#Payback should always sparkle

[midnightquips]

Flight Risk

Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: For you, Bob Floyd is just the kind of guy you want. Smart. Sweet. Soft-spoken. The kind that won't break your heart. For Bob, you're the kind of woman that takes his breath away. Calm. Cool. Stunning. The kind you'd want to sweep off her feet. So this should be easy, right? Right?

Themes: Dagger Squad teasing, slow burn, jealousy, sexual tension, meddling

🔴 MINORS DNI 🔴 Warnings: 18+ content, eventual smut, explicit sexual content, nsfw, praise kink, soft aftercare, oral sex, piv sex, unprotected sex, mild praise kink, foreplay

Author's Note: Sometimes I feel I get too caught up in the slow burn that I feel this pace is too fast. But come on, Bob deserves some love. Don't y'all agree? Would love to hear your thoughts. ❤︎

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Chapter 3: High Stakes

It starts with a look.

You walk into the hangar, fresh from a debrief, sipping coffee from your dented thermos when Bob glances up from across the room. His eyes catch yours like a magnet. It’s just a flick of connection but enough to spark something. You smile. So does he.

It should be nothing. But it feels like everything.

You're not touching. You're not even standing close. But your skin hums like he's brushing against you. You don’t miss the way Phoenix clocks it instantly.

“Y/N,” she drawls as you approach, “you’re practically sparkling.”

You roll your eyes, tucking your thermos under your arm. “Must be the jet fuel.”

She grins. “Uh huh.”

Everyone's already gathering for the morning briefing. Rooster is fiddling with his flight gloves. Hangman is pretending he’s not eavesdropping from behind a clipboard. Payback and Fanboy are mid-argument about who’s late more often.

Bob stands beside his locker, trying not to look obvious. But when you pass by, you brush your hand across his lower back like it’s second nature.

And maybe now, it kind of is.

The next few days are more of the same but louder, bolder.

You and Bob end up partnered for inspections, simulator drills, and gear checks. It should feel routine, but the air between you crackles. You're both good at pretending it's all professional, but the way he watches you when he thinks no one’s looking? It gives everything away.

“Hey Floyd,” Fanboy calls out on the second day, watching Bob fumble a wrench. “You always this chatty when checking fuses?”

Bob stiffens. You just smirk.

“I bring out the best in him,” you say without missing a beat.

Payback whistles. “More like the blushing.”

Phoenix, overhead, doesn’t even look up from her notes. “He’s been blushing for three weeks. You’re just late to the party.”

Hangman strolls by, flicking Bob’s shoulder. “Down bad, Lieutenant.”

Bob mutters something under his breath. You catch his eye, amused, and mouth: You okay?

He gives you a subtle nod and a faint smile. Worth it.

By day three, things escalate.

Bob joins you for lunch in the base cafeteria. You’re seated at a quiet corner table, picking through fries when he appears with a tray and a nervous smile.

“Is this seat taken?” he asks.

You gesture at the empty chair with a smile. “It is now.”

He sits, close enough that your knees bump under the table. 

He takes a sip of his drink and glances sideways at you. “You always sit alone like this?”

You pop a fry into your mouth. “Only when I’m hoping someone will come flirt with me.”

Bob’s smile curves, soft but full of meaning. “How’s that going so far?”

You glance at him over the rim of your drink. “Promising.”

He shifts closer, his thigh brushing yours under the table. The warmth makes you very aware of how small the table actually is. When he picks up one of your fries without asking, you raise an eyebrow.

“Bold move, Lieutenant.”

He shrugs, chewing. “You said I should be more confident.”

You lean in just slightly, enough to let your shoulder graze his. “Careful. I might start liking it.”

His eyes drop briefly to your mouth, then flick back up. “Noted.”

You laugh, a quiet, breathy sound. He watches you like he wants to bottle it.

You swear he’s about to reach for your hand at one point, but instead he lets his fingers hover close to yours on the table, pinkies nearly touching. It’s nothing, and somehow everything.

“You always this charming on base?” you ask.

Bob smiles shyly. “Only around you.”

You feel your stomach flutter and bite your lip to hide the smile spreading across your face.

That night, after drills, Kari and Iris don’t even ask. They just look at you across the locker room bench with smug, satisfied expressions.

“Well?” Kari says, arching an eyebrow.

“Well what?” you ask, toweling off.

Iris grins. “Is he a good kisser?”

You freeze mid-swipe, then glance around to make sure no one’s eavesdropping.

Kari hoots. “That’s a yes.”

You throw your towel at her. “You’re both terrible.”

“But we’re right,” Iris says.

You sigh, sitting down and pulling your hair into a bun.

“He seems to be more daring now. Touching your back and everything,” Kari adds.

“I saw it,” Iris nods. “Like, full hand. No hovering.”

You groan. “You guys are exhausting.”

“But also correct,” Iris grins.

You laugh, trying to play it off. But your stomach flips anyway.

Because they're right.

And whatever this is—you’re not hiding it as well as you thought.

Bob is late to the break room and immediately regrets it.

“Finally,” Payback says, tossing a stress ball from hand to hand. “Lieutenant Slow Burn has arrived.”

“Have you even bought her flowers?” Fanboy grins.

Bob walks straight to the coffee pot and tries to become invisible. He does take note of the flowers though.

“Seriously though,” Rooster pipes in, leaning back in his chair with a toothpick between his lips, “what’s your play here, man?”

Bob glances up. “What do you mean?”

Phoenix raises an eyebrow. “He means... what exactly are you doing with Y/N?”

Bob hesitates. “We’re taking it slow.”

“Slow?” Hangman echoes. “Buddy, tectonic plates move faster.”

Payback laughs. “She clearly likes you. You like her. So why do you keep acting like you’re waiting for a permission slip from Command?”

“I don’t want to rush her,” Bob says quietly.

Fanboy shrugs. “What makes you think you’re the one pushing the pace?”

That quiets the room. Bob glances around, suddenly unsure.

Phoenix softens. “Look, we know you’re careful. That’s why we trust you. But Y/N? She’s the kind who won’t wait around forever. And this is a Navy base. People notice her. Someone else might make a move.”

Bob stiffens slightly. Something flickers in his jaw.

Hangman smirks. “And she’s hot. Don’t fumble this.”

Rooster nods. “You like her? Show her.”

Bob sets down his coffee, determination renewed. “I will.”

He asks you out the next morning.

Not to dinner. Not to the Hard Deck. A picnic.

Just off base, in a quiet clearing tucked behind tall grass and weathered fencing. There’s a checkered blanket, sandwiches in brown paper, iced tea in mason jars. A small speaker playing soft oldies. It’s low-key, thoughtful. Perfect.

You wear a short sundress. It’s casual but cute. The breeze toys with the hem, brushing softly against your thighs as you settle on the blanket barefoot, the sun warming your skin. Bob notices immediately. His gaze lingers longer than usual.

He sets everything out beside you, his movements careful but relaxed.

“I didn’t know you had this in you,” you murmur, taking a sip of tea.

He sits cross-legged, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head. “I had help.”

You glance at him. “Phoenix?”

“And Fanboy. They’re... terrifyingly invested.”

You laugh. “Well, they did good.”

For a while, it’s quiet. You eat. Talk about anything but you two. He listens when you rant about a delayed supply drop. You listen when he describes a ridiculous new maintenance protocol.

Then he shifts.

“Can I tell you something?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Always.”

Bob leans forward just slightly, his fingers toying with the edge of the picnic blanket. “You looked really pretty this morning.”

You blink. “That so?”

He nods. “That bun you had? The lip balm?” He clears his throat. “Distracting.”

You smile. “You’re noticing things.”

He tilts his head. “You think I don’t?”

“I don’t know,” you say, suddenly softer. “You’re hard to read.”

He leans in a little more, his voice low. “I notice everything about you, Y/N.”

That makes your stomach flip.

Then he reaches out, fingertips grazing the hem of your sundress where it rests on your thigh. His touch is light, almost idle, but deliberate. He glances up at you as his fingers trail the edge.

“This dress…” he murmurs, “it’s really working for me.”

Your breath catches. The brush of his fingers alone makes heat rise to your cheeks.

He leans in, lips just beside your ear. “You look irresistible.”

You pull back slightly, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

He grins. “You heard me.”

“You’re getting bold.”

Bob shrugs, his eyes locked on yours. “You make it hard not to be.”

You’re still flushed when he leans back, sipping from his juice like he didn’t just make you forget how to breathe.

Later, he drives you home. The silence in the car is warm and charged. Your fingers graze his on the center console. He doesn’t pull away. If anything, he presses back.

At your door, you pause. “Wanna come in?”

His eyes meet yours. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

The second the door closes, his mouth is on yours. You stumble back against the couch as he follows, hands on your hips, backing you into the cushions. You fall together, laughing softly between kisses.

His mouth finds your neck. You gasp.

“God,” you breathe, “you’re really going for it today.”

He pulls back just enough to say, “I’m done hesitating.”

You tug him in by the collar.

Your thighs spread to straddle him, knees bracketing his hips. The hem of your sundress rides higher as you settle into his lap. His hands slide up instinctively—starting at your knees, gliding over your bare thighs, slow and firm.

He kisses you again, deeper this time. Hotter. Mouth open, breath quick. His hands move up to your waist, then back down, then up again, greedy for contact.

You’re not sure where your hands end up—his shoulders, his neck, his chest—but you can’t stop touching him. Can’t stop wanting.

He pulls your dress higher, thumbs brushing the edge of your underwear. His mouth is on your jaw, your throat, your collarbone.

You whimper when he bites gently at your neck.

“God,” he whispers. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

You shiver. “Maybe that’s the plan.”

You roll your hips again, and he groans, eyes squeezing shut. His hands clutch your thighs tighter. You reach for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up. His hands suddenly hold yours, stilling it.

“I need to stop,” he says, barely above a whisper.

You nod, even though every nerve in your body protests. “Okay.”

You stay there, panting together, still tangled in each other. You understand, you really do. But it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t leave you frustrated.

You untangle yourself off him, then rest your head on his shoulders. His fingers intertwined with yours. 

He gives you another soft kiss. “I’m gonna go or else I’m never going to leave.”

You smile softly. “Never wanted you anyway.”

He chuckles and nods in agreement. He gets up slowly and walks to the door. He looks at you one last time before you close the door behind him. You lean against it for a long moment.

Happy but also confused. Unsure whether maybe this is becoming one-sided.

Bob doesn’t sleep that night. He lies awake, berating himself. Why did he stop? Was it fear? Was it self-sabotage? Was he reading into things too much?

She’d wanted him. You’d pulled him in and kissed him like you meant it.

He groans into his pillow. He knows you deserved clarity. You deserved more. But why can’t he take that next step?

The next day, you find Kari and Iris already mid-conversation when you enter the locker room.

“Morning,” you mutter, grabbing your towel.

Iris narrows her eyes. “You’re quiet.”

“Everything okay?” Kari asks.

You pause, then sigh. “Yeah. I think so.”

Iris lifts a brow. “That doesn’t sound convincing.”

You sit on the bench, pulling your hoodie tighter. “It’s just… maybe he’s not as into this as I thought.”

Kari blinks. “Wait, what? I would have thought you guys were already making out in every corner of the base.”

You groan. “Well… That’s the issue. We can’t seem to move past the making out.”

Iris leans forward. “Maybe because he actually respects you? And wants to do this right?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m being easy but I just thought it would feel more clear to him by now.”

Kari exchanges a glance with Iris.

Later that afternoon, unknown to you, Iris and Kari find Phoenix and Rooster leaning by the lockers. They’ve decided that perhaps it’s about time for some meddling.

“You two want to help give Bob a little nudge?” Iris asks.

Rooster smirks. “Always.”

Phoenix crosses her arms. “What’s the plan?”

Kari grins. “Make him jealous. Just enough to wake him up.”

Phoenix laughs. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

It starts with whispered coordination.

Iris corners Kari by the locker room sinks. “It’s time.”

Kari doesn’t even hesitate. “Rooster?”

“Already on board.”

Phoenix joins a moment later, arms crossed and smirking. “You sure this’ll work?”

Kari grins. “Nothing lights a fire like a little competition.”

The Hard Deck is busy but not packed, music humming low and lights warm as always.

You sit at the bar with Phoenix and Iris, sipping a beer and laughing, unaware of the machinations swirling around you. You’re wearing a soft blouse tucked into fitted shorts that show off you legs. It’s casual, comfortable, and gorgeous without trying. You’re relaxed, even glowing, the kind of smile that makes people turn their heads.

Rooster waves someone over. “Y/N, this is Mason. He’s new to the team.”

Mason is good-looking in the clean-cut way. Confident but not cocky. He shakes your hand and falls into conversation easily. 

You think he’s charming. He doesn’t have the appeal that Bob has on you but he leans in just enough when you talk that it’s not hard to get into the conversation. He says something genuinely funny that makes you laugh, makes you forget a bit that there’s an aviator who’s still confused about you. Perhaps a little distraction won’t hurt, right?

Bob walks in ten minutes later, shrugging off his jacket as he scans the room. He finds laughing. Lit up with someone who isn’t him. His chest tightens.

He heads toward the pool table, trying to play it cool, but Phoenix sees him immediately. Her eyes follow his line of sight, and her lips curve like she’s been expecting this.

Hangman nudges Bob’s elbow with his drink. “That guy’s been at it for a good fifteen minutes. Pretty sure he’s making progress.”

Bob’s jaw works silently as he watches.

Mason leans closer, murmuring something in your ear. You laugh again, nudging his shoulder. When he touches your elbow in return, Bob’s hand curls into a fist around his glass.

He watches for another moment. He sees how easy you are with him, how comfortable. It gnaws at him. That should’ve been him sitting there, making you laugh like that. He knows you guys are not exclusive but why does it make his chest tighten thinking about the possibility that someone else might call you his? Maybe he can only blame his self doubt for this.

He knows it’s ridiculous and he’s never been possessive. But when finally, you rest your chin on your hand and smile at Mason like you’re genuinely enjoying yourself, Bob moves.

He walks over, casual but purposeful, and stops behind her barstool.

“Hey,” he says, voice low.

You turn, startled at first. Then your expression shifts. “Bob—hey.”

Mason senses the shift instantly. He stands, offers a friendly nod and backs up slowly. “I’ll let you two catch up.”

You smile at him to wave him off.

You turn to Bob with a flicker of surprise. “You okay?”

He leans a forearm on the bar beside you, gaze steady. “Didn’t expect to see you with someone new.”

Your brow lifts slightly. “Mason? He’s Rooster’s friend. He just got transferred here.”

Bob nods slowly, but doesn’t move away. “He’s... charming.”

You tilt your head in confusion. “He is.”

There’s a beat.

Bob’s eyes flick to your lips. “I didn’t realize you were looking.”

The irritation rises within you, hot and fast.

You straighten your back. “I’m not looking.”

Bob’s gaze returns to your eyes, questioning but quiet.

“You think I’m out here trying to find someone else?” you ask, voice low but sharp. “After everything?”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He knows you're right.

“I’ve made it pretty damn clear who I want,” you add, standing up. “You’re the one who keeps acting like you’re not sure.”

You grab your bag, brushing past him.

“Y/N—”

“Good night, Bob.”

You don’t respond to his texts.

You kick off your boots when you get home, toss your bag onto the change and change into a soft take and cotton shorts. Your hair out of its clip, cascading over your shoulder while you brush it. You’re simmering with irritation. Where does he even get the audacity to question you like that?

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, frustration painted across your face. What more could you do? You believe you’ve shown enough interest in him. 

Then… A knock. It’s sharp. Urgent.

You walk out of your room and look at the door. You hesitate while walking to the door. Opening it slightly, you find Bob standing there. Surprise overtakes you and you slowly open it until your fully standing in front of him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, voice soft but stern. Arms crossed in front of your chest.

 Bob doesn’t say anything. He only steps forward, cups your face, and kisses you.

There’s nothing soft or hesitant about it this time. And it’s devastating.

His mouth crashes into yours with weeks of restraint burning away. One hand in your hair, the other gripping your hip as you stumble back into the apartment, gasping against his lips.

He kicks the door shut behind him. Your back hits the wall, and he pins you there with his body, pressing every line of himself against you.

Your hands tangle in his shirt, dragging it up, and his groan vibrates between you. His fingers dig into you thighs, then sweep up to your waist, bunching the hem of your tank as he kisses you deeper. Hotter. Hungrier.

“You were right,” he pants against your lips. “I’ve been holding back. But I’m not anymore.”

You don’t answer with words. Just pull him down again, your kiss fiercer now, fingers trailing along his belt. You exhale softly when he sucks gently at you neck.

When you finally break for air, he leans his forehead to your, chest heaving.

“I’m sure now,” he whispers.

You stare up at him, dazed and pink-lipped.

“You better be.”

Another pause. You hand finds his. And this time, you lead him inside.

Taglist: @jesterghuleh @sorry75 @midnighttithe @sneak-fic @Arriii @thatonedogwithablog @dragoste-lunes @yellowjm @kniselle @werockyeah @tgmreader @cummun1sta @holymacaroni84 @mericas-ass @rainymitskicain @wowitsafemale @jonnybernthalslover @funkyfable @msbyjackal @yaaawswn @luminous-beings-are-we-not @rikr3d@roc-haze

[msmk11]

Are They Gone?

Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

WC: 593

CW: none

Summary: You and Wanda, your longtime crush, are sent on a mission together.

Day 27 of mk’s mad dash

The mission, in theory, is simple. Get in, steal the data, get out. No one needs to get hurt. But for you, the mission is very very complicated. Why? Because you’re partnered with your crush of over a year- AKA the Scarlet Witch, AKA Wanda Maximoff. In group settings, you’re fine around Wanda. But as soon as you’re left alone, you forget to act like a regular, normal human being. You think Steve’s done this as payback for eating his last cookie the other day.

Natasha says you should be thrilled to have some quality one-on-one time with your crush. She seems to forget you’re not a natural flirt like her.

The first of half the mission goes well, though you suppose it’d be hard for it to go wrong- traveling on a private jet doesn’t typically have many difficulties. And the ones you did face- being in close proximity to Wanda- were handled with the disguise of sleep.

When you land, you and Wanda instantly set off to the office you’re supposed to infiltrate, both dressed in janitor’s clothing. The brunette’s magic gets you in the back door without detection easily enough, and the map you previously memorized plays out in your head as you guide the two of you to the enemy’s data storage units.

It seems that things are going perfectly, and so in your gut you know that something must go wrong. Something always goes wrong.

You’re right, but not in the way you think.

As you and Wanda round the corner on the sixteenth floor, the distinct voice of the enemy organization’s leader echoes through the tiled hall. You both know you’ll be recognized immediately, and panic settles into your chest. It’s quickly replaced with confusion, however, when Wanda grabs you by the wrist and yanks you into a cramped, dark place.

The janitor’s closet.

“Pretty good hiding spot,” the witch mumbles softly.

She’s so close to you that you can feel her breath fan across your face, and you shiver.

“I suppose we fit right in with the mop,” you agree.

A chuckle escapes Wanda’s lips and you can easily imagine the sparkle you’re sure is twinkling in her eye.

Just the thought of her pretty smile makes you nervous, and you instinctively step back. This, it seems, is a poor choice, given the close quarters you’re in. You stumble right into a shelf, and with enough force that a few cleaning supplies come tumbling towards the ground.

Yet again, the brunette in front of you saves your ass, her red magic suspending the fallen objects in place and one of her hands wrapping around your waist to steady you.

Though you’re always mesmerized by Wanda’s magic, as she puts the supplies back, all you can focus on is her burning touch.

“Gotta be careful, sweetheart,” she chastises gently, “could get caught, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Your heart stills in your chest. It almost seems like she cares for you.

You clear your throat awkwardly and shake away the silly notion, “are they gone?”

You expect Wanda’s eyes to glow red while she surveys the hall with her mind, but nothing happens. Instead, she squeezes your waist more tightly and murmurs, “I don’t care about them right now. Only care about you.”

The brunette leans closer to you and you inhale sharply.

“Can’t give up the moment to have a pretty girl in my arms.”

As usual, Wanda leaves you totally speechless. But hey, it’s not like you could argue with that.

[ferrariregina]

Charles Leclerc request

I hope to one day have it in me to make you as miserable as you've made me

misery on the fast lane | cl16 × reader

pairing: charles leclerc × reader

warning: angst, unedited, also lets act like charles won a gp recently okay? okay.

summary: mentioned above.

you are seated at home, the flickering flame of the candle throwing agitated shadows against the wall. outside, the night is dark and silent, the world seems to be as quiet as your heart. a single polaroid, nestled between a pile of books, catches your eye. it's you and charles. embraced in each others arms, grinning at the camera like idiots.

you miss him, you admit. the way his fingers would trace your skin, delicate and electrifying, the playful glint in his blue eyes, his terrible imitations of celebrities, and that contagious laughter. but the bitter poison of hurt and betrayal lingers stronger than the remnants of love.

he was not just anybody; charles was the fan-favourite driver. every time he'd leave, you would dread his impending return because it should have made you happy. instead, the fear of him losing his life on the racetrack made you miserable. the anxiety was unbearable, but he always returned with that exhilarating grin. until one day, he didn't.

he didn't crash. no, we were the ones who crashed and burned when he admitted having fallen for someone else.

