#all of us bouncing up and down holding hands except we’re covered in blood and scaring the locals

[hella1975]

the mutuals are like. ethel cain and blood and cannibalism and love as consumption and toxic psychosexual obsession and dog motif and teeth and sex/violence parallels with love/hate parallels and deer motif and antlerlock and ouroboros and religious themes and greek mythology and hair symbolism and sympathising with the monster and personification of the house and the mother as a god and tragic siblings and fruit symbolism and vampires and stabbing as a metaphor for penetration and body horror and. but if you asked we’re just really normal guys

[hotwings0203]

Guys I’m having another Bakugo brainrot

Tw: bullying, noncon, nonconsensual peeping, manipulation

Remember that one episode of MHA where the class goes to the sauna and M*neta tries to check da girls out over the wall?

Imagine the same scenario, but years later when they’re all older

The class wanted a reunion, just to relax and blow off some steam

You’re with the girls, and you all lay back in the hot water reminiscing about the older days when everyone was still getting the hang of their own quirks

Mina brings up this exact same scene but years ago.

“Ohmigosh, do you guys remember the last time we came in our first year here and Mineta totally tried to get a peek at us?”

“Ugh, I hope Iida is keeping a good hold on him right now,” Ochacko giggles, kicking her feet up to rest on a rock

You hum in agreement, tilting your head back to rest against the wooden wall separating you and the boys.

As it was, Uraraka was almost spot on with her hopes. Except, Iida and Tokoyami were out getting refreshments for the rest of the boys, leaving the remaining group to their own plot.

Which was lead by Mineta, of course, who had the brilliant idea to spy on the girls, just like they almost did years back.

“Guys, come on, please they’re right there!” He practically salivates, wildly gesturing to the tall wooden wall in front of them.

Most of them shift uncomfortably and groan about him being a creep as usual, but the rest stay silent.

Mineta takes their lack of outright refusal as fuel to keep blabbering.

“Look, we almost got away with it back then-“

“-You mean you got away with it, we didn’t do shit. And you didn’t exactly get off scot-free, Kota completely demolished your attempts and you landed ass down on Four-Eyes’ face,” Bakugo drawls, leaning his head backwards and looking up at the obsidian sky. The boys laugh, remembering the ridiculous event.

The night is cool, the stars littering the inky atmosphere take the pressure off of Bakugo’s lungs. For weeks now they’ve been training like dogs, battling each other and even minor villains for extra practice of their quirks. This trip was supposed to be a leisure getaway, not a free porno.

But the grape-headed perv is insistent, scoffing and waving the blond’s quip off like some annoying fly.

“You know, there’s something in it for you too, Bakugo. I’ve seen the way you look at Y/N.”

This causes a murmur and a couple of light beers towards the blond, who in turn snarls and ignites his hand to quell the commotion. All of them had an inkling that Katsuki Bakugo had finally set his sights on some poor girl, and that was you. It was such a rare sight to see his face flush slightly when you walked past him, the way he stuttered over his words a bit when you two would be conversing amongst the same group, and best of all, when they would see how he would excuse himself to the bathroom or locker room occasionally when your hero suit would tear in certain places after battles.

“Shut the fuck up 3’2, unlike you I don’t need to ogle at those brain dead bimbos.”

“Oh? I didn’t realize you thought of Y/N as a ‘brain dead bimbo’, Bakugo, I’ll be sure to let her know how you feel” Mineta grinned maliciously, and the boys ‘oooo’ed at the jab.

Bakugo’s voice caught in his throat.

“You wouldn’t,” he growled, rising slightly out of the water.

“I already know you’ll kill me afterwards, but I’m prepared for the repercussions if you don’t help...cooperate here,” Grapehead inspected a cuticle and feigned a yawn.

“Come on Bakugo, it’s not like it’s gonna hurt anyone! Well keep this to ourselves,” Denki chimed in a little too eagerly.

“Yeah, I mean, we’re only asking for your and everyone’s support so that we can focus better on training y’know? A little fun never killed anyone.” Sero threw his arm over Kirishima’s shoulder, who blushed at the whole ordeal but kept silent all the while.

Katsuki looked around. Slowly, others were starting to really listen in and look interested at the outcome of Mineta’s plan. Surely a little peeping wouldn’t be too bad would it? And plus, it was only a one time thing.

Shoto was faring the same way as Kirishima, quiet and maybe embarrassed at what they were planning on doing, but no outright refusal. Even Deku had a weird longing glint in his eye, the same kind he would get when he used to fawn over All Might.

He thought about it for a minute more, a chance to see you, naked, honest, and pure, splashing around with your friends as you let your femininity dangle as it pleased.

“Do whatever the hell you want. I’m not taking blame if the bird and glasses come back, though.”

Hushed cheers and excited murmurs erupt from around the spring, and they huddle together to form a plan.

A couple minutes later, the boys were grouping around the wooden panels. Todoroki had burned a hole into the soft wood, and sero had used his transparent tape to cover it up so that the girls couldn’t see it from their side.

And there they were, completely bare, hair flowing, curves showing, voices mature and high pitched giggles emanating from around the water and bank.

Bakugo seeks you out immediately after the hole is made, shoving his way through the crowded bodies much to the amusement of others. But he doesn’t care, all he wants at the moment is to see you in your most honest element.

He doesn’t have to look long, because you’re right there, you’re right in front of them, only a few meters away. Your back is facing them, but the sight of your smooth, naked back and the round curve of your ass squishing against the rocks underneath you is enough to make Bakugo’s cock bob painfully above the water. It’s not too hard to hide his erection since the boys’s attention is elsewhere at the moment.

Your hair is open, and he wants nothing more than to feel it in his hands, run his fingers though your scalp and pull so hard that your neck is snapped back, he wants to know what kind of noises you’ll make for him, would you sound shrill and high pitched or would you wail and bellow for him to let go?

They can hear the girls talking amongst themselves, the hole in the wall makes their voices more audible and clear.

“Quit playing coy, Jirou, we know you’ve got your eye on someone,” Hagakure’s body is nowhere to be found as usual, but her chipper voice rings out from the middle of the hot spring.

Jirou is a few feet away from where you sit, her body also being shown for everyone to see. Bakugo glances at Kaminari to confirm his suspicion, but gags and quickly looks away when he gets an eyeful of his friends’ erect cock.

Not that Bakugo himself has room to talk, though.

“I mean, not really, it’s not a big deal.” The ravenette shifts and hides her head from the rest of girls’ cooing.

“Uh huh, sure. You’re not fooling anyone Kiyoka, I’ve seen the way you look at Denki. You two can’t keep your eyes off each other, it’s cute,” you purr, and Bakugo holds himself back from shoving the other guys out of the way just so that he can hear your voice the best.

Squeals and sounds of splashing fill the air, and Sero and Kirishima whisper excitedly and clap their red-faced friend on the back. Denki can’t keep the 50K watt smile off his face, and even Bakugo grunts and knocks shoulders with him, letting him know that he was happy for the human charger.

But then Jirou claps back with her own snarky observation, and the boys fall hush at the new revelation.

“Alright, you wanna talk about ogling Y/N? Then tell me, how’s Deku doing?”

“Or Bakugo, too,” Mina adds slyly, and now all the girls’ attention, as well as the boys’, is on you.

Bakugo felt like he had whiplash. He would’ve been elated, on Cloud 9 even to hear that maybe you had something for him too, had shitty Deku’s name not have been thrown in there too.

And he looks around wildly for the green haired freak, the freckles dusted across the expanse of his face even more prominent from the deep blush quickly forming, his scarred hands holding the sides of his face shaking in awe and gleeful shock.

But the rest of the boys aren’t as oblivious to how Bakugo seethes at his rival’s joy, from the way the water gets hotter from his quirk sparking underneath the rippling waves. Kirishima scoots closer to his friend and gently lays a hand on his shoulder as if to say, calm down, man. Not right now.

And so the hothead leaves it for the time being, opting to hear your response.

“I-it’s really nothing, they’re both just good classmates like the rest of the guys,” and although your back is turned to them, it doesn’t take a genius to know that you’re embarrassed too, your leg skittishly bouncing in front of you is making your ass jiggle from the back, much to the delight of the salivating boys.

Bakugo wants to spill blood when he suddenly realizes your body is being shown for the rest of these dogs to see

The girls start teasing you, your splutters being drowned out by their playful accusations.

“Come on L/N, whose cuter?”

“Dont act all coy now, I know how nervous you get when you’re all close to Bakugo. I mean I don’t blame you, have you seen his muscles? He could crush someone’s head with those things!”

“Yeah, but have you seen the way she giggles when Deku starts his mumbling tangents? That’s a classic crush right there.”

Bakugo is getting desperate to hear your answer now, some of the boys have left, feeling like they had their full of excitement for the night. They saw some tits and ass, heard some gossip, end of story.

The only ones remaining were Bakugo and his gang, as well as IcyHot and Shitty Deku.

Shitty Deku, who seemed equally eager to hear your response.

It pissed him off that he wasn’t getting the message to fuck off, even after all the growling and death stares he was receiving from his childhood friend.

But he guesses after a lifetime of dealing with it, it doesn’t scare Deku as much as it does anymore.

Maybe he’ll have to amp it up, later

“W-well I mean both of them have their own respective...flaws and strengths I guess..sometimes Deku can be kinda hard to talk to ‘cuz he’s so shy, but Bakugo can be a real jerk at times, too.”

You trail off, and Bakugo scoffs to himself. Him? Flaws? Those two words didn’t go well in one sentence together, but nonetheless he continues to listen. He wouldn’t refute the notion of him being an asshole, he wasnt that delusional.

“And yeah, I mean Bakugo definitely intimidates me sometimes with how aggressive he can be, but Deku is definitely getting up there in terms of physical prowess. But in terms of who I like, I’d have to say-“

“Midoriya! Bakugo! What are you two doing over there?”

Iidas voice booms across the water, and all 6 of the boys jump back, startled at the intrusion.

“No, wait-“ Bakugo hisses, clawing his way towards the hole to hear the rest of what you had to say, but Sero and Todoroki shove him back and patch the hole up with fire and tape, shutting off your confession.

Deku waves his arms around wildly, stammering some excuse of dropping his towel in the spot where they all were sheepishly gathered. They eventually waded their way over to where Tokoyami had set the drinks down, but the blond was shaking with hot rage despite the cool refreshment that was shoved into his hand by a wary Kirishima.

“Don’t sweat it dude, it’s not like her and Midoriya are gonna da-“

“Finish that sentence and I’ll blast both your and his head off,” he glowers at the redhead, shorting a dark look to where an all-too-happy Deku was chatting with Todoroki, as if they hadn’t been drooling over their naked classmates merely a couple minutes ago.

Kirishima backs off with raised hands in surrender, leaving Katsuki to mull over the situation by himself.

You couldn’t seriously be interested in that green haired freak, right? I mean he could barely talk to a girl without tripping over his own damn tongue, for fucks sake.

Not that he was any better himself. He failed to acknowledge the times where you had merely asked him for an extra pencil, when he snapped at you for being such a fuckin’ dumbass that you couldn’t even remember to bring your own shit. He had done that out of pure impulse, but he regretted it the moment he saw your face fall, his heart clenching at the sight

He’d have to show you that he was the better option, regardless of if you wanted it or not.

And so when they had all gotten out of the water and gotten ready for food, Bakugo already knew what he had to do.

You were all eating outside in the camp pavilion, each at their own separate tables. He was sitting with the boys, all of them joking around and throwing food at each other while he was staring you down.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. How could you expect him to, after he had seen half of you bare already? It was sinful almost, the way you were completely in the dark about what he had seen and heard, while he himself was fantasizing about what you looked like and felt like on the front.

So when Deku came by your table, no doubt also having the same conversation of the springs in mind, wanting to get closer to you, Bakugo felt his sanity snap.

The fork he held in his hand started melting in his ignited hand, steam curling from his palm. He watched as the green-eyed fuck made successful shitty attempts to make you laugh, his eyes trained on where you gently laid a hand on his shoulder after something he said that made you throw your head back and howl with glee.

“Hey man, your fork-!” Kaminari yelped, pointing at the disfigured mess of metal in his friend’s steaming hand.

“Huh?” Bakugo was pulled out of his irate daze, and he quickly dropped the fork when he saw what he unconsciously did.

They all looked at him for an uneasy minute after noticing the expression on his face, no doubt understanding he was furious about being compared to Deku once again in front of you.

“Look, Bakugo, don’t really take what Y/N said to heart. We don’t know who she actually likes, and Midoriya’s just her friend...” but Sero trails off hesitantly after glancing in your direction, seeing Deku’s dreamy expression as your hand still continues to rest on his shoulder.

“Just let her come to you, yeah? You don’t wanna force anything on her, that’ll make her really uncomfortable-“

-“Shut the fuck up Shitty Hair, and mind your own damn business,” Bakugo interjects, abruptly unscrewing his drink and standing up, unable to lose you to some broccoli- headed bug-eyed fuck.

He stiffly walks across the pavilion to where you two sit, and feigns a swig from his bottle. Your focus is still on Deku, so you don’t notice him approach until he comes up behind you two and ‘trip’s, falling forward and strategically spilling the liquid all over Deku’s back and your front.

You squeal as your blouse is drenched, and Deku shoots up from his seat to grab some napkins while searching for the perpetrator.

“What the- Kacchan?”

“Oops.”

Bewildered, you look at the two while dabbing the wet splotches on your shirt, Mina and Tsu jumping into action to help you.

The boys exchange a weird look, and although Bakugo gave his version of an apology, he doesn’t look very sorry. In fact, if you saw it right he looked almost...smug? With a bit of anger?

Deku wasn’t any easier to understand either. His voice was lilted as usual while he grabbed napkins, but his gaze never left his childhood friends’ and his eyes weren’t exactly the big doe-eyes you had grown fond of.

They were darkened, and narrowed as they bored into Bakugo’s eyes. Neither one of them was looking away from each other, and there was a weird tension in the air that everyone could sense.

But you couldn’t focus on that right now, you had to go and wash up.

“I gotta change and maybe take a shower, I can feel it sticking to my skin,” you scrunch your nose in disgust and tell Mina as you stand to leave. Deku offers to walk you, but you wave him off kindly.

As you pass by Bakugo, you can feel his eyes rove up and down your body, very obviously staring at the way your white shirt clings to your chest from the liquid, sending chills up your spine.

But he doesn’t come after you, not yet.

It’s only after everyone has finished up from their dinner and headed off to bed almost 20 minutes later that the showers finally, finally warm up enough for you to dip a hesitant toe in.

