the People harbor us, they will die. Do you understand?” They’re silent for a moment. “Look, I got nothing. I got no plan. But I can protect this family. That I can do.” Neytiri gasps softly, her face twisting in pain. “But I know one thing.” Her father whispers. “Wherever we go, this family is our fortress.”

Neytiri sighs, and embraces her mate tearily. Jake sighs softly, his heart heavy. Y/n glances between her siblings.

“You guys need to tell me what happened. Now.”

Y/n waits patiently on her ikran for the ceremony to end. She cannot walk well, so she doesn’t attempt to stand with her family as the new Olo’eyktan to “kill” her father. She keeps her bag close to her hip, her creations kept safely stored inside. She frowns as her family walks towards her, her mother cries silently. 

Not a word is spoken as they begin their journey to the islands. Y/n glances behind her at the forest for the last time, and she can’t help but feel as if she’s leaving behind a vital part of her. She’s leaving behind her birth parents. Their memories. She sighs and looks forward, holding tightly onto her necklace. 

A father protects. It’s what gives him meaning. One life ends. Another begins.

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[leaderwonim]

BUT WHY? WHY NOT.

pairing. ghostface!park sunghoon x fem!reader

summary. in a sudden turn of events, you ask with shaky tears why your boyfriend, park sunghoon, is doing what he’s doing. the answer he gives you is more terrifying than the whole situation itself.

warnings. kinda suggestive at some parts, vivid descriptions of killing, mentions of mental illness, hurt no comfort, cursing, one of the characters has a gun

tagging baes @saursoob @moons-v @wonniestars

recommended playlist. sometimes & race by alex g

“You know I love you and I’d never do anything to harm you, right?”

Park Sunghoon always loved to say that to you, especially when you separated your mouth from his and you’d give him those eyes that told him you’d do anything for him.

You were just so easy. Easy prey to catch for big strong intimidating Park Sunghoon. Easy prey to feast upon.

He was a gentleman. Looking back at the past 7 months of your relationships, you never once remembered having to open a door handle by yourself. His hand was already there before you could even touch the metal knob.

“What boyfriend would I be if I let you open doors all by yourself?” He’d say with an eyebrow raise and a smirk.

Even though he was clearly teasing you, you felt giddy that you had such a great boyfriend like him.

You just wish you saw the signs sooner.

🫀

The first red flag was how twitchy Sunghoon would get at random times. Sure, it was normal for Sunghoon to be a bit shy—even awkward—but the sudden twitchiness didn’t go unnoticed by you. It was almost if he was uncomfortable in his own skin, desperate to get out.

But Park Sunghoon was perfect. He was the perfect boyfriend, the perfect son, and the perfect boy, there was nothing wrong with him, right?

Right.

“I don’t know,” Sana says as she shakes her head, clearly frightened by what’s happening. “I feel like someone is stalking us.”

Your friend group collectively starts comforting her, all besides your boyfriend who sat next to you with a frown.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” you say, rubbing Sana’s hands comfortingly. “Right Hoonie?”

“Yeah.” If there’s another thing about your boyfriend, he’s good at reassuring people. “Maybe you’re overthinking Sana? It’s okay, you’re safe with us.”

“He’s right.” Hyoseop, one of your other friends, chimes in. “Besides San, you can’t let this scary moment dictate your life!“

Sana nods solemnly. “I guess. Are we still on that camping trip this weekend?”

“Hell yeah we are!” Your friend group cheers, which is more than enough to make Sana feel better about the whole situation.

🫀

“Sleeping tents?”

“Check.”

“Flashlights?”

“Check.”

“Batteries?”

“Check.”

“Tooth—”

“Baby.” Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, putting his chin on your shoulder. “I promise we have everything, let’s go before we’re late and Eunae makes a big deal about it.”

You giggle, turning around to give him a proper hug. He smelt exactly like the vanilla scented candles you loved so much.

“You’re right, I don’t want Eunae on our asses in the middle of the woods.”

Sunghoon drives the both of you in his green shiny Jeep, the one his dad had bought him last month. The camp site was about 2 hours from your house, so you plugged your headphones in, leaning against the window as one of Sunghoon’s hands comes to hold your thigh.

“Wake up sleepyhead.” He says, flicking your forehead which makes you jolt from your sleep.

“Yah Hoonie! Don’t do that,” your cheeks puff out in annoyance, and your boyfriend can’t help but laugh, pinching it between his thumb and index finger.

“I texted Hyoseop, he says they’re already all here.” Sunghoon opens up the trunk, pulling out all your stuff with a grunt. “Jesus, it’s just 2 nights and we’re packing like we’re moving here or something.”