"will you forgive me?" his last words left a bitter taste that you could not erase.

now, you fantasize about the payback. how would it feel to make him as miserable as he'd made you? there's a sick pleasure just imagining it. your heart, once full of love, is now brimming with vengeance.

the warmth he provided, the promise of countless tomorrows, all of it lost and unattainable now.

like a cruel joke or perhaps fate trying to mend your broken halves, you found yourself standing across charles at a bustling party one night. you watched him standing tall, sipping champagne, a captivating sight indeed. his eyes met yours across the sparkling crowd, with an emotion you couldn't fathom.

"hey," he greeted softly, as he moved closer. the effervescent laughter and congratulatory cheers for his recent victory seemed to drown out.

"charles," your greeting was soft-spoken, brimming with bittersweet nostalgia - but you were far from presenting an open book.

"you look…" he paused as if the words weighing him down. "you look beautiful."

"thank you" you replied, stiffening when he grazed your arm with his fingers, those familiar digits igniting an old flame.

"you know… I've missed you," he muttered, eyes pleading. you felt your heart stutter but the seed of vengeance watered, determined.

"that's strange," you replied, feigning naivety.

"I want you back," he declared, grip intensifying. "give me a chance. please."

every cell in your body cried out for his touch, for his promise of a tomorrow. but your pride screamed, insisting you not fall for his pleas. give him a taste of his own medicine, you reminded yourself. you chewed on your lip, hesitant, before releasing a gentle sigh.

"I'm sorry, charles," you replied, taking a step back. "that's not possible."

"b-but I miss you…" his plea embarrassingly desperate, making you wince, a pool of sorrow welling up inside. "can we try again? please?"

you laugh without humor, the sound harsh and louder than you intended. "you have some nerve, charles," you state, trying to wince back the tears threatening to fall.

"don't you miss what we had?" he asks almost pleading now.

you want to lash out, yell at him for what he did, but instead, you say, "what we had is past, charles. a closed chapter. "I still miss you," he says helplessly. suddenly the victorious f1 champion seemed to be nothing more than a broken man begging for forgiveness.

your eyes soften for a brief moment. you miss him too, yet the devout hope to make him feel your agony overpowers your longing for him. you yank your arm free and walk away, leaving him standing alone.

as you walk away, you find it difficult to determine whether you have become stronger or colder in fulfilling your hopes. but for now, you are satisfied, his piercing gaze burning into your back, mirroring the same misery he had inflicted on you.

a/n: I loved writing this, hope y'all enjoy reading.thanks for this request! requests are open!

xoxo

[hcgossips]

Spite!

Have you received a "thank you" for the Happy Bd you’ve addressed to Cavill? No! Do you know why? No? It’s not because of fans, toxic fans, ex fans or haters. Because, these were always on the internet. You haven’t had that “thank you” for a simple reason. Spite! As someone said here, on T, what Cavill does, he does it for the Industry. Your love and addoration for him only serves to please his Ego and boost his image for the Industry. What he does, he does for greed, not for you.

He’s actually giving a f**k to you. Fans have no relevance to celebs. They are seen as a mass tool to make them relevant to the Industry, that’s all. As long as there are idiots idolizing his fake persona, he gives a shit. That’s why he won’t stage the gentleman anymore. He thinks he has got what he wanted after all those years manipulating you to boost his image. Now, he’s tired of pretending. You can see the efforts he has been doing on staged situations shot to be released by press or posted on his fictional IG. They clearly scream “fake!”

The posts he intends to make, apparently, addressed to fans, are now, very mechanic, automatic, as if he was a robot giving a show. The joy, the the spirit, the sparkle he had recording those videos and taking those photos to post on his fictional IG, used to be genuine, but it’s gone. Because, before he was severely criticized for this PR circus, he was pleased for having your admiration and being able to manipulate your perception. Now, he realizes he can’t do it anymore and, has been acting like a stubborn nine-year old who is upset, vexed for not having what he expected. That’s very immature.

All those photos, event videos are all staged to sell his image. It was always that way. But, before this PR damage control, most were seen as true by the majority of his fans. He managed to deceive and manipulate your perception of him and make you love him (for what he’s not?). Now, the fandom was split apart, thanks to him, who no longer is able to continue staging and manipulating your perception on his behalf, for the mask has fallen and he is not managing to put it back.

But, what was he expecting to have, after intentionally, teasing, mocking and gaslighting his fandom with a payback addressed to fair criticism? He only made things worse. The fandom’s reaction was fair. They were surprised to see the astonishing contradiction between the persona they knew and the PR Cavill. But, he couldn’t accept being criticized, vexed and displeased. He couldn’t accept realizing his fragilities were exposed. He had options and could have made a lemonade out of lemons. But, he preferred to suck them. He hasn’t been able to deceive people with a fake persona, anymore. Now, trying must be exhausting! That’s vanity and stubbornness.

Now, Cavill seems just a great dude, an idiot, who did everything wrong for pride. And, thanks to the worst management a celeb may have. These four years showed me he’s definitely, not the guy he portrayed and this PR revealed his real facet. As soon as this PR stunt backlashed he should have ended immediately, to avoid exposing himself and Viscuso, and losing the trust and admiration of his fans. But, he did it all wrong: He insisted in exposing himself, jeopardizing his image, and exposed Viscuso to public execration. Not for a second he thought about her integrity. That’s not what a gentleman does. He should have avoided her exposure, because her rep screwed him. Of course, she has no self pride, either. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have accepted being exploited.

All he wanted was to push his narrative against criticism as a stubborn, who can’t admit making a mistake. He preferred to continue banging his head on the wall and punching air. That’s arrogance. He could have had a humble attitude towards his fans, dealing with the bad publicity in a different and more mature way. But, he was arrogant, couldn’t accept criticism, wrongly thinking that, by teasing and gaslighting his fans and followers, he was “defending” his promiscuous PR, when actually, he was taking advantage of her fragilities and expectations to use her in his circus, throwing her under the bus.

She put herself available to this shenanigan, because she was pleased to be the fake girlfriend of Superman. An ugly duckling with no sense of self pride, with a sad family history (in which she clearly had experiences that gave her a feeling of rejection), would finally, have the chance to pretend to date a gorgeous celeb. She wanted to exhibit herself. And, Cavill took advantage of that, using her as a shield and a cannon fodder, while exposing her to public execration. And, that woman, treated like a rag, accepted it, for a few scenographic kisses and public appearances beside a gorgeous, but dude man. What a pitiful woman this Natalie must be. Both are two dumb idiots.

If insisting in this narrative and really interested in defending this woman, he should have been a better actor and more committed to the fake plot, giving a more profound statement:

“It has come to my knowledge that my girlfriend, Natalie (avoid last names, for they are impersonal or even give her a nickname, which is cute), has been suffering a tremendous backlash from my fandom. Despite pleased with the attention and love my dear fans (shows reciprocity) have shown for me, it makes me really sad that Natalie, my loving companionship, mother of my child and the woman I chose as future wife to spend my life with (it would be nice to praise her once in a while and it reaffirms the narrative, turning it more convincing), has been facing such a diffuicult moment, just because of me. I expected my fandom, which I respect deeply, would be as happy as I am for having such an incredible woman supporting me, beside me for what it takes, a woman who makes me real proud (of being her man).”

Or something alike. But, this is not happening, for he doesn’t go that far to commit to the lies. The further he got was to take funny pics with dogs and a photo in a baby room, on father's day. He wants to establish the narrative without commiting 100%. He prefers to be a Humpty Dumpty and stay on the wall without choosing a side, expecting people to accept the circus. Well, we don’t have to. And we are entitled to doubt it and criticize his professional choices. After these four years, he not only proved this is a PR, he also exposed himself as a complete idiot for a promiscuous he doesn't even know well, who doesn't even have self respect.

[sanguinemoonglitch]

Title: A Conspiracy of (Ex)Cerberus Operatives

Summary: The war has ended. So, now what?

NB: Another shorter one just because a natural break emerged.

(Previous)

VIII.

Kaidan wandered into the kitchen as Miranda was finishing assembling their breakfast. He poured himself a cup of coffee and debated whether he wanted powdered milk or to brave taking it black. Sugar was even harder to come by. He grimaced. Black it was.

“Maybe we should consider chickens,” he said as he helped Miranda set the table.

“Chickens? Do any of us even know what to do with animals?” Miranda was skeptical.

“I mean, probably not, but we’re all smart enough—”

“Are you certain of that, Alenko?” Jack walked over to get his own coffee.

Kaidan rolled his eyes. “Good morning to you, too, Harper,” he replied.

Inara was on his heels so Jack passed her the cup he had just poured before grabbing a second for himself. “Why are you annoying Kaidan, Jack?”

“It’s entertaining to get a rise out of all you Alliance types,” he replied easily.

“Uh-huh,” she replied. She took a sip of her coffee and her eyes sparkled with amusement at him over the rim.

“Why do I sense revenge in the works?” he asked suspiciously.

“You’re a smart man, Jack Harper,” Inara replied with a smirk.

He shook his head, but Inara saw his eyes crinkling with amusement, and she grinned. As she took another sip of her coffee, she looked around the room. Kaidan and Miranda looked like they were continuing their discussion from before Jack had interrupted. Jack was watching her, his eyes warm and his expression content. Only Petrovsky was missing, but Inara knew it wouldn’t take him long to arrive. The mood in the room was light, comfortable. They had more days in good humor than not, of late, and she loved it.

Just then she saw Petrovsky enter the room. He was always the last to arrive in the mornings and the last to leave at night. Jack was still standing next to the coffee machine and he wordlessly poured him a cup.

“So what was this idea Jack was mocking you about?” Inara asked Kaidan.

“I had just been telling Miranda maybe we should get some chickens. It might be nice to have eggs for breakfast instead of ration packs.”

“If we can figure out what to feed them, maybe… or where to get them,” Inara said doubtfully.

“Et tu, Inara?” Kaidan gave her an exaggerated look of betrayal.

“So dramatic, Kaidan,” Miranda tutted at him with a small smile.

Inara looked at Miranda in surprise. That was the first time she’d heard Miranda address Kaidan by his first name. She glanced at Kaidan who was looking at her, the tips of his ears burning. Inara smiled but let it go. Her expression promised Kaidan an interrogation later, though.

Jack interrupted their wordless banter to tell them all that after breakfast they would have a quick meeting.

“Can’t we just have it now?” Inara asked—complained, really. “We’re already all here.”

Jack gestured towards Oleg who obviously wasn’t a morning person. “It would be rather counter-productive at this point, don’t you think?” he said, amusement lacing his tone.

Oleg merely glared at him, unable to summon a retort. Jack smirked at him before leaning over to say quietly, “Consider that payback for yesterday.”

Thankfully, they all valued efficiency, so when Jack said “a quick meeting” it was always true. He filled them in on Oleg’s new role.

“About time he got some real work that didn’t involve standing around watching Kaidan and me doing hard labor,” Inara said.

Miranda covered her laugh with a cough.

Jack gestured for them to settle down, barely avoiding rolling his eyes at their antics. “Speaking of which,” he began, “Shepard, how are the demolition projects going?”

“Destructively,” Inara replied with an impish grin. “I’d actually guess we have another week’s, maybe even two, worth of work left. Most of the material isn’t salvageable, unfortunately. So phase two will have to include sourcing the replacement materials.”

“Noted,” Jack replied. “Then if no one has any other updates, I’d like to talk to Miranda and Alenko in my office.”

The group dispersed and the three went up to Jack’s office. He wasted no time. “Alenko, how have your migraines been?”

Kaidan paused before answering as he suddenly realized that he had to think about it. He frowned. “Almost non-existent since the war ended. I haven’t had cause to be using my biotics much. Even if I use them when Shepard and I are working, I just get normal headaches. Nothing like when I used them in battle.”

Jack nodded as though that confirmed an idea he’d had. “I think,” he began slowly, his eyes on Kaidan, “I’d like for us to begin by studying the L2 implants.”

Kaidan’s face shuttered and he crossed his arms, but he only said, “Go on.”

Jack nodded approvingly. “I’d like to see if we can improve quality of life for L2s, and I would suggest we start by working on treating your migraines. My hope is that we can learn enough to translate that to repairing the causes of the worse side effects. While there are newer generations of implants even since Shepard’s biotics were discovered, I think there is still much to be learned from the L2s.”

Kaidan’s body language shifted dramatically as he listened. By the time Jack was done, he was all in. “That—um, yes, I agree,” he said, feeling thoroughly confounded. He obviously hadn’t given Inara enough credit when it came to Jack. Kaidan glanced at Miranda who was nodding thoughtfully.

She looked at Jack. “I assume that you want me to take charge of this?” she asked.

“Yes, exactly,” he replied. “I know you had some other ideas relative to the L2 implants, but I think we’ll have better long-term results with this. And… less risk of unnecessary death.”

Now both Kaidan and Miranda looked at him in surprise. They had never expected to hear such a thing from The Illusive Man himself. Kaidan eyed him appraisingly. Jack was beginning to scowl under their scrutiny. He could tell what they were thinking by how they looked at him.

Kaidan shook his head. “I won’t lie: I didn’t really believe Inara’s insistence that The Illusive Man is dead… Until now. I’ll be glad to work with you on this. I can even make a list of names that I remember from BaAT.”

“Thank you, Alenko. Miranda will let you know what she needs from you and when.” Jack nodded at him and it was clearly a dismissal.

Kaidan looked over at Miranda who indicated that she’d talk with him soon, and then he left, leaving Jack and Miranda alone for the first time in months.

Jack avoided her gaze. Unlike him, he knew, but it felt like she was weighing him—and finding him wanting. The sensation was unfamiliar, uncomfortable. “You’ll have complete control over the project,” Jack said, busying himself with a stack of data pads. “I’ll need regular reports, of course, and the budget will be more limited than what you had for Lazarus, but—”

Miranda interrupted him. “Stop, please—you’re rambling, and it’s very unsettling.”

Jack stopped and forced himself to meet her eyes. She was smiling gently.

“You really have changed,” she said to him, wonder in her voice. “I knew it, of course, but I didn’t really know just how much until now. And it’s not just Inara either, is it?”

“Rather remarkable how different the world looks when you don’t have Reapers whispering in your head,” he said ruefully.

“I genuinely believed in your ideals, you know,” she replied. “I tried to convince Shepard of that, after she first awoke.”

Jack shook his head. “She had good reason for her skepticism,” he explained.

“I learned that—later.” Miranda studied him closely. It wasn’t merely that he was suddenly concerned with avoiding unnecessary deaths that told her things had changed. His bearing was subtly different. His face was less hard. The war had aged him, as it had all of them, but he looked as though a weight that he had carried for a very, very long time had been lifted off his shoulders.

Jack withstood her scrutiny. He owed her this much, he thought. “Miranda, you should know that I… regret very much treating you as though you were disposable.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “You mean you’re sorry for sending Leng after me,” she translated.

“Yes,” he said, a little begrudgingly. He was sorry. He just didn’t like to admit it in so many words. He sighed. “You were an invaluable member of Cerberus, and really, the resources I used against you should be seen as a testimony to just how much you knew and how much damage you could do.”

Miranda laughed. “The world would truly have turned upside down if you suddenly became good at apologies, I think. Thank you… Jack. I’m looking forward to working with you,” she said. She began to leave the room.

Jack nodded. “And Miranda? Thank you for saving me at the Citadel and your care afterwards. If anything, I would have deserved it if you had left me,” he said quietly.

Miranda paused in the doorway to look at him. “I did it for Inara, not you,” she admitted, “but I will say that I am glad I did it.”

(Next)

[wordsvomit101]

5. Afterschool

(7 months after the death of Mr and Mrs Lee)

The coach let the team off earlier than usual today, he would enjoy another drill session or obstacle course. However, not every kid has the stamina like him, and they would tackle him to the ground the moment he even uttered the sentence.

Not that he minds more free time, the team has just won a major baseball tournament last month and the next 2 weeks will be summer break. They all want to spend as much free time as they can.

As he walked toward the library and passed the school's Hall of Fame, he couldn't help but feel embarrassed when he thought of his pictures that were being presented there, which were of him clumsily carrying 4 of his award trophies with a stupid-looking grin.

"Hyung and Raon were laughing their butts off too...", he sulked about it for half a day in his room and locked his brother from going in before being lured out by his mom and Raon who gave him tteokbokki they made that evening.

He was proud of course, who wouldn't? Even a few of his friends in the club wouldn't shut up about it even days after their victory. They had the most fun rubbing their win in their opponents' faces.

"While I should have warned them about making enemies early on... but the other teams didn't exactly make it worth trying anyway"

His feet feel lighter remembering the long, funny faces of the other teams. He passed some people on his way to meet up with Raon and was delayed quite a bit. One of them gave him banana milk as a gift for helping her with homework so it was fine.

When he got to the library and started to look around for the violet-haired girl, he saw her lying on the couch, her nose buried in a romance drama book she told him about yesterday. Headphones rested over her ears, and her lips moved silently as she read. Either too engrossed in the book or cannot hear him walking in, knowing her, it is probably both.

With a slowly growing mischievous smile on his face, "... Well, at worst, she would only hit me by the shoulder for ruining her focus of the story"

Minhyeok's footsteps were as soft as a cat's as he crept up on Raon. This is childish but also the perfect opportunity for revenge for that time.

After waiting for a few seconds, with a swift movement, Minhyeok pounced from behind her, his fingers extended like lightning. He tickled Raon's sensitive side, and a high-pitched squeal erupted from her. The book lands on the floor with a thud and her headphones fall off her ears. Raon's eyes widened, and she glared at Minhyeok, her cheeks flushed from the laughter and tickling.

"Yah!" she exclaimed, a pout forming on her lips. "That wasn't fair!" Minhyeok just laughed, his eyes sparkling with delight.

"Oh, come on, it was just a little payback," he said. "Besides, you were so engrossed in your book that you didn't even notice me sneaking up on you", despite her glare, Raon couldn't help but smile.

"I was getting to the good part!", she said as she gave his shoulder a weak slap before picking up her book on the floor.

"But you're lucky I'm in a good mood. If I wasn't, I would have tackled you to the ground and tickled you until you begged for mercy" Minhyeok feigned a shudder, knowing that he always let her win.

"I'm sure I would have deserved it," he said dramatically. "At least, not now." Raon scoffed and gave him a questioning look.

"Why did you come so early today? Didn't you have practice this evening?"

She has been more absentminded lately so it was nice to know that she still makes sure to remember his schedule, as much as he does for her. His heart never stopped warming up knowing this.

"We did but the coach let us off early today, he will probably do the same until summer break comes"

Raon makes a small acknowledgment sound at that, before noticing the banana milk he has in his hand. Her right eye gave an annoyed twitch before settling back into her usual nonchalance.

"Getting another gift again on your way here?", her voice seemed a bit strained to him but he would likely not get an answer from her if he asked. So he walked over and sat beside her, twisted the cap off a bottle of creamy banana milk, the sweet aroma wafting up to greet him. He gave it to her in amusement.

"If you want it, just say it, here, and we can share", Raon somewhat relaxed and took the bottle from him, seemingly pleased about something but changing the subject as quickly as she put them up.

"Do you plan to go to any summer camps this break? You went to a swimming camp for 4 weeks last year"

Minhyeok loved the swimming camp last year. The camp was held at the aquatics center in town, and the water was the clearest he had ever seen. At first, he was nervous to get in the water since he hadn't swum for 2 years before, but his counselors, blessed them, were patient with him, and helped smooth the experience a lot. 

By the end of the week, he was swimming like a fish and first to jump into the pool. He made new friends at the camp, and he learned a lot about teamwork and perseverance. He also learned how to scuba dive, which was fun.

He had planned to spend 2 weeks in general arts camp and 2 weeks in cooking camp this year but...

"I don't want to leave her alone for long this year"

"No, my old man and mom talked about taking us all to visit some museums in Seoul and going to the night markets in Dongdaemun Design Plaza"

Raon's anxiety was palpable from the moment he mentioned going out. She fidgeted with the bottle in her hands and her lips trembled slightly. 

He quickly reassures her in the best soothing tones he can manage, "Don't worry, each one of us will stay by your side and we can change our vacation to somewhere quiet or we could spend time at my grandparents' home if you want. I'm sure they would be happy to have us there"

Raon's sharp breath hissed through her teeth as she weighed the decision, her eyes darting back and forth before they met his. The silence was deafening, the air thick with tension. Finally, with a slow nod, her smile bloomed, crooked and a bit sad, but not entirely. "If it's alright...I would like that," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

The evening sun in summer streaming through the window and illuminated her face with a soft, golden glow. Minhyeok felt a surge of happiness wash over him as he smiled brightly at the girl beside him. Her eyes sparkled with amusement at his silly face, and her laughter filled the air with a sweet melody that danced around them like a thousand tiny bells.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

End notes:

Banana milk in Korea, known as "바나나 우유" (banana uyu), is a popular and iconic flavored milk drink. Banana milk is widely enjoyed by people of all ages in South Korea and is commonly found in convenience stores, supermarkets, and vending machines. It's often consumed as a refreshing beverage or as a snack. Banana milk has become a cultural symbol in Korea and is cherished for its nostalgic taste and convenient packaging.