Curse the old pipes.

*******

He watches you from the dark, the only light you’re provided with is the dim emergency light from the rusty bulb, the camp counselors having been shut the facility’s lights off merely a half hour ago. But you were stubborn in waiting for the water to warm up so you were left alone in the showers, shifting uncomfortably in your sticky wet clothes.

And then miraculously you get up for the umpteenth time to check the temperature of the water, and it’s finally deemed appropriate for you when you sigh in relief and start taking your shoes off.

He hides in the door partition, his cock hardening slowly as he thinks of you alone with just him and his mercy. You were going to pay for almost breaking his heart and prancing around with stupid fucking Deku instead.

But asides from his rage, he still liked you, a lot. He wanted you to want him as much as he wanted you, so he decided to try and attempt to make your first time with him as gentle and as special as he could in the dirty cabin showers.

Bakugo waits with bated breath for the right moment, and the second your hands grip the end of your shirt to pull it up, he slowly emerges from the dark.

“You know, I’m glad you came here alone, at night. It’s almost like you wanted this.”

You jump violently at the low voice coming from seemingly nowhere, and you wildly look around for the source until you see him...coming at you slow from the inky abyss of the room, like a predator stalking his prey.

His figure seems to loom even larger than he actually is, the shadows of his tall body bouncing off the walls and grazing over the top of your head. He seems to be in no rush, taking his time with his hands in his pockets, eyes flashing dangerously at you as he stalks forward until he’s backed you up against the deteriorating wall, chest to chest with you.

“W-what the hell, Bakugo,” you stammer nervously. “This is the girls room, you can’t be here-“

And the hand you raise to push him away is caught in his calloused ones, your other wrist is quickly seized as well and slammed above your head. You cry out in pain and try kicking out, but he wedges a bulky knee in between your thigh and shoves his face mere millimeters away from yours, a mean leer adorning his normally-attractive face.

“What, I can’t be here? And here I was thinking that you almost liked me. But oh, I forgot, Deku’s your favorite, right?” The grip on your wrist tigthens and his leg flexes from in between your thighs.

You squirm and sob, about to ask what the hell he was talking about-

Oh.

Oh no.

He sees the understanding pass over your face, and he laughs cruelly at the horror that comes with it.

“You heard me? How?”

“Not just heard. I saw you, too.”

He lets his eyes drop from your neck, to your chest, and then to the juncture between your legs which was being massaged by his knee.

Tears well up in your eyes as you realize he was watching you this entire evening in the springs. How he got away with it, you didn’t want to even know.

“I saw your hair open for the first time, and not in that stupid hairdo you always do for school.”

He trails his hand softly up the sides of your body and up your neck until he reaches his big hand into your scalp. You whimper and gasp as he laces his fingers through your locks, seeming to caress you but then harshly yanking your head back so you had no choice but to look at him head on.

“I saw your ass pressed up against the rocks, and I wished it was up against my cock instead.”

He removes his hand from your hair and snakes it down to your bottom, kneading and slapping it lightly. You writhe even harder now, too scared to make a noise in case he hurts you even worse, just wanting him to get the hell off of you.

“But I didn’t see the front of you. I imagined what you would look like with tears streaming down your face while I was stuffing you full of me”

He plays with the edge of your shirt, a dark look in his eye as he plays with you. You try to budge your hands but to now avail, only serving in annoying him and shoving his knee up further into your crotch. The pressure on your clit is immense, and your legs start shaking as you’re forced to be suspended almost midair on his knee.

“Take this off,” he says softly, the rasp catching in his voice.

“Bakugo, please. You don’t have to do this, I swear I won’t tell anyone-“

“You think I’m worried about if you’ll tell anyone? Hah! I already know you won’t, wanna know why?”

He leans in, inhaling the scent of your hair and grazing his nose along the side of your neck. You force yourself to breath in and out, feeling an impending heart attack.

“‘Cause if you do, I’ll make sure to fuck you in front of everyone, especially on Deku’s broken body.”

And then you can’t stop them, the tears fall from your body shaking in pure fear at his threat.

You knew he wouldn’t actually do something like that, but hearing it snarled in your ear so softly made you believe it all the same, the power he held while you were fucked, literally and metaphorically.

“Now I’m not gonna ask you again. Take this shit off before I burn it, bitch.”

You don’t want to piss him off further, so with trembling hands you lift the edge of your sticky uniform and start to pull it off, but he stops you with a frustrated grunt.

“Slowly. I wanna savor this while no ones here.”

You bite your lip and suppress a scream as you do what he says.

And oh, does he ever savor it. The shirt clings deliciously to your breasts, and he licks his lips as it ruffles up and over your head. Your skin is perspiring from the humid air, a sheen of sweat lightly decorating your collarbones. Bakugo can’t hold himself back any longer, and you yelp when he comes at you suddenly.

He lunges at your face and pins your arms down by your side again as his lips mesh against yours, his kiss filled with clacking teeth and a thrashing tongue against your lips. The knee you’re straddling is bouncing lightly up and down, jostling you on it and causing your cunt to pulsate with heat.

You let out a distressed moan, and he swallows it greedily, using the advantage of your open mouth to delve deeper into your wet cavern. You open bleary eyes and flinch when you find his already wide open, staring back into unforgiving vermillion orbs.

He pulls back slightly, panting. “I bet Deku didn’t get this kind of treatment, huh? It’s all for me right?”

You don’t know if he’s genuinely asking you or just being insane, so you don’t answer him. Fortunately and unfortunately for you, he doesn’t care for your response, rather more focusing on dragging you by your neck towards the hot showers.

You slip and stumble as he shoves you in a stall, gaining your balance only too late when he turns and locks the door.

“Look, I’m sorry okay? I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, just forget you saw or heard anything at the springs, it was just girl talk, stupid stuff that didn’t mean anything-“

“-even if it didn’t mean anything to you I’ll make sure you believe what you’ll feel after I fuck you senseless.”

And with that, he tugs off his clothes and licks his lips at the sight of you cowering against the wall, naked and oh so vulnerable.

He slowly shifts towards you, pressing his body flush against your trembling one. You can feel the outline of his erection on your thigh, and you swallow at how big it is.

“I don’t wanna have to close your mouth or restrain you when I’m balls deep in that tight cunt. So don’t do anything stupid and this’ll be a whole lot easier for you.”

He reaches a hand down and lightly strokes your labia, relishing in how you whimper and jerk against him, but don’t dare try to stop his hand.

Smart girl

Another hand finds its way to your tits, tugging and pulling at your hardened nipples. You gasp and arch into his touch, slowly coming undone from his ministrations. He humps against your leg like a teenage kid, grunting while he does so.

His mouth is attacking yours once again, but now you’re too tired from the constant surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins to even move your head. You just let him play with your body, your heart, your soul.

“I think the princess is wet enough for me now,” he leers at you when he pulls his fingers away, scissoring his digits to show the strings of wetness he pulled from your pussy.

You squeal and grab onto his chiseled arms as he suddenly hikes his hands underneath your upper thighs and picks you up, forcing your legs to wrap around his middle for support.

He slams you against the wall, the water cascading down your head is making your hair stick to your face, and in a strange and sudden show of intimacy Bakugo softly moves your locks away from your eyes. Your gazes lock, yours desperate and tear filled while his scarlet hues show no signs of mercy, but rather a strange predatory hunger.

Your arms scrabble behind his head and on his shoulders for balance as he slowly sinks you down on his length. You hiss and throw your head back at the sensation of being filled, and he eats it up.

He watches the way your mouth opens, your eyes widen, as every sinful sound your body can make escapes you.

As if he needed more of an ego boost

You wail as the last inches are sucked into your dripping hole, and he lets out a mean breathy laugh.

“Fuck, you really were ready huh? I should’ve taken you weeks ago, little slut.”

Your brows furrow and you try to turn your face away but he snatches your chin in a hardened grip.

“Uh-uh, none of that shit. You were doing so well, don’t turn away from me now.”

He slowly starts to roll his hips minutely into yours, not exactly thrusting but enough movement to make your cunt flutter and throb.

“What do you want me to say? You got what you wanted!” You whisper to him, more tears falling down freely down your cheeks.

He can’t help himself, he groans and surges forward to lick the salty rivers up, gripping your ass tightly when you flinch.

“Tell me you love me. Tell me how much you want me, how much better I am than that green-haired bastard and I won’t shove it up your ass.”

You can feel his abdomen clench and shake from the effort he’s making not to completely batter your cervix so you give in quickly, afraid of what he’s like when his thin strands of self restraint snap.

“I...I love you Bakugo. I really want y-ooh!”

The last bit of your sentence is choked off as he lifts you up all the way to his tip and slams your hips down his length. You gasp and weave your hands through his hair for support, your legs violently shaking at the pain.

He grunts and starts really giving it to you, setting a fast pace as he bounces you on his cock. Your head is bobbing around, you’re fairly certain there’s drool coming down your lips but you can’t find it in you to care as he fucks you into oblivion.

After a couple of more painful thrusts he pushes you against the wall and removes your hands from his hair, holding them above your head against the wall. You’re trapped with your upper half plastered against the dingy tile while your lower half is wrapped his dick.

Your cunt swallowing him down is the only leverage you have, so your whole body weight presses down on his shaft. He moans loudly at the pressure on his tip, your gooey hot walls clamping around him from every angle and you yourself can’t help it when your eyes roll back at the sensation.

He rocks his hips up, and up you go as well, whining and clawing at the wall behind you, desperately grappling onto your sanity as well. Your tits bounce with each thrust, and his glinting eyes take perverse joy in their obscene movements.

Bakugo starts moving in earnst now, deeming the slow strokes enough prep for you. He batters your womb, reaching places not even your fingers could access, making you go cross eyed.

He sees this and snickers at your pathetic state.

“Fuck yeah you little whore. You’re gonna learn no one else can satisfy this slutty pussy like I can.”

You give him nothing but a choked gasp in response. You head moves like a bobblehead, you can’t even see clearly from the water cascading into your eyes. He’s just a towering blob of ashy blond hair and large muscles.

His hips start stuttering in their rhythm, drawing to a close from his contrasting pounding minutes earlier. Your nails rake over his forearms, holding on for dear life as he pants and groans into your ear like an animal. His dick spasms inside you for a second or two, and then Bakugo suddenly holds you tight against him, wet bodies pressed against each other as he cums.

He lets out a loud moan as you whine into his shoulder at the sensation of his hot seed filling you up. You’re held against his heaving chest for a moment of two, the both of you catching your breath until he slowly backs up and lets you slip to the ground.

It’s suddenly very quiet, the sound of the shower is drowned out by the ringing in your head. You’re shaking, shock overcoming your abused body as you refuse to look at him.

But he won’t have any of that. He steps forward, and you flinch yet again, scrambling backwards to put very necessary space between him and you.

“You got what you wanted. Please leave, I won’t say anything to anyone.” You breath out shakily.

He’s silent for a moment before you hear him chuckle. His low chuckles grow louder and more derisive, he’s booming with sinister laughter and you snap your head up in horror at him.

“You think this is done?”

He crouches to your level suddenly, elbows on his knees as he cocks his head at you, eyeing your naked body that he so recently claimed as his. His gaze travels down to where his cum seeps from between your legs, and you quickly cross your limbs over to prevent him from seeing the lewd sight.

“You’re mine now, Y/N. I already told you, you’re not gonna be talking to Deku, or any other guy apart from me. You think they’ll even want you when they find out how you loved being fucked in the dirty showers? Everyone’s gonna call you a slut, nothing else.”

“No, that’s not true you-“

He crawls to you, and it’s so mesmerizingly terrifying to see a man of his build crawl to you like some deranged humanoid that you shut up, words caught in your throat.

“Shut the fuck up.” He says softly. “You’re my bitch now, and you’ll do whatever the fuck I say, when I say it.”

Bakugo might’ve felt a little bad to see the girl he liked so scared of him all because of his doing, but the way you trembled and crossed your legs like the stupid, helpless little girl that you were erased every hesitancy from his mind.

He grabbed your cheeks and smushed them together, paying no mind to the pleas and whimpers you let out in retaliation.

Licking a long stripe up your neck, you shivered when he growled, “now clean up and be outside in 10 minutes, you’re sleeping in my bunk tonight. The guys are all asleep so we’ll just take an empty room in the cabin.”

He released you and stood back up, grabbing a towel for himself along the way. Drying his hair off, his back was turned to you as he started picking his clothes up too.

You just sat there in a daze, wondering what the hell just happened.

“Oh, and Y/N?” He was dressed, and he was at the door now.

“If you think about doing anything stupid or take longer than 10 minutes, I’ll come back in and get you personally. And I’ll make sure that we stay here for the rest of the night, just in case you like your little time alone that I’m giving you too much.”

[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 4

Snape looks back on your days at Hogwarts, how your friendship came to be, and how it came to end.

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2    CH 3   CH 4  CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

___________________________________________________________

Ch 4  .:Budding Feelings and the Beginning of the End:.

Severus Snape had made a lot of mistakes in his life, and seeing you again after all these years was forcing him to relive every single one of them.

He stared blankly at the wall in front of him, shrouded in the darkness and grim silence of his empty house. He never thought he'd see you again, and certainly not under these circumstances. When he'd laid his eyes on you in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld place he couldn't believe it. He, much like the rest of the Order (except for Molly, apparently) assumed you wouldn't be at these meetings any longer. After James and Lily were murdered and Sirius was thrown into Azkaban, you'd left London and headed to New York under the Ministry's alliance with MACUSA, hoping to help bridge the gap between muggle-borns and purebloods in America. He knew you had been back to meet Harry a handful of times, but he also knew that being in this city brought up painful memories for you, so he was as stunned as anyone else to see you standing there in the doorway, greeting them as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

He could see that traveling had been good for you. He'd heard through the Hogwarts circuit that you were back on auror duty across the world, taking special assignments from Dumbledore and the Minister for Magic himself. You seemed like you were doing better, but when you turned to smile at him he could see the hesitation and the sadness that brewed behind your eyes, likely his doing.

He desperately wanted things to go back to what they were before—

Before he'd ruined it. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1974  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright students,” Professor Slughorn said as everyone finished filing inside the room, “today we're going to be pairing off into new partners for the upcoming project.”

Groans and nervous chatter flooded the sound space immediately, no one very thrilled with having to work with someone new out of their control. You cast a glance over to Lily who looked equally displeased. You liked being her partner, you both excelled at the subject and worked really well together.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Slughorn said, waving the complaints off, “However, I am going to be giving you the luxury of choosing your own partners this time, but everyone—”

The energy in the room instantly shifted, everyone shoving around people to get to their friends.