You roll your eyes, “we need to be as prepared as possible! I don’t even like camping, but Eunae insisted.”

“Well Eunae’s a bitch.”

You slap his arm, making the boy jump. “Hoon! You can’t say that out loud.”

“You’re thinking it too baby.” He swings his heavy duffle over one of his shoulders, his other arm holding the gigantic tent you guys had bought to share for the 2 nights.

“I don’t know why you couldn’t just put all your things in our big backpack.” You say, already feeling out of breath as you guys make your way to the site. “You don’t even have that much clothes anyway Hoonie.”

“Just wanted my own bag, that’s all.” He smiles. “Plus, the backpack is already extra heavy with all your stuff.”

You whine at his words, making him chuckle.

“Y/N! Sunghoon!” The voice of Inyoup, Hyoseop’s brother, echoes through the area. “You made it!”

“Course we did.” Sunghoon dabs up the boy, which leaves you to say hi to Eunae and Jihyun.

“Where’s Sana?” You ask, not seeing the familiar ginger anywhere in sight.

Jihyun pulls out her phone, checking Sana’s location. “She should be here by 7, said she’s running a little late because of boyfriend things.”

Jihyun sends the group a wiggle of the eyebrows, which stirs up laughter and a gross! from Inyoup.

“7 is gonna be so dark though, I’ll make sure to go fetch her.” Hyoseop says. “Now c’mon, let’s get a bonfire settled!”

🫀

Night time rolls around quicker than expected, the sky above already clearing out with the few stars being the only source of light in the surrounding campsite.

“Are you cold?” Sunghoon asks, pulling you closer to his side as all of you sit on the pieces of wood in front of the fire.

“I’m better now with you generating all this heat.” You joke, digging yourself closer into his side. “Actually, did you bring any extra coats Hoon?”

He doesn’t really hear your question, too engrossed in whatever horror story Jihyun’s telling the group.

“Yeah yeah.” He says, waving you off.

You take yourself out of his hold, going over to your tent. Honestly, it was a mess, but you were able to make out Sunghoon’s filled to the brim duffle bag. You open it, trying to scuffle through for something warm to wear.

“Ah shit,” you whisper, taking your cut finger to your mouth before examining the cut clearer. “What the hell?”

You uncover the jacket that was covering whatever sharp object that had sliced through your finger earlier.

It was a long sharp knife.

Where did your boyfriend get this? You hadn’t seen a knife like this around in your house, and more importantly, why?

It’s probably for precaution. Your brain tells you. Sunghoon is always so careful, he probably wants it to be safe incase any wild animals come.

So you ignore the knife, placing it back inside Sunghoon’s duffle. You place his jacket and make your way outside.

“It’s already 6:50, maybe we should go pick up Sana now.” You say, blowing air into your hands since it was starting to freeze.

“Oh shit, I’m cooking right now.” Hyoseop looks at the grill he’s currently grilling meat on and then back to the group. “Can someone else go get her? Preferably a guy, we shouldn’t let the girls walk out this dark.”

“I’ll go get her.” Sunghoon offers. “Let me just put on another layer really quick.”

You take a seat next to Inyoup, sipping on a glass bottle of Coca Cola.

“You think we can curl our hair with these like Olivia Rodrigo said in her song?” Jihyun jokes, raising her empty bottle up into the air. “I’m gonna try it.”

“You go do that.” Eunae scoffs, clearly unimpressed with the girl.

🫀

It takes approximately about 25 minutes for you and the group to start worrying, not seeing Sana or Sunghoon in sight.

“The parking isn’t that far right? They should’ve been here 5 minutes ago.” Hyoseop says, setting the silver plate of food onto one of the wooden logs near the grill.

“No yeah, I’m getting worried.” Jihyun stands up, “I’m gonna get a flashlight and look for them at this point.”

Jihyun makes her way to the tent she shares with Eunae, which was right across from yours.

“Shit shit shit,” she mumbles, her hands rummaging through the messy tent. “Shit!”

“What’s wrong?” You ask, quickly running over. “Jihyun, what’s wrong?”

“Some animal might’ve came in earlier and ruined our things.” Jihyun places a hand on her forehead, clearly stressed about the whole ordeal. “Please tell me there’s still a flashlight.”

She checks through her and Eunae’s bag, only to find everything but a flashlight.

“It’s okay Ji, me and Hoon have a few in our tent.” You reassure her, which makes the girl feel a bit better.

“Sunghoon’s back!”

Inyoup’s announcement makes you practically bolt out of Jihyun’s tent right away.

“Hoon!” You rush over to him, cupping his face. “Why’d you take so long? Where’s Sana?”