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #1128: Peachy Sunset (Super Smash Bros Ultimate)

6:45 p.m. at Smash Beach........

Peach: (Sighs Very Sadly as She Lays her Head onto Mario's Lap)

Mario: What's wrong, dear?

Peach: Summer is coming to a close. (Eyes Starts Sparkle in Sadness) And so is Peach Month.......

Mario: You do realize it's supposed to be a celebration of a fruit with the same name, right?

Peach: I know that! (Stsrts Twiddling her Fingers Around) It just feels nice to have your name be associated with a month long holiday. That and my love for peaches doubles my disappointment even further than- (Eyes Widened Once She Hears Mario Snickering Before Pouting at Him) And what seems to be funny to you, mister?~

Mario: Ohhh nothing of sort~ (Smirks Playfully at his Girlfriend) Just admiring how adorable you are is all~ (Boops on Peach's Nose)

Peach: ('Gasps') Excuse you!?~

Mario: (Boops on Peach's Nose Once More) You're excused~

Peach: (Starts Pouting Some More) Don't you start! I thought we've already established that YOU'RE the cute one in this relationship, Mr. Mario!~

Mario: And I was under the impression that you're a lot cuter. Not doing a very good job proving me otherwise by the way.

Peach: Kinda hard not to when you're shamelessly teasing your loving princess right now!~

Mario: Hey, in all fairness, you've been going around showing my cuteness off numerous times now. (Forms a Satisfied Smirk) So I consider this payback.

Peach: So you're admitting that you're a cutie?

Mario: (Eyes Begins to Widened at the Realization) W-What!? N-No! I didn't- See, what I meant to say was-

Peach: (Raised an Eyebrow at Mario in Silence) .........

Mario: ('Sighs in Defeat') I got myself into that one, didn't I?

Peach: (Casually Shrugs) You said it not me. (Smiles Brightly) But it's fine. I still love you~

Mario: (Smiles Back at his Princess) Love you too, dear. I never said this as often as I should, but I'm really happy to have you and everyone else in my life right now.

Peach: (Heart Begins to Melt in Pure Happiness as She Hugs Mario Very Lovingly) Honey~ I'm happy to have you all in my life too!~ It's always been one of my dreams to have a big family of my own someday, and have you guys as one always managed to put a smile on my face everyday I wake up in the morning.

Mario: Even Bowser?

Peach: To extend, yes. He's still a massive headache though.

Mario: (Chuckles Lightly) You and me both~ Don't worry, I'll always be here to protect you, mi'lady.

Peach: And I'll do the same for you too, my sweet, handsome teddy bear of a prince~

Mario: (Raises an Eyebrow) Teddy Bear, huh?

Peach: You'll always be adorable in eyes, okay? Sue me!~

Mario: Nah. I'd rather give you my loving instead, of that's okay woth you, of course~

Peach: (Giggles Softly) Absolutely~

The couple leans forward to give one another a kiss on the lips until three splashes of water suddenly hits Mario on the back.

'SPLASH' SPLASH' 'SPLASH'

Mario: (Immediately Gets Himself Up From the Impact) GAHAHH! What in the-(Suddenly Hears Mischievous Laughter as He and Peach Turns Around to see Sonic and Hat Kid Standing in the Mid Distance with Water Ballons in Their Hands)

Sonic: (Forms a Cocky, Troublemaking Smirk on his Face) Hate to ruin such sweet romance moment, but we're in the middle of a Water Wars and you guys are it.

Hat Kid: (Smiles Brightly While Sitting Behind Sonic's Head) Catch us if you can!~

The duo quickly runs off, leaving their parents in the dust.

Mario: (Stares at the Kids Running Off With Deadpinned Look on his Face) We finally have some alone time and they pulled a cheap one on us? I'm starting to get too old for this....I.

Peach: Oh don't fret, honey. We'll continue our alone time in the bedroom later. In the meantime.....(Pulls Put Water Spary Guns For her and Mario to Use With a Competitive Smirk on her Face) Let's show our babies who they're messing and get our payback. (Toss Mario his Water Gun)

Mario: (Catches a Water Gun Peach Gives Him Before Forming a Smirk.of his Own) Let's-a-go. Ohhhh kids!~ Where are you!?~ (Starts Chasing After Spnic and Hat Kid)

Peach: (Follows Behind her Prince) We just wanna talk to you two with water guns!!!!~

@keyenuta

@cyber-wildcat

@caleb13frede

@albion-93

[boundlessimaginarium]

Sweet Moment

Words: 677 Note: Yves and Claire go on a picnic date.

"Check, check, check, aaaaand... Check!" Claire remarked, shifting her focus from the assortment of sandwiches and desserts arranged on the kitchen table to Yves, her smile bright. "Looks like we have everything!"

Yves, with his blonde hair catching the sunlight streaming through the window, returned her smile, his blue eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Good. Let's go."

After they had packed all the items into a woven basket, carefully arranging the triangular sandwiches alongside the pastries, a teapot, and two teacups, they left the kitchen and made their way to the gardens. The air was fragrant with the scent of blooming roses, and the gentle rustle of leaves created a soothing backdrop as they walked.

They eventually found a secluded spot and settled down, spreading a checkered blanket beneath them with the basket positioned between them.

As they began to unpack the food, Claire's excitement bubbled over. "It's so nice outside! Perfect for a picnic."

"You're very excited today." Yves noted, humming softly as he carefully placed a set of chocolate éclairs on the blanket.

"Hehe. That's because I'm with you. You've been busy lately and I wanted to find a way for you to relax." Picking up a sandwich, Claire playfully offered it to Yves. "Open wide!"

A faint blush crept onto his cheeks. "Y-You don't need to do that! I'm not a child!"

"I know, but you're my boyfriend and I want to feed you."

"Then let me reciprocate since you're my girlfriend." Yves replied, picking up a sandwich and extending it towards Claire's lips.

The young woman happily accepted it, leaning forward and taking a bite. "Mhm! It twastes swo gwood!"

"Don't speak with your mouth full, silly."

Claire swallowed her bite before apologizing. "Sorry! I couldn't help it. Here. It's your turn."

She offered the sandwich she had been holding to Yves, who took a bite and chewed thoughtfully, his eyes brightening with pleasure at the flavor.

"It tastes delicious." He spoke.

After finishing the sandwiches, it was time for dessert. Claire knitted her brow and hummed softly as she surveyed the options, contemplating which one to indulge in first. "Hm... Which one should I choose?"

After a moment of thought, she picked a raspberry tart and took a bite. "Oh, wow! This is delicious!"

She heard Yves chuckle and turned her head towards him, her fern green eyes widened slightly. "What is it?"

Yves lightly shook his head. "Nothing. You're just being incredibly adorable right now."

Claire felt a warm blush creep up her cheeks at his compliment. She had always appreciated his playful teasing, but it always made her heart flutter every time he said it. She took another bite of the raspberry tart, savoring the sweet and tangy burst of flavor that danced on her tongue. "You're cuter."

"No, you are. You get all serious when you're trying to make a decision, and then you light up when you finally choose. It's adorable. You're the cutest, most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on. I'm glad that you're here with me, Claire."

"Me too. I'm so happy to be with you, Yves. I don't want to leave your side."

Overwhelmed with joy, Yves leaned in and kissed her. When he pulled back, he licked his lips and gave her a playful look. "Mhm... Sweet."

The blush on Claire's face deepened and she glanced down at her lap, nibbling on the tart to distract herself from the kiss. Yves observed her with delight, his heart swelling at the sight of her flustered state, before turning his attention to a nearby cupcake.

Seizing the moment, Claire looked up and leaned in, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. "There! Consider that payback."

Yves's eyes widened in surprise. "Wha—?! That's not fair!"

"Hehe. Gotcha!"

"Ugh! You... Stop being so adorable!"

"Never."

Yves turned his gaze away, his face reddening further, warmth creeping up his neck. "Goodness... You're going to be the death of me someday." He said, his tone half-serious, half-joking.

He smiled as he added, "But I wouldn’t have it any other way."

[kunoichi-ume]

Payback...Sparkles?

The long awaited payback for Fynta’s All Saint’s Wake prank. I hope Fynta isn’t too mad @cinlat, Koko got her spell right.... hopefully. 

Standing in front of the locked door, Cobi looked around to ensure Ruffles was taking his job as look out seriously. Thankfully her husband was standing near the stairs, trying to look casual as he leaned against the wall. Catching her looking his way, he smiled and shot her a thumbs up. 

“All’s clear love, better get started.”

Cobi nodded and leaned over to examine the door’s lock. She had only recently started taking lessons at the Rogue’s Guild in Limsa Lominsa but one of the first things Jacke had drilled her on was lockpicking. It was, as he explained, an essential skill for any and all who wanted to represent the Rogue way of life. A throwback to their more… unruly days before going mostly straight. 

She had taken to the Rogue skills easily, to her own surprise because they could not be farther from what her Bard skills. Playing a harp and wielding a bow had done little to prepare her for sneaking about, picking locks and striking quickly with her new daggers. Now she was more than pleased to have her new skills, without them she would never have gotten past the door in front of her without damaging it. When the lock clicked and the door opened there wasn’t a scratch on the lock’s decorative metal plate, no sign it had been tampered with. Her rogue skills were, so far, a secret to the rest of her Company and only Ruffles knew of her new endeavor.

The mystery of how she had gotten into Fynta Wolfe’s apartment would make her revenge that much sweeter. The woman had interrupted a particularly romantic night for the Miqo'te woman and her Hrothgar husband. It was only fair she got some comeuppance. All Saints Wake had been a few weeks ago, enough to hopefully make the other woman comfortable that no retribution was coming her way. It had just taken time to acquire the proper supplies. 

Now that the door was open phase two of Cobi’s plan was ready to begin. Moving across the hall she opened her own apartment;s door, grinning at the sight of the very special machine she had commissioned. It was, by all appearances, a very innocent bubble machine. After enlisting the help of a particularly creative and chaotic Lalafell named Koko it now created something a little more malicious than gentle soap bubbles. 

Placing the machine at the threshold of Fynta’s apartment, Cobi checked again that the proper ingredients were added to the machine. The first few iterations of the recipe had been explosive disasters, something she had expected. Koko was known for chaos and fiery blasts after all. Some tweaking had been necessary to make the perfect balance. 

Cobi took a deep breath and held it while she turned the machine on. She really hoped it didn’t exploud. It shouldn;t, but you never knew when Koko was involved. Instead of blowing up in a fiery boom the machine rattled a little and then the first translucent bubble appeared out of the spout. It was a shimmery pink color and she could just make out the handful of sparkly glitter pellets inside the sphere. No sooner had the first bubble pulled away from the machine with a soft plop sound than the second started to form. This one was as blue as a summer’s day. The next was green. Then purple. Then red. On and on the machine went, creating bubble after bubble. 

Soon the doorway of Fynta’s apartment was filled with bubbles, each new one pushing the next one further into the room. Cobi hadn’t decided if she was going to let the machine run until it ran out of materials to create the bubbles or stop before it filled the entirety of the room when Ruffles whistled softly. Jerking her head his way he motioned down the stairs. It was their agreed on signal that Fynta had returned to the Company house and she needed to get out of sight quickly. 

Nodding she flipped off the machine, pulled it into the hallway and closed the door behind the mass of bubbles. She had just checked that the lock had reengaged when Ruffles was at her side, hefting the machine in his arms and ushering her into their apartment. “She’s on her way up now, Koko stopped her in the main room to buy us some time.” 

Bless that little hellion, Cobi thought, knowing she owed the Lalafell a trip to her favorite bakery for all her help. Ruffles walked further into their apartment, stashing the machine somewhere, but Cobi couldn’t make herself walk away from the door. It would muffle the sounds from the hall but she wanted to know the moment Fynta opened her door. 

One of her ears twitched as she heard footsteps on the landing. Fynta was here and, from the sound of it, Kirin was with her. That was fitting as he was there on All Saint’s Wake as well. She listened to them approach the door and even heard the jingle of keys as Fynta unlocked her door. For a moment she didn’t hear anything else and pressed closer to the door, worried something had gone wrong. Silence was the last reaction she expected. 

Her patience was rewarded a heartbeat later. 

“What the shite is all this? Fynta demanded. 

“It looks like… bubbles?” Kirin said, his confusion easy to hear. 

“I can see that, what are they doing in my apartment?” 

“Bugger if I know, it’s not like you haven’t pulled your own share of pranks lately.” 

Fynta laughed, “that’s true but damn. This is going to leave a soapy mess on all my things. Guess we better start popping them.”

Cobi grinned, that was exactly what she wanted to happen. See, with Koko’s help, these were no ordinary bubbles. They were enchanted bubbles. Pop one and it would set off a chain reaction, every bubble in the room would burst, throwing their multicolored glitter on every surface in a yalm all directions around it. Glitter that would stick fast to anything it landed on. 

Sure enough a moment later she heard a series of pops and a pair of surprised shrieks as the glitter bombs exploded. She started to laugh and felt Ruffles’ hand on her face, muffling the sound. She looked up at her husband as the sound of curses came through the door. 

He shook his head, “I still think glitter was a step too far, love. That shite is the worst.” 

Cobi pushed his hand away from her face and grinned, “of course it is but this is magic glitter. Koko promised it would be impossible to clean up but would also disappear after about 12 hours.”

Ruffles frowned, “and you trust that little chaos monster?” He had learned first hand after a few assignments with the energetic woman that where Koko went peace rarely followed. Chaos Monster had been an affectionate, and appropriate, nickname for her ever since. 

Thinking about it for a moment, Cobi bit her lip and had to admit that not testing the glitter herself beforehand had probably been an oversight. “Perhaps it would be a good time to take a trip to Costa del Sol, just in case.”

[nyaitsu-writes]

✧ koga, rei, shu | halloween part 2! ✧

and here we are on part 2 of my extremely self indulgent halloween hcs series! this time it goes over 1.6k words because i got a little too motivated oops also happy late birthday shu! i featured some mika here too because,, valkyrie is a family, okay?  (*˘︶˘*).｡*♡

REI SAKUMA;

✦ once again, rei’s connections blow your mind as you find out his “halloween date” for this year: he’s taking you to a haunted manor. no, not one of those haunted house attractions, i mean he somehow managed to find an old victorian mansion that is most definitely haunted for you to spend your halloween night. together. just the two of you. romantic, isn’t it?（￣︶￣） 

✦ for it is all hallow’s eve! the one and only night in the year where monsters such as himself are allowed to roam freely outside of their world, trying to charm innocent little humans like you. fufufu it’ll be especially bad if you fall for his vampiric charm today but… can you even resist him? worry not, he will be especially charming just for you~

✦ the old part of the house definitely adds a bit to the fun! you’ll have to go upstairs to explore the building, chandelier on hand and. wait. what was that? it’s probably just the wind but… rei starts remembering an old story the owner of the house told him, an old family friend. see, there used to be a couple that lived in this house, just about your age. rumour says he was a vampire and he convinced his lover to join him in the afterlife by turning them into a vampire…. ah, what do you mean he got closer? no he didn’t, dearest, that’s just you~

✦ following that, rei can see surprisingly well in the darkness and he is going to take that to his own personal advantage. just as he keeps telling his story, his hands are quick to get you pinned against the wall. wouldn’t you want to do that? to become one of his own? to spend eternity and beyond by his side? his voice is soft and alluring, red eyes sparkling under the moonlight with a hint of mischief just so you know he’s teasing… maybe (*/ω＼*) or maybe he’s saying the truth, only rei will know!

✦ worry not! it will probably just end in a soft kiss on your neck, seeing as your legs have gotten weaker and your face is all red. just a soft, innocent little kiss in your neck, nothing else... he will complain in a whisper about how you’re the one teasing him here, looking always so cute and tempting… he really really wants to take a bite after all…~ but he’ll do his best to be a nice gentleman just for you, okay?

✦ ignoring that little scare, rei’s teasing for the rest of the night is really nice and soft. after exploring the mansion from top to bottom, you end up crashing on the huge and fluffy bed of the main room, with a very happy rei cuddling you. i’m afraid that’s payback for having to be a good boy for so long, he’ll need some midnight cuddles (*´꒳`*) after all, he’s more active at night and doesn’t want to go to bed so soon… 

✦ just holding you between his arms is enough, whispering sweet secrets into your ear about just how much he loves you. about how happy he is that you decided to accompany him to this little improvised trip. when you get married, should you buy this house together~? teasing, teasing, there’s a long while until that! but you’ll stay by his side forever, vampire or not, right? yeah. even with your eyes closed, you can feel his smile as you nod against his chest. he is just so genuinely happy to have you next to him <3

KOGA OOGAMI;

✦ surprise surprise: koga does enjoy halloween quite a bit! yeah the kids running around asking for sweets every so often can get a bit annoying sometimes but it’s actually kiiiind of fun, not like he’ll admit it. it’s more about the vibes, you know?

✦ i can see you two walking leon together! since koga didn’t want to wear a costume because “he’s not a kid!” you went all out and made some cute devil horns for leon,, he looks so cute. it’s not your fault if you can’t help but pamper such a good boy? give him lots and lots of smooches!

✦ aaaand it took koga a few 15 seconds to accept the costume thing. a brand new record! we’ll see about a full costume but for now he’ll accept some cool wolf ears. wolf ears. don’t you mistake them with a dog’s or he’ll get offended. may i suggest matching wolf/cats ears for you two? while walking devil!Leon? absolutely adorable! ( ⁎ᵕᴗᵕ⁎）

✦ we all know that koga is extremely popular with puppies but believe me when i say that he is with kids too. all these cute little devils, witches and vampires  surrounding him, asking to pat leon and him. those ears you made looked so soft that the kids thought it was the real thing,, you’ll have to hold your laughter as koga grumbles and pulls down, letting them pat his head and leon’s.

✦ “mr werewolf is so cool!” it takes koga some seconds to realize what they said. they called him cool. not cute, not adorable, not a dog. they called him a werewolf. well, it’s close enough to a wolf! it works good enough for him! watch him boast around, a proud smirk on his face. maybe the whole dressing up thing is more fun than he thought! be prepared to get koga grinning for the rest of the night~

✦ after some time walking around you ended up giving in and buying some candy to share with koga. picture this! the park at night, you two snacking together while you play with leon, who is having the time of his life. koga won’t really say that he likes candy but… he does. especially if you bought it for him and you get to eat it next to each other while making some small talk. be careful with the food though! there will come a time where there will be one single piece left… and koga ain’t giving up so easily. survival of the fittest! or how you and your werewolf boyfriend ended up rolling around the grass past 12 am on halloween night, play fighting over a candy. ahhh such a sweet love isn’t it? ╰(*°▽°*)╯

SHU ITSUKI;

✦ halloween is right after his birthday so it is some sort of special date for shu. if you let him, he’ll probably go on a rant about how people nowadays don’t even know what halloween originally stood for and how the fashion is utterly devastating. where are the handmade pieces? the love, the care? shu has some beef with the fast fashion industry but that’s an entirely different issue.

✦ if you ask him, he will sew the most wonderful outfit you’ve seen in your entire life. nope, i’m not calling that costume: it’s so delicate and so detailed you might even get second thoughts about whether it’s a good idea to wear it outside, afraid that something will break. but you only need to look at shu’s slight but proud smile as he sees you wearing one of his creations. now is when you need to ask him to keep you company for the day, because you’d be in trouble if, say, one of the buttons were to fall, right? you only need to ask, shu won’t be able to resist your cute plead ╰(￣ω￣ｏ)

✦ back to halloween! shu will suggest a soft afternoon together, inviting you to stay at his house for the day. warm drinks, tea and a good book as you sit in front of the fireplace? autumn is definitely shu’s season: he knows exactly what to do to make you feel cozy and comfortable. if he’s feeling especially adventurous he’ll let you rest against his shoulder and will even offer to read to you. the fact that he’s willing to show you that gentle softness says so much about how he cares about you… he could say so much but never says enough, i’m afraid!

✦ anyways, halloween in the itsuki household means shu tries to enjoy a quiet day and mika is extremely excited about everything so he tags along… in his own personal way. you’ll probably end up dragged into an extreme sweet making afternoon because no, shu refuses to accept that those things they sell at stores are proper sweets. no, he’s making them himself. and mika and you are helping him out,, you’ll end the day with some extremely pretty cupcakes, the kind that looks too pretty to eat. believe me, shu is crazyfully talented at everything he does and that includes baking too!

✦ pspsps as soon as mika turns around to do something i say you should let shu try his cute little creations. just pick up one of the cupcakes and feed it to him? i promise his reaction will be worth it (●ˇ∀ˇ●) his eyes widen slightly and there’s a pink shade all over his cheeks. you are feeding him? u-utterly foolish, by all means it should be the other way around!