“—keep in mind, if I see any slacking off or trouble brewing in these new partnerships I will not hesitate to rearrange them!”

Slughorns's words were completely lost among the commotion as people paired off before you could even get your bearings. Snape stalled as he stared at you from across the room; Lily had already been dragged away by Mary, and his brain was trying to work out how to ask you to be his partner.

Suddenly an arm was slung over your shoulder and you turned towards the new presence in surprise. You looked up to see Evan Rosier, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows and his Slytherin tie loose around his neck.

Oh, sod it, Snape cursed internally. He was too late.

“Wanna partner up?” Rosier asked, a crooked grin gracing his chiseled features, “It'd be my honor to have the smartest Potions partner in class, not to mention the most attractive.”

You rolled your eyes at the praise. Evan was your friend, and he was nice to look at, but if he thought that you would be willing to do all the work for the both of you in exchange for some cheap compliments, then he had another thing coming. You locked eyes with Snape from across the room

“It would be your honor,” you smirked up at Rosier, “but I already have a partner, sorry.”

It took Snape a few seconds to realize what you were doing, but once he snapped out of it he made his way towards you. You almost chuckled at how robotic he looked as he did, clearly shocked.

Rosier looked between the two of you and rolled his eyes.

“Suit yourself, sweetheart,” he said, letting you go and pushing you lightly in Snape's direction, “but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” He sent a wink your way that left Snape's blood inexplicably boiling,

“Thanks for that,” you grinned, “and just so you know, I would have chosen you even if he didn't come up to me, so don't get all pouty about it, okay?”

Severus just looked at you blankly. Even after four years it was frightening how well you were able to read him; for a moment he was scared that he'd accidentally projected his thoughts to you, but he wasn't anywhere near that level of legillemency yet. He wanted to say something that had some semblance of gratitude but settled on:

“Whatever.”

To which you just laughed and dragged him to your now shared desk.

You really were something else.

“Now then,” Professor Slughorn addressed the room, “today we will be beginning the new unit on toxic concoctions, starting with the Draught of Living Death. If you would all turn to page ten of your books, we will get started presently.”

You turned open your book and Severus did the same. As he did, you noticed that nearly every page was covered in small notes littering the margins, with some of the instructions circled, crossed out, or modified. You were hardly surprised, Snape had been pouring over this book since last year when he'd stolen it from a fifth year Slytherin who'd been speaking poorly of you (that last part you were unaware of).

You turned your attention to the directions, reaching over to preheat the burner so your cauldron would be hot enough by the time you began. However, as soon as you lit the flame with the tip of your wand, your cauldron shot up into the air, hitting the ceiling with a loud BANG! before crashing down back onto your table, breaking several of the glass instruments that were settled there.

Your face burned embarrassment as everyone in the room turned to look at you in shock.

“Snape, (L/n),” Slughorn said, surprised, “whatever happened?”

“I. . .” you began, not knowing what to say, “I don't know, I'm sorry, Professor.”

“Quite all right,” he said uncertainly, restoring your table and equipment with a wave of his wand, “just be sure whatever that was doesn't happen again.”

“Of course,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the snickering around you. If you noticed the way that it stopped as soon as Snape sent a deathly glare at the culprits, you didn't show it. You reached down to grab your cauldron, noticing that the bottom was dusted in some sort of orange powder. As you turned it over, a note fell out of it.

You're welcome, (L/n). Sorry I couldn't be there for the fireworks~

J.P.

“That sneaky little, ugh,” you crumpled the note, growling in frustration.

“What is it?” Severus asked, peering over your shoulder to glance at the paper. However, as soon as you tried to show it to him it vanished in your hands in a wisp of glowing embers. You turned to look at Severus who was still staring at you expectantly.

“It was Potter,” you rolled your eyes.

Anger flashed in Severus' eyes before confusion replaced it momentarily.

“But that was your cauldron, not mine. Why would Potter want to mess with you?”

And now the anger was back again. Snape was used to Potter’s crew targeting him; bullying and suffering through minor hexes had become an everyday occurrence, but when he imagined them doing anything to you it was enough to make him see red.

“Ah, well. . .” you trailed off, deciding that telling him you'd yelled at the group of Gryffindors: 'if you jerks want to have a go at Severus you're gonna have to get through me first!' was a bad idea.

“I sort of, maybe, kind of. . . started it?” you said. Severus raised a brow at you. “Look, Potter was asking for it, okay? It was about time someone messed with him for a change. And besides, it was hilarious, even Lily got a kick out of watching that broom hit him in the head.”

Severus chuckled at that, a hint of pride welling in his chest at yours and Lily's shared distaste for the Potter boy.

“But that was the last straw,” you declared, grabbing a Sopophorus bean from the bowl in front of you and a knife to cut it as per the instructions, “I'm sick and tired of him acting like he's better than everyone else,” you said, stabbing down with your knife for emphasis. The Sopophorus bean jumped as you did, sliding out from under your blade and skidding across your cutting board. You huffed as you grabbed it again, placing it back down and holding it in place. “And he walks around with that little posse of his like he runs this school!” You brought your knife down again, moving your fingers at the last second, but the bean still managed to slip away, trying to bounce back into the bowl.

“This means war!” you seethed, grabbing the runaway legume again, now at your wit's end, and crushing it in your fist. It stopped jumping as the beet-red juice of the plant dripped down your arm, and Severus looked at you with a small smirk on his face.

“Well, that's one way to do it,” he said.

“Shove off,” you said playfully, throwing the bean in his direction. He dodged it easily, his smile growing.

“No, really,” he said, almost more to himself than you as he scribbled out the word 'cut' and replaced it with 'crush' in his notebook, “you might be better at this than you let on.”

You blushed at the unexpected compliment, backhanded as it was.

“Excuse you, I happen to be fantastic at Potions,” you said, grabbing another bean and avoiding his gaze.

“Right, that's why your cauldron exploded.”

“That was sabotage,” you shot back.

“I was talking about last week,” Severus said cheekily, taking in your flustered expression.

You both went back to your ingredients, eventually discovering that crushing the beans with the flat of a knife was the best way to extract the juice without them jumping. You watched Severus out of the corner of your eye as he measured out the African Sea water, adding it gradually as he stirred the mixture counter-clockwise. The elixir turned a bright blue color, shimmering as if light were being reflected off of it. He continued on with the formula, snapping off a few fluxweed sprigs before adding them and lowering the heat with his wand, hardly looking at the instructions at all.

You wondered where this newfound confidence had come from. Severus was usually so rigid and withdrawn, but right now he looked more at ease than you had ever seen him. A spark was present in his eyes as he worked that you rarely ever saw, and it made you smile despite yourself.

The rest of your potion making process went on without a hitch, and you silently applauded yourself as you watched the other students around you struggle to get their concoctions together. Even Lily seemed to be having trouble, though Mary wasn't really helping other than offering moral support.

You turned back to focus on your own potion, stirring it with the ladle and mesmerized by the way it began to turn a deep plum color. Meanwhile, Severus was cleaning up your shared station, looking over at the brew. His brows furrowed as he examined it.

“Just stir it a bit more,” he said, coming up behind you and placing his hand on top of yours, “the color is still off.”

Your face burned at the unexpected contact; Snape certainly wasn't a touchy person, so the act caught you completely off guard, though you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it. Severus nearly jumped backwards, absolutely mortified when he realized what he was doing. It was him micromanaging more than anything; he was so focused on getting the potion right he didn't even notice he was moving his own body as he gave you the instruction.

“Sorry,” he said, feeling quite possibly the lamest he'd ever felt in his life.

“It's okay,” you said, biting the inside of your lip nervously and continuing to stir like he said. Your light response allowed Snape to relax, his shoulders lowering a full three inches. He'd been certain you would have reacted to his mistake with disgust or repulsion, but you didn't. What did that mean? You were utterly confusing. Despite how well you could read him, Severus was unable to get a read on you at all. If he had been, he would have noticed the tiny smile on your face as you stirred, silently wishing his hand were back on yours.

You and Snape stood at attention as Slughorn peered down at your potion, looking mildly impressed. He reached into his robes, procuring an oak leaf from who knows where, and dropped it into your cauldron. The leaf floated on top of the liquid for just a moment before its edges began to burn. It furled from the unseen heat, folding in on itself and disappearing into the inky depths of the liquid. Slughorn's expression lit up, his impression no longer mild.

“Merlin's beard, it's perfect!” he exclaimed, “in all my years I've never seen a pair recreate this potion exactly as you two have done today.”

You beamed at the praise, your smile only widening as you saw your emotions mirrored in Severus' face, albeit more subtly.

Over the course of your fourth year, you and Snape continued to excel in Potions, receiving much praise from Professor Slughorn and a lot of glares from your fellow students. However, there was something else that continued that year, and that was your increasing interactions with James Potter.

“I just don't get why you even bother with him,” Snape had said to you one day while you were in Potions. Your prank war with James was at its peak, and you were sidetracked that day in class coming up with new ideas to get back at him.

“It's a full on battle now, Sev,” you said, “I can't back down! Now, for my next one I was thinking something along the lines of a callback to one of his earlier stunts. Maybe get him back for tampering with my cauldron at the beginning the year.”

“(Y/n)—”

“I've got a few friends in Gryffindor, and apparently he talks about his prank plans way too loudly in the common room, so I have a head start on this one. They mentioned something about my shampoo—“

“(Y/n),” Severus stressed, finally catching your attention. You looked up at him, embarrassed at you rambling. “Why do you keep doing this?” he asked, “he's just baiting you. You know that.”

“It keeps them from doing anything that targets you, right?” you questioned back.

Severus didn't know what to say at that. It was true, ever since you had declared war on James, he and his stupid friends hadn't really bothered with him at all. Were you doing this for him? He didn't know what to do with the thought.

You were, of course, but you thought it better not to mention that in the last few months this had been going on, you'd also begun to find the rivalry and banter between you and James fun.

“Gather 'round students, gather 'round!” Slughorn beckoned the class over, disrupting your train of thought and putting an end to your conversation, “now, would anyone like to identify the potion in this cauldron here?” He gestured to a shockingly pink liquid that seemed to swirl on its own. Plum and periwinkle smoke wafted through the air above it in delicate spirals.

“That's Amortentia,” Lily said, “it's a love potion that's supposed to smell different to everyone depending on what scents attract them.”

“Right you are, Miss Evans,” Slughorn said proudly, “would you like to tell us what you smell?”

“Cinnamon,” she started slowly, “warm spices, butterbeer, sandalwood. . .” her cheeks reddened significantly, as if she'd made some sort of realization. “Th-that's all.” You stared at her quizzically but she just shook her head. You'd have to ask her about this later. . .

“(L/n),” Slughorn said, “would you be so kind as to do the same?”

“Sure,” you said, stepping up to the cauldron. It was captivating, almost drawing you in physically. “Wild lavender,” you said, smiling, your mother had a garden full of them when you were growing up, “rain when it hits the pavement, and old leather books.” Scents you wouldn't realize until much later all correlated with a certain person.

“Very different scents for very different people,” Professor Slughorn said, “thank you for demonstrating, you two. Now, we will not be brewing this potion today for obvious reasons. It is incredibly dangerous, capable of creating not true love, but unhinged obsession. What we will be doing, however, is studying its effects. . .”

“Strongest love potion in the world, huh?” Evan suddenly appeared at your side, “funny, I could have sworn it smelled just like you, although you wouldn't need a potion to reign me in~”

“Put a sock in it, Rosier,” you said, shoving him away playfully.

“Aw, come on, just one date wouldn't hurt,” he said, “I'm pulling out all my best lines here!”

“That's the best you've got?”

“Ouch.”

Snape couldn't help but glare at the Slytherin boy, not liking how close he was to you. Nice as he seemed, Snape knew how he could really be. He didn't think you'd be such good friends with Rosier if you knew he was knee deep in the dark arts as soon as the sun set on the castle. Then again, Severus wasn't one to talk.

Over the course of the year he noticed that you only grew closer to James, something that bothered him immensely. He was grateful that you had gotten his bullying to stop, but he hated that the way you had gone about it was to turn Potter into a friend. . .

“Merlin, he keeps looking over at you, Lils,” you said.

Lily and Severus looked over to where James sat with Sirius, Remus, and Peter in their corner table as usual. Somehow they always managed to be at The Three Broomsticks at the exact same time as your trio, almost as if they knew you were there. James Potter was, in fact, looking towards your table, until your friends not-so-discreetly turned to look at him and he diverted his gaze elsewhere.

“Idiot,” you rolled your eyes as you took another sip of your butterbeer.

Lily looked between you and James' table for a moment before turning back to you.

“Actually, (Y/n), he's staring at you.”

You looked at her like she'd grown a second head but then began to laugh.

“Is he? Jeeze, what a creep,” you said, but with affection in your voice that wasn't missed by Severus, “it's probably because I saved his ass the other day and he's still reeling from it.”

“Oh,” she said, a hint of what you swore was relief in her tone until she realized what you said, “Wait, you what?”

“Sirius and I were talking in the forest and we got ambushed by Malfoy's motley crew,” you said, “and Potter showed up because of course he did. It was just a little duel, no big deal.”

“What?!” Lily said, concern written all over her face, “they fancy the dark arts, (Y/n), you could have been hurt!”

Severus stared into his drink, unable to look at either of you.

“I'm fine, Lils,” you insisted, “and trust me, I don't think Malfoy's going to be bothering anyone anymore. Just show him a picture of a squid and he'll probably screech like a banshee.”

Lily laughed along with you, partially in confusion, until the first part of your statement hit her with a slight delay.

“Hold on, you were in the forest with Black? And did you just call him Sirius?” she asked, her teasing making your face flush.

“We just. . . figured some stuff out. . . It was nothing like what you're thinking, so drop it,” you grumbled, taking another drink to hide your embarrassed face.

“Whatever you say, (Y/n),” Lily sang, taking a sip of her own drink.

Severus felt jealousy bubble up in him like a disease. He cast his gaze upwards, his eyes locking momentarily with James'. His arch rival rose a cocky brow at him, his gaze unmistakably shifting to you and Lily before staring Snape down again. Severus took a sharp breath to steel himself, that feeling in the pit of his stomach never really going away.

That was the beginning of the end.

Read chapter 5 here!