He gently peels your hand off, looking back at the group with a smile. “She says she forgot her toothbrush on the way and she’s gonna drive to the nearest CVS. Should be back in 20 minutes.”

The rest of the group seems to buy Sunghoon’s words, all except Eunae.

“Well why did you take so long then, Sunghoon?”

“Oh fuck off Eunae.” Inyoup exclaims. “It’s too dark right now for you to start an argument.”

Eunae scoffs. “You know what? Fine. I’m gonna take a dip in the lake, I don’t want to be near any of you right now.”

When she’s finally gone, Inyoup whistles. “I still don’t know why we’re all friends with her when she makes everything miserable.”

“Let’s just calm down.” As usual, your boyfriend is the mediator, which makes you smile and lean into his side.

“You can’t be worrying me like that Hoon!” You groan, hitting him in the chest jokingly. “Had me thinking you were lost.”

“Baby you know me,” he grins. “I’m great at navigating in the night time.”

He suddenly pulls away, “ah, I’m so hot from all the walking. I’m gonna go dip my legs in the lake for a bit.”

“Okay,” you give him a peck on the cheek. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“You can come if you want baby.” He looks down to make direct eye contact. “I know Hyoseop just made beef. You wanna eat that first and meet me later?”

You think about it a second before nodding, placing one last kiss on his face. “You’re right. I’ll see you in a bit Hoonie.”

🫀

Sunghoon sighs in relief, finally glad to have you off his back for a while.

He takes out the familiar black suit and mask, the one that is seen so many times in the scream franchise. The ghostface mask and suit.

He places it over his body, the mask fitting his face so perfectly that he’s in awe.

He already knows his first victim.

Choi fucking Eunae.

God, did she annoy him. Always getting into petty disagreements, always making a ruckus out of nothing. And tonight? The way she accused him so adamantly, the way her eyes crinkled on disgust as she looked at him.

He had to get rid of her.

“Surprise Eunae.”

Eunae’s arms are no use to Sunghoon’s muscular ones that’s wrapped around her throat.

“Help!” Eunae tries to scream, but it only comes out squeaky and inaudible.

“Poor little helpless Eunae,” Sunghoon taunts. “Taking a dip in the lake to cool her nerves because she just can’t help her silly little thoughts in her head.”

He points the sharp end of the knife directly at her throat, making a slight tear which lets blood flow down.

“Why are you doing this?” Eunae chokes up, tears already falling like a waterfall. “Sunghoon?”

She wouldn’t have known it was him because of the mask, but the voice taunting her earlier gave it all away.

“Goodnight Eunae.”

Sunghoon stabs the girl repeatedly until she stops squirming in his hold. Then, he lets go of the body, watching as it floated face down on the lake.

They’ll find her by next week, he thinks. The cops—of course. Not your friends, not you. You all would be dead by tomorrow morning before you even knew Eunae was missing.

“Aw man.” He frowns. “She got my gloves all bloody.”

🫀

Sunghoon knew you would come looking for him later, he just didn’t know when. Therefore, he knew he had to leave the premises immediately as to not be caught near Eunae’s body.

He already knew his next victims, anyway. The two brothers, Kang Hyoseop and Kang Inyoup.

He had already gotten rid of Sana, who, at the sight of him in the ghostface mask and suit, barfed all over the parking lot. He found it both amusing and fascinating—how the human mind could freak itself out so much to the point of physical sickness.

“Eunae! Is that you? Look, Hyoseop said I should apologize earlier for what I did, and although I don’t want to, he might be right.”

Maybe Sunghoon didn’t have to leave. Maybe Kang Inyoup showing up now was a sign from the universe.

He quickly makes his way behind one of the tall trees, which was enough to hide him but also enough to see Inyoup’s movements.

Inyoup goes towards the dock of the lake, “Eunae? Why the hell are you swimming like that?”

He giggles, not realizing how serious the situation was and that Choi Eunae had been dead for 10 minutes already.

Inyoup gets closer, his fingers gripping at Eunae’s arm. When he flips her over, he lets out a scream of terror, which has Sunghoon coming to put his hands over the boy’s mouth.

“What the fuck—” Inyoup cries out, eyes still not believing what they just witnessed. “What the..”

“It’s a real shame.” Sunghoon whispers in his ear, the knife he’s holding is dangerously close to Inyoup’s abdomen. “When Y/Nie first introduced me to the group, you were so welcoming and kind to me. You even opened up to me before Hyoseop.”

“Sunghoon?” Inyoup breathes out, and he can’t help but feel betrayal sink into his heart. “No, please, you can’t do this.”

“Didn’t you say you got that job offer in Osaka? Japan is beautiful.” Sunghoon takes a jab, which causes Inyoup to move forward in Sunghoon’s hold, groaning from the pain and impact. “It’s too bad you won’t ever step foot in Osaka.”