✦ and yet you won’t hear a single complaint from his lips. talking about lips, cream is kind of messy! so you are definitely allowed to wipe the corner of his mouth with your finger. extra kudos if you decide to lick your finger afterwards. shu.exe stopped working. by the time mika comes back, shu is extremely flushed, his heart beating fast as he tries to hide his own lips under his hand. that. t-that was! ohhhh his poor heart can’t take this. he’ll be thinking of this pseudo kiss for weeks, i assure you! but all in all, i say it’s a win-win situation for both of you~

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

➖ Mature content, 18+ ➖ check the trigger tags each time ➖      

Chapter 17 - Lost Love. Episode 2.

----------Sparkles point of view------------

Sparkle: *It was one of those days where nothing really happened, I had spent most of the afternoon soaking up the sun on Evan and Daniel's roof terrasse, only with one break as Daniel suddenly thought it was a good idea to go down on me. I had to disagree with that one, well at least on the roof, as Congo and Andy's bedroom window is facing straight towards the terrasse. It didn't take Daniel many seconds to agree when I reminded him how fast he would have to run if Andy were to see us. So for about an hour we had been working out in his bed, sweating, panting, moaning and occasionally screaming of the top of my lungs. He was probably the best fuck I had ever had. Even managing to surpass a certain vampire, who had been my first. A not so pleasant thing to have in common with Andy. But Dan was about to almost erase him from my memory. The way Dan could make me hit the nigh notes. He didn't seem to be concerned about my petite frame, and was quick to learn I could handle a lot more than most people would think. Man, it was hard to get enough of him. He was big, muscly and with very smooth skin. A bit chaotic at times, due to his ADHD, but, well, let's just say it made the sex even more exiting, cause you never knew what to expect, and it could change pretty randomly. I chuckled to myself by the thought of it.*

Daniel: What? *He looked up from his sandwich a bit wondering*

Sparkle: *I giggled softly* You…

Daniel: *He smiled bright, and I couldn't help but giggle at the boyish charm he always carried around with him* What about me?

Spakle: *I tabbed my pointing finger at the corner of my mouth* You got some mustard….

Daniel: *Looked confused on his sandwich* Yeah… and ketchup?

Sparkle: *I broke out in a loud laughter* No silly… the corner of your mouth!

Daniel: *Grinned even wider* So remove it…

Sparkle: *I shook my head softly and nodded towards the bedroom window next door* Not here… they might see us…

Daniel: *His smile only grew bigger* So get creative…

Sparkle: *I knew that look all too well, but I have to say he had me right where he wanted. I had a soft spot for his boyish smile, well, for everything about him really. So I leaned towards his sun chair, parked in front of me, slowly leaning close to his face, placing both my hands on his cheeks, leaning in so close, I could observe his smile grow into a soft pout, ready to welcome my lips, but just as I was about to kiss him, I stuck my tongue out and licked him all the way from the tip of his chin to his cheekbone, making sure to catch the mustard on the way.*

Daniel: *He laughed loudly and dried his face wit the back of his hand* That calls for payback!

Sparkle: *I knew very well what that meant, and I didn't protest as he lifted me up, and carried me inside, however this time we only made it to the hallway before he took me against the wall.*

--------Andy's point of view----------

*It was late evening, and I had for the past 5 hours tried to dodge Evan's attempts of convincing me to fuck him. I felt bad having to keep turning him down, cause every time his mood dropped further and further into a pitch black hole. So when he became frustrated after yet another let down, I decided it was about time we got some air. Clearly being stuck in bed, watching Supernatural, or at least pretending to, was not the best way to spend time. I contemplated for a few minutes what the least sexy thing would be to do for Evan, and then it dawned on me, Daniel surely wasn't sexy to him, so maybe we should go visit him for a bit? He was probably home alone and bored anyway. So I pulled Evan after me, slightly against his will, but I was sure he couldn't handle yet another let down of the evening, So here we were, outside the front door, waiting for Evan to unlock it. As we stood in the second floor living room, there were no trace of Daniel, well except from the over flow of empty pizza boxes, and other take out food left over containers. I even spotted a pair of light purple lace panties on the couch, frowning a bit as I brushed them down on the floor* I guess I will go look around for him? Maybe he's in his room? *I planted a soft kiss on Evan's lips and left for the 3rd floor of the house.*

---------Evan's point of view------------

*I sighed softly as I observed Andy walk up the stairs leading to the 3rd floor. I had been pretty hard on him today, literally. I just didn't know where this new found lust for him came from, and why I couldn't seem to control myself any longer? It is not like me at all to practically force people to do thing they don't want to, specially when it comes to sex. But my hunger to feel Andy inside me only grew with the rising summer degrees. Yes, let's blame it on summer. I sighed again and looked around the messy living room/kitchen, someone had to at least try to clean all of this, and judging by the look of the room, that someone was going to be me. So I made my way to the kitchen, managing not to step on a used condom.* Really Daniel? *Well at least he wears protection, I guess that's always something? I frowned and opened a closet, finding a roll of big black plastic bags, grabbed one and started scooping cardboard boxes, half eaten pizza crusts, coke cans and something I think once was Chinese food into the bag. This shouldn't really come as a surprise to me, after all I had lived with Daniel pretty much since college. But looking around the mess, it still came as a surprise to me, that any girl would want to get down and dirty in this… well… dirt. Judging by the panties Andy had brushed off he couch and the many hair ties laying on the sofa table, he had had at least one girl staying here for more than one occasion. Taking a closer look I could also see a makeup bag, and a pair of shoes, and as I grabbed them, I felt a rush in my stomach. I knew these shoes. White Hello kitty trainers. I looked around the room a bit closer and noticed a light purple skirt. And right there and then I begged that none of them was around. Quickly grabbing the makeup bag and skirt as well, throwing them under my bed. Andy was going to kill them, both. Simple as that.*

[tsukishumai]

pairing: Bokuto Kotaro x gn!reader

summary: whoever said being adult was fun obviously never had bills to pay. so when Akaashi offers up a way to earn cash fast, you jump at the opportunity. except, you never thought you’d find yourself modeling in your underwear... least of all with Bokuto Kotaro

wc; 3k+

tags; fluff, humor, college au, mentions of very slight nudity

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

If anyone else other than Akaashi offered you this position, you would probably punch them right in the face.

Maybe he considers this payback for all the times he’s had to listen to you whine about your problems during your shared shifts at the cafe, or maybe this truly was his own sadistic way of attempting to provide support.

“Okay, so I know a way you can make easy money,” he started, and already those words should have sent alarm bells ringing in your head, but this was Akaashi. You’ve only really known him for a short time, but already you knew he wouldn’t lead you astray.

But really, the electronic shop five blocks from campus told you it would cost 55000 yen to repair your laptop monitor, so you weren’t exactly in a position to be picky. 

You had also been complaining to him for the past forty minutes -- about the broken laptop, the leaking faucet in your apartment, the textbook that cost you more than your groceries for the past month, the two hours of sleep you got last night, and your paychecks that were all but depleted once the bills were paid. He remained tightlipped throughout your whole tirade, so you suppose the least you could do was hear him out. 

“You’re not trying to sell my kidneys, right…” You mumble sarcastically, but you tilt your head to him anyway to show you were listening.

“No, sadly, it’s not quite the season for kidneys yet,” Akaashi delivers in a flat tone, “So you’re just going to have to deal with modeling.”

“Modeling?” Your reaction was harsh and loud, and you flinched away from the piercing glares of cafe regulars trying to study in peace. 

Akaashi smirks as he wipes down the steamer before replying, “Don’t worry, it’s not the kind of modeling you’re thinking.”

Your mouth dropped, and you raised an eyebrow as you crossed your arms, scoffing at Akaashi incredulously. 

“Are you trying to send me to a nudie shoot?!” you whisper in almost-mock offense, but now a part of you was a little worried that your favorite coworker was a secret pervert.

To your utter relief, Akaashi just laughs. “God, no. Well, I guess, kind of?”

At this point, your head was beginning to spin. “What do you mean kind of? Just spit it out already, Akaashi.”

Akaashi finally finishes cleaning off the coffee machine just as you finished replenishing the pastry displays, and in an unusual lull in customers, he’s able to lean against the bar and give you his undivided attention.

“My art professor pays the models for her figure drawing class a pretty decent amount of money, I think,” Akaashi tells you, and your eyes begin to sparkle. “She mentioned a couple of slots being open.”

“Really?” your interest was immediately piqued, “How much money?”

Akaashi shrugs. “Enough to strike at least one problem off your list, probably.”

That was all you needed to hear. Akaashi had given you his professor’s contact information, and you sent her an email the second you had clocked out of your shift. 

Professor Nobuta was a kind woman who emailed you back with such haste, you could feel her desperation matching yours. She was candid during the entirety of your exchange, saying that her usual model had dropped out last minute and there was a spot in her class tomorrow that she needed to fill as soon as possible. Lucky for both of you, you were actually available, and details were exchanged swiftly. 

As you read over the requirements, your eyes roved over two words in a section of the email that made your eyes bulge out of your head. 

Semi Nude. 

You blinked once. Then twice. 

You had already formulated a kind rejection in your mind, ready to type your response when another section caught your eye. You inwardly groaned, dropping your head into your hands. 

She was offering you almost as much as two shifts at the cafe. 

That, alone, was enough to convince you, but the look of relief on Professor Nobuta’s face when you walked through the doors of her classroom was confirmation you made the right decision.

The seats around the classroom were nearly all filled, some students preparing their materials across their desks, and others sitting back and scrolling through their phones. The whirring of the A/C had filled the room with white noise, and you take notice of the two empty stools in the middle of the room.

“Thank you so much for signing up, L/N-san,” Professor Nobuta bowed profusely, and she gestured to a table for you to leave your things. “We’re still waiting on the other model, so take your time, and have a seat on the stool when you’re ready.”

You nodded in acknowledgement, and Professor Nobuta makes her way back to her desk. You briefly wonder if she was going to point you in the direction of a changing room, but realized the redundancy when everyone in the room was meant to stare at your half naked body anyway. 

You begrudgingly peeled off your clothes, folding them neatly before placing them in a pile on the table. Your footsteps made hardly any noise as you walked across the room, desperately trying hard to act nonchalant. 

Just as you took a seat in one of the empty stools, you heard someone pull the door open and loudly clamber inside.

“Ahh, welcome back, Bokuto-san!”

Your eyes widened at the name the professer had just yelled across the room. You brace yourself as you quickly whip your head around, and standing by the door sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck was Bokuto Kotaro. 

Student Athlete, Volleyball Star, Most Wanted Bachelor Bokuto Kotaro smiled brightly as he skipped to the table your items were placed, apologizing profusely for being late. All eyes followed him like moths, and Bokuto was the bright flame. Everyone knew him, and you often saw him walking across the quad, always greeting at least twenty people on the way. 

You could hardly hear what Professor Nobuta was saying to him, and you were now unabashedly staring as Bokuto began to strip out of his clothes. 

Bokuto was built like a marble statue -- hard lines that traveled across his chest and traced his abs must have been painstakingly carved with the utmost care by a masterful artist, and every movement he made created new shapes along his muscled body. You found yourself instantly wishing you had even an ounce of artistic talent, because it was no doubt that Bokuto was every figure artists’ dream. 

All at once, your vision was filled with gold and a sweet smile, and too late did you realize you had just been caught staring. Bokuto’s eyes don’t leave yours as he stands up straight, and struts over to you in nothing but a pair of nude briefs. 

“Alright, everyone, your timed session is about to begin,” Professor Nobuta’s voice had startled you nearly out of your seat, and you turn your head back to face the class, cringing inwardly when you noticed some were smirking at you, “Feel free to request poses from the models, as this will be a graded assignment. We only have an hour and a half, so make the most out of your time.”

You feel your body stiffen as Bokuto takes the empty seat next to you, staying silent when you feel his eyes staring at you. You might have been able to ignore this in another setting, but at the moment, about fifty students were watching him watching you -- eyes flitting up the stage down to their sketchbook as they try to decide where to begin. 

Envy coursed through you as the room began to fill with the sounds of graphite scratching against paper, wishing you could switch positions with literally anybody else in the room. You tried to relax your body against the stool, awkwardly attempting to find a natural position for your arms when you were interrupted by a throat clearing. 

Your head turns to the side, heat rushing to your face when you see Bokuto smiling at you.

“Hi,” he greets, his voice a direct contrast against the silent concentration filling the room, “I’m Bokuto!”

His knees were bent as he settled his feet on the first ring of the stool. He rests an elbow on his thigh so he can place his chin on the palm of his hand, giving you an expectant look as he waits for your response. You try to avoid the way his chest seemed to bulge even more in this position, but the furious sound of sketching says you weren’t the only one to notice.

“Bokuto Kotaro,” you say his name back, and he pulls his lips back into an even wider smile, “I know.”

You bite your lip when a student from the back requested for you to cross your legs, resting your hand against your thighs. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to be talking, but Professor Nobuta didn't seem to be paying either of you any mind. 

He hadn’t said anything to you after that, but the grin remained on his lips as requests begin coming in from students across the class.

They were all fairly simple -- please position your hand like so, could you extend your leg this way, or turn your head that way. The first twenty minutes had been spent doing individual tasks and repositioning, and soon you felt yourself relaxing into your role. Your previous jitters had all but dissolved, and you figured if the rest of the session were to go on like this, then you’d be golden. 

Your eyes shift over to Bokuto, who was leaning back with such easy grace, balancing himself with his foot against the footrest. The way his body created such naturally eloquent lines made it seem as if he was born to be a sculpture, to be admired and gazed at, to invoke inspiration and creation. You weren’t sure anyone in this room was even looking at you anymore, with Bokuto acting as if he was the lighthouse in a storm, beckoning all of you to come home. 

He turns his head a second too quickly, winking when his eyes meet yours, and for the second time in less than an hour, you realize you’ve just been caught checking him out. 

Your dignity was slipping through your fingers like sand, and you clear your throat before turning your attention to a poster on the wall.

From the corner of your eye, you see Professor Nobuta stand from her desk and making her way to a student in the corner. The two whisper among each other, and you watched as the professor consults with other students before nodding her head and turning to the both of you. 

“I received a sort of direction from a few students,” she began, beckoning for the both of you to stand, “They were hoping you could do some more intimate poses.” 

You balked, nearly choking on the air in our lungs. “I-intimate?”

Professor Nobuto nodded her head enthusiastically, and you exchanged a look with Bokuto. 

“Whatever you’re comfortable with — an embrace, hand holding, hands on each other’s face — get creative with it!” 

And with that, the professor sits back down on her desk and begins flipping through her phone, and the two of you are left to brace the expectant looks of the art students staring up at you. 

“This your first time?” Bokuto asks you gently, a sort of sympathetic look on his face as his eyes study your stiff posture. 

“Yeah,” you admit, and he coaxes you towards him with an outstretched hand. You hesitantly place your fingers in his palm, and for a moment, he just stood there. It took a minute for the sounds of rapid sketching to register in your brain, and you realize he’s allowing the class to take note of this pose. 

He’s standing directly across from you now, and you can feel his gaze burning trails across your body as he regards you from head to toe. You feel like an ant burning under the beam of a microscope, and you nearly burst into flames when he chuckles. 

“Nice peach,” Bokuto comments, and you nearly recoil back in surprise. The last thing you had expected from Bokuto was a comment like that, but then you notice his eyes flick back down to your underwear. 

The professor’s email hadn’t included too many rules or requirements. She only included the most important details, such as time, place, pay, dress code, and such. Stated in the dress code, you were allowed to wear undergarments of any neutral color. Today, you had chosen a simple pair of black underwear and figured it was the safest choice.

You hadn’t, however, noticed the large cartoon peach that had gracefully adorned the back of it, complete with a cartoon face that winked sparkles. Now that you were forced to stand, and the entire class got a good view for themselves. 

“Thanks,” you deadpan through gritted teeth, “It’s pretty juicy if you asked me.” 

Bokuto fails miserably to hide a smirk, but his eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked down at you. 

A few minutes (or eternity) later, his hand closes around yours, pulling it up to place against his cheek. He pulls you in by the other wrist, wrapping your arm around his waist as he cups the side of your neck. His other arm wraps almost completely around your middle, and he pulls you flush against his chest. 

His body was hard against yours, and you had no doubts he could feel your heart’s hundreds of beats per second. He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, and you hope he doesn’t notice the sheen of sweat beginning to collect on your upper lip. 

A fire was bound to be started with how quickly everyone around began to move their pencils, and you heart races when Bokuto absentmindedly draws circles on your skin with his thumb. 

He holds you in this embrace for much longer than you anticipated, and the butterflies in your stomach were making you nauseous. His eyes are trained on your face now, the intensity of his stare making you want to shrink back, but you hold your place and return his gaze. 

His eyes narrow and squint, eyebrows wiggling as his face scrunches up in thought. 

“Do I know you?” Bokuto asks, and it was in this moment where you felt your stomach flip flop into the abyss. It was the one question you had hoped he wouldn’t think to ask you. 

Because you did know Bokuto Kotaro, but not in the way everyone else on campus knew him. 

You remember clearly the slow, dreary Wednesday morning when Akaashi Keiji asks you the same thing. 

“Uh, yeah? Of course, you know me, we’re coworkers,” you replied sarcastically, and Akaashi insists it was more than that. 

“You’re hiding something from me,” he simply states, and you inwardly thanked the customer that had walked and interrupted that moment.

But you should have known that Akaashi was not one to let things go, and after being berated the entire shift about how secrets don’t keep friends, you finally confessed.

You were a student at Fukurodani. 

Akaashi didn’t believe you. There was no way, how was that possible? He would have recognized you. But you were the year above him, and had actively avoided school sports. Because as much as you would have liked to watch your school’s Nationally Ranked Volleyball Club play and compete with super hot athletes from across the country, there was one glaring reason why you couldn’t. 

You had confessed to Bokuto Kotaro in your first year. 

And you were soundly, and absolutely rejected. 

He had every right to, of course. You were just his classmate, you didn’t even know each other that well, and he needed to focus all his attention on volleyball. It made sense.You know that now.

But to your young heart, it was world ending, soul crushing even, and it took you two years to get over your ridiculous one-sided crush. 

Now here you were, standing in front of a group of people in nothing but your underwear, with Bokuto staring at you like a fly caught in a trap.

“No, I don’t think so,” you respond, and Bokuto scoffs. 

“You’re a bad liar,” he whispers, and you find yourself grinning. 

“How would you know?” You whisper back, “You just met me.” 

“No, I definitely know you —“ 

“Alright, everyone,” Professor Nobuto announces with a smack on her desk, “That about does it for today’s session. Give some thanks to your models!”

You jump back from Bokuto as the class offers a light round of applause. The two of you bow back, and you rush over to the table as the professor approaches Bokuto. 

You leave the two of them to chat as you hurriedly put your clothes back on, hoisting your bag up on your shoulder, and nearly falling over putting your shoes on.

“Thank you for today,” Professor Nobuto sneaks up from behind, a smile on her face as she hands you a blank white envelope, “I hope I see your name on the sign up sheet again.”

You offer her a grin as you accept the envelope. “Thank you for the opportunity!”

And with that, you rush out of the stuffy room and make a bee line towards the door. 

“Hey, Peaches!” Bokuto’s voice makes you freeze from across the room, and you turn around to see him adorned only his pants. “You never told me your name?” 

With a smirk, you put your hand on the handle, walking out the door as you yelled over your shoulder. 

“I thought you said you knew me!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“That was a trap, wasn’t it,” you accuse Akaashi as soon as you see him again, walking into your shift at the café just as he was about to clock out. 

His smile was almost evil, punching out as he gathers his jacket. 

“Whatever could you possibly mean, dear coworker,” he replies, and you smack him on the shoulder. 

“You had to have known Bokuto was doing that,” you seethe, glaring at Akaashi, “And you knew about… about… you’re dangerous, Akaashi Keiji.” 

He laughs, waving you off, “You said you needed help, so I offered help.”

“Oh, you conniving little —“ 

“Akaashi, you ready?” A familiar voice cuts you, making your head twist towards the door. 

A set of white and black streaked hair, a devilish grin, bright twinkling eyes — your nightmare in human form walking in. 

His eyes widen as they meet yours from across the room, and he waves a hand in the air as if you could have possibly missed the six foot three volleyball player barely fitting through the door frame.

“Hey, Peaches!” He greets cheerfully, walking and leaning against the counter, “Fancy running into you here.”

“Peaches?” Akaashi asks, and your eyes shoot him a nasty glare. 

“I work here,” you reply, and Bokuto’s eyes widen. 

“Akaashi, why wouldn’t you tell me you have such a cutie for a coworker?!” He demands of his best friend, who simply rolls his eyes and heads out the door. 

“Let’s go, Bokuto-san!”

“Akaashi! Hey, wait,” Bokuto runs one step to the door but stops and turns back, “If I come back tomorrow, you gonna tell me your name then?” 

You laugh. “I don’t work tomorrow.” 

“I’ll ask Akaashi for your schedule then!” He screams as he runs out the door. 

The smile on your face stayed on for the rest of your shift. 