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy

[spacedikut]

the blessing of a blizzard ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: a blizzard leaves the team holed up in the bau office. spencer can’t stop thinking about your elusive boyfriend, mike, who might not be your boyfriend after all. 4.3k

a/n: festive fic! kind of! im too scared to do a final check so if there’s errors or i misuse pronouns just lemme know ily happy holidays ! thank you to the incredible @homoose for helping with dialogue :D

Mike. His name is Mike, and Spencer hates him.

Full name Michael, Spencer presumes, which comes from Hebrew meaning “who is like God?” A rhetorical question, implying there is no person like God, Michael was one of the archangels in Hebrew tradition and the only one identified as an archangel in the Bible.

What Michael should mean, however, is the guy that stole your heart and left Spencer thinking things very unlike him – that Mike, a man Spencer has never met and that clearly makes you very happy, has a really stupid name, for example.

There are three things Spencer knows about him:

1. Ever since you started deciding on his wardrobe, ladies love him. It makes you a little jealous, apparently.

2. You love baking him homemade treats whenever you can. Like a movie playing in his head, Spencer can perfectly remember you excitedly chatting with Garcia and Emily, animatedly explaining how excited Mike gets when he sees you’ve made something just for him.

3. Mike can be a bit of a dick, actually. There have been several mornings you’ve come in with a long face, leaning back in your desk chair far enough to view the world upside down and whining about how grumpy Mike was that morning, how you had to tip-toe around your apartment lest he get mad.

You’d called him your soulmate, added that he’s a light in your life you didn’t know you needed until you had him. You’re a person who chooses their words carefully, so when you’re walking around putting Mike and soulmate in the same sentence, you mean business.

That business is ripping Spencer’s heart out of his chest, apparently. Because you’re busy showing JJ pictures of him on your phone right now, blissfully unaware of the subconscious glare Spencer is lasering into your phone as he leans against the jet counter.

Spencer’s never had the honour of seeing Mike (a genuine word you used – honour) and you know what? Spencer doesn’t want to know what Mike looks like. Spencer doesn’t care. Mike’s probably ugly, anyway, and Spencer’s confidence within himself grows day by day and if there’s one thing he’s learnt recently it’s that comparison is the thief of joy and-

“Oh!” JJ exclaims, “He’s gorgeous!”

Fuck Mike. Really, fuck him.

+++

The floor is slippery beneath everyone’s feet, the surrounding area slowly losing its mixture of colours to blend into one coat of white.

It’s snowing.

Garcia greets the team, a steaming cup of tea in her bejewelled hands, and everyone gets to work right away. There’s whispers of the snow getting heavier and sticking and covering more and more ground with more and more depth; people are rushing against the proverbial clock to get done and get home before they’re all stuck.

But that won’t happen, right? If people were genuinely concerned about getting snowed in, surely everyone would’ve been sent home early as a precaution. Right? Right?

Wrong.

Rossi’s the one to notice it, calling out, “Check it out. Snow’s pretty bad.”

He says it like it’s nothing, like they’ll race to the windows then deflate with disappointment because you couldn’t even create a single snowball with that light coat, but holy hell people are walking around with snow up to their ankles and it’s still coming down thick. And then the lights are flickering and JJ is making frantic calls home to Will and Hotch is exiting his office, phone pressed to his ear, calling everyone to attention:

“There’s a blizzard incoming. It’s too dangerous for anyone to be on the roads, so we’re being told to sit tight. You should all try to call home, just in case; we don’t know how long we’ll be here.”

Some people still brave it, still try to head on home, and whether they make it or not is up to the Gods. The team glance around, varying expressions – Emily and Derek look pissed, JJ is worried, and you and Rossi are straight-faced. Penelope is bouncing in excitement.

“It’s like a sleepover!”

All Spencer can think about is how Mike will have to suffer another day without you. He bites back a smile.

+++

Spencer’s straining his neck, butt barely on his desk chair, in attempt to see around all the bustling people that stand between you and him. Through the glass BAU doors, on the phone, your shoulders are slumped and you kick your boot against the floor a few times to channel your multitude of emotions into something. He hopes Mike isn’t giving you a hard time for something that isn’t within your control.

Emily looks up from her monitor, where she’s doing Christmas shopping even though it’s Christmas Eve, and looks thoroughly amused by Spencer’s internal battle of wanting to watch you but not wanting it to be obvious.

“You good, Reid?”

Spencer flinches like Emily pinched him. “Yeah, good. Fine. Are you good?”

Emily makes a show of slowly turning to look at you, still on the phone, then slowly turning back to Spencer’s wide-eyed gaze. She smirks. “You think they’re talking to Mike?”

Yes, Spencer does think that, but he’d made a point to not fully acknowledge it. And there’s something about Emily’s smugness that tells Spencer she’s teasing him – she knows something he doesn’t and it makes his eyes narrow. “Probably. Why?”

Whatever the response is, Emily’s barely opened her mouth before she’s interrupted by Penelope Garcia gracefully clapping her hands, getting the attention of every BAU member. The team quiets and all eyes are on Penelope. Except Spencer, who watches with concern as you sneak back to your desk, a furrow to your brow and downward dips either side of your mouth.

“I know these are less-than-great circumstances, and we’re stuck in work of all places, but that shouldn’t mean we can’t have a little fun! So…”

She wildly gestures for Hotch to step forward, a cheesy grin on her face and a gleam in Hotch’s eye that tells everyone he’s also smiling but internally, and she takes the three large boxes he was carrying like the good sidekick he is.

“We’re building gingerbread houses!”

There’s exclamations of surprise and joy; Emily lights up at the idea of doing anything other than work or sitting at her desk, and JJ takes a box to look it over before asking, “Where did you get these?”

Hotch answers. “They were supposed to be for the kids,” He shrugs, holding back a smile, “However, I guess we can use them now.”

“Yes,” Penelope nods, “Yes, we can use them now. Get your game faces on, because this is a competition. Hotch and Rossi are the judges, because they’re grumpy old men, and the rest of us will be in teams of two fighting to build the best gingerbread house the BAU has ever seen.”

Derek speaks up for the first time, just to insult Spencer. “I refuse to be on a team with Reid. He has no creative skills.”

Members of the team laugh and Spencer reacts indignantly. He wants to reply, but you’re already speaking.

“Hey! I’ll take him! Spencer’s great.”

Many heads snap to you when you speak, Spencer’s surely got whiplash, but you’re looking at him and smiling at him and him alone. He’s breathless at the sight, how you chose him and have literal stars in your eyes, yet all he can think is how undeserving he is of such a beauty. How undeserving anyone is, mostly Mike, to exist in the same reality as someone who puts the definition of beautiful to shame.

Spencer’s about to make the best damn gingerbread house the world has ever seen.

+++

So, building a gingerbread house? A little more difficult than originally thought.

Maybe it’s the sticky icing, or the temptation to simply eat all the sweet decorative candy rather than use it for its intended purpose, or…

Maybe it’s the pretty teammate Spencer has that keeps brushing against him, keeps brushing against his hands, and like a virus to a computer you completely wipe Spencer of all thoughts other than: Y/N.

Spencer caught you watching him while he was rolling up his shirt sleeves, caught you staring at his hands and trailing your eyes up his forearms, following the sleeves as they moved inch by inch up to his elbows.

Then, when Spencer was holding two pieces of gingerbread together, you were too lost in thought to put the icing between the cracks and cement them together. Your eyes were trained on the fingers pressing the pieces together. Spencer had to call your name three times to wake you up.

Then, something weird happened (if the previous instances weren’t weird enough). You two had been in your own bubble of hushed tones and accidental touching, surrounded by bickering and collapsing houses and at one point Emily offered Rossi twenty bucks if he just votes for her and JJ without them making a house, and suddenly it’s silent. All he can hear is his heartbeat, his blood pumping in his ears, and all he can feel is the warmth of your breath on his ear because you’re right there, over his shoulder, joining him in hunching over your creation to decorate it with all kinds of shapes and colours.

The close proximity is too much. It’s too much.

You lean even closer, shoulder and arm pressed directly against Spencer’s, and lift another hand to place a miniature candy cane next to the gingerbread door. The action causes your hand to brush Spencer’s, and for the first time ever he’s not jolting away like he’s been electrocuted, no, his hand stays there, hovering, waiting and hoping for more.

Hoping for more of you.

And you seem to realise, too, that Spencer’s reaction is abnormal. He can’t decide if you’re testing the waters, or if it was a mere accident. But what are you testing the waters for? Why are you trying to touch him? Why do you want to touch him?

He takes a sharp intake of breath. From the corner of his eye, he sees you turn to look at him, and he almost doesn’t reciprocate. Almost.

You’re so close, face so close to his own. You take the softest breaths, in and out, sending the gentlest puffs of air onto Spencer’s lips.

He has no idea what the fuck is happening. He doesn’t want it to stop.

Your eyes, always shining and full of an emotion Spencer can’t decipher, dance around his face – his eyes, to his nose, stopping on each cheek, back and forth and up and down. Spencer’s captured by them, unable to tear himself away, which has become quite the habit since he’s known you.

Then you’re looking at his lips.

Spencer blinks, hoping to clear away the obvious hallucination he’s having, but no. Nothing changes. Your gaze remains, unwavered, making Spencer subconsciously open his mouth. The softest gasp leaves it when your pupils dilate.

This is the perfect moment to kiss, right? Right here, in front of the gingerbread house you made together, decorated together, and now begin the start of something else together. It makes sense, it’s almost poetic, and Spencer’s thought about you and him in a relationship enough times to consider this opportunity good and sweet enough to regale everyone with in the future.

Can you imagine it? “We had our first kiss in front of the gingerbread house we slaved over together. We won the competition, too.”

There’s a loud clang – Penelope found an actual gong from somewhere – and Rossi announces that the timer has gone off and it’s time for the judges to vote for the winner.

When you gently pick up yours and Spencer’s creation and take it to a cloth-covered table, where Rossi and Hotch ominously stand with their arms crossed, Spencer is frozen in place.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

There’s no way you wanted to kiss him. It isn’t possible. You’ve never looked at him like that before. It must’ve been a mistake.

But you were so close…

No. If Spencer made that move, it would’ve ruined everything – your friendship, the festive fun, the atmosphere of the entire evening. Everyone’s expected to be stuck here for at least another six hours, and making it tense and awkward was not something Spencer is willing to do.

But your eyes…

Spencer can’t think about that fact too much. That could mean anything – dilated pupils don’t necessarily mean you’re in love. You could’ve gotten a good whiff of the gingerbread and felt hungry, or a song you really liked started playing from the playlist Penelope created. Or, most likely, Spencer thinks, you were thinking about someone else.

Your boyfriend, for example.

You have a boyfriend. Mike.

Of course, you were probably thinking of Mike. Your boyfriend.

Spencer almost kissed someone in a relationship, and he’s pretty sure you almost kissed him too.

+++

Much to Derek’s chagrin, you and Spencer win the gingerbread house contest.

Penelope was baffled, frantically gesturing to the Jacuzzi she made with icing and- Derek made miniature weights? Somehow? It looked chaotic.

“Practicality, my dear,” Rossi told her. “Who, living in a gingerbread house, is worried about working out?”

Even though you and Spencer were the winners, Derek and Penelope and their pouting (and calls for a rematch) took the attention away from the obvious awkward tension between the winners. Spencer stayed at the desk you worked at while you took your house to the judges, stayed at the desk when you were crowned and stayed at the desk when you cheered.

You looked at him, wide grin and happy eyes, and all he could do was tightly smile back. Give a thumbs up.

He gave you a thumbs up. You nearly kissed less than ten minutes prior. And all he could do was give you a thumbs up.

The light in your eyes dimmed, but you seemed to understand.

Understand what, exactly? Spencer’s not so sure either. But something clicked in your head – you nodded to yourself as if confirming whatever you’ve concluded, and turned your back to him.

That was an hour ago. Now, the team has spread across everyone’s desks. Turns out, Hotch is a big fan of gingerbread - he’s consumed most of Derek and Penelope’s creation, icing and all, while Rossi has decided now is a good time to open one of the many bottles of whiskey he has in his office.

Spencer believes having that much alcohol in your work environment is breaking some kind of rule, but the snow isn’t letting up and it looks like a sleepover in the BAU office is likely. He deserves a little whiskey.

And where are you in all of this?

Spencer won’t lie and pretend he hasn’t had you in his line of sight the entire time, so he’ll recap what you’ve been doing: laughing at Derek’s jokes, plaiting Penelope’s hair, eating the candy Emily and JJ didn’t use on their house.

You’d left the room to call home and check up on things (check up on Mike, Spencer thinks bitterly) and now you stand in front of the large window by the BAU elevators, watching the snow fall.

Spencer has the perfect view of you through the glass doors. When the call ends and you stay there, he grabs a paper plate, grabs one of the walls from yours and his masterpiece and makes his way towards you.

He doesn’t know what he’ll say, or how he’ll even act, but he wants to talk to you. Things feel weird after the almost-kiss, and Spencer never wants things to be weird with you. He can’t have things weird with you. You hadn’t talked to him once since the competition, and he has a feeling you’re waiting for him to make the first move.

So he does. If that’s what you need, he’ll do it.

(He’s making this more dramatic than it needs to be, really, but he feels everything so deeply when it comes to you)

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice perfectly matches the snowy atmosphere. It makes you feel warm inside, like you’ve just taken a sip of hot cocoa, and so often he’s left goosebumps on your skin just from speaking.

Seeing the outstretched paper plate in his hand, you take it gratefully. “Hi there. Thanks.” You nod to the gingerbread that you begin breaking up.

You hand him the first piece even though he brought it for you, and it’s silent while you both chew thoughtfully and watch the pure white outside. It doesn’t feel weird, necessarily, standing here, shoulder-to-shoulder with you, but you’re certainly more in your head than usual. You’re thinking a lot and, as much as it hurts him, Spencer knows you’re likely preoccupied by your boyfriend and not what transpired between you earlier.

It’s that thought, that disappointment settling into his chest, that opens his mouth unconsciously: “How’s Mike? Does he know you’re not making it home tonight?”

He regrets it immediately, worsened by the way you stop mid-chew, eyes dimming like Spencer’s taken a baseball bat and shattered the lights inside.

This is unchartered territory – talking about Mike with you – and you know it. Who, in their right mind, willingly asks the person they have feelings for how their relationship with someone that isn’t you is going? Does Spencer enjoy pain?