And he kills him. Drags Inyoup’s body into the lake, which floats along with Eunae’s.

“You can apologize to her in the afterlife.” Sunghoon shrugs, finding himself oh so funny.

“One Kang brother down, the next to go.”

🫀

Now Kang Hyoseop was no idiot. He knew his brother and Eunae had been gone for far too long, he knew Sunghoon had been gone for far too long. And Sana? She didn’t even come to the camping site like Sunghoon had confidently stated earlier.

“Hyoseop.” Sunghoon shows up behind him, only this time, the suit and mask are off.

“Sunghoon.” Hyoseop tries his best to give a sincere smile, but Sunghoon knows.

He knows.

“You didn’t have any food Sunghoon, you must be hungry.”

Sunghoon doesn’t know what Hyoseop’s playing at, but he’s already sick of the boy. His body feels itchy, and he has the urge to kill kill kill.

“Where’s Y/N and Jihyun?”

“Oh you know, at the lake. They needed to cool themselves off after such a hot dinner.”

Sunghoon’s eyebrows raise, and he finds his itching fingers reaching for the knife that’s tucked behind him.

“Hyoseop.” He says.

“Yes Sunghoon?”

Sunghoon pins down the boy, which is a much harder struggle than Eunae or Inyoup. Hyoseop had been going to the gym, and the boy was no weakling when it came to fights.

“I fucking knew it.” Hyoseop spits at Sunghoon. “You were the common denominator. Always so secretive and weird around us. I knew it.”

He says that with such disgust that it has Sunghoon cackling, impressed with the guy beneath him.

“But you didn’t say anything Hyoseop? You just let yourself go on a camping trip with the one guy you knew had bad intentions?”

“Fuck you!” Hyoseop tries to kick Sunghoon off of him, but it only makes the boy on top press on him harder. “I wanted to be wrong you know. I wanted to be completely wrong about thinking you were some fucked up loser for the sake of Y/N. But God, you are even worse than that.”

Sunghoon leans closer to Hyoseop, their cheeks touching.

“See you in hell Hyoseop.”

Then all the struggling stops.

It’s so easy, Sunghoon thinks. He didn’t even have to take months to plan this all out, when Choi Eunae said she wanted to go on a camping trip, he knew it was the perfect opportunity to strike.

🫀

“We have to go.” Jihyun says, grabbing your arms.

You were busy crying, feeling disgusted and horrified at the two bodies of your close friends in the lake.

Who the hell had done this to them?

“Where’s Hoonie?” You cry out. “We have to get Hoonie.”

“We’ll find him.” Jihyun reassures you, but her brain says the opposite.

She didn’t want to find Sunghoon. Like Hyoseop, she had a weird feeling about your boyfriend from the get-go. She just didn’t have the guts to tell you.

“Y/N, shh.” Jihyun places her index finger against your lips. “You hear that?”

It’s the sound of a body dragging, and you could make out the silhouette of someone tall.

“I have a gun in my tent,” Jihyun whispers. “I have to go get it. Can you distract him?”

You nod timidly, feeling fear strike every nerve in your body.

You throw a big stick across to the lake, which makes a dipping sound that has the man turning.

Jihyun, who had been the star of the track team in her high school days, runs like she’s never ran before, almost tripping over her own foot.

The man drops the body, and starts getting closer to the lake, making your breath hitch.

You watch Jihyun in the tent, letting yourself let out a breath of relief when she shows you the small gun in her hand.

“Surprise!”

Suddenly, the man’s sights are no longer on the lake, but on you.

His ghostface mask bashes against your face, making you let out a whine of pain.

“Jihyun! Jihyun!” You scream.

Jihyun panics, her hands shakily try to position the gun so that it won’t hit you.

She shoots, her eyes closing from the shock after the bullet leaves the gun, making a loud sound.

The man who had a hold on you falls back, grunting in pain.

His arms are behind his back, trying desperately to keep his body sitting upright.

“That’s what you get fucker!” Jihyun shouts, running over to you and pulling you close to her side. “For what you did to our friends.”

You hesitantly walk to the man, who’s body was shaking. You take off his mask, only to reveal the one person you wished it wasn’t.

Park Sunghoon.

Your boyfriend.

“Sunghoon?” You sob out. “What? Why? Why? Why are you doing this?”

You’re practically shouting now, horrified at the thought of your boyfriend killing your own friends.

His mouth was dripping blood, and his body looks like it was spasming.

Still, he grins, eyes filled with something you can’t recognize. He has no remorse.

“Why not?”