[inkykeiji]

all she want is payback for the way i always play that shit

characters: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

notes: aaaah yikes, sorry it’s so long???? the first part of a companion piece to i can take you there but baby you wont make it back; touya + reader have been fooling around for just under six months, our innocent lil good girl reader is the teeniest, tiniest bit more firm now. jealousy makes people crazy, yk how it is. touya is marginally softer for like, a second or two. | title credit: save that shit by lil peep

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), public sex, cheating, drug use, generally toxic relationship (possessiveness, jealousy), size difference, dubcon if u squint i guess???, the tiniest bit of cumplay

words: 11k

synopsis:

Why can’t you just be mine? You want to ask, the words searing into your tongue, refusing to leave your lips.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick, angel,” he chastises softly, brushing your hair away from your clammy forehead as another shuddery sob rips through your chest.

“I want you,” you say instead, words garbled.

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

His chest heaves with an exasperated sigh, head turning away and gazing up at the ceiling. “You have all of me, princess,”

      ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰         

In early February, your parents finally tie the knot.

“Now it’ll be official,” you remember Touya whispering in your ear, the night before. “I will officially be your niichan,”

The wedding is gorgeous—elegant and classy, just like Rei herself. A wintertime wedding is so beautiful, you tell Rei as she’s busy being fawned over by several stylists, adding the finishing touches to her hair and make up. She’s absolutely stunning, a lacy ivory dress clinging delicately to her small frame, accentuating her natural curves. It glitters gracefully in the pale sunshine streaming through the large bay windows, sparkling any time she moves.

Touya doesn’t sit with his family. Their eyes sear into your flesh, although Touya keeps his stare pointedly in front of him, glaring at the alter. But you can feel their gaze on your skin, can feel their eyes travelling up your body slowly, critically, sending shivers skittering up your spine. It makes your skin crawl, both of your hands curling around Touya’s, a tangled knot of fingers resting in your lap.

You’ve never seen his other siblings before. Rei talks about them sometimes, but never when Touya’s around. You know that once every month, the three of them join Rei and your father for a family dinner, but you’ve never had the pleasure of attending.

You’d missed the first family dinner by fluke, held up late at the library studying for midterms. But every occasion after that, Touya had made absolute certain that you weren’t there. You hadn’t thought much of it the first time it happened, too enraptured and tangled up in Touya to care, grinding desperately against him in the backseat of his car as his tongue forced its way down your throat. But then it happens again, and again, and it becomes too coincidental to ignore.

“Why do we never go to those dinners with your siblings?” you’d tried to bring it up subtly the third time you guys skipped out on dinner, heart thudding in your chest and gentle voice quivering slightly.

Touya sighed, raking a hand through his hair roughly, eyes not straying from the road ahead of him. It’s complicated, he told you in a quiet voice, and you were so startled, so shocked by his sheer, unadulterated honesty, that you couldn’t find your voice, rendering you incapable of replying. Touya didn’t bother looking over at you, didn’t need to, to know that his response surprised you.

The other Todoroki’s are all strikingly beautiful—not that you expected any less. The one with pure snow-white hair and gunmetal grey eyes captures your attention the most, looking as if he’s around your age. He smirks at you when he catches your stare, giving you a small, polite nod—though you can see that tiny glint of mischief in his eye, the same glint you’ve seen in Touya’s a thousand times before. Choking on a surprised gasp, you rapidly avert your gaze, eyes snapping back to the pile of hands in your lap.

Touya notices, of course, because Touya notices everything. He doesn’t say anything, but his hand squeezes yours tightly, just a little too tight to be comforting, as his eyes dart to his siblings across the aisle, glare losing most of its heat when it meets his brother’s stare.

Tense shoulders relax, falling slowly with the measured breath he exhales as he turns back to glower at the alter.

You know other guests are staring at you—you can feel their eyes, too. You know the pair of you look more like a couple than siblings, know you should both probably put some distance between yourselves, at least try to keep some semblance of normalcy, some masquerade of a typical sibling relationship.

But Touya’s knee is bouncing, and he seems…unsure. It’s unsettling, really—Touya always seems so confident in himself—and you can almost feel the tense anxiety rolling off of him in heavy waves. So instead of scooting away from him or untangling your hands, your other palm finds a spot high on the thigh pressed tightly against yours, small fingers beginning to knead the flesh.

Sapphire eyes find yours, and he gazes down at you with an odd sense of fondness in his stare, the tiniest smile ghosting across his lips. It makes your chest swell with pride, makes you want to grab his face and crash his lips against yours, forces a tingling warmth to spread through your veins. It shouldn’t, but it does.

He barely lets you leave his side that day, keeps you glued to his body, an arm wrapped tightly around you. He’s a constant, looming, protective presence, glaring at anyone who dares to look at you for more than a second.

“Touya-nii,” you laugh a little while leaving the ceremony, watching as one of your cousins immediately averts their eyes. “That’s my cousin,”

“And I’m your brother,” he says flatly.

You suppose he has a point.

The two of you find your parents and the rest of Touya’s siblings—yours too, now, you guess—standing around a limousine, beckoning you over.

Rei begins to explain their protocol for pictures—and yes, you both have to come—but you aren’t listening. Their eyes are on you again, you can feel them, gliding up your skin, taking sharp note of the way Touya has you pressed flush against him, the way your arm is wrapped firmly around his waist, little fingers twisting in his suit jacket as your heart begins to speed up.

Touya can feel it, too, and he looks down at you in concern, his thumb caressing your shoulder, before he meets the stares of his siblings with a glare so ferocious you’re surprised it doesn’t turn them to ash on the spot.

They offer for you to ride in the limo with the rest of them, Touya cutting them off as he curtly declines their offer—no thanks, you’ll take his car instead and meet them there.

Rei tries to reason with him, but the pointed look he gives her causes her to trail off mid-sentence, holding his eyes for a moment before a sad smile settles on her face, nodding once.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Shinjuku Gyoen is nothing short of stunning in the wintertime. It had snowed this morning, around six AM, blanketing the garden in a soft layer of pure white powder, glittering delicately in the early afternoon sun.

Wide eyes drink it in as your face presses against the glass of the car window, your breath fogging it up. There’s something so whimsical and dreamy about snow, you think, about the way it softens even the sharpest of edges, the way it makes everything look prettier.

“You’re so cute,” Touya remarks, watching you from the corner of his eye, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“I’ve never been here during the winter,” you murmur in response, still captivated by the grounds.

Rei and your father are immediately whisked away by several photographers to do their photos alone, leaving the rest of you to litter the parking lot.

But the moment they disappear from view, Touya’s got you trapped between his body and the cold metal of his car, lips moving against the shell of your ear as he whispers filthy promises, things that force soft whimpers from your lips, things that make your legs feel like they’re about to give out as heat pools deep in your belly. He knows, of course, smirks and teases you even more when he feels you squeeze your thighs together helplessly, tells you you’re his perfect little slut and vows to reward you for being so good as soon as he can.

His other siblings are staring, you try to tell him in a quiet, broken whine.

“Oh yeah?” he breathes, pushing his hips harder into yours, practically grinding his hard cock against your waist. “Let ‘em. I bet they’d love to watch me fuck you stupid, huh? What do you think about that, baby? You want them to watch?”

A pathetic sound hitches in your throat and you bury your burning face in his neck, a low, wicked laugh rumbling deep in his chest.

He doesn’t let up on the absolute filth spilling from his mouth until he can hear your father hollering in the distance, calling for the kids and waving the five of you over.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Pictures take too long, and Touya’s antsy by the end of it, picking anxiously at his cuticles as his knee bounces. He’s hauling you out of there the moment you’re officially released, a strong hand wrapped tightly around your wrist. You can hear his mother calling for him, and you look back at her desperately, mirroring her worried frown.

He doesn’t even wait for the rest of them to pile into the limo and leave, immediately rooting through his pockets the moment he’s in the safety of his own car, pulling out a little baggie of white powder. He can feel your wide eyes on him, watching his every movement, but his hands are beginning to shake, and panic is starting to rip viciously at his throat, and he just needs it all to fucking stop.

“There’s no way I could endure this shit sober,” he explains as he searches for something in the powder, cursing when he doesn’t find whatever it is he’s looking for. Frantic cobalt eyes dart around the car, landing on the glovebox, and he leans over you, hastily pulling a reflective object from the compartment.

It’s a mirror.

A tiny, circular mirror that he uses to tap out a line, fingers unsteady and breathing slightly laboured. The gentle sounds of his platinum credit card colliding with glass echo throughout the car.

Hovering over the small mirror, he pauses, a finger pressed to his nostril. He almost wants to tell you to look away, almost does, but he knows you’d disobey either way.

He doesn’t like doing drugs in front of you—you’re too precious, too pure and innocent and he doesn’t want you around anything that could potentially tarnish that. But he also can’t stand that look you get in your eyes, almost like you’re scared of him, on the rare occasions that you have caught him.

He nearly snaps at you when you quietly ask if you can help, if he needs someone to hold the mirror steady, currently balancing on the center console compartment, but you’ve got that goddamn look in your eyes, wide and terrified.

No, he says sternly, telling you that he doesn’t even want you near this stuff, much less touching it.

But cocaine highs don’t last long, he explains to you when you ask about the little round white pills clacking together in his pocket. You’re positive he shouldn’t be mixing drugs like that, positive that your apprehension and disapproval are written clearly across your face, based on the simmering look he shoots at you.

Don’t fucking start.

So you don’t. You swallow down your worries and sit nice and pretty and good for him, just like you’re supposed to.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

He only leaves you twice, briefly, throughout the entire night. The first is almost immediately after you enter the reception venue.

Depositing you near the head table, he tells you to stay put before he hurries away. You know where he’s going, what he’s about to do, an odd ache taking root and throbbing deep in your chest.

He’d scold you if he could see you, able to read your expressions like a fucking book, would tell you not to cry for him—he doesn’t need your pity. The words cut through your mind in a snarl, and you work hard to rid your face of the frown marring it; he’s already having such a difficult time today, and the last thing you want to do is upset him more with your concern.

Distraction, you need a distraction. Wide eyes scan the extravagant ballroom, all shimmering golds and beiges and crystal chandeliers, searching in a frenzy for something—anything—to rid your mind of images of pretty boys with inky hair and white, white, white.

You swear you hear your name, then Touya’s, hissed out in a sharp whisper, and your gaze lands on a small group of people not too far from you, with snow and fire for hair—the other Todoroki’s, huddled in a loose circle.

The air around you just feels off, you catch his sister saying in a low but frantic voice, eyes darting between her brothers. She sounds worried about you, you think, and it makes you feel weird. She shouldn’t be worried about you; Touya takes fantastic care of you. It isn’t any of their business anyway, you can almost hear Touya sneering in your head, and he’s right. You know he’s right.

Her brothers don’t look too keen on discussing the subject, especially the youngest, who keeps pulling at his collar and fidgeting with his cufflinks.

“Well, why don’t you go and tell her that yourself,” the one with white hair says, grey eyes connecting with yours. She whirls around quickly, mouth snapping shut when she finds your face. Her lips morph into a smile half a second later, and she waves you over.

You avert your eyes, hands tangling nervously in front of you. No. You shouldn’t go. You really, really shouldn’t go. Touya told you to stay put, and you can’t bear to think—don’t even want to consider—how furious he’d be if he found that not only had you moved, but you had moved to talk to his siblings.

You must spend too much time deliberating, though, looking back up to find them advancing towards you, only a few feet away. Your heart’s pounding almost violently in your chest, breath accelerating with each step closer.

“Hi,” she’s saying warmly as she reaches you, causing you to subconsciously take a step back. “We haven’t had a chance to meet. I’m Fuyumi,”

You want to say your name, to introduce yourself politely, but your lips are sealed shut, only able to manage a small sound of affirmation.

“Shouto,” the youngest says, cold heterochromatic eyes glancing at you for a moment before looking away. “M’Shouto,”

“I’m Natsuo,” the man with white hair smirks down at you, eyes burning into yours.

Some of your anxiety melts away as you meet his stone eyes; there’s something comforting about the way that he has Touya’s smirk, Touya’s mischievous glint to his gaze, Touya’s playful lilt to his voice.

You feel like you can breathe again when you’re looking at Natsuo, so you keep your stare directed at him as you stutter out your name, gazing up at him through your lashes.

“You always miss the family dinners,” Natsuo accuses with a knowing smirk, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Y’know, eventually, our parents are going to catch on,”

Your blood turns to ice in your veins, chills crawling on your skin. He knows?

And he says it so nonchalantly, so casually, as if he’s discussing the weather and not the fact that Touya deliberately kidnaps you to fuck your brains out in his car every single time they gather for one of those dinners. Fuyumi and Shouto look over at him with brows furrowed in confusion, but you choke on a gasp, coughing a little and nodding.

Touya returns then, saving you from having to respond.

“What’s wrong?” he’s asking immediately as his hands find purchase on your hips, pulling you back against his chest and wrapping his arms around you. A soft sigh leaves your lips as you lean on him, heart finally beginning to slow.

“N-Nothing, niichan,” you wrap your arms around his, hugging them to your chest, and he squeezes you in reassurance.

“You sure, baby?” Sapphire eyes search your face as you tilt your head back to look up at him, scanning for any sign of distress.

He shouldn’t be using that pet name here, not in front of his blood siblings, not loud enough that any of the passing guests can hear him with ease.

He shouldn’t.

But that doesn’t stop it from sending sparks skittering up your spine, heat beginning to coil in your tummy. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said you didn’t get some sort of twisted satisfaction at the loud gasp that leaves Fuyumi’s chest, or the sharp intake of breath Shouto chokes on, coughing as he tries to cover it up, all at the drop of that one, simple, four letter word.

Touya loves it, too—you can see it in the way his smirk grows into a full smile, a grin big enough to crinkle the edges of his eyes, can see it in his gaze, in the way his cobalt eyes almost sparkle at their reactions.

Your gaze flits back to the three people standing in front of you—your step-siblings, your mind corrects—eyes gliding over their faces slowly.

Natsuo looks thoroughly entertained, a stupid little grin stretched across his face, amusement dancing in his eyes. Fuyumi and Shouto, on the other hand, look thoroughly uncomfortable, shifting a little in place, their faces screwed up with poorly masked disgust.

Touya’s smile drops the moment he looks back at them. Azure eyes scan the faces of his siblings cautiously, giving Natsuo one quick, sharp nod of acknowledgment before his gaze lands on the youngest. And the glare Touya gives him is nothing short of terrifying, practically snarling at the boy, a rough, dangerous sound that gets lodged deep in his chest. It makes the boy cower away, shuffling ever-so-slightly closer to his sister, who shakily glares back.

Lips tugging down into a frown, you look up at Touya, forehead creasing in confusion. He’s still glowering at the kid, eyes narrowing just a little before he huffs and turns away, leaving without speaking a word to any of them.

“Don’t you ever talk to them again,” he’s murmuring as he whisks you away, something malicious in his voice. “You’re my little sister,”

You nod obediently, promising him that you won’t, reassuring him that you didn’t even want to as you relay the entire situation. But he can see it, the curiosity swirling in your eyes, a question dancing on your tongue.

Because although Touya appears to be on seriously awful terms with his younger siblings, Natsuo seems to be some sort of exception. From the interaction you just witnessed, you’re able to deduce that something, some line of communication, must be present between Touya and Natsuo, evident in their shared looks and swift, discreet nods.

He sighs, irritation coating his voice as he demands that you spit it out already.

It makes you jump a little, but the words come tumbling out of your mouth the moment he commands them to, powerless to disobey a direct order.

“Does that include Natsuo?”

Your voice is so tiny that he barely hears you, brows knitting together. There’s an odd look in his eye as he observes you—something that isn’t quite jealousy, but close to it—nose twitching a little as he considers.

“Alone, yes,” he finally says. “With me around it’s fine, I guess. But you are not to speak to him alone, do you hear me?”

Yes, niichan, of course, niichan.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Dinner is absolute torture, and the two of you can barely keep your hands off of each other. It starts innocently enough, discreetly enough, with palms on thighs, fingers brushing down arms, hands interlaced under the table. But the need to touch grows, and grows, and grows, these simple actions too teasing to satisfy that dull burning in the pit of your stomach, flaring a little more each time his fingers press into your thigh, or his thumb runs across your knuckles.

And you shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t start acting up now, not while the two of you are seated at the head table, looking out amongst the guests—a few months ago, you would’ve never thought to do something so indecent, so dangerous, in such a public place. But you just can’t help it, you’re getting restless now, brain going hazy with thoughts of him as your fingers trail up his thigh and ghost over his lap.

“Getting bold, are we, princess?” his hand catches your wrist, holding your palm in place and grinding up into it. His voice is low, head tipped towards you, sapphire eyes dark. A breath catches in your throat and he smirks, an evil little quirk up of his lips, raising an eyebrow at you in expectation.

You’re lucky they’re seated in a straight line instead of a circle, he murmurs in your ear, Natsuo snickering beside him. “Imagine what your daddy would think if he could see you, acting like such a desperate little slut in front of all of these people,”

A soft, broken moan escapes your lips without your permission, thighs squeezing together in an attempt to combat the heat pooling in your panties. Someone down the line of the table says something, but you’re too enticed by Touya to hear them, your father writing off whatever the remark was with an easygoing smile.

“Oh, those two are always in their own little world,” you hear him dismiss, voice sounding muddled and distant.  

“Be a good girl and sit still,” Touya growls in your ear, grip tightening to near bruising.

“But niichan,” you whine, much too loud, gazing at him with glazed, blown eyes. “Niichan,” you repeat, leaning forward to whimper in his ear, fingers flexing around the bulge in his trousers. “N-Need you,”

“If you can’t behave, niichan won’t let you cum later,” he breathes, though his voice is stern, heavy with the weight of the threat.

A pout forms on your lips as he releases your wrist, firmly placing your hand back in your lap and holding it there for a moment, a silent warning for your wandering fingers to stay put.

But he’s up and out of his chair the instant dinner’s over, moving so quick his seat wobbles a little as he grasps your hand tightly in his, practically yanking you up and dragging you along behind him.

The best thing about these fancy venues, he’s telling you as he strides through the halls, cerulean eyes searching for something, is that they have single person washrooms.

The granite is cold on your cheek as Touya shoves you up against the wall, head bouncing a little as it whacks against it.

You whine and he laughs, a cruel, piercing sound echoing off the walls.

“Aw, baby,” he coos contemptuously. “Did that hurt?”

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut against the throbbing pain radiating through your cheek.

“Poor little thing,” he hisses, lips against your ear as his hands begin to bunch up your dress, gliding over your silk covered thighs, hands fisting in the material as he goes. Pushing it up around your waist, he leans back, hands travelling over the globes of your ass and kneading hard enough to make you cry out.

“You’re a slutty little brat, y’know that?”

Deft fingers hook in the waistband of your thong, all delicate baby pink lace, Touya snickering about how much of a whore you are, wearing such skimpy, slutty panties, as he lets the elastic snap back against your skin.

A little shocked gasp escapes your lips as he begins tugging the dainty fabric down your thighs—you had expected him to merely push them to the side, but he forces you to take them off entirely, stuffing the soaked material in his pocket.

“You think you can just tease niichan like that and get away with it?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head against the wall.

“No,” he murmurs, hips grinding against your bare ass. “Good girls don’t tease their niichans without delivering, do they?”

“No,”

“On your knees,” he orders, spinning you around and stepping back just enough to allow you to sink to the floor. “Get my cock wet,”

Little fingers work quickly, eager to obey, as they undo his pants, practically salivating as you free his cock from its confines.

“Your cock’s so pretty, niichan,” you breathe, eyes glittering with pure, potent desire as you take it in your hands, tongue darting out to trace the prominent veins.

“No teasing,” he growls, a hand knotting in your hair. “I wanna see you choke on it,”

You nod as best you can, mouth instantly falling open, reduced to nothing more than a wet, warm little hole for him to stuff.

And then he’s shoving it down your throat, the hand fisted in your hair holding your head still, and you gag around it almost immediately, working to force you jaw open even more.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he rasps out, voice echoing off the walls of the washroom.

The praise has your heart soaring, has you sucking hard around him as he thrusts into your mouth, coating his cock in thick saliva and desperate to hear more. It’s intoxicating, every quiet moan you manage to pull from him, every breathless good girl that falls from his lips, makes you feel lightheaded and heady and dizzy for more.

His hips pump a few more times before he’s pulling you off his cock completely, devious smirk forming on his lips at your whine of protest, and commanding you to go bend over the sink.

Calloused hands are bunching your dress up around your waist again, toe of his shoe kicking at your inner ankles and forcing your feet further apart.

He doesn’t bother stretching you out, not because he doesn’t have the time to, but because he simply doesn’t want to. It’s truly one of his favourite things, to see tears fill your eyes while his cock stretches your cute little pussy, and he knows you love it too, don’t you?

Yes, niichan, of course you do.

His cock glistens with your saliva, sufficiently wet that it slides in easily enough, with minimal pain for him. And the soft groan he lets out as he watches your little hole struggle to take him, paired with your sweet little whimpers of his name, is nothing short of gorgeous.