Although this is the first time Spencer’s mentioned Mike to your face (he’s mentioned Mike plenty to a laughing Derek), he’s been so close to presenting the topic many times. He wants to know so badly – wants to know how well Mike treats you, really treats you (he will profile you), if you see a long-term future with him and if not, on average how long does it take you to get over your exes? Just an estimate?

You swallow the gingerbread you’re eating. “He’s okay. My roommate has to take care of him, but at least he’s got someone.”

Huh?

Since when do you have a roommate?

And why is your roommate taking care of your boyfriend?

Oh. Guilt blooms in Spencer when it registers that he’s been thinking ill of a person that might be sick. No wonder you dote on him so much and seemed devastated to make that phone call home earlier - Mike needs you, you can’t be there for him, and you feel horrible for it.

Spencer feels horrible for having the subject of his anger be someone you so clearly cherish, so deeply love. He’s embarrassed that if he was asked to explain why he hates Mike so much, he’d have to tell them it’s because Mike has you, and you’re what Spencer wants. What about what you want?

“Take care of him?” Spencer asks. The concern is genuine, which is an emotion he never thought he’d have in regards to Mike. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh,” You shrug. “He needs someone watching over him at all times, that’s all.”

That’s all?

You continue. “Make sure he eats – and only eats what he’s supposed to. Give him his meds. Make sure he poops. Those kinda things.”

What?

“Your… roommate makes sure your boyfriend poops?”

Now, Spencer knows what you look like when you’re confused. Honestly, he has every facial expression you’ve graced him with tucked away in a proverbial box he spends too much time thinking about. He knows that when you’re trying not to laugh, you bite the inside of your left cheek. When you’re frustrated but need to present a professional front, you bite the inside of your right cheek. Happiness fills your entire face, like every inch is consumed by it, and you’ve trained yourself to transport anger to your hands, where they twist into tight fists and leave fingernail marks in your palms.

Confusion is one of his favourites (second only to joy – for obvious reasons. Have you seen your smile?) because it takes many forms. You’ve pursed your lips, narrowed your eyes, tapped your foot on the floor. When you do them all, Spencer considers it a jackpot. There’s something about the way you look when you’re presented with something you can’t quite figure out yet, when you’re perplexed, that just-

You make it hard for him to concentrate. He can’t be a genius when you’re around because you’re so pretty. You’re a vision and he can never rattle off information to you specifically because he will trip up and divert to talking about the beauty that is you and that would be embarrassing for many reasons.

But this type of confusion? The way you’re looking at him right now? He’s never seen this before. Your jaw has dropped, your brows are furrowed so deeply they might fall off, and you look… horrified.

“My… my boyfriend?”

Spencer mirrors your expression. “Yeah, your boyfriend. Mike?” He looks around, waiting for cameramen to jump out and tell him he’s being pranked, because why don’t you know who your own boyfriend is?

You move slowly, placing the half-eaten plate on the windowsill before turning to face Spencer fully. You take a second to compose yourself.

“Mike is my cat.”

Mike is…

“And he’s having digestive issues, so he needs to be watched pretty much full-time.”

Silence. Tense, weird silence.

“…You thought Mike was my boyfriend?”

Spencer sputters, then, because of course he did! “Yes! The way you talk about him was… it was… it seemed…”

He flustered, oh so flustered, hands flailing and face enflamed and burning from the inside out. How had he not known?! How had… how had your wires gotten so convoluted, so mixed?

Does everyone know that Mike is a cat? Is Spencer the only one out of the loop? The look Emily gave him earlier, that knowing too-smug look, was that…

She was making fun of him. She knew he thought Mike was a person, not a pet, and was teasing him because of it.

All at once, the world seems lighter and dimmer – a contradiction that leaves Spencer’s chest heaving – because the past year feels like a lie. He’s spent so long seeing the way you come to life when talking about Mike, sitting opposite you on the jet as you awaken like a dying flower watered when home got closer and closer, and it was all for… a cat?

There’s a mist over Spencer’s eyes as he recalls every overheard declaration of love and coos of how handsome Mike is, and you’re laughing. Spencer’s having a crisis in front of your very eyes and you’re laughing. Hunched over, a single tear falling from your eye, clutching your stomach because it hurts from the ferocity of your giggles.

By the time you quieten, your hand is over your mouth to cover the big grin that grounds him, gives him something other than this revelation to focus on. Spencer’s still baffled, frazzled, but there’s the tiniest of smiles on his face because of how overjoyed you look. And he did that. Albeit his stupidity did it, but Spencer’s stupidity nonetheless.

You’re out of breath. “God I… I don’t even know what to say. You really thought my cat was my boyfriend?”

Spencer’s fighting a smile, lips wiggling. The way you’re looking at him now, all blinding smile and crinkled eyes, alleviates him of any anxiety he earlier had. Like you’ve wiped away his plate-full of worries, all the times it felt like he took an arrow to the heart, all the times he caught you smiling at your phone because you were looking at pictures of Mike, it’s all worth it. Because you’ve never looked like this while talking about Mike, and Mike is a cat. He isn’t a person, isn’t your boyfriend. Mike is a cat and Spencer has a chance.

Spencer has a chance.

“Does this… this means you’re single, right?”

A somewhat terrified look overtakes his face.

“Oh, shoot, you are single, right?”

You bite your lower lip and nod. “Yes, Spencer. I’m single.”

He lets out a breath. “Good. That’s good. I’m glad.” He repeats your nod, realises what he said could imply, and starts shaking his head. “Not-not good good. You’re incredible and need to be appreciated, but… good, because that means we could, you know…” He gestures vaguely. God, why can’t he get coherent words out? “If you wanted to, we could-“

“Are you trying to ask me out, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

Just to cause immense emotional distress, you raise an eyebrow, mischief clear on your face, and wait for him to continue.

“You want me to actually ask?” He winces.

“I’ve spent the last year convinced you didn’t like me, so, yes, I want you to actually ask.”

The new information sends ice down Spencer’s back because what? Since when? “You- what?“

“I’ve liked you for a while, Spencer,” You cross your arms over your body, slightly embarrassed. “But you always kept your distance so I did too, I guess.”

“I thought you were taken!” Spencer exclaims. “If I’d known I would’ve-we could’ve- I would-“

“You’d what, Reid?” There’s a teasing lilt to your tone, but there’s no denying you’re incandescently happy.

He takes a deep breath and asks what he’s wanted to for far too long. “When this is all over, would you like to go on a date with me, Y/N?”

Relief flashes in your eyes, like you didn’t fully believe what was happening until he finally asked, and words have never sounded as pretty as when you say: “Yes. Yes I would.”

Like lovesick idiots, you stand in front of the window with the snowfall as a backdrop, grinning at each other. You can’t help it – you lean up, press a kiss to his cheek that immediately sets his skin ablaze, and fall back onto your feet with a smile sweeter than all the sugar you’d consumed today.

“Merry Christmas, Spencer.”

Somehow, despite the nerves and the way his heart is trying to leap into your hands, he manages to tell you, “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

+++

(Three weeks later, Spencer meets the Mike. Turns out he’s a nice guy. Spencer takes the first opportunity he can to apologise for all the bad things he said about him behind his back. The purring tells Spencer he’s forgiven)

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @bitchyreids @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @gublertoon @averyhotchner @prettyboy-reid @shadyladyperfection

[chiwhorei]

the devil makes

pairing: benimaru shinmon x reader x joker/52

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: ~2.2k

tags: a touch of branding (he flicks his cigarette at you i just really don’t know how else to tag it), knifeplay (except it’s a playing card, only a smidge of blood), rough oral, face fucking, voyeurism, spit, anal, double penetration, degradation, spanking, belly bulge, it’s a little dubconny but not really?

a/n: my first full fire force piece woot woot! these two characters make me so fucking horny and when they shared the screen my pussy was completely inconsolable. thank you @messwriting and @10millionyearsdungeon for looking over this and always encouraging me.

hymn: wrong by MAX ft. lil uzi vert

you, and me, and the devil makes three.

“Why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what you want,” you pluck the cigarette from your caller’s lips, he presses his saccharine smile down at the edges to feign a pout.

You know better by now. Your legs hang on either side of Joker’s hips, his white dress shirt doing almost nothing to cover skin filled with a new flight of bites and bruises. The last set had just faded when you heard the tell-tale knock at your front door.

His timing is always impeccable, hat in hand and dipping under your doorway just as the wanton throbbing sizzles into a dull ache.

Deeply inhaling, nicotine breaches your throat and prickles past your lungs. You only ever smoke when he’s around. At this point, you’re not sure if it’s a necessity or a habit.

“Do I need a reason to visit my favorite girl?” His voice trails around your skin in tune with a wandering set of hands. It’s infuriating how easily your body relents to Joker’s fingerprints. You’ll feel them like scorch marks for days to come.

“I’m not your girl and I doubt I’m your favorite.” You bush off his quip, cigarette bobbing in your teeth before he pulls it from your mouth to drag. With a flick of his finger, ash falls like burning snow onto the juncture of your collarbone. You wince and fall forward into his chest.

“You’ve proven yourself the most useful, is that better?” Joker pulls you into a searing kiss, pushing tongue and smoke into your awaiting mouth.

“At least it’s more honest.” Joker laughs loudly, his head falling back against the mattress. Your pillows will smell like sage and campfire, you’ll pretend it doesn't lull you to sleep.

“I need your help to, achem, seal a deal of sorts. For the greater good of course.”

Eyes roll upwards, first with guffaw, but any argument melts with the feeling of his lips on a warpath from the angle of your jaw to the swell of your breast.

Joker promises to make it worth your while, in the ways you always seem to let him.

Against all better judgement.

* * *

“Well, Captain,” Joker presses a sharp ace against the curve of your collarbone, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake, “she’s a pretty little toy ain’t she?”

Pleasure coats your tongue, it tastes like blood and incense.

In the short time they’ve been acquainted, Benimaru has learned to be unsurprised with any impromptu meetings Joker could plan.

What Beni wasn’t expecting was your naked, flushed body on the lap of his new associate. He wants to complain about the purple eyed almost-stranger sitting in his private quarters, but any argument flounders for air as soon as you come into view.

You seem completely placid from your position against the anti-hero’s chest, awaiting further instructions with glassy eyes. Any shame you could ever muster lies in a heap of fabric six feet away. Joker always dresses you in something easy to tear off.

“You sure do make an interesting first impression, Joker.” The 7th’s captain walks forward in the dimly lit room, pushing his fingers against your hair and pulling back roughly to steal your undivided attention.

A pretty little toy indeed.

“We’re partners now, Beni,” you can feel Joker’s voice like honeyed venom from behind, every syllable drips against your shoulders, “and partners share.”

Joker flicks the playing card upward, twirling it in deft fingers. You watch his dexterity, the piece of glossy paper is pressed to your lipstick, dragging your bottom lip down slightly before pulling away. A signature painted in soft pink.

The hand on your hip, the one in your hair-- the feeling of two bodies enclosing on you like prey is overwhelming and salacious.

“Does he bring you to do all of his dirty work?” You’re spoken to for the first time, the grip in your hair lifting you from Joker’s lap.

“Only the dirtiest work suits me,” you hold your ground, voice dropping an octave to make both men shudder, “captain.”

Benimaru’s sneer is only an inch from your mouth, his proximity neering closer with every word falling past your lips. If you keep talking like this, Joker won’t want to share his toys anymore.

Pointer finger and thumb come up to cradle your chin, mouth parting with the smallest pressure. Your tongue lulls out slightly, an invitation punctuated with your eyes flitting from his stare to the deep set frown across his face.

The sound of Beni spitting hits your ears, the harsh put bounces against the bannisters. Warmth runs in an indecent trail from the tip to the fattest plane of your tongue.

“Don’t play coy, sweetheart, show ‘em what else you can do with that mouth.” Joker’s palm comes down on your ass cheek hard, a breathy yelp escapes to be swallowed by the man above you.

Beni moves to perch against the desk centered in the ever-condensing room, arms folded across his broad chest. The space feels cold without the body heat you had been stuck in between, you feel exposed fully for the first time since Joker snuck you into company seven.

There’s only a beat of self-cognizance before you’re pushed to the ground by a familiar set of calloused hands. You need no further direction, knees and palms straining against the hardwood as you inch forward.

By the time you’re kneeling in front of Benimaru, his cock is in a tight fist. He pumps himself in long strokes, smearing pre with his thumb to coat the throbbing head. His length is impressive, you can feel saliva pooling in under your tongue as you watch his hand move from base to tip.

The sight almost has you forgetting your manners.

“Will you fuck my mouth, Captain Shinmon?” There’s very little restraint left available behind his icy red irises. Joker sits back in the brown leather chair, a front row seat.

You feel the familiar burn against your scalp with Beni’s searing pull. The red tip hits your mouth and you’re positive a streak of lipstick finds home against your chin.

You’ll be covered in much more before the sun comes up.

His cock is heavy as pushes past your lips inch by thick inch. The groan ripping through your throat is vibrato against the ribbed skin.

“Wow, ah, your sweet little throat was meant for cock wasn’t it?” Tears prick in your eyeline, your vision growing bleary as you swallow. A stray streak of mascara falls down the curve of your cheek before Beni swipes it away. You almost blush. Almost.

He hits the back of your throat with seemingly little effort, you sputter slightly at the burn, your jaw aching to accommodate. Just as you feel him pulling almost all of the way out, Beni slams the full length in again. His pace is brutal and unforgiving. Each thrust earning a new mess of spit and makeup to collect at the edges of your mouth.

“No need to be gentle, Beni, she’s taken a whole lot worse.” You would laugh at the sick curl of Joker’s words if you could. The implication is both irritating and worrisome.

“As much as I would love to cum in that pretty little mouth,” you gasp for air as Beni pulls you off, a thick line of slobber still connecting your bottom lip to his cock, “I really want to feel your cunt wrapped around me instead.”

You hear the sound of Joker’s heavy feet closing in from behind, his grip on the back of your neck to hoist you back up to your feet.

“Partners share, remember?” The lilt in your pursuers voice is sweet in the way sugar free gums rots your teeth. Joker will break you into pieces for the greater good.

It’s sick, absolutely disgusting, how much you crave your own destruction.

“She’s nice and ready for you, captain. Feel how dripping wet she is just from sucking your cock.” His next words suck all of the oxygen from your lungs, he replaces air with tension,

“You can take her cunt, I’m going to fuck her tight little ass.”

“Wait I--” There’s no use pleading, there’s no use in anything but quiet compliance and resolving to the fate of being stuffed completely full.