Jihyun decides she’s had enough, pointing the gun directly at Sunghoon’s head.

His once shaking body crumples to the floor immediately, and you feel your knees buckling at the sight.

“Shhh,” Jihyun hugs you from behind, although she too is crying. “Let’s get out of here.”

It all starts to make sense now. The flashlights disappearing, the knife you found in Sunghoon’s duffle.

Although all of this is terrifying, his last words still rang in your ear.

Why not?

[evilminji]

Ya'll know our BELOVED? Little Baby Man?

The noodliest ghosty boy?

What if he WAS Baby? It wouldn't be the first time Danny's enemies plotting gave him offspring. Only this time it's not a clone! It's a proper GHOST baby. Like Lunch Box.

Who's the other parent I hear you ask?

Pretty human-centric view point there buddy, to assume Ghosts NEED two participants to make an offspring. OR are limited to two! Just cause Lunch Lady And Boxie are a couple doesn't mean that's the standard!

We lack data here! ASSUME NOTHING. *sciences harder in your direction*

*awkward cough*

*shuffles notes*

ANYWAY! The child! All it would really take is one(1) VERY poorly timed ambush attack. Imagine if you will, a cell. How does it multiply? While not even close, the simplistic images ARE pretty good as an explanation!

But isn't that just an ecto-clone? You say?

Close!

But THOSE? Are hollow bags of GOO!

No CORE! *slaps the chalkboard behind me*

However! If you wanted, say, a precious bundle off joy? Well, nothing can come from perfect void! You must contribute the building blocks of LIFE! And what are those, my students, in ghost biology??!

Two vital pieces! The Ectoplasm aaaaaaand? That's RIGHT!

The CORE!

A critical and ever vital part of ghost biological function.

Which, like every OTHER part of the body, is malleable. One could, say, make it smaller. Create part of a proto core. OR, should one be ALONE in this process, a FULL protocol.

Upon which, ectoplasm latches, builds, develops and grows. Becomes its own soul.

Now! Do Not mistake me! There is a WILDLY vast difference between the formation of a core and a shattered core. Between willing life and untimely second death. It is not, and never WILL be, easy to create the soul of a child. Tampering with your core is PAINFUL, dangerous, and leaves you WILDLY vulnerable.

There is a REASON Neverborn are so precious.

Buuuuut..... *pulls out a book labeled "Curses Though The Ages"* we must ALSO consider the famed Fenton Luck(tm).

Consider! Where would be the "safest" place to practice making clones of yourself? A place that's wide open. No one wearing white likely to take pot shots at you while your attention is divided in multiple places at once. No parents blowing up the basement at a delicate moment and leaving you trying to hide that extra arm for a week...

Maybe you forget... oh yeah... OTHER GHOSTS.

So there Danny floats. In the Zone. DISTRACTED. His core HUGE from all that recently Royal business as it tries to digest it. Feeling bloated. Trying to work off some energy, as it were. Then who should come along? Why, the universes BEST HUNTER of course! To say *gun powering up noise* :) HI :)

Like buddies DO.

Danny doesn't see him.

Danny is mid-split.

At his limit, honestly. Already made as many copies as he usually can. Is trying for ooooone moooooore..... when...

PAIN. Something cracks.

He loses concentration. Tries to curl in on himself.

Both 1.5 of him tries. He loses hold of the "clone's" Ecto. Somethings free floating leaving his chest along with it. Behind him, Skulker is freaking out. That was MEANT to be on opening volley. A gentle little "hey, come fight me". That crack sounded SERIOUS.

Danny can't breathe. It's like the portal all over again. He curls tighter and tighter. Feels the crown, which was not THERE until this moment, press down tight and gripping onto his head. Thrumming. And then... something feels like a muscle releasing.

His core is... smaller? He'd been watching its progress, it couldn't have digest so fast... how did it lose so much... mass...

Danny feels all the blood drain from his face.

He nearly died.

Again.

His... his soul... WHERE IS HIS SOUL?? That's a piece of him! A part of his SOU-!

He spins around... only to meet the eyes off a blearly blinking, noodlish, cartoon like gremlin with his color scheme. Who's floating along like they're in zero-g. Just... drifting in a slow circle.

They yawn at him with a mouth full of teeny tiny baby fangs. Then chirp.

That's his Son. He doesn't know how, he doesn't know WHY, but he somehow instinctively... just... KNOWS?

They blep.

Danny looks a Skulker. His eyes hold MURDER.

"You're paying child support."

"......yes sir."

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones

[solemnvelvetangel]

"Everybody wants a piece of you..." - Jealousy head cannons pt. 2

Characters Included: Osamu Dazai, Michizo Tachihara, Nikolai Gogol

Content warning: Mention of a gun in Nikolai's section

When you forget to post on tumblr for almost a year lmao.