It has your pussy fluttering around him, pulling a breathless chuckle from his lips as he fills you to the hilt, hips pressed against your ass.

And then doesn’t fucking move.

Your brow furrows, eyes meeting his in the mirror. You try to fuck yourself back on him, but he’s too quick, hands stilling your hips immediately and tutting in disapproval.

“Niichan,” you whimper. “N-Niichan, please fuck me,”  

“Do you think you deserve it?” he’s asking, tongue tracing the shell of your ear as he holds your gaze through the mirror. “After the way you behaved at dinner?”

“M’sorry,” you whine, wiggling back against him, his fingers digging into your flesh as he stops them, grip tightening. “Couldn’t help it, wanted you so bad,”

“Of course you couldn’t,” he smirks, hips starting to move slowly, teasingly, stilling after only three simple thrusts. A hand reaches down and finds your clit, forcing a gasp from you as his thumb brushes over it, back and forth, back and forth, featherlight grazes that have you arching back into him, trying to press further into his touch.

“Think you can cum just like this for me?” he asks, beginning to thrust shallowly again, just enough to have the head of his cock dragging against that spot buried deep inside your cunt, that spot he knows so well, then nudging your cervix. “Hmm?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, breath starting to come out in short little pants.

“Then do it,” he demands in a whisper, eyes still holding yours. “Show niichan how pretty you look, cumming all over his cock,”

And the combination of his deep, rough voice rumbling against your back as praises tumble from his lips, his thumb and cock, and the fact that anyone within a fifteen foot radius of this washroom could probably hear you, has you cumming within minutes with a sharp cry of Touya-nii!  

Touya laughs at how pathetically quickly you came, about how easy it is to have you creaming on his cock, heat seeping into your cheeks as you try to look away.

“My turn,” he breathes, yanking your head back up by your hair, fingers finding root in the intricate updo that has begun to fall apart. “And I wanna see your face as I fuck you, so keep your damn head up,”

And then he’s slamming into you with enough vigour to propel you forward, face pressed against the mirror, toes barely touching the ground. Every moan and whimper and mewl he forces from your throat fogs up the glass, leaving tiny glistening drops of condensation as they fade.

You’re trying so hard to keep your eyes open, to watch him as he fucks you, because he always looks so damn pretty.  

He’s stupidly attractive, with his shirtsleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, first few buttons undone and collar popped, revealing his sharp collarbone, smooth ivory skin stretched taut across it. Ebony hair clings to his forehead and neck delicately, coated in sweat, and he’s emitting the most glorious noises, heavy pants and little broken whines, peppered with praise.

Nails bite into your flesh as he holds you in place, hips snapping relentlessly, your fingers curling around the porcelain sink.

“You want niichan’s cum?” he growls in your ear, eyes burning into yours. You whimper in response, nodding against the mirror. “Yeah? Then fucking beg for it.”

Pleads are spilling from your lips immediately, nothing but senseless babbling as he pounds into you.

“Please, niichan, please, need it, your cum, stuff me with your cum,”

“That’s it,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “I want every single person in this godforsaken hall to hear you, I want every single person to know how much of—” he cuts himself off with a shuddery curse. “—How much of a slut my baby sister is,”

“Pretty please,” you whine out the words, eyes rolling back in your head. “Fill me up with your cum, niichan, I-I want it,”

His hips still just as your cunt clenches around him, cockhead pressed tightly against your cervix as he fills you with hot, thick ropes of cum.

He pulls out a few moments later, and you uncurl your fingers from around the rim of the sink, wincing at your appearance; lips bitten raw, hair beginning to fall from it’s elegant style, body covered in a thin layer of sweat.

You look back at him to find him already staring at you, expectantly, impatiently, hands jittery as he quirks his head towards the door.

“We can’t leave together,” he says, as if it’s obvious, even though you stumbled into the washroom together twenty minutes ago.

He needs more.

You nod, slow and dumb, staggering a little on your trembling legs. Grasping the doorknob you pause, turning to look at him again.

“What?” he asks as he searches through his pockets, not bothering to glance at you. He can feel your eyes on him.

“Um...” you shift nervously from foot to foot, lip caught between your teeth.

He looks over at you sharply, brows rising as if to ask why are you still here?

“M-My panties, niichan,”

Oh.

A wicked smirk spreads across his face, eyes twinkling, brows relaxing.

“What about them?”

“Well, I—I can’t return to the reception without them,”

“Oh, and why not?”

You pause, blinking a few times, at a loss for words. Why not? Because you can feel his cum beginning to trickle out of you, mixing with your juices and dribbling down your inner thigh?

“Exactly,” he says, when you take too long to reply. “Now be a good little girl and go. I’ll be out soon,”

       ✰          ✰          ✰

You don’t go back into the ballroom, terrified that you’ll be ambushed by his—your—siblings again. Collapsing in one of the plush chairs, you cross your quivering legs tightly in a desperate attempt to keep the cum oozing out of you from getting on your dress.

People are looking again, probably think you’re drunk based on the way you teetered over to the seat, or the way your hair’s begun to come undone from it’s intricate updo, wispy strands framing your face.

He returns from the washroom only a few minutes later, eyes finding you immediately. There’s a stupid, smug smirk on his face, thinks it’s so cute that he fucked you so good you can’t walk, can’t even get up, that you need your niichan to help you.

A pout forms on your lips, eyebrows furrowing. “Not funny,”

“Very funny,” he chuckles as his hands snake under your armpits, hauling you to your feet. You stumble a little, bumping into him and he laughs again, wrapping a sturdy arm around your waist and propping you up against him.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,”

“Oh, niichan,” you murmur and he pauses, glancing over at you. You reach up, your thumb swiping across his nose to collect excess white powder.

“Thanks,” he breathes, winking at you. You hum noncommittally, about to rub your thumb across his white dress shirt to clean it when he catches your hand, bringing your thumb to his lips and licking it instead.

It isn’t discreet. It’s slow and deliberate, tongue sticking out of his mouth, flattening it against your thumb and dragging it up, from base to tip. You’re sure someone saw that, but you can’t be bothered to care, not when another bout of intense heat rushes to your core, forcing you to squeeze your legs together, trying in vain to keep Touya’s cum from seeping out, from your juices traveling down your leg. A soft whimper leaves your lips, breathing beginning to accelerate as your eyes bore into his, now half-lidded and dark. He holds your gaze for a moment before something snaps.

“We need to go,” he says, voice firm with no room for negotiation. “Now.”

And, God, his voice is rough and raw and fucking dripping with desire. It’s got you nodding before he’s even finished speaking, a flock of butterflies invading your stomach at the downright sinful grin he gives you in response. Such a good girl for him.

Despite the fact that you’ve barely recovered from your previous orgasm, you nearly moan at his look alone, the urge to kiss him burning through your veins and alighting your entire body in direct juxtaposition to the shivers his eyes just sent rippling across your skin. The insatiable need overwhelms your senses, and it’s dangerous. It’s dangerous, how captivated he has you, entirely wrapped around his slim finger and hanging on his every word, how you’re positive that, in that moment, you’d do anything he asked.

You wobble awkwardly in your heels, legs still shaking and having trouble keeping up with Touya’s swift pace. You’re about to ask him to slow down just a little so you don’t break an ankle, when you bump into your father.

Who just so happens to provide you with the perfect excuse to leave early. You can practically see the gears clicking into place in Touya’s mind, sapphire eyes glittering as a sinister smirk spreads across his face.

Your father’s eyes widen as he observes your appearance, strands of hair sticking to your clammy face and eyes half-lidded, chapped lips beginning to crack, leaning heavily against Touya and seemingly too weak to stand on your own.

“Hi dad,” you greet hoarsely, wincing a little at how grating your voice sounds.

He frowns immediately. “Jesus, sweetheart, are you feeling alright? You look…” he trails off, forehead wrinkling with worry.

“Oh, she’s not feeling too good,” Touya says softly, smoothly, just the right amount of concern and compassion in his tone.

“Oh no,” your father breathes, frown deepening. “That’s terrible,” he clicks his tongue with a shake of his head. “Do you think you’ll be able to tough out the rest of the reception?”

You begin to croak out an answer, but Touya speaks over you.

“She’s burning up, sir,” he informs him, and it isn’t a lie—not exactly, anyway. Technically, if your father were to feel your forehead, your body temperature would be above average, a result of Touya fucking the absolute life out of you a mere ten minutes ago.

Touya looks down at you with painfully sympathetic eyes, but you can still see that little glint of mischief, buried under all of that artificial benevolence.

“Maybe I should take her home?” Touya muses, looking back at your father, mimicking his anxiety effortlessly.

“Mm,” he hums in agreement. “I think that’s the best thing to do,” his eyes dart to yours. “You really don’t look well,”

Oh, you’re sure you don’t. Resting a little more against Touya, you play up the symptoms a bit, whimpering quietly as little fingers twist in his shirt, nuzzling your face against his side. A soft noise of endearment sounds at the back of his throat, large hands readjusting your body to support you better.

Another whimper falls from your lips, but this time it isn’t from pretending you’re ill. You can feel his cum leaking out of you, slimy and cool as it drips down your inner thigh, and a sick thrill shoots through your body, abused cunt throbbing greedily.

Rei comes up behind your father then, wrapping her arms around his midsection and resting her chin on his shoulder, eyes flitting between the two of you carefully.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“I’m gonna bring this little princess home,” Touya explains, nodding his head at you in indication as he speaks. “She isn’t feeling very well, poor thing,”

And it’s scary, scary how terrific he is at lying, how easily he slips into that niichan role, the one painstakingly crafted and flawlessly maintained around your parents, the one he’s perfected at this point.

Rei doesn’t say much, only cooing in sympathy, remarking that it’s such a shame, but your father’s eyes soften. “Such a good big brother,” he praises, clapping a hand on Touya’s shoulder.

Touya has to consciously work to smother the smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he responds.

“You have no idea,”  

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Your parents don’t come home that night, opting to go straight to the airport from the venue, embarking on their honeymoon immediately.

It’s nice, playing house with Touya, having the entire place completely to yourselves. He’s been home an awful lot these past few weeks, more than he ever has in the past, and you get to experience things you never could before.

Every morning and every night, you cook breakfast and dinner together. You go grocery shopping together, wash the dishes together, fold the laundry together, all while stealing kisses in between; little domestic things you didn’t really do with your parents around.

You spend every night that they’re away in his bed, being fucked into his mattress, surrounded by the smell of him—campfire and Marlboros and expensive cologne—absolutely full of him in every sense.

You wake up in the mornings with his hand between your legs, playing with your cute little clit, or his cock pressed against your ass, grinding until you wake up. You have sleepy, slow morning sex while you’re both still half asleep, and it’s the most gentle he’s ever been. It consists of lazy, sloppy, messy thrusts against each other, hips meeting halfway—just grinding until he gets too impatient, though he usually lets you cum two or three times before he finally flips you over, trapping you under his body and slamming his hips into you, growling and grunting, your legs pushed up and folded on either side of you.

You get to fuck in the kitchen—not that you hadn’t before, but this time you get to take it slow. He eats you out while you sit on the counter and then fucks you into oblivion and it’s nasty, it’s disgusting, it’s so good. He cums so much that it’s leaking out of you, onto the counter, his chest heaving as he observes it with an odd little smile and a soft “fuck,”

And you get to fuck in the bathtub, that big jacuzzi in your parents room, water and bubbles sloshing around as you bounce on his cock, loud cries echoing off the walls.

It’s going great, until the last weekend of the honeymoon, a mere few days before your parents are supposed to return.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

A party.

Keigo tries to talk him out of it, tries to at least talk him out of letting you stay.

“She shouldn’t be here,” you hear Keigo hiss under his breath as guests begin to fill the house, Touya snorting in retort.

Keigo doesn’t think you should be around any of this at all—there’s no reason you should have to witness this shit, you catch him growling, gold eyes blazing. No, not a poor innocent babygirl like you, this isn’t the place for you.

But Touya’s too stubborn, too selfish to let Keigo take you out for the night. He knows he’s right, would rather not have you around these people, but he doesn’t have a fucking choice. The thought of you being out of his sight, out with another man, has anxiety rising in his throat, panic clawing at his chest.

As a result, you spend the entirety of the party being passed between Touya and Keigo. There are so many girls here, so many people you don’t know, wide eyes scanning the living room as your fingers twist in Keigo’s hoodie.

Niichan’s busy, Touya tells you, when you ask why you can’t just stay with him, when you ask where he keeps disappearing off to. Niichan’s working, don’t you know? Be a good girl and stay with Kei.

You can tell that Keigo isn’t happy about it. He coos softly when you timidly ask if he’s upset that he’s stuck babysitting you all night, in the middle of an apology when he cuts you off.

“It isn’t your fault, songbird,” he murmurs, gentle fingers tracing the curve of your face.

He’s even angrier at Touya when he takes that first girl back to his room, because the look on your face—the way it crumples accompanied by a soft, hurt sound caught at the back of your throat—kills him.

And it isn’t like you don’t know about his side whores. You do. They’re customers, he had snapped at you, the only time you had ever asked about it. But it’s an entirely different thing to actually have to witness it with your own eyes.

You can’t help the flare of jealousy that rises in your chest every time he takes a girl by the hand and leads them to his bedroom. It stings, burns, feels like a fire’s been lit in your chest, filling your lungs with dense smoke and making it hard for you to breathe.

Keigo tries his best to distract you, gentle fingers on your cheeks turning your face towards him, golden eyes softening in sympathy. He keeps you as preoccupied as he can, but it still isn’t enough. Your eyes are drawn to Touya every time he’s in the room—an automatic, instinctual reaction you couldn’t control even if you wanted to.

And every time you watch a girl giggle into his ear, or hop up with him, that fire smoldering in your chest blazes, rages, has you wheezing and hissing and pressing a palm flat against yourself, a desperate attempt to get the pain to stop.

Tomura’s here, too, though he’s sitting in a shrouded corner on his phone, the light from the screen reflected on his pale face, colours flashing intermittently. He looks absorbed with whatever he’s doing on there—probably playing a game, Keigo tells you, but why are you interested, anyway?

You don’t know, you aren’t sure, you can’t exactly put it into words. He terrifies you, but he sparks a morbid curiosity in you, too. He’s so silent, private, almost inobtrusive; and yet Touya never lets you anywhere near him. Your eyes keep flitting his way, as if trying to will something to happen, staring at him longingly and hoping he’ll look up from his phone for a split second and catch your gaze, that he’ll somehow magically get the hint that you’re desperate and dying to talk to him, and take the first step.

But it doesn’t happen.

Touya is thoroughly unimpressed each and every time he finds you sitting on Keigo’s knee or lap, leaning back against his chest as he speaks with that easygoing lilt that is so distinctly him, but there isn’t much he can do. The third time he returns to take you from his friend he can tell you’re beginning to get tired, can see it in your eyes, in the way you’re cuddling into a warm chest. He debates sending you to bed right then and there, but you protest, little hands tangling in Keigo’s hoodie.

“Aw, she’s alright for a little more, isn’t she?”

Touya’s sharp jaw clenches twice and he exhales slowly through his nose, eyes darting between your faces.

“Fine,” he says, although it doesn’t seem fine.

And you are exhausted, straddling Keigo’s hips, face pressed into his shoulder and hot breath evening out softly against his neck. Fingers ghost up and down your spine nonchalantly as Keigo talks softly to the people around him, his laugh vibrating against your chest and filling you with an odd, tingly sensation, a warmth that seeps through your body. You snuggle a little closer to him and he coos, readjusting you in his lap and wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you tightly to him.

“Don’t wanna go to bed with him,” you whisper, words muffled by his skin.

Keigo hums in question, squeezing you once. “Who, songbird?” he presses his lips to your ear as inconspicuously as he can, lidded gold eyes lazily scanning the room for your brother. “Touya?”

You nod sluggishly, little fingers curling in his hoodie, a silent plea not to let you go.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Keigo says softly with a small chuckle, but it sounds off to your ears—sad, even.

“Don’t wanna,” you repeat, pout evident in your voice. “Wanna stay with you,”

You wouldn’t have noticed the way his chest hitches at those four words if you weren’t pressed flush against it. But you feel it, feel his breath getting caught in his throat, reverberating against you as he clears it quietly. Unexpected guilt sours your mouth, makes your stomach turn to a block of heavy lead, weighting your body down.

“You know you can’t, sweetheart,” he finally responds, voice cracking just a bit, right on that last word. “Don’t hurt your niichan like that, he loves you,”

No he doesn’t, you want to say, but you can’t seem to force the words from your mouth, opting to shake your head instead, eyes shutting tightly against the burn of tears.

“He does,” Keigo says, more sternly this time. “Don’t doubt that,”

But you’re not so sure. If Touya loved you—really loved you—would he have disappeared no less than three times tonight, each with a different girl, leading them into his bedroom with those dark glittering sapphire eyes while they gaze up at him like he hung the fucking moon himself?

Honestly, is that even a question you want answered?

You keep your face buried in Keigo’s chest to block it out, to keep yourself from watching your big brother as he flits around the room, handing out discreet baggies in exchange for ridiculous wads of cash and talking in hushed voices, in code, to men who look much too old to be at a house party.

Eventually, Touya returns to retrieve you, bending down and speaking softly.

“It’s time for bed, princess,” A hand pets your head, and you flinch away.

“Hey,” you feel the couch dip beside you as he sits down. “Look at me,”

You’re shaking your head, trying in vain to press even closer to Keigo, but that doesn’t stop Touya from reaching out and gripping your chin, forcing you to face him.

Crystal eyes search your face carefully, wide and alert—he always works sober, you found out. He can tell you’re upset, can see it written plain as day across your face, eyes glassy with your lips set in a deep pout, eyebrows pushed together. Exhaling harshly, he closes his eyes, fingers rubbing at his eyes in exasperation.

“C’mon,” he says lowly, wrapping a hand around your bicep and tugging as he stands.

“No,” you nearly growl, shaking your head and viciously pulling your arm from his grip.

Touya stares at you for a moment, like he cannot believe you just had the audacity to tell him no, before he speaks, an incredulous laugh bubbling up from his chest. “What did you just say?”

Keigo’s sitting up straighter now, more alert as your body subconsciously curls into his chest, cowering away from your big brother. “Y-You heard me,”

Snorting in disbelief, Touya raises his eyebrows as his tongue runs along the front of his teeth, huffing out the remnants of a chuckle before his smile drops completely, blue fire blazing in his dark eyes.

“Get up,” he snarls, hand in a vice grip around your arm as he yanks harshly. The force of it has you practically falling off Keigo’s lap, though Touya catches you roughly before your knees hit the hardwood, hoisting you up by your arm to stand on unsteady feet.

“Move.” He instructs, giving you a shove in the vague direction of his bedroom. “Now.”

His chest bumps into your back and you stumble forward, yelping softly. He keeps pushing like this, strong hand clasping your shoulder so tightly you’re sure you’ll have five little bruises in the shape of his fingerprints in the morning, driving you to walk with the sheer force of his body.

“No,” your whispering, trying desperately to turn back and look at him as you approach his door, tears flooding your eyes, frantically shaking your head and trying your damnedest to plant your feet, heels digging into the floor in an attempt to stop him from pushing you forward.

“You really gonna say no to me a second time tonight? In less than fifteen minutes? You think that’s wise, baby?”

You don’t—of course you don’t. It’s probably one of the stupidest things you could do, in this situation.

But even though you know, know this isn’t a smart move, know you shouldn’t be testing him like this—challenging him like this, especially in front of so many people—you’re powerless to control the words that tumble from your lips next.

“I don’t want to sleep in a bed that’s been infested by your whores,”

They come out as a hiss—you don’t mean for them to, but they do, voice quivering under the combined weight of your fury and fear.

That gets him to stop, entire body going rigid. Icy dread rushes through your veins, panic clawing its way up your throat, forcing uneven breaths through your parted lips. Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you brace yourself for the impact of his bellowing voice, shoulders tensing in anticipation for the blow, for him to really snap.

Except then he starts laughing, his hand relaxing around your shoulder, spinning you around to face him as he backs you up against his bedroom door, caging you in with his body.

“That’s what this is about?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you blink twice in disbelief, prompting hot tears to finally spill over. “I—Wh-Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re being silly, princess,”

It hurts, stings like three massive spikes just shot through your heart, causes a tiny whimper to sound from deep in your throat, chest hiccupping with pathetic little half-sobs.

“Sil…Silly?” Time feels as if it’s slowed, your sluggish brain having trouble comprehending the situation unfolding.

His lips pull down into a frown, eyes narrowing slightly as he regards you with extreme precision. “Yeah,” he says, but his voice sounds far away, muffled, like you’re underwater and he’s speaking to you from above the surface. “Hey—”

Your head’s shaking again, in slow, delayed motions from side to side. “No,” you whisper. “No.”

You feel nauseous, and the proximity of his presence is only making it worse, making you feel like you could hurl at any moment. Little hands find purchase on his chest and push, stomach lurching painfully as your head spins.

He catches your wrists easily, holding them together in one large hand, his other coming to grip your chin and force you to look at him.