Four hands are on you, groping the fat on hips and breasts, moving against the pliant skin in tandem. You’re malleable in their hold, hoisted up in Joker’s arms. His grip is unforgiving, crescented bruises are bound to form and be visible for days to come on the inside of your thighs.

Beni captures your lips between his teeth, stealing back your attention with a growl. His kiss is searing, tongue slipping to lash against your own. The stubble grazing his strong jaw is dizzying, he whispers against your lips, licking against your pre-stained mouth. Quiet enough to be either missed or ignored by Joker as he busies himself freeing his cock and grinding itn against your ass.

“Next time I’ll sit you on my face and we can have a little fun one-on-one.” Beni punctuates his promise with a nip to your bottom lip before his hands move to steady you snugly in between two wide chests. His palms rest on the dips of your hips, thumb jutting out to press tightly against your aching clit. The movement rips a hoarse wale from deep in the back of your throat.

“You always cry so pretty, dollface.” Joker’s emboldened by your tears, an invitation to push you farther, you feel two fingers prodding your asshole, using your own slick to assist in his exploration. The sensation is painful and addicting as both digits push past the tight ring of muscle.

His fingers move to work the taught hole open, each ridge of knuckle and callus blurring the line between torment and pleasure. Beni circles your clit, picking up in pace as Joker adds a third finger, the stimulation hurtling you towards orgasm. A litany of please scratch at your throat, begging your captors to steal an orgasm from the pile of shaking limbs in between them.

“Cum, little one, cum so I can fuck this tight little cunt of yours.” Beni’s voice is unmistakably demanding, there’s not a note of suggestion behind his words. Your first orgasm snaps against you like electrocution, buzzing around every nerve.

“That’s my girl,” Joker snickers, feeling the contraction and loosening of your muscles. Your high is the final submission, willing every part of you how they see fit. Little more than a toy, a pawn in a broader game of chess.

“Are you ready for us?” Beni’s voice is framed in question, but you know better than to take it as anything but rhetorical. It doesn't actually matter whether or not you’re ready. What matters is the squeal of pain and temperance that comes from breaking you.

Before you can even nod in agreement, you feel it. The burning fullness, the sealing of a deal between two men that you happen to be placed right in the middle of. Joker’s cock is hot and heavy, sheathing himself in the last plane of virgin flesh. The piercing on his frenum drags against you, a familiar feeling in the most unfamiliar place.

There’s no time to get used to the sensation as Beni is pulling you forward slightly so your weeping pussy is hovering over his length. Your legs dangle, suspended on either side of his forearms. You’re lowered onto the captain, his pace is remarkably gentle as your pubic bone meets the sprawling expanse of wirey hair nestled between his hips. As your skin meets on either side of your weeping body, both cocks sheathed completely inside, the canter of either man picks up brutally.

The sticky feeling of sweat and arousal covers every inch of skin in the room, partnering with the sound of slapping and thrusting that all but drowns out the pathetic whimpers your suspended form can muster.

“I knew you would make yourself useful, doll. My favorite game to play.”

Your head falls forward against Beni, body growing heavy as the merciless, rhythmic thrumming of your abuse. The dull ache of another orgasm drips into your bloodstream. Your abused bundle of nerves become live wires, sparking against Joker’s wandering fingers as they wrap around your front.

“I can feel it, ya’ know, I can feel myself in your stomach.” His taunt is stressed with his palm pressing down against your abdomen before dipping back down once more to pinch your clit.

His rough treatment is the final straw, you scream and cuvulse in the hold of your predators. You squeeze tightly in a succession of muscle spasms that feel like you’re trying to milk both of their own orgasms to crash with your own.

Thick spurts of cum spill into you with a series of deep, final thrusts. You feel your own wetness as it runs down your thighs and ass. Muffled groans from both men fill the stale air as they claim your holes. There’s nothing left in the space between bodies except you caught in the web of spiders, dangling in silken limbs and labored breathing. There’s nothing left to give or take.

There’s nothing but panting and sweat and a deal with the devil.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[butwhyduh]

Hi! Can I request 'First Apartment' with Tim Drake? Like maybe be and reader are trying to get it on while moving but bat family appears because the want to help and/or see theirs new place? Whatever floats your boat rly. Just plz can I have some Tim content :)?

I love our boy Timbo 💕

Warning:smut, bra ripped

The keys entering the door and turning the lock sounded heavenly. It felt like freedom and ownership. As Tim gently turned the handle, he stopped in front of you. You looked at him a little confused.

“What?” You asked and he gave you a shy smile as he shoved the keys in his pocket.

“Hold on,” he grabbed behind your knees and back to pick you up bridal style. You grabbed at his arm.

“Tim!” You yelped and he laughed before walking you into the room sitting you down on your feet inside.

“I’d lay you on furniture but they’re kinda hard to get to,” he admitted. Boxes made a maze to the couch and chair. The apartment was way nicer than anything you’d ever considered but it wasn’t surprising that Tim Drake-Wayne could afford a fancy place. A nice penthouse apartment in a relatively safe area of town had a drop level living room, open airy stainless steal kitchen and a giant master bedroom with a walk in shower and jacuzzi.

“We’ll get to work on that tomorrow. Look at the view,” you said looking at the dying light of a sunset. The city of Gotham almost looked hopeful in the amber light. Tim wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder. You could feel his body warmth and smell his soft cologne. You felt secure.

“I’m glad you like it. The view really sold me on the place,” he said in your ear. He swayed you both side to side. Of course he had many strategic reasons for the place including security and privacy. There had been a whole spreadsheet to his decision. He hadn’t stressed you about the 25 places he inspected but showed 3 equally perfect choices.

“And I thought it was the easy commute to your work and my university,” you quipped.

“That’s a bonus. But the fact that I can stand in my living room without my brothers interrupting us right now is pretty nice too,” he said with a kiss to your neck.

“Definitely a bonus. It’s like they knew when we were kissing. Every time,” you said leaning your head back to expose your neck more. Tim hummed in agreement against your skin. His lips pressed soft kisses along your skin. His fingers slid up your shirt to make circles on your stomach. You gasped and grabbed his hair as he nipped a sensitive spot on your collar.

The door bell rang. Tim groaned before walking to the door. He opened it to see Barbara and Dick standing at the door, Dick’s hand was casually thrown over her shoulder. They looked like a pair of models and must be very conspicuous when seen together. Dick offered Tim a bottle of wine. “Hey Timbo, we thought we’d come congratulate you guys. Hey Y/n,” He waved. You nodded back.

“Do you both want to come in?” Tim offered, always a gentleman. Dick walked in and looked around. Barbara gave you a light hug before coming in.

“Look at the view! This is a little nicer than my first place in Bludhaven,” Dick laughed. Tim sat the wine on the counter.

“Your first place in Bludhaven was terrifying. I could smell the crime walking in. You didn’t have to travel far for patrol,” Barbara laughed.

“It was a nice place on a rookie cop pay,” he defended himself. Barbara rolled her eyes.

“This place will be cute when it’s fixed up,” Barbara said. While Dick was looking at the place, Barbara took a look at you and Tim. Tim’s hair was messy and cheeks and lips pink. You looked similarly flushed.

“Dickie, let’s give them space. They’ll probably want to start unpacking,” Barbara said. She gave him a wink. Dick looked confused for a second before it clicked.

“Yeah, we can visit again later,” Dick said with a little smile as he walked to the door. “Congrats on the place. And don’t forget protection,” he said quickly before he and Barbara left. Tim flushed a deep red.

“Well at least they left,” you said grinning. Tim rolled his eyes. “And wine!”

“Yeah. I mean, we’re 19 and a cop gave us wine but it’s nice,” Tim said walking over to you again. “But I’d rather tap something else instead of that bottle,” he muttered under his breath.

You gasped and giggled. “Tell me what you really want, Timmy.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. His blue eyes were always so intense that sometimes you could see him thinking. Tim’s big brain always took your breath away when he’d finally tell you what he was thinking.

“You’re happy right? Psychologically, moving is the 3rd most stressful life event most people have, statistically,” he said quietly. He looked at you like you were the sun. He held your waist gently and your faces were only a few inches from each other.

“I’m very happy. You make me so happy,” you said softly. He relaxed visibly and kissed you gently. Tim reached a hand up to caress your cheek. He pulled back a fraction.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Tim said. His face searched yours for a reaction. You shyly smiled and leaned up to catch his lips. He held the back of your neck and waist tightly as he deepened the slow kiss. It was not rushed or in lust. It felt like he wanted you to feel appreciated and treasured.

“TT. Father, we should have waited another day to visit. Though luck because leaving the door unlocked was an ill advised choice, Drake,” droned the younger Wayne brother. You pulled away from Tim and looked to see Bruce Wayne and Damian Wayne standing in the doorway. Bruce had the slightest upturn of his lips. Tim glared at Damian.

“Knocking works. And the door bell,” Tim said.

“I was testing your security system. Everything appears functional except human error of an unlocked door. You should take mind of that particularly as your partner is insufficient at self defense,” Damian stated looking around. You gave Damian a mirthless smile.

“Damian,” Bruce said and the boy quieted. “This is a good apartment. I designed it myself some time ago. The sunset through the full window was a design feature. I hope you both enjoy it.”

“Thanks, Bruce,” Tim said rubbing his neck, knowing that was basically a hug and love you from a non-emotionally constipated parent.

“It’s really nice, Mr Wayne. I didn’t know you did architecture,” you said watching Damian who was now inspecting the wall and window seals.

“Occasionally I have spent time personally designing certain buildings. Especially when I plan to give them to one of my boys. This is yours, Tim. The name transfers to yours on Monday,” Bruce said walking around the room and purposefully not looking at Tim. You looked at him in shock.

“The whole building,” you asked faintly.

“Yes. Tim is an adult. I built this as an investment piece. We can talk revenue stream and care on Monday but I assure you that it is quite profitable. I’ve done this for each of my boys as they’ve moved out as adults. Dick has a building downtown and Jason insisted on an entire block in the Narrows that is now a non-profit clinic and homeless shelter. I have others for my other children as well,” Bruce said.

“Thank you, Bruce,” Tim said and he gave Bruce a half hug.

“Of course, as the blood son I get the manor,” Damian said with a smirk.

“You’re the blood son? Never heard that one,” Tim said rolling his eyes.

“In many years. I’m still using the manor, Damian,” Bruce said and you swore you saw him rolling his eyes at Tim.

“You can still use it as long as you want. It will just be in my name at the earliest convenience,” Damian started. Bruce laughed.

“Absolutely not,” he said. “Let’s get going. They probably want to be alone in their new apartment.”

Damian gave a look. “Lock the door, Drake. No point in top point Wayne security if you leave the door open.”

“Yeah I know,” Tim said with a fake smile.

“Thanks for stopping by!” You called after them. Damian locked the door on the way out.

“Finally!” Tim said. You laughed. “Where were we earlier?” He pulled you into a deep kiss and any questions you had about owning a freaking building was lost. He grabbed at your hips and pulled you tight. You moaned as he nipped at your neck. Tim pushed you against the island in the kitchen. He slid his hands underneath your sweater before turning you away from him. You were bent at the waist over the counter.

“Timmy,” you breathed as he kissed your neck and palmed your breasts under your sweater. He hummed against your skin while grinding on your ass.

“Woah, Timbers,” came a voice from the bedroom. You yelped. Jason and one of his outlaw friends stood in the doorway. Tim quickly pulled his hands from in your shirt and pulled the fabric down. He didn’t let you go as he had a massive erection by this point but he basically covered your body with his arms, the best he could. You turned and buried your head in his neck. It was one thing to be seen kissing and another groping over a kitchen counter.

“What the fuck, Todd,” Tim asked mentally planning to change all locks and updating security. He glared at his brother.

“Just thought I’d bring over a housewarming gift,” Jason said with a 6 pack of beer in his hand. His friend showed off another pack and a bag of chips. “We’ll leave and come back another time,” he said with a big grin. Tim noticed that they didn’t leave the food or drink but instead went back to the secondary elevator in the bathroom. “I’ll lock this for you. Don’t forget protection,” Jason said with a wink.

“Bye,” Tim said forcefully. Jason and his friend laughed and left via the elevator. “I’m checking every lock in here.”

He walked around the apartment, checking every lock just as he promised. He came back to you with a look of hunger in his eyes. Tim roughly kisses you before all but pushing you to the bedroom where he pressed you on the bed.

“Oof,” you made the soft sound as you bounced on the mattress. Before you could get your barings, Tim kissed at your neck. Normal you’d complain about him marking you so roughly but the sensation was amazing. He quickly threw off your shirt and continued marking down your chest. His fingers fiddled with the strap of your bra before just ripping the thin fabric.

“Timothy!” You gasped. He grinned up at you before taking your nipple in his mouth. You moaned and grabbed at his hair. You pulled at his tie and dress shirt. Tim pulled away and quickly shoved them off. He might have even popped a button or two. You ran your hands along his bare chest feelings the muscles underneath. He unbuttoned and with a hook, yanked both your pants and underwear off in a smooth movement. You gasped at his eagerness. He never acted this way.

Tim hand slid up your thighs to play with your folds as he kissed you. You all but panted against his lips. You pulled at his belt and he leaned away for a second to roughly shove his pants and boxers down his legs.

“Where are the condoms?” He said, palming himself.

“No need. Birth control,” you answered and he groaned with a look similar to pain. Tim climbed over you again. He sunk in slowly.

“Holy shit you’re wet,” he said. You really were but the fact that he couldn’t remember the last time he had sex without a condom had more to do with it. Tim grabbed your hips to ground himself.

“Please... move,” you whined. He started slowly. It was agonizing on your end. Tim reached between your legs to rub your clit. He wasn’t going to last long but he’d was damned if he didn’t want you to finish first. After getting his baring, he started moving faster.

The sounds you made were magical and it sped him faster and harder. You moaned into his mouth as he roughly kissed you deeply. His tongue possessive lay swept in your mouth. Tim could feel you tightening around him and your sounds growing louder. You weren’t going to last long. You clenched around him tightly in release. He grunted and thrust roughly before cumming. He moved through both of your highs before stopping.

Tim’s forehead rested on yours and his weight laid on your body. You could feel his heart pounding roughly. “Tim, you’re heavy,” you protested. He rolled off to beside you.

Tim pulled you on his chest and kissed your lips gently. “I’m so glad you moved in with me. Our place.”

You smiled and stared at his perfectly blue eyes. “Our place,” you said kissing his cheek.