___

“It just isn’t fair, what you put in the air. I don’t wanna’ share…”

Osamu Dazai

This man is into you.

Like… really into you.

I strongly believe that once Dazai truly falls for someone, that person will be the only one for him.

He’s had plenty of fleeting romances and flings, but you’re his first serious relationship. His first love. The first person he has ever let in. The first person to still love him despite all of his faults.

Because of that, you’re the light of his life, and he will do anything to keep you.

Despite his goofy and nonchalant demeanor, Dazai is very much a jealous man.

He doesn’t mind someone touching you, as long as it is completely platonic.

He doesn’t mind people being attracted to you. After all, you’re beautiful, of course there would be people who appreciate your looks and personality. Little crushes never hurt anyone, anyway…

However, it’s if they choose to act upon their crush and make advances on you that strikes a nerve with him.

Naturally, Dazai craves closeness with you. If anyone openly threatens the bond that you share, he gets protective.

In other words: he is deeply offended by the sheer audacity of someone coming on to his lover knowing that you’re with him.

Most would tend to think he’s whiny and loud with his jealousy, but he’s the opposite.

He shows his feelings of jealousy so subtly, you almost wouldn’t notice a difference in his demeanor.

Almost…

He’ll purse his lips, crack his knuckles and neck (a nervous habit of his), he’ll shift closer to you, he might interject into the conversation and try to change the subject.

He’ll only say something if you’re clearly uncomfortable or the person is upsetting you somehow.

As much as he’s jealous, he doesn’t want to make it seem like he’s trying to take away your autonomy.

He values your good opinion, and he wants nothing more than for you to feel safe and comfortable.

“I’m sorry if I get protective, need these boys to get the message…”

Michizo Tachihara

Tachihara is naturally protective of people he cares for, but he’s most protective of you.

He’s seen a lot of messed up stuff during his time as a Hunting Dog and being undercover in the Port Mafia, so he has always felt unsafe one way or another.

You were the first person he felt truly safe around.

Because both of his jobs are so demanding, he often fears that you’re unsatisfied with what little time you can spend together.

You best believe that he tries his damn hardest though. He puts a lot of effort into your relationship.

A lot of times he feels that your bond is delicate like a fraying thread, it could snap at any minute.

So when he feels someone is trying to get in between the two of you, they’re immediately on his radar.

Honestly, Tachihara will only notice if someone is interested in you when they’re being upfront and very flirtatious towards you.

Tachihara becomes a guard dog when anyone tries to get too close for his liking.

Typically he will just give dirty looks or throw in a few sassy remarks if someone hits on you in front of him.

If it goes on for a while, Tachihara can and will be aggressive.

His mindset is: “If you keep hitting on my partner, I’ll just take it as an invitation to beat your ass.”

He can and will fight people who disrespect you or your relationship.

“I get reckless, I’m obsessive. I’m pathetic and possessive…”

Nikolai Gogol

Oh, good lord…

This man is obsessed.

How can he not be? You allow him to be himself and let him have his fun.

You’re also the first person he has formed a genuine bond with, so he treasures you like a lost man in a desert treasures an oasis.

He’s very, very attached to you.

He always wants your attention, so anyone who takes up your time is often met with some hostility.

Depending on his mood, he will be passive-aggressive or he will be straight aggressive

He knows that you love him and would never cheat, he just doesn’t trust other people.

He also just doesn't like when your attention is on someone else for long periods of time (he's kind of an attention whore).

He can and will force himself between you and whoever you're talking to that's making him jealous.

“Why, hello! I'm Nikolai, their partner. And who might you be? What's your name?”

He will ask them a lot of questions and have a very unsettling smile on his face while doing so.

This is in hopes that they will get really uncomfortable and walk away.

When it comes to situations like this, he will use his mischief-making tendencies to his advantage.

He will find many ways to inconvenience them.

There's nothing stopping him from opening a portal above their head and dumping a bottle of ginger ale on their head.

Or, depending on how fiercely and shamelessly they were flirting with you, pointing a gun at them.

He's a little trigger happy when it comes to you.