Thick silence settles between the two of you as Touya’s eyes study your face slowly, noting the tears flowing steadily down your face, the way your breath stutters with sobs you’re so desperately trying to hold back, the way your entire body trembles.

“Are you seriously upset over this?” he asks, laughing a little.

Your gaze holds his, tears casting a thick, gleaming screen across your eyes.

“Yes, Touya,” you whisper, wishing your voice didn’t sound as small and weak as it does. “I’m seriously upset,”

That’s the first time you’ve used his first name—just his first name, void of any honorific—in a long, long time.

It gets him to pause again, his usual and well-worn mask of passivity melting away for just a second as shock crosses his face. Then his features are hardening again, brows knitting together and creasing his forehead, eyes narrowing into near slits.

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” he spits harshly, the words cutting into your flesh. “You know none of them mean a thing,”

“Then why do you fuck around with them?” you shoot back almost immediately, voice fading into a whisper.

He glares at you, as if you’re wasting his precious time with such childish questions when he’s told you this already, and you can see the blue fire simmering in his eyes.

“It’s late,” he says curtly, voice sounding off to you. “You need sleep.”

You try to fight him on it, but he’s too quick, reflexes too swift, and he shoves you into his room, door slamming shut less than a second later.

Tears obstruct your vision as you stumble around, finally finding his desk chair and collapsing heavily. You don’t even bother trying to open the door, know it’s locked without having to hear that soft click! as the lock turns into place.

He’s right—it is late, well past three in the morning, and you are utterly exhausted, drawing your knees up to your chest and curling up in the plush chair.

But no matter how tired you are, you absolutely refuse to sleep in his bed. The party’s dying down, you can hear Touya’s muffled farewells as guests begin to leave while you fade in and out of consciousness.

You think you might’ve heard Keigo say something, might’ve caught the word stay, might’ve detected the annoyance laced in Touya’s voice as he responds, but you’re too worn out to reflect on it.

At some point in the night, Touya reenters his room, chuckling a little at your antics and carrying you to his bed.

The move wakes you, and you weakly protest—no, you don’t want to be in this bed, please, just let you go sleep in your own bed—but Touya ignores you entirely, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you tightly to his chest.

It’s then that the tears start up again, salt staining your puffy cheeks, head beginning to throb from dehydration.

“Shh, baby, shh,” he hushes you, nimble fingers combing through your hair. “I’m here, right here,”

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Touya over these past few weeks, it’s that he becomes marginally softer in the middle of the night. Your fingers twist in his t-shirt, trying in vain to pull yourself impossibly closer, Touya making a soft noise akin to a coo in the back of his throat.

“I’ve got you, niichan’s got you,”

You hate it. You hate that he’s the only person you want comforting you right now, as you lay in his bed, surrounded by the smell of cheap perfume and clinging in desperation to him, needing him close, needing his body heat warming you and his hands on you. You hate the way your sobs come harder the more he soothes you, the heavy ache in your chest almost bruising, crushing your lungs and making it near impossible to breathe.

But you crave his comfort nonetheless. It’s a special kind of comfort, one that’s difficult to describe, one that only comes from the love and adoration and protection of a big brother.

Why can’t you just be mine? You want to ask, the words searing into your tongue, refusing to leave your lips.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick, angel,” he chastises softly, brushing your hair away from your clammy forehead as another shuddery sob rips through your chest.

“I want you,” you say instead, words garbled.

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

His chest heaves with an exasperated sigh, head turning away and gazing up at the ceiling. “You have all of me, princess,”

There’s something in his voice that makes you stop, pause, his words reverberating in your mind. He sounds almost like…like he’s upset over this fact, like he wishes that you didn’t have all of him.

You want to press for more, to probe and prod and pick away at it, but exhaustion finally claims you, rendering you incapable of speech, your tongue moving sluggishly in your mouth as you desperately try to form words.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

It’s grey when you wake, only a few hours later, eyes sticky and dry from lack of sleep. Your head is pounding, feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton, lips cracked and dry from dehydration, and a painful lump forms almost immediately in your throat when you get a whiff of sickly sweet artificial vanilla, then another of intense, synthetic citrus.

The tears are starting up again, collecting in your eyes and clouding your vision. It makes you nauseous, makes your skin crawl and your chest burn as your throat fills with acid. The tears sting, but you blink hard to keep them at bay. You will not cry, not in front of him, not in his bed surrounded by the remnants of those other girls, not again. You refuse to give them the satisfaction.

You spring up quickly, halfway through climbing over Touya’s body when a strong hand latches onto your wrist.

“No,” Touya mumbles, face half buried in his pillow. “Stay,”

“No,” you whisper, pulling yourself free from his grasp and hurrying out of his room. You can smell them on your clothes, on your skin, and it makes you want to scrub your body under scalding water until it’s raw.

Everything hurts—it hurts so much it feels like your chest is collapsing in on itself, like you can’t breathe, gasping for air as you stumble onto the porch, nearly tripping over your own feet as you stop and realize you have nowhere to go.

Touya has cut you off from all of your friends at this point; any spare time you had was now claimed by him.

And that’s exactly why he doesn’t bother rolling out of bed to follow after you, isn’t worried about you going anywhere, knows you can’t leave him, no matter how badly you want to. No, not a precious little girl like you, with nowhere to find refuge.

You sit down heavily on one of the front steps, vision so blurry with tears you’re barely able to make out the figure advancing towards you. They’re finally escaping your eyes, rolling down your cheeks as you blink twice, trying to clear them. Your chest stutters under the force of a sob you’re desperately trying to hold back, clapping both hands over your mouth in an attempt to silence it.

“Hey—oh no,” Keigo breathes the moment your watery eyes look up at him. You squeeze your eyes shut, causing more tears to leak out as your shoulders shake, whole body trembling from the force of your sobs, poorly muffled by your palms.

“No, no, no, sweetheart,” he’s saying as he rushes to sit down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders tightly.

Keigo’s the closest thing you have to a friend now. And really, you should be embarrassed by the way you practically fling yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest as your hands form fists in his t-shirt. He’s a little startled by your borderline violent reaction, but he recovers quickly, arms encircling your body and pulling you against him.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, one hand rubbing your back while the other pets your hair. “Hey, it’s alright, I’m here,”

And you hate the way his words almost directly mirror Touya’s, the way his low sultry voice turned gentle and soft as he carded deft fingers through your hair echoing almost painfully in your head. But Keigo lets you cry, lets you stain his t-shirt with salty tears and saliva until you’ve got nothing left, never stopping his compassionate motions.

“You…Stayed the night?” you pull back a little, the fact that he’s still here, blonde hair all mussed up from sleep, finally dawning on you.

“Well, yeah,” he says, a little bashful as he looks away and ducks his head. “Wanted to make sure you were alright, s’all. Last night was…” he trails off, frowning. “What happened?”

Golden eyes search your face, his forehead crinkling in concern. A beat of silence passes.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but…” kind fingers move to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ll feel better if you let it out, promise. And, not to brag or anything, but I’m preee-tty good at this kind’a stuff,” he chuckles a little.

“Got in a fight,” you whisper, eyes staring intently at the brick wall behind his shoulder as your chin trembles slightly, memories of last night flashing through your mind.

“A fight? With Touya?” Keigo moves his head a little, forcing his face into your field of vision and catching your face with tender fingers when you try to look away.

“Yeah,” tears are beginning to well up in your eyes as you think about it, the sheer fact that you’re in a fight making your heart feel like it’s ripping itself to shreds. A chaotic storm of emotions brews in your chest, switching mercilessly and swirling together so quickly that you can’t even tell what they are. Your insides feel all jumbled up, and trying to decipher what the heck’s going on only makes your head ache more.

They torment you, a deep sense of anguish finally settling at the core. You’re confused, livid at Touya for being such a jackass; jealous, because you want him all to yourself; heartbroken, because you want—need—his approval, desperate to hear him tell you that you’re his good little baby girl.

You want to be his good little baby girl.

But it isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair, sweetheart. Get used to it, he had told you once, when you had complained about something so silly, so simple as him eating the last ice cream cookie sandwich (he made it up to you, of course, telling you he wanted to taste your cream—such a cheeseball—and making you cum three times before taking you out to buy more).

No, it isn’t fair, but you don’t care. You want him to be yours, too.

Keigo tsks, bringing your attention back to him, mouth set in a hard line as sad eyes watch you. “What was it about?”

“I-It…H-He—” a shuddery breath cuts you off, and Keigo draws you into his arms, holding you against his chest as the sobs start up again, sobs that make it feel like your body’s about to tear apart, desperately clutching Keigo to try and keep yourself together.

“Oh, songbird,” he coos, rocking you gently. “Is it…Um, the other girls?”

“Yes,”

“But you know you’re his favourite, right?”

“D-Does it even matter, if he’s still fucking them anyway?” you ask, pulling back suddenly as hot anger flashes through you. “Why does he need them? Am I—” a sob cuts you off, but you swallow it, persevering. “Am I not good enough?” your voice breaks on the last word, fading into a whisper, big teary eyes scanning his face almost frantically, seeking an answer in his expression.

Keigo blinks, surprised by your sudden brashness, then gives you a small, sad smile. “Only he can answer that, sugarplum,” he whispers, using the pad of his thumb to catch a stray tear and wipe it across your cheekbone. “But just because he’s fucking around, doesn’t mean that you can’t, too,”

Your head tilts to the side, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Give him a taste of his own medicine,” Keigo shrugs, leaning back a little. “He definitely deserves it, for making an angel such as yourself so upset,”

You sniffle a little, wiping at your nose with the paw of your sweater as you consider the prospect.

“Y’know, it technically isn’t cheating, since you guys aren’t in any sort of official relationship to begin with,” Keigo reminds you gently, nudging just a tiny bit more.

It isn’t right—you know it isn’t. You’ve never been one to fight fire with fire, often preferring to avoid conflict and drama, but you’re so hurt; you’re so angry at him—angry at the way he reacted, as if it was you in the wrong, angry at the fact that he doesn’t even seen to care about your feelings on the issue, because he knows you’ll come running back either way, angry because he’s right, as evident in the way pathetically clung to him last night—that all you want to do in that moment is cause him a shred of the pain he’s causing you.

It’s an impulsive decision that has you pulling out your phone, quickly scrolling through your contacts, thumb jabbing at Tomura’s name—Touya had given you his number for emergencies only—before you have time to think it through, before you have time to regret it.

Tiny thumbs fly across the keyboard, your heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline accelerates your breathing.

Hey. Let’s hang out.

Keigo inhales through his teeth next to you, and your eyes dart to him in surprise, as if you had forgotten he was there.

“Well,” he begins, though his voice sounds odd to you—unlike his usually nonchalant, happy-go-lucky manner. “That’s, uh, definitely one that’s gonna hurt him, songbird,”

You look back down at your phone to see Tomura typing a response.

Yeah, definitely. Pick a day.

“Good.”

[ignitedbynatsu]

Are You Really That Dense?

A/N: sooo what we've learned is that when I say I will upload the next day, you should probably expect an update a day or two later 😅. Anyway this one is requested by @enchantingpeachherocreator I hope you like it as much as I loved writing it ❤️

Warnings: swearing

Genre: angst tot fluff

👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅

"So when are you going to confess your unconditional love for him?" The green-haired mage took a seat beside you as he caught you staring at his friend once again.

"I will once you admit your own feelings" you shot back, not taking any relationship advice from someone that wasn't even ready to accept their own feeling.

"I'm afraid that I do not know what you are talking about" he tried to play the dumb card which only earned him an eye roll from you.

"I doubt he even sees me that way" you mumbled, breaking your one-sided staring context, leaning your head on your crossed arms in front of you.

"Why don't you hint that you see him as more than just a friend?" Freed suggested at which you scoffed "if the obvious flirting isn't gonna do it, then I don't know what, I bet even Natsu has noticed how I feel, and he hasn't even noticed how Lucy looks at him like he has hung the stars in the sky"

"Yeah... Even I'm surprised that Bickslow hasn't caught on yet. It's almost getting painful" he agreed

"Maybe he's deliberately ignoring it like Gray's doing with Juvia" you mumbled. You'd rather have him straight out reject you than just stringing you along just 'cause he thinks it's fun. You weren't a toy he could play with and just throw away when he lost interest.

"How about one last big gesture? If he doesn't pick up on that then maybe it's indeed better to move on" your friend proposed. You finally lifted your head up from your arms to look at him. "Like what?"

"I don't know... Something personal" he pondered his own suggestions for a second before he suddenly snapped his fingers like an amazing idea just crossed his mind "isn't there a saying like the way through a man's heart is through his stomach?"

"Freed! You're a genius!" At that moment, your eyes got reignited with a sparkle of hope that you had lost over the past weeks.

You knew that you were probably settings yourself up for failure, but you didn't care because you had hope. Hope that Freed, his and your best friend, had given, and he wouldn't give you false hope if he knew you had no chance, right?

Due to the anticipation for Bickslow, you could hardly sleep that. Possible outcomes swirled through your mind that went from a picture-perfect scenario to the most heartbreaking rejection. You hoped with every cell in your body it would be the first.

"Hi Bickslow!" your usual cheerful self was amplified, and he didn't have the slightest clue as to why.

"Hey (Y/N), what you got there?" His eyes fell upon the box that you were carrying in your hands.

"Oh you know, I was a bit bored last night and thought I'd do something sweet to show how much I appreciate you" you explained as you opened the box to reveal his favourite cake.

"Just for me? If I didn't know better I would think you'd try to confess something" he gladly took a slice and let his teeth sink into the sweet dessert you had poured all your love in last night.

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips "about that..."

"(Y/N), this tastes horrible" he laughed as he placed the half-eaten piece back into the box "you trying to poison me or something?"

"I didn't think it tasted that bad" the hope left your eyes as soon as it came as you watched the man in front of you ridicule your baking skills.

"Then you should let your taste buds get checked out. No wonder you only wanted me to taste that garbage" he took the box and threw it into the nearest bin, along with your heart.

You were devastated, heartbroken and humiliated as the whole guild looked at what Bickslow was making such a fuss over. Perhaps he was just stringing you along. "Sorry"

Freed and Laxus sighed as they saw the heartbroken girl ran out of the guild and their clueless friend staring at her retrieving form "what's her problem?"

"Even you can't be that dense" Laxus scoffed in disbelief at his friend's question.

"What do you mean?" Freed was getting more and more fed up with his friends acts, especially since it was hurting his other best friend, so when that final question left his mouth he decided to draw the line.

"Stop it, Bickslow. Just stop it. I cannot believe you just did that to her. You really wanna keep playing the dumb card and act like you don't know how she feels about you? How she has been feeling about you for the last couple of months? You could have just turned her down softly, but no, you wanted to make a big deal out of it and humiliate her in the process. I hope you had a good laugh out of it, asshole" the green-haired mage didn't even wait for a reaction as he stormed out of the guild as well, determined to find his best friend.

"... She likes me?" He was doing his best to process Freed words. Words he had longed for so long to hear. He could have never imagined hearing them in this situation.

He didn't mean to hurt you. That was never his intention. He thought you had done something in the cake to mess with him. How could he have possibly known that it was part of your confession? Something he could've never hoped you'd do one day. After all, he always thought you were way out of his leak. He was certain that any chance of you reciprocating his feelings, was now completely out of the window. The worst part, he had nobody but himself to blame for that.

"You fucked up" Laxus also got up to leave him but Bickslow stopped "Laxus! You have to help me. I didn't mean to hurt her. I really didn't know. Please, I don't know what to do."

His pleas were to no avail as the blonde shook his head "I'm sorry, but, you're on your own for this one"

Some may say that it was unfair the way Laxus treated him, but he knew that if Bickslow wanted to make things right, he'll have to do it on his own. He had to show her he really meant it. Plus it was also a bit of payback for making his friend cry, but that was just a bonus.

He tried talking to you, he really did, but you were always busy. If you had no excuse, Freed was certain to step in and guide you away. It frustrated Bickslow, but he knew he had no right to feel that way. Not at your nor at Freed. He fucked it up.

You on the other hand were torn. You wanted to listen to him, have to hear what he had to say, but you couldn't. You wouldn't survive opening your heart back open to him only for it to be shattered moments later again. Yet, you still cared. Noticing every little thing that changed from his quietness to his slouched posture, nothing passed by you.

That's how you noticed the bandages around his fingers and the one covering his cheek, making him not able to put on his helmet.

"Where are you going?" You ignored Freed's questions as you made your way to where Bickslow was sitting alone.

You towered over him as you stopped right next to the table he was sitting at "what happened?"As soon as he heard your voice it felt like the wind got knocked out of him. He had practised the words he wanted to say to you countless times in his head, yet when you were standing here, next to him, all he could say was your name. "(Y/N)..."

You tilted your head a bit to the side as you waited for him to continue, but no words left his mouth. You nodded your head once as you understood that he didn't want to talk to you. Had you been reading the signs wrong again? You weren't surprised if you had.

But as you turned on your heels to leave again, Bickslow grabbed your wrist. He wasn't going to let you leave again. Not this time "wait!"

You stopped in your tracks and turned back around to face him. His pleading eyes looked at you, begging you to stay. Those dark red orbs you loved so much but didn't get to see very often. All of it was enough to make you stay put and just listen to what he had to say.

"I- uh- I'm sorry" he apologized as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. Once again you waited for him to continue, but nothing came "that's it?"

He was alerted by your reaction. You didn't sound mean or dismissive as he thought you would, no, you sounded tired and heartbroken, making his heartache all the more. He did this. He was the cause of your pain 

"No, that's not what I meant, I mean it is what I mean, I am really sorry for what I did, it's just..." Your eyes softened as he struggled to find the right words. You knew you should keep your walls up, but how could you when he still held your heart?

"Let's start with what happened" you suggested as you motioned to his hands.

A faint colour of red coloured his cheeks as he looked down on his hands as well "Well, funny story actually, well not that funny, but uh-" he cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He never had a problem talking to you before, so why did it seem so impossible now? "I was trying to make you a cake, and it didn't really go as planned"

Your heart swelled at thought of his gesture, but then you remembered the way he belittled your baking skills, making you narrow your eyes again slightly "what happened to your cheek?"

"The cake kind of blew up and burned my cheek" your eyes shot up at his explanation. How do you blow up a cake? Let alone burn your cheek with it in the process?

"Anyway that's not what's important" he dismissed the story as he once again sucked in a large breath. It was now or never "I am really sorry for the way I treated you that day. I never meant to hurt you. I know it's hard to believe, but I really didn't know that you liked me back. I guess I just placed myself in the friend zone from the moment I met you because I didn't think I had any chance with you, to begin with. Because of that the thought of you actually liking me never crossed my mind."

"Why'd you think you weren't good enough for me?" You asked confused. To you, he was perfect. Sure he had done some questionable things in the past, but he showed he was a man worthy of redemption. He was a man worthy of your heart.

"I can't even put in words how perfect you are. You're everything I wished my dream woman to be and more. I always thought you'd deserve someone better like me. Someone who could treat you the way you deserved to be treated. Someone like Laxus or Freed" he tried to explain.

A soft smile played along your lips as you heard the names of your friends, who were clearly in love with each other, fall from his mouth. He really was just incredibly dense. "So please, (Y/N). Give me a chance to prove myself. I'd love you unconditionally, I will treat you the way you deserve to be treated, I... I'd even worship the ground you walk upon-"

"How about we take things slow?" You stopped him before he'd spew even more nonsense.

"Wait! So you forgive me?" He couldn't contain his excitement at the thought of you agreeing to give him a second chance, and when you gave him a sheepish nod he couldn't help but pick you up and spin you around "How about we go on a date? I take you to the best restaurant in town!"

"I'd love to you" you agreed and placed your lips softly against his cheek, making him a stuttering mess once again.

[mercy-burning]

Payback

Summary: After Reader surprises Spencer at a BAU holiday party, he can’t stop thinking about her. Category: Fluff Word Count: 4.2k NOTE: This is my first little fic, I’ve had this idea for a while now and I’ve always wanted to write it, so please let me know what you think! I hope you like it! And if there’s anything I should include in the before/summaries of my stuff in the future, please let me know! I’d love to write more but I’m not sure what everyone wants to see. Thank you!

***

He could still taste peppermint. It's been 8 days and still, every time his lips press together, Spencer swears he can taste her peppermint lip gloss coating them. It's all he's been able to think about as of late.

And no sooner than he could taste her lips, he could see her face, the way her eyes had glimmered after just a glass of champagne, amused and proud of her actions. He tried not to think about how dumbfounded he must have looked, completely frozen and practically unable to function properly, let alone at all. His mind betrayed him, though only for a second before he focused on the way she'd lovingly patted his cheek and whispered, "There you go," before pressing her lips together and turning away.

The whole ordeal had only lasted no longer than five seconds, but to Spencer it had felt like a lifetime. Time had slowed to a stop and refused to move forward the very moment she grabbed his face.

Truth be told, he should have seen it coming. For years since Y/N had joined the BAU, his friends had teased him relentlessly about her. More specifically, Morgan had caught him staring at her from across the jet once upon a time, her first case with the team, and when she'd looked up and smiled at Spencer, causing him to give a small wave and immediately avert his gaze, Morgan laughed from beside him and stated, "You couldn't be more obvious if you tried, Pretty Boy."