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (13)

word count; 14,463

summary; in the aftermath of an unusual rescue, some big revelations come to pass.

notes; y’all are gonna hate me but love me.

warnings; descriptive gore, gun use, reference to death, violence, gang activity, reference to drug use, reference to arson, reference to house fires, main character injury.

It was a known fact that it took three whole seconds in the morning before you could process where you were, and remember anything other than your own name.

That first second was spent in a quickly disseminated state of serenity. Your head wasn’t yet hurting, and you eased back into consciousness with a slow start, the darkness surrounding you oddly reminiscent, but the chilling cold and the damp was less so.

The second was when panic rushed through your system.  Your throat felt blocked as you came back to consciousness, the pain in your head came crashing back over you like a crushing tidal wave, the blood rushing on your head as coughs racked your body, trying to take a deeper breath, and panic filled you.

The third second made you roll onto your side, spluttering a little as pain throbbed behind your eyes and your head was spinning, making you feel like you were falling for just a second, before your nails were scraping at the material underneath you as you tried to sit up, everything along your body screaming out in agony and almost giving out with your weakness. It wasn’t soft cotton like your sheets, it was gritty like stone, tearing at your nails.

And then, you remembered.

You remembered exactly where you were, and what had happened, and why you were here. Well, that part was still a little fuzzy, you’d never really been given a reason. The pain in your body made sense, the dull throbbing in one eardrum more than the other and the shock of residual adrenaline left in your sore body that was beginning to make a resurgence in your fear, and you forced yourself to take a deep breath.

The familiar burn of tears in your throat as a lump formed and the stinging of salt in your eyes as they threatened to fall, and then you found the strength to sit up, to blink and clear dust-filled eyes a little more, before wiping a hand over your face to get rid of it all. There wasn’t much light where you were, but there was a clear spot of musty-yellow lighting in the centre of the room, your body curled in the corner, dumped in uncomfortable positions that made your legs ache, and there was a figure you recognised leaning over the table.

Covered in blood, frantic, brown eyes fixed on you that glittered under the low light, you swallowed thickly.

“Nice of you to join us, sleeping beauty. Think ya’ can come give me a hand over here?” Your brows furrowed, still trying to piece the puzzle together, but then there was a clicking that made you jump unnecessarily violently in fear, the memory of the last time you’d heard it flashing behind your eyes like a scene from a movie. Newt was panicked, but clearly trying to stay calm, his eyes widening just a fraction in a messaged for only you to hear, and despite the pain you felt, you forced yourself to your feet.

Your bag was weighing you down, medical supplies rattling, and you stumbled on feet that you could barely feel until your hands were braced on the edge of the table, and you could see what was going on a little better.

A gunshot victim, at least four bullet wounds, two packed with gauze that was rapidly soaking through as Newt had pressure on two others; swapping between them frantically if the pile of blood-sodden gauze on the floor was anything to go by. You assumed from the recognisable tattoo on the other half of this mans face too that he was a part of whatever gang this was, and clearly, an important member if they were willing to commit these kinds of crimes to save his life.

“You got more gauze, ‘cus I’m running out, and I could use your help getting him fixed up before we both end up looking like him.”

His words were low and whispered, and you gaped as you stared at the man. “This guy needs a hospital, and a team of professional medical surgeons. Like, Derek! Or, Dr Lahey! We aren’t trained for this!”

“Yeah, well, we’re all he's got.” Newt huffed, a spit of blood leaving the unnamed man’s body between Newt’s gloved fingers as he tried to shift his weight, a whispered curse from his lips as he tried to stop the flow again.

You nodded, swallowing thickly and squeezing your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to quell the pain bouncing around the inside of your skull. You assessment the scene, noting the Newt really hadn't been able to do much, and thankfully, if the change in the daylight outside was anything to go by then you had only been out for an hour or so, maybe a little longer, light still coming in between the cracks in the boarded-up windows.

The man in the corner was slumped in his chair, gun sitting beside him on the table, and your heart was racing so fast that the headache you sported was only getting worse. Your voice felt raw and hoarse as you tried to speak on it, squeaking and cracking the first time you tried to speak in anything above a whisper.

“We’re gonna’ need some water over here, boiled if you can to stop an infection, but even just bottled water would do at this point.” The man sitting on the chair stopped his rocking, the groaning of the seat against the concrete pausing, and you jumped as the front two legs slammed back down onto the floor. He stared at you for a moment, analysing you, before giving in, wandering over to the door and undoing a heavy deadbolt to open it up, never turning his back to the two of you and keeping his gaze locked with yours before throwing a demand for bottled water over his shoulder.

There was scuffling, various sounds of movement on the other side and you assumed there would be multiple people, before the door was closing once again, and the grating sound of metal was making itself knowing again in such a piercing scream along the lock that you shivered, wincing at the chill it gave you, stomach twisting.

“All right, this is a fucking mess.”

“You don’t say, love.” Newt grunted, a soft laugh falling from him as you opened up your bag, hands shaking as you tore it roughly, the zip ricocheting along its tracks to expose the contents to you. A fresh pair of gloves, and two of the strongest painkillers you could find that you forced yourself to choke down dry, and then you were attempting to focus.

Your scissors came first, chopping around Newt’s hands as best you could to remove the sodden clothing that covered his body to expose blood-smeared and frayed skin, torn from bullet wounds and bruised from the bleeding under the skin. Pushing the fabric aside, Newt pressed down a piece of gauze that was turning redder from pink by the moment, no white left on it, and the colour of his skin was beginning to turn sickly pale.

Grabbing for your flashlight, you noticed it was gone, left nowhere on your bag and missing from your person, patting down every pocket, before your partner simply huffed. “I wanted to do a trauma exam, except my torch is on my keys, too, and they took those a while ago because they have things that could be used as a weapon on them.”

“What, like my star-shaped plushie keyring?”

“Apparently.” You rolled your eyes, reaching a hand up to the lamp overhead, and tapping your fingers against the metal, hissing at the heat building up along the cover of the lamp, but deciding it would have to do. It wasn’t ideal, and it wouldn't give results all that accurate, but if there wasn’t any functioning or reaction at all, then there was no point in doing this at all, because the bleeding in his torso wouldn’t be the bleeding that would kill him.

Grabbing onto the stem instead, you covered his eyes with one hand, adjusting the lamp to sit a little differently, holding it over his head. Moving your hand back quickly, you lifted his eyelid, his pupil sluggish in his movements, but there was definitely a reaction, and you let out a little breath of relief. One more thing you could deal with. Checking the other eye, just to be certain, you got much the same reaction, not a speed you were overall happy with, but certainly better than nothing. This guy really had seen the worst of it, there was swelling along his jaw, cut and battered, a blackish bruise forming above his cheekbone and burst blood vessels in the same eye, and that was just his face.

He was coated in blood, and you couldn't tell whether it was his or someone else’s, some dried and other patches still oozing, body marred with bruises and cuts, both old and fresh, most of which were unrelated to the gunshot wounds he had. A fist came banging on the door, just in time, water bottles being handed through when it was cracked open a fraction, and there was only six of them by your count, eyes flittering over the sealed packets of water that hadn't even been opened, and you’d have to stretch it to make it last.

“How’s your leg?”

“Better than this guy, he has a bullet in his thigh.” The joke was to brush off his own pain, but for the past couple of minutes, he’d been shuffling his weight from one foot to another, and you glanced around, noting the box that was sitting only a few feet away. The unidentified man set to guard the two of you was coming over, the door sealed up tight once again and the packet of water in his hands.

“Can you put them down on the box? We could use the extra surface?”

He paused, glancing at it, considering the request, before agreeing. Silently, albeit, he accepted your request, dropping the bottles down onto it and kicking the crate across the floor to you, wooden container scraping over the stonework and bumping against your leg roughly, and you tried not to glare at him as your leg buckled.

A coppery taste filled your mouth as you licked over your bottom lip, wincing at the slight pain of the cut, swollen and sore, but not as much as the pain along your forehead, a cut you assumed you gained on the drive here. “So, first up, we need to try and stitch up those holes.”

“If I let go of these cuts, he’ll lose a lot of blood.”

“I know. We can work fast, but I need you to do the stitching, because I’m not sure I’m up to it right now.” You held your hands up, the uncontrollable trembling taking you over was far too violent to be able to do sutures, but you could definitely hold down pressure. Newt nodded, your hands closing over his, the squeeze of cold blood between your fingers from the gauze making you gag slightly, choking down that feeling of nausea.

His hands slipped out from underneath your own, and you pressed down the second they were gone, the man underneath you groaning under his breath as he constantly walked the border between conscious and unconscious. As you held down, Newt reached across his body, snatching up the first of the water bottles. Unscrewing the lid and placing it down, he left the cap beside it, before he was shuffling through his bag.

Pulling out the kit with needles and thread in, your emergency stitches kit that you’d ever actually to use in the field, and you were having flashbacks and pinpricks of pain along the tips of your fingers as you remembered practising the stitches in the academy, constantly poking your fingers with the metal thread.

The strongest antiseptic followed, dark brown liquid in a half-empty container sloshing against the sides, and it dripped across the edges, spilling a little in his haste, before he was diluting it in the first bottle. Lid back on, shaking it to mix, the once drinkable water turned a murky brown colour, and your eyes were stinging a little front he still open bottle letting strong fumes out into the air.

“I’m thinking chest, stomach, stomach, thigh.”

“Should probably elevate his legs if you wanna’ go thigh last, it’s pretty close to his femoral.” Newt nodded, glancing around, before realising there wasn’t much for the two of you to work with.

“Alright, chest, thigh, stomach?”

“I guess.” You mumbled, none of the odds being in either of your favours, and you watched as your partner pressed his fingers down against the pulse in the man’s neck, frowning at what he found and holding the position down for longer than what was good, the results silently given to you simply by the actions. “Do you need me to push the cut shut so you can stitch?”

“I do, but if you let go of those other ones, he’ll bleed out.”

You gnawed a little on your lower lip, fear and panic building once again, because every slip this man made closer to death, he was dragging both you and Newt with him. The words hadn't been specifically spoken, nothing was clear, but you could read between the lines, and if this man didn’t survive the day, then neither would you and Newt.

You didn’t know what had happened to him, you didn’t want to. Whatever kind of illegal activities, gang territory fight or simply men wreaking havoc upon one another had caused this, you wanted no more part of it than keeping him alive long enough to hope that you and your friend might get out of this situation. The hand under your heart thudded a little more violently as he surfaced back into total consciousness once again, a gasping breath followed by sputtering, fresh red bubbling in his spit as he tried to clear the blood that was pooling in his throat, before an agonising sound was leaving him.

“What the hell are you doing to him?”

You jumped at the loud voice, yelling from across the room and the gun clicked again, the sound a threat that made your entire body stiffen painfully, nails digging into the mains chest as your hands tried to ball themselves into fists.

“We’re trying to save his bloody life!” Newt yelled back, and you gasped, eyes widening a little, because if the two of you had already learned anything from talking back to these people it was the risk of a ruptured eardrum and a killer headache. Clearly, this wasn’t the same man who’d taken you hostage, the rasp in his voice a little different and this man simply grunted at the pair of you disdainfully, rolling his eyes and shuffling in his seat beside the door.

“Alright, what if we use the bags for weight? It’s not ideal, but if we work quickly, I can hold one shut while the bags put some pressure on the other two, and I can hold it shut.”

The blond before you flicked his eyes over everything, fiddling with the tools as he toyed with the tweezers he had retrieved, wiping them down as best he could with some tissue dipped in the antiseptic water. “This guy is so gonna’ fucking die.” He whispered, and you couldn't help the chuckle that left you, swaying on your feet a little as you did, the rush of a chemical other than adrenaline being overwhelming.

“Well, we’re all he’s got.” You repeated his words back to him, a cheeky flash of white teeth in a smile that was gone as fast as it came, before you were shaking your head and refocusing on the task at hand, chasing away anything else you might be feeling in the moment. Daring to free one hand from his thigh, you watched the rapid spurts of blood that came free, trickling over his trousers to the table below, before you were putting your bag down on top. You couldn't see much, whether or not it was even working, but it was the best chance the two of you had.

Newt copied your action, placing his bag down over the wounds on his stomach, much like you had done, giving the two of you the chance to focus on the wound on his chest.

Taking the disinfectant from his hand and pressing down a cotton pad over the end, you soaked the small white ball in the liquid, packing it into the wound as Newt tried to clear the area to see what he was doing, but really, it was only smearing the blood around further. You could clean him up and do a better job of it later, but the first thing you needed to do was get the blood flow under control and wash off the antiseptic once it was clean.

You pinched the hole shut, temporarily stopping the floor, beads of red pooling at the corners, and Newt spilt water over the tops of your fingers, the cold feeling making you shiver, because despite the freezing temperatures in whatever kind of warehouse you are trapped inside of, the layer of clammy sweat coating your skin was hiding you from the chill. Once you could see what you were doing, Newt sighed, taking the tweezers in one hand, and nodding his head.

“Push up around the edges to stop the bullet slipping, I should be able to get it pretty quick. I was good at this part.”

“You scare me a little, why the fuck were you a bullet removal prodigy?” He shrugged, winking a little and holding the metal tongs over the wound, before nodding his head once. Slipping your fingers out of the way, you pressed down around the edges, blood spurting up again but you pressed down, stopping the bullets from shifting as Newt pushed into the man's chest through the hole already made. There was a scarcely audible sound, one deaf to the untrained ear but like sirens to a paramedic, the cling of the tips of the needle against the tip of the bullet, and newt shifted his fingers a little.

Letting the metal open back up from where he’d squeezed them closed like a bullet, the edges of the hole stretched around the expanding metal, and an intense look of concentration took over Newt’s face, not even looking at the wound but staring at the wall behind you, looking right through it as he operated purely on instinct and the touch as he felt his way through it. He let out a victorious little noise, pulling back, and as he did, he brought out the shell of a bullet, one that looked to be homemade, though that didn’t exactly surprise you, and it let out a much louder clanging as he dropped it back down onto a metal tray beside the victim’s head.

You moved instantly, the second that it was pulled back you were pushing your thumb and forefinger back up against the edges of the cut to contain the bleeding. Holding it tightly, Newt picked up the next set of his equipment, an atraumatic needle, one of ten and you hoped he was as good as he boasted being because you only had ten between you both, and you’d need two per wound with the length of these wires to seal them up tight enough.