[blingblong55]

...Ready for it? -Vladimir Makarov NSFW

Based on a request:

The lack of Makarov content here is killing me, I was wondering on a enemies to friends with benifits type thing with Makarov (he would be in a absolute denial that he even develop feelings for someone especially if it's his own enemy) --- F!Reader, dark romance, enemies to friends with benefits, smut, 18+, P-in-V, unprotected!sex, some fluff, knife!play, blood!play, MDNI ----

A/N: dear anon, its okay to love villains...they are hot either ways

Sworn enemies, forever to wish death upon the other. Unsuspecting eyes and hearts. Your gun, blazing as it hits his plate, "Fucking bitch," he calls out. You chuckle and shoot at him again, better luck next time, you wish to say. One goal: to dominate the underworld of evil. This is what life was like between you and him. Konni Group and the enemy, Kasper Team. Turn the light on and it's the same kind of killer on both sides, commanded by two fucking masterminds. The devil whispered his wishes to Vladimir, whilst Satan herself moaned the desires into your ear. Hate, absolute fucking hate is what you and he had for each other. 

He did some bad things in his life and fucking around with the mistress of evil you had become was the worst thing he did. A dagger, the same one that carved your name, is now in his hands as he makes his dogs sniff out your hideout. You teased him with every glance, you can never catch me, is all your eyes gave out. And oh boy was he after you like a hound. At every corner, his eyes looked for the silhouette of you. The curves and that evil grin you gave him. Lips he wanted to hear him beg for their life. 

It was June when you visited Poland for some hacker you sought after. That hacker belonged to him. In a world of evil, you always need some shit nerd to do your job. He sat on the desk, waited and waited until you walked in. Posing as the hacker was one thing but to have you in that room, alone was another. Dangerous, your glare on him said. "So, are you in?" You asked the 'hacker' but the one who turns to answer holds a gun. "Ask again, doll," he chuckles deeply and you shake your head. "Un-fucking-believable." Once he was in front of you, his hand went to your waist, "what's the matter? Don't want to dance with the devil?" His gaze teased yours this time. 

"Don't you fucking start, Vladimir-" and in that instant, he began the game of cat and mouse by kissing your lips to keep you quiet. Once he pulled away, he laughed knowing that for the first time, he kept your pretty mouth shut. "Now listen to me, you may think you are a step or four ahead of me but doll, you are playing with the wrong darkness," his hands grip your face now. "What do you want?" you bite. "The missiles and the codes for the safe houses," he responds. You try and look away but his grip is stronger. "Don't you fucking look away from me!" he barks. Then he feels it, the gun pressed to his crotch. 

"Don't you know you are playing with dangerous game here?" the gun pressed harder to him. "You think you can scare me? Darling a girl like you is a mere speed bump for me," his face and yours closer. "A dog like you is another bag of bones for me," your finger closer to the trigger. "They are here," one of his men informs. That stupid fucking task force. "Ivan, entertain them for me," he commands. From a distance, guns and screams can be heard. "Can't fight them off yourself?" you tease him. "Darling I would, but you are one messy girl who needs to be taken care of first."

"Let's make a deal, you give me 141's files and I give you three missiles." you write the demise. "Add a code to it and we have a deal. and what's with you and those men?" You nod in agreement, your gun back to its safe place. "Let's just say they are playing in the wrong backyard." He then nods and hands you a piece of paper, "Why don't we end them together, maybe then you'll be my only headache." You grin, "I want to be your migraine," your lips close to his and before he even dares to lean in, you walk away. "I expect those files, Makarov." You place your mask on and your men escort you. "Better stick to your end," he calls out. 

Once back at your headquarters, you look at the piece of paper he handed you. "Let's call a truce for now. Let the games begin." A smirk on you. 141, codes and missiles, a game for demons to play with. Days pass the truce is set. He walks into your base, then he greets you. "R/N," his hand holding yours as he kisses it. "Never took you for the gentleman type," you comment. "You're in for a treat, doll," he walks past you like he knows the base. "Office, no?" You nod and walk alongside him. No one to bother you for hours as he and you talked about ways to end all targets and focus on who was more evil. 

Curtains closed as you and him created poison for all mutual enemies. Maps, plans and bullets are all that are displayed on a desk. "Be smart, don't play just because you want to. If you need them to be killed, take the first target," he places a bullet down on the map, "here...and once you do, all else will be easy to kill," he instructs. "Then make sure Chimera is isolated and bring some of KorTac, that should keep them entertained," you draw the names with a red pen. "We make a good team, R/N," he smiles. "Focus," you say and look at him. 

Near night, his men drove you and him to a hotel, to not stay there for a warm rest but to look for potential hideouts for the upcoming war. As he and you constructed what was known as Operation Cleanstreak, he observed you in a different light. You and him, both under tension when his hand slides to your waist. "Don't. Do. That." your voice was stern. "C'mon, we both need it, and I sure want it," his lips brushed your neck. "Be a good girl and kiss me, yes?" You back away and chuckle, "Horny so soon, tsk tsk tsk," you shake your head and cup his face. "Listen to me here, I am not going to get caught fucking you," and just before you were going to tease him, he gives you puppy eyes that gaze from your lips to your hot fucking stare. "Fuck it," he whispers and kisses you deeply, his tongue slipping into yours. He needed a taste of your poison, kill him with it because he would be addicted by the end. 