Emily and Rossi, who were seated across from them, didn't even have to turn around to know what was happening, and the shared a knowing smile before Hotch had returned from the bathroom and started debriefing.

Spencer had tried to play it cool at first, blowing off his friends' teasing remarks and sometimes crude gestures, but deep down he knew they were all right. And if they were able to see just how badly he liked Y/N, then it was probably no secret that she'd been able to tell as well. The thought made him nervous, but in the three years since he and Y/N had come to be better friends, he'd gotten more comfortable and a little (but not by much) less blush-prone when she paid him a smile or occasionally brushed her hand against his.

Nonetheless, the teasing from the rest of the team had slowed significantly, though it hadn't entirely stopped. Every time they all got together for a dinner at Rossi's or a party for the holidays, Y/N got dressed up, and every time without fail Spencer couldn't help but admire her beauty. Of course he'd found her beautiful all the time, but there was something about the way she held herself during these events, almost like she knew she was the most stunning person in the room, that drove him crazy, and even intimidated him a little. (She's way out of my league, he'd thought to himself once.)

And every single time, either Morgan or Garcia, or pretty much anyone else, but those two specifically, would try to get him to talk to her, to ask her on a date, or to just flirt with her. But, as usual, Spencer brushed it off, and each night he would go the entire time without taking his friends' advice, much to their chagrin.

Sometimes he wished he had, that he was brave enough to say something to her, anything beyond the usual, "you look nice" before quickly changing the subject. And a few times he almost came close, but some small part of his conscience told him that she wouldn't reciprocate. That he was too weird and that she was too good for him. And then he would chastise himself for even thinking that he would have a shot, and he'd have to live with the fact that he would just be teased by his friends forever about this perfect woman that he would never have the courage to come clean to.

But all the same, he was just naïve enough to believe that he could get away that one night without any trouble.

It was the day before Christmas Eve, and Rossi had generously decided to host a small get-together before everyone would be with their families for the holidays. As usual his place was beautiful, but even more so with all the twinkling lights and garland.

The team was shuffling around the kitchen, talking amongst themselves and drinking their drinks of choice, when Y/N appeared next to Spencer, a glass of champagne in hand.

And just like every time before, he felt his heart tug at his chest as he looked at her, so close to him he could smell her perfume and feel her warmth. She wore an emerald green dress that stopped below her knees, the sleeves long and the neckline plunging down to the top of her stomach in a deep V-shape. Four thin, glittery strips of silver attached the two sides of the V together, getting smaller as they went down. Her hair was worn up, a high pony tail that tumbled in curls down the back of her head, a few strands curled and framing the sides of her face. Her eyelids glittered red and her lips were sheer and shimmering.

She practically sparkled as she spoke to him, a beacon of elegance and beauty, and it took everything inside of Spencer to resist grabbing her face and kissing her in front of all their friends.

She finished her glass of champagne as he was telling her about his holiday plans, setting the glass on the table in front of her before a squeal—no doubt from Garcia—cut him off, mostly out of concern.

"What is it?" Y/N asked for him.

Morgan and Emily came strolling up to see what the commotion was about before they laughed and fist-bumped.

"What?" Spencer repeated, thoroughly confused.

Rossi came up to join, nodding as he raised his drink. "Ah, the magic of mistletoe."

"Look up," Garcia added, pointing to the ceiling above where Spencer and Y/N were standing.

Sure enough, mistletoe was hanging above them, and though he knew what that meant, his first instinct was to talk.

"You know, the Druids came to view mistletoe as a symbol of liveliness due to the fact that it could blossom even during wintertime. In hopes of restoring fertility they would administer it to humans, and even animals."

He refused to look at Y/N. He couldn't. He knew that the second he did, he'd give himself away, if he hadn't already before. And just as he was about to spit out more facts about mistletoe, he felt time slow down.

The words caught in his throat, dissipated, and replaced themselves with the smallest of whimpers. He hoped to God she wouldn’t hear it, for fear of giving himself away even further.

Instead he froze, completely shell-shocked when Y/N reached over, grabbed his face in her hands, and turned it to meet hers, taking no time at all to press her lips against his in a burning kiss. At least, that's how it felt for him.

He wasn't sure how she was feeling, but in that moment he could only think about how his entire being burned at her touch. And though she only kissed him for no longer than three seconds, keeping the entire thing short and sweet, the taste of her peppermint flavored lip gloss lingering on his lips, the way she looked at him, and the way she patted his cheek and the way she whispered, "There you go," before turning away and taking her empty glass with her... All of it was enough to make Spencer feel like he'd just experienced Heaven itself.

She was the actual human embodiment of Heaven, he was sure of it.

So by the time he'd recovered from his haze and found it in himself to breathe again, Spencer went back to pretending he wasn't phased, because after all he was in a room with all his friends who knew better, and the more he could keep pretending, the less he would be left to think about how Y/N had completely shaken him to his core.

But now it's the night before New Year's Eve, and he'd been thinking for days now how to deal with this. Because every time she'd looked at him since then, every time she'd say his name or playfully wink at him, it drove him mad. He closed his eyes and there she was, in all her shimmering, heavenly glory, taking up every thought, every ounce of being he had to offer. She owned him and she didn't even know it.

Or maybe she did.

There was one day, December 28th to be precise, when he swore she was messing with him, gauging his reaction. First of all, she'd worn a skirt to work, which she barely ever did, not to mention it was cold and snowy, and hardly the right weather to comfortably wear one, and a tight one at that. And Y/N seemed to be particularly and unusually clumsy that day, because she'd conveniently dropped her pen in front of Spencer's desk, or accidentally spilled water on her white shirt, exposing some of her bra. And every single time, She'd looked up to see him staring at her, as he'd never been able to resist doing.

The way she talked to him was different, too, her voice almost lullaby-like. And when she'd ask a question about something she clearly knew, she bit her lip immediately afterwards, her head tilted down and her eyes fluttered up, almost like she was embarrassed to ask for help.

By the end of the day Spencer was exhausted, not to mention still overwhelmed and completely burned by her presence. And it didn't help that everyone else around him knew what was happening. The teasing then was just as relentless as it had been the first week Y/N started working with them, made worse by the fact that she'd kissed him and left him absolutely ruined.

He had to do something, or he was sure he wouldn't survive.

***

Even though the team had just been together for Christmas, once again they all found themselves gathered around a fancy setting for New Year's.

This time Y/N decided she wanted to host, since none of the team have ever been to her house. In the three years since she'd worked with them, she figured it would be a good way to ring in the new year.

Her house wasn't as big or extravagant as Rossi's—no one's was, really—but she'd made do with what elegance she had to offer.

Even though everyone was bringing a small dish to eat, Y/N wanted to go all out. So, she decided to bake two pecan pies and a chocolate chip banana bread, all that culinary training throughout her first two years of college not entirely going to waste. She'd even made complimentary cupcakes for the team, each one flavored and decorated uniquely to each new friend she'd made from her time at the BAU, their names piped on every one with icing.

For Garcia, she made a vegan lemon blueberry cupcake frosted with a homemade vegan whipped cream, complete with a little glitter and 'penny' piped in pink.

For Derek, a peanut butter mocha cupcake with chocolate frosting and decorated with gold glitter and peanut butter chips, his name piped in white.

For Emily, a red velvet with vanilla buttercream and a ring of red and white marbled frosting around it, her name piped in red.

For JJ, a chocolate cupcake filled with raspberry coulis and topped with dark chocolate buttercream, silver pearls making a circle around the outside and her name piped in pink.

Hotch's cupcake was a chocolate with coconut frosting and 'Hotch' piped in vibrant blue, along with some swirled patterns around the edges.

Rossi's was her favorite to make, simply because it was so out of the box. It was a chocolate cupcake filled and topped with maple whipped cream, sprinkled with chopped up, caramelized bacon. She hoped he'd like it, but just in case it was too unconventional, she whipped up extra cupcakes of each. That way everyone could also try different ones if they wanted.

And that left Spencer.

The whole week leading up to the party, Y/N was concocting her recipes, trying to figure out which flavors everyone would like the best. She knew that Spencer would gladly take anything she'd given him, but after the Christmas party, she wanted to give him something to remember.

Truth be told, she wasn't even going to kiss him that night. She was more than happy to let him go on about mistletoe in an attempt to avoid what everyone else so desperately wanted them to do, but right before he finished his first fact, Emily glanced at Y/N and nodded her head, mouthing "do it".

And in a split second decision, she decided screw it.

And then she kissed him.

Though Y/N wasn't sure how he would feel before she did it, she could tell almost immediately when she did that he'd wanted something like that to happen for a while, because he practically whined against her mouth. She felt it more than heard it, it was so small, but there was no mistaking that it had happened, only confirmed by the fact that he slightly leaned into her once it was happening.

And then she pulled away, and she could have swore he tried to chase after her, not wanting it to end. But shock won over, because he opened his eyes and they were as wide as she'd ever seen them, his lips parted and shimmering faintly from where her lip gloss had transferred.

Y/N didn't want him to know that she could hardly breathe, seeing him like that, feeling him embrace her action, so she'd quickly brushed it off, patted his cheek and whispered, "There you go".

In hindsight, she wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say. All the things she could have told him in the moment, and "There you go" is what came out? Really?

So she picked up her empty glass as the team laughed and clapped, putting distance between everyone to get more champagne and compose the rapid beating of her heart.

She went home that night and thought about Spencer. Naturally. She tried not to think about the small part of her brain that said he was only shocked because it was unexpected and not because he wanted her. Instead, she tried to recall every interaction they'd had together, wondering how she could have missed the obvious.

There'd been countless times where Y/N had caught him staring at her, only for him to look away and pretend like he hadn't been... And to think, every time she just thought maybe she'd had something stuck in her teeth or a stain on her shirt. She just had to think something was wrong, when in fact, everything was perfectly fine.

So she decided that after everyone went back to work, she'd test it out.

One tight skirt and a few 'accidental' mishaps later, Y/N was sure.

And so, as she laid out the cupcakes on the table, Y/N put Spencer's in the middle. It was a vanilla bean cupcake, filled with peppermint whipped cream and crushed candy canes. The peppermint whipped cream was piped on the top as well, and she topped it off with a silver shine and his last name piped in red cursive lettering. On the outside you couldn't tell it was peppermint, but he'd sure taste it. And Y/N couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he did.

Everyone started to arrive shortly after Y/N finished getting dressed. She decided on a sleeveless black velvet dress with a high neckline that fit snugly around her throat. It was tight and ended just above the knee, accentuating just about everything. She put her hair up in the same high ponytail as the Christmas party, though rather than curled, it was straight. Her makeup was simple, a little silver eyeshadow, black eyeliner, and red lipstick.

She'd just put in the second hoop earring when her doorbell rang. Y/N slipped on her black heels by the front door and opened it to find almost everyone there.

"Y/N!" Garcia's exuberance was the first thing she heard, and then she hugged her.

"Hey, guys, welcome!" she exclaimed with a smile as everyone filed in through the door, hugging her as they went on by.

"Morgan and Reid are on their way," Rossi said, handing her a bottle of wine. Blackberry merlot, her favorite.

"Man, it smells great in here," Emily noted, setting her jacket on the hook behind the door.

"Yeah, I might have went a little overboard and made everyone their own cupcakes," Y/N said. "And banana bread... and two pecan pies."

"Cupcakes?" Garcia inquired, almost devilishly.

Everyone laughed, and Y/N led the way to the dining room, where she had everything set up. In front was everyone's cupcakes lined up in a row, behind them the banana bread and the two pies on either side of it.

"Y/N, these look incredible!" JJ complimented. Everyone else agreed in unison, and it warmed Y/N's heart.

"Thanks guys. I made a few of each just in case you weren't happy with your cupcake. But you're free to have them now if you want." So she handed everyone their assigned cupcakes, explaining each of their contents and seeing their faces light up, save for Reid and Morgan, who still had yet to arrive.

And as if on cue, the doorbell rang again, and Y/N's heart almost jumped out of her chest.

"I'll go bring these out to them," she said, grabbing the remaining cupcakes and leaving her friends to enjoy.

Derek was at the door first, smiling as charmingly as ever. "Hey, Miss Thing."

"Hey, yourself," she laughed, opening the door and stepping aside for him to walk through. She handed him his cupcake after he took his coat off, setting it beside everyone else's. "I made everyone complimentary cupcakes. This one's for you. Peanut butter chocolate mocha."

Morgan's eyebrows raised and he smiled, taking the cupcake. "You didn't."

Y/N laughed again, nodding as he took a bite. "You can head inside through there, everyone else is enjoying their own."

He pulled her in for a side hug and muttered a 'thank you' through a mouth full of cupcake, making her laugh harder, before he disappeared into the kitchen.

When Y/N turned around, Spencer was taking off his coat, a smile plastered on his face. "You made cupcakes?"

She tried not to fall apart when she looked at him, his eyes as kind as ever, that smile so intoxicatingly sweet and so incredibly him. She gave him a small once-over, admiring the look he'd gone for, which consisted of black dress pants, a long-sleeved navy button down with the first few buttons opened and a tie hanging loose and open around his neck, revealing some of his chest. He'd opted to leave his hair rather messy, which was more than okay with her. If she hadn't known any better she'd say he'd just woken up, but the style choices seemed deliberate. Regardless, Y/N knew that whatever he'd shown up in would have taken her breath away.

She nodded, trying not to take too long to look him over. She held out her hands, the cupcake sitting in between them both. "Yeah, I did. Here's yours."

"You're not gonna tell me what kind it is?"

She laughed. "You'll just have to eat it and see."

"Well, thank you. It's pretty... You're pretty. Y-you look nice."

Y/N saw him take a breath right before blinking and looking down at the cupcake, peeling the wrapper away, and she almost forgot to say, "Thank you."

But she did.

And then he took a bite of the cupcake.

***

As soon as it passed his lips, Spencer knew. He'd been tasting peppermint all week, and of course that had just been him remembering the taste of her lip gloss before, but now the taste was unmistakably there.

It was the frosting, only faintly peppermint, but just enough to be highlighted against the sweet vanilla of the cupcake. The two flavors in harmony were just as much Heaven as she was.

He would have moved forward and kissed her right then had ne not already had a plan.

So, instead he nodded with a smile, swallowing the bite he'd taken and stepping forward to be closer to her. "It's amazing. Thank you."

He looked down at her, and she looked back up at him, her eyes just as beautiful as they had been the night of the Christmas party.

"You're welcome," she replied softly, eyes drifting to his lips.

Spencer smiled at her before passing her and walking to the kitchen, leaving her behind.

Little did she know, he was practically buzzing from head to toe.

***

The night passed quickly, everyone laughing, having drinks, and happily eating.

It amused Y/N that the vanilla peppermint cupcakes ended up being everyone's favorite by the end of the night. The team had no idea the reasoning behind the specific flavor, and she almost had to wonder what they'd say if they did know.

Though, she wasn't sure it mattered. Because Spencer had pretty much ignored her all night. Of course he'd talked to her if they were brought up in conversation together, but he rarely even looked at her, and in the event that he did, it felt purely platonic and unlike every other time before.

Was he ignoring her on purpose? Did he secretly hate the stunt she pulled with the cupcake and decide to punish her for it? Or maybe, she'd merely imagined the chemistry in the first place. It had all been a figment of her imagination, something her mind made up to make up for the fact that she sucked at dating and hadn't had affection from a man in years.

That last one seemed bit of a stretch, but at this point Y/N didn't rule anything out.

Eventually she shifted her focus to having fun with her friends, this found family she'd been happily apart of for three years. It was her first time hosting a get-together at her house, and she was proud to share it with them. In an effort to prove just how much it meant, Y/N made a toast right before midnight. The TV was muted, and she'd unmute it when the ball was ready to drop.

Looking around at all her friends, Y/N smiled gratefully. "I want to start this off by saying how sorry I am that it took me this long to invite you all over to my house. But hopefully I made up for it with all the sweets." A small group of laughter filled the room for a moment before she continued. "And I know New Year's is supposed to be celebrated in hopes of being a better person and bettering yourself in the future, but... I know all of you, so... That's already been taken care of. I love you guys."

"Here, here!" Rossi announced, raising his drink. Everyone else followed suit, and after taking a sip, Y/N unmuted the TV. There was about a minute left until the ball would drop, and it would be a new year.

After filling up her drink one more time, Y/N stood in the back of the living room to take in all of her friends, chatting amongst themselves as they waited for the new year to ring in.

But someone was missing.

Just as she'd thought it, Spencer showed up beside her, and she turned to smile at him. "Hey."

"That was a nice speech," he said, setting his drink down on the table beside him.

You followed suit and nodded. "Thanks. It was kind of cheesy, but..."

"No, I... I think it was sweet."

Y/N wasn't sure what else to say, so she nodded, and looked back at the TV. There was about 20 seconds left, and everyone started counting.

She started counting with them, Spencer still at her side.

"19, 18, 17, 16..."

Before she even knew what was happening, Spencer's hand brushed out against hers. She thought it was an accident, but he'd been moving closer as the seconds rolled by.

But that couldn't be. Because she'd imagined everything before, so why wouldn't she imagine this, too?

"12, 11, 10, 9, 8..."

His heart was beating so fast in his chest, he could have sworn everyone around would be able to hear it. Time was running out, and he knew that he couldn't chicken out this time. Morgan had even spent all afternoon and the entire car ride here helping him figure out how to do it properly. And if he backed out then the teasing would be relentless.

"4, 3, 2, 1..."

The second Y/N finished chanting the final number, she felt a pair of hands grab her face.

And then Spencer's mouth was on hers, even better than it'd been before. Only this time, she kept him close to her when he tried to pull away. But he was happy to oblige, and they stayed like that, lips pressed together and hands caressing each others' faces. Maybe their friends were watching them, and maybe they weren't. It didn't matter. Nothing else mattered but that kiss.

Y/N pulled away first, though she kept her forehead pressed against his. She opened her eyes and saw him looking at her, everything falling into place.

"What was that for?" she asked softly, though she didn't actually care.

"Payback," was his answer, plain and simple.

She rolled her eyes lovingly and then pressed another small, sweet kiss to his lips before they broke apart completely, and then she laughed.

"What?" Spencer asked.

Y/N ran her tongue over her bottom lip before patting his cheek. "You taste like peppermint."

[lordrethandus]

Daily Writing Challenge August 2022 Day 5

Fluff / Shiver ( @daily-writing-challenge @zoronadotatanado )

World: Final Fantasy 14

Theme: Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles - Morning Sky

Thunk! … thunk! … thaaash!

The last strike punched through the wall, sending it crumbling down before them. While Leleni covered her face and coughed up a storm from the thick cloud of dust, Zoronado seemed unfazed, setting his pickaxe back into the holster to trade it for his sword. As cautious as always, he went in first, letting her safely follow behind with the lantern.

“Woowwww…!” Leleni’s eyes grew wide as they stepped inside. The cavern was far larger than they expected– almost half a malm long and a quarter malm wide, with enough space inside to build an underground fortress. Stranger still it looked like a thick canopy made of tree branches were scrawled across the ceiling, with a soothing green light sparkling down from above; but the most peculiar thing of all was the stone bridge leading to a giant temple. Zoronado furrowed his brow as they came closer to the first bridge; it was covered in dust and worn out, ending at a collapsed tunnel covered in cobwebs. No one has been here for a very long time. “According to the records…” Leleni eagerly pulled out her journal and flipped through the weathered pages. “This place is over a thousand years old…! We could be the very first people to be here in centuries… certainly the first Lalafell!”

Convinced they wouldn’t be surprised by unexpected people down here, Zoronado lowered his guard and sheathed his sword; but he kept his hand on the hilt… just in case. “The air is fresh down here.” He commented, wiping his forehead as he looked around. “We should make camp down here before exploring the temple.”

“If you insist…” Leleni pouted, her gaze fixed on the temple looming in the dark in the distance. Zoronado took a match and started to light the hanging lanterns adoring the bridges to give them some much needed light of the road ahead– not that he needed it. The water surrounding this place was aglow with enough crystals to light up their room back in Gridania without using an onze of electricity. “We should at least make sure it’s safe before we…” She paused as she looked around, seeing only her friend’s backpack resting on the ground… and his trousers. “Zoro?! Zoronado?! Where did you-?!”

Splash! 

“BLEGH!” She let out an unflattering squeal as ice cold water struck her face! She looked over to see Zoronado already in the pond, cupping his hands together to launch another blast at her! “H-hey! That’s really cold!” She was able to shield her face this time, even as a shiver ran up her back from his onslaught. Quickly she worked her shoes off and pants, catching a third splash across her bare legs when she blinded herself by pulling her shirt over her head. Zoronado was chuckling like a villain as he splashed at her to come join him, but he didn’t expect her to change so quickly.

“W-wait!” He gasped, stopping his splashing. But it was too late… Leleni was in her one piece swimsuit, her feet flippers were strapped on, and she was ready for payback.

“BELLYYYYY FLOOOP!” She hollered, sailing through the air like an angel!