He pulls away, catching his breath and before he looks away, he finds that his addiction to the kiss spreads like a disease because in an instant, he gets pulled back and you kiss him. "Thought you were a gentleman?" you say between kisses. "Oh, you are in deep," he pushes you to the bed, his blade close to your jeans. "Be a good girl and let all know tonight I claim this pussy," his blade cuts your clothes open and he gets down, kissing your inner thighs and nibbling on them. Some of your blood drips out, he looks at you, "Ooh, did my princess get cut?" he gives you a playful pout and licks the blood off. A groan from his lips falls out when he tastes it. "Sweet divine," he whispers and sucks on the cut. Your blood still dripping out as he spells his name with it on your chest and when it doesn't all fit how he wants, he cuts your shirt open and spells it all out. "Look at that," he undoes your bra and slaps your tits a few times before sucking on them and groaning. His mark belongs to you. Suits your pretty body either way. 

Without warning, he licks his fingers and as he once more cuts another fabric of your body, he sticks his fingers into your cunt. "Already wet?" he teases and slaps your pussy, mercy out of the bed this night. "Fucking slut, aren't you?" he continues to slap your cunt and watch as you moan and whimper. "Take it," he growls and soon, gets on his knees and begins to eat you out. His tongue feels so heavenly on your cunt. The noises that filled the room, all moans, groans and the wetness of your cunt, were to be heard by two evil lovers. His gaze was either on your or your gorgeous tits. Often his eyes would flutter from how amazing your cunt tastes. 

He gets up and fingers you as he kisses your neck and lips. Never did he think he'd be fucking the girl who gave him reasons to be even more dangerous. When you began to rub your clit, he slapped you and went to grab a rope to tie you to the bed. Only he can please you. You mewl as he made you more and more sensitive and once he knew your cunt was ready for him, his fat and girthy cock slips inside of you. You cry out, tears running down your soft face. "I know, I know but you can take it," his thrusts were slow and gentle, getting you used to his size. Your cunt clenching around him, making it an even better sensation as he fucks himself into you. 

"Fuck...oh...just like that," he caresses your tits and groans. When he knew you were well used to him, his hands flew to your hips and began to go faster. Your back arching, he can see his bulge on your tummy, his thumb pressing on it, making you moan more. "Oh you like that?" he smiles and does it again. A knot inside of you, building that sweet orgasm. Your face flushed as he can't seem to stop claiming your pussy with his fast cock. "Vlad-...fuck-i...n-ngh..." You were now more than drunk on him. His fingers rub on your sensitive clit and then he feels it as he hears you cry and moan. Your juices coating his dick. "Oh princess," he moans. 

He can't hold on any longer, his cum writing what no other man could claim again. Your tight pussy milking him, his cum filling you to the brim as he leans in and kisses you, his thrust slow before he pulls out. Rough hands cup your face, "Did you like that, beautiful?" he whispers and kisses you, waiting for an answer. "Loved it," you say between kisses and he grins. You whine when he stops touching you completely, he gets dressed, "Good night, R/N," he closes the door as he leaves. 

Months after that night, he sees you again. It was a one-night stand, no, this meant something to him. Every night for all those months, he would send you files of Task Force 141, in the bag with each file, he made sure to send a disarmed grenade with your name and a flower attached to it. His own hands wrote your name, over and over again. He swore it was to make sure you never forget what you let him do to you but deep down in a sick way was to thank you for letting him have you. And as you met him again in that lonely office at your base, he acted cold. 

You acted cold too, but it was to guard yourself from him. His gaze noticed that hidden in that room were all the grenades that held your name. His heart flutters and a smile creeps to his face. He did it, wrapped his arms around you and when you slapped him, he chuckled. "Do it again," he whispers. So you did, you kept slapping him until he kissed you. Not believing himself, he did it again, kissed you over and over, love is for the weak and now, he is weak. "Don't leave again," you whisper as he rests his forehead against yours. "Think you'll be seeing more of me, my love," his voice soft for the first time in his life. You smile and he kisses your forehead, his strong hands bring you close to his chest. His chin is on your head as you bury your face in his chest. Comfort and love were found in that office that night, grenades and flowers were kept in that office too. 

A/N: Not my fault the devs made him hot...

Tags:

@goldenmclaren @selarus @kielsegur @palomesa @kaska127 @thefragmented @rowrowrowyourboat13 @liyanahelena @aethelwyneleigh27 @alhaizen