You watched, carefully, as Newt threaded the first of the holes through the wound, pulling it out of the other side with the tweezers, and beginning to tie a series of surgical knots to keep them closed. He gave it a test tug, the skin pulling as he did, but it didn’t rip or tear, neither the wire nor the flesh, a solid base with which he could work. Beginning to sow him up further, Newt moved in steady motions, each gap only two millimetres apart at the maximum, pulling them tightly enough to stop the blood flow and allow tissue repair to began, but not enough that it would tear at the inevitable strain it would undergo when it was done up.

As soon as she was halfway through, attaching a new thread to continue with, and the wound was getting closer to being shut, allowing you to move your fingers out of his way, a slight breath escaping you as your breathing hitched each time the needle or thread came too close to you, because the last thing you needed right now was to get an infection from someone else’s blood and a dingy warehouse, or to lose time on this man’s life by having to start disinfecting everything all over again.

As he sealed it up, he pulled all of the threads a little tighter, working his way along to make sure the thread was evenly distributed, before fastening up the thread. He pulled back, the both of you waiting with bated breath to see whether blood would come free or whether they would bust open once your fingers moved, and while they pulled tautly, they never broke or tore.

You flooded with relief, Newt letting out a mix between a chuckle and a sigh, relief overlaying it all, and you took just a second of reprieve to know that you were just one step closer to this all being over. Opening your mouth, you weren’t sure what was coming, words of gratitude and accomplishment sitting on your tongue, aimed at any kind of higher power that might be watching over the two of you right now, but your partner beat you to it.;

“Let’s check the bag wounds.”

You nodded your head, swallowing back whatever you were going to say, beginning to feel a little dizzy as your head spun, and you squeezed your eyes shut for a second, containing the way you were feeling. Lifting away the bag that was sitting over his thigh, you were both surprised and impressed that the bag method had held reasonably well. There was more blood than there would be if you’d held it yourself, but you could work with what you had, and as your eyes flicked to where Newt was checking his stomach, you found similar results. Your gut was twisting again, bile rising in your throat at the sight of the blood in various places, an unusual phenomenon as blood had never bothered you before, and you turned away, gagging as vomit threatened to make itself known, and you tried not to clap a blood-soaked hand over your mouth, the thought only sickening you further.

“Woah, you alright?” You gagged, dry heaving a few more times as you tried to keep back the vomit that was on the verge of making itself known, tears lining your eyes and heat flooding over your cheeks as everything within you threatened to let go, but you managed to keep a lid on it. “The fuck was that?”

“I don’t know. I’m fine. Just aftershock, I think. Hunger, too, maybe, been a long time since I had anything real to eat, I think my body is just all fucked up right now.” His eyes narrowed on you, but he nodded, accepting the answer because the two of you needed to focus on things that were more important.

Once you had suppressed your nausea, you were picking the scissors back up, Newt resetting and disinfecting the equipment once again as you cut away at a patch of the ruined jeans the man was wearing. The denim was stiff while wet, and you struggled to cut it, your fingers aching as the metal of the handles pressed into the edges of your fingers, and you released a breath as you were holding as it was finished. Wiping down the area and packing the hole with disinfectant to make sure it was clean.

The procedure between the two of you started up again, only a second later you were pinching the wound shut, waiting for Newt to extract the bullet before moving to knot the thread and begin to fasten the stitches. It felt like time was coming to a stop while also speeding along, your fingers moving to the pulse point on his neck to monitor how it was going, counting the beats you could feel and trying to remember how light it felt so each period check would reveal whether it grew stronger or weaker.

You felt like the clock was ticking by too fast, every time you glanced up to the musty glass barrier hanging over the door seemed like it was spinning by at double speed, the hand constantly moving in starling jumps around the clock, the shadows in the room growing more pronounced and sharp as the sun moved across the sky, the light becoming duller as the one hanging over you both seemed to become brighter, and you watched Newt work.

As a team, you stitched him up, making sure that each wound was sealed up tightly and that they wouldn't burst, the pair of you physically exhausted. You could see the ache in Newt’s leg, he’d given up on even trying to hide it a while ago, as the two of you had moved onto the third bullet hole, all of his weight sitting on his good leg as he balanced barely anything on the bad one. Four bullets were sitting in a row, lined up neatly beside his head, and you let out a sigh, scrubbing over his skin carefully to wipe up the traces of blood.

Once he’d been stable enough, you checked his vision again, his reaction times having increased by a fraction of a second, but it was enough to mark an improvement, and his pulse was picking up with both strength and speed. You could see the bruises and cuts along his skin more clearly once you’d wiped him down of excess blood, littered with marks that would fade, only the bullet holes to turn pinkish-purple with scar tissue eventually, to join all of the other battle wounds along his flesh. Various tattoos to match the symbols on his face were across his body, and you made sure to treat every single cut, not wanting to leave anything up to chance, your body screaming out in protest as your adrenaline died down, and exhaustion was crawling in.

You were overwhelmed, tears building in your eyes, and Newt mentioned nothing as a few fell free, because you were sure that at some point - perhaps before you’d surfaced back to consciousness all that time ago - that he would have done the same. The situation was terrifying and you were struggling to process it all, every thought you had was like a swirling hurricane, melded with every other thought and emotion you were feeling, leaving you hopeless to process your thoughts but just lay rampant to them.

Anxiety was spiking through your system, choking it down by focusing on the methodical cleaning of the man, but eventually, there was nothing left to do. Fresh gauze and bandages were stark in comparison to his sickly-coloured skin, wrapped neatly and tightly and finally staying crisp and clean as you had everything under control, and your legs were threatening to buckle. You packed away slowly, stepping back from the table, and removing your gloves to join the scattered piles of medical waste that covered the floor and the edges of the workspace.

Newt didn’t even bother to put things back properly, to look after the equipment, he simply dropped it all inside, doing the zip up enough to hold it shut, before it was dangling from his fingers by the straps, and you followed suit.

Noting the movements, the man in the chair stood, his movements slightly wobbly from how long he’d been sat down, and you realised how long must have passed. As he approached, he kicked one of the empty bottles aside, all six used to the last drop for cleaning and disinfecting, and he pulled the gun from his waistband, making sure his finger was over the trigger in case either you or Newt made an attempt to pull something.

Not that you had any chance, there was a pile of everything that could possibly be used as a weapon over on the table beside where he had been guarding.

“He’ll live?”

You raised your hands, folding them behind your head in a symbol of your cooperation as he turned to you, and you tried not to sway too much in your weakness, simply nodding your head to him, and swallowing thickly. “He’ll need to keep those wounds clean, you can take the stitches out in about a month, or longer, wait until they start to form flesh for a scar but take them out before the skin gets too puffy.”

He nodded his head before lifting the gun up a little higher, motioning to the bag you held, and you trembled, his finger flexing a little on the trigger. “Whatever we’re going to need to keep it clean. Get it out. Put it on the table here, and then walk over to the wall until your back is pressed to it.”

You lifted the bag slowly, the dragging of the zip over the metal was all that field the room, tense silence taking over before you were reaching inside, daring to take your eyes off of the man and quell your fear to be able to reach inside. Pulling out both the diluted and undiluted bottles, you hoped he didn’t notice the lack of canister spray you’d left at the scene, your mind suddenly becoming aware of the life you’d left hanging in the balance, and wondering whether he’d survived.

By now, the shift at the firehouse would have been over, and you did not doubt that a missing persons case would have been filed for you and Newt, the abandoned ambulance after over an hour of no check-in would lead them to know something had happened, but you didn’t know how long it would take to find you, or if they even could.

Placing the bottles, spare bandages and wraps, as well as some painkillers down on the table, you stepped back, fastening your bag up.

“He’ll be in a fair amount of pain for a while, they should last two weeks, he can’t take any more than two a day, or else he’ll OD.”

The man nodded, motioning backwards toward the shadowed walls, and you stepped back slowly, Newt following when his command was given, and his hands were held up into the air too, both of you proceeding with caution.

While one danger had dissipated, another was making itself known, the purpose of being brought here was over, you and Newt had served your purpose, and if the man asking for supplies and advice was anything to go on, it meant that either they planned to let you go or planned to kill you, because you clearly wouldn't be sticking around to follow through on a treatment plan.

Once your back hit the wall, you stilled, Newt coming to stand beside you. The door was unlocked, several more men coming in, and the four of them all lifted their comrade carefully, carrying him out, and the door slammed shut behind them, leaving you both in cold silence. This area of the room seemed even colder than that of your impromptu operating theatre had, the shadows creating a drop in temperature, but you were simply too tired to care anymore.

Your head was still throbbing, your eyes felt heavy each time you tried to hold them open, the adrenaline and fear in the situation had been all that had helped to even keep you awake, and you rolled your head from side to side, trying to ease the pain in your neck.

Newt followed beside you, your legs pulled up before you as his stretched out, your bags abandoned together between your bodies, and your head came to rest on his shoulder, a heavy sigh let out.

“I think you have a concussion.”

You chuckled, but it was dry and humourless, simply a sound made to fill the silence and bush him off, but he wasn’t accepting that answer. His hand closed over yours, lacing your fingers together comfortingly and squeezing tightly, and you did your best to squeeze him back just as firmly. “I don’t have a concussion, I just have a headache.”

“Yeah.” He hummed, and you thought for a second, you may actually have won an argument with him. “But you also have nausea, you passed out, you’re a little confused, you’re weak on your feet and you can barely stand up straight.”

“It’s a-”

“You say aftershock and I’ll slap you.” He teased, a genuine laugh leaving you this time, and your shoulders rose and fell with a shrug. “When we get out of here, w-”

“If.”

“When we get out of here,” His voice was a little firmer, commanding you to have as much faith as he did, “Will you please just get it checked out? Just to make me feel better.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes behind closed lids, and groaning when he jostled his shoulder to wake you back up to the fullest alertness you could muster. “Fine! Fine, when we get out of here, I’ll get it checked out.”

Silence encased you both, darkness taking over, and the man who’d been tasked with guarding you both returned, taking his seat again and setting up to play on his phone from the second that he was comfortable, and you waited. He said nothing, not noticing the stare both you and Newt had fixed on him, your heart sinking as he remained quiet. The longer his lack of information dragged on, the more you felt doom beginning to sweep over.

The fact that he had nothing to say to you both screamed volumes into the void. There were no threats to keep your mouths shut, or looming promises of what would happen if you exposed the group’s location, or even any information on when you’d be leaving, and it seemed that they had no intention to let you go at all.

As you wiggled a little against the concrete, butt becoming numb from the stone underneath you, your legs stretched out to match your partners, and your eyes closed. You were fading away again, drifting towards sleep as it called out to you, the spinning of the room, the dizziness that was bordering on vertigo and the nausea with the headache, it all seemed to lessen as you slipped from consciousness.

Newt was talking to you, forcing you to stay just enough awake that you didn’t drift completely, but you weren’t processing what he was saying, the words just becoming background noise that disturbed you from being able to slumber, but you suspected that was the whole point. He wasn’t talking about anything important, he was telling you his mother’s recipes and the time he once went to buy new work shoes but almost walked out of the store while wearing an un-purchased pair because he was so tired from a double shift.

You missed the banging in the other rooms, you missed the actions taking place, barely roused by the sudden shaking your body felt, and you only snapped back to consciousness when you felt hands on your body. You kicked roughly, Newt barely avoiding the blow as all the pain you’d felt came flooding back over you in shockwaves, making you shudder violently at the surge of pain and nausea, before you were blinking at the dull lighting in the room.

“Stick with me, love. Tommy would kill me if we had to take you to the hospital after the final hurdle because I couldn’t keep you awake.”

“Oh, shut up.” Your words were slurred, and you shook your head, eyes squeezing closed at the throbbing taking place behind them. “You’d love that, I’m surprised you haven’t sacrificed me for a trip to the ER yet, anything to see Dr Derek in his lab coat, right?”

Pink flushed his cheeks, his eyes flickering over to the door, and he leaned in a little, hugging you tightly and shaking you enough to jolt energy through your body, a groan on your lips as he did. “Something is going on outside, and I never pass up a chance for an I-told-you-so!”

“A what?” You questioned, confusion still washing over you, but you never got a chance for an answer. The sound of a bullet pinging against metal was so sharp that it left another ringing in your ears as you cupped your hands over the sides of your head just a second too late. Newt did the same, falling away from shock with a grunt, and the man beside the door was in a little more agony at his close proximity to the sound.

You blinked blurry vision clear, watching smoke curl up from the lock, before the heavy metal door was falling open. It was a uniform you recognised, one of the police members you’d already seen much of over the last few cases, your brows raising a little as you watched them enter. You kept your hands over your ears, at least two more shots reverberating through the air and you felt them more than you heard them, body feeling the impact and breath feeling knocked from your lungs at the vibrations over the airwaves.

It was all like a dream, detached from reality as you were pulled to your feet by an officer, Newt’s hand dropping away from yours and you stumbled, feelings as though your movements weren’t your own. As you were guided through the halls, you tried to remember some of it, any of it, but everything you saw and heard seemed to be going in one ear and out the other.

Flashing blue lights outside with wailing sirens signalled the police cars, and several men around you were all being arrested, pinned down face first and snarling as they were cuffed, but you didn’t have enough energy to feel intimidated right now.

The fresh air was a shock, like plunging into water below the freezing point, and you took a sudden and gasping inhale, coming to a full stop, and everything out of focus suddenly went into overdrive. As you stepped out of the building the haze seemed to drop away, and you took another lungful of the air, panting breaths as you tried to fill your lungs with the source of oxygen, a panic attack building as you finally let everything cup back through, and gentle hands were guiding you to an ambulance.

You recognised the paramedics waiting inside, they were friendly as they greeted you by name and you recognised them from another case, perhaps the one on the bridge or at the chemical plant, you weren’t too sure, but it didn’t matter. An oxygen mask was placed over your face, fresh breaths of air racing through your lungs on a steady distribution that forced your breathing to even out, and you were grateful for it, not wanting to break down until you were curled up in your own bed tonight.

You winced at the flashlight that flickered over your eyes, stars in your eyes flashing for a second as you blinked to clear them, and while the paramedic around you shuffled within their own devices, you shifted yourself slightly on the stretcher, turning to stare out at the collections of cars instead, trying to see more than just the inside of the ambulance.

You searched for Newt, unable to find his blond hair for a good few minutes, before finally, you spotted him. Messy mop head in a far corner, beside a collection of cars that didn't belong to the public services, but instead to the members of the public services.

He was wrapped up tightly in his best friend's arms, Thomas patting his back comfortingly, as Minho all but bounced with excitement at his side. Brenda was leaning on her car, and Gally was standing beside them, hands tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. They were all in casual clothing, clearly having changed since the end of their shift had rocked around so long ago, the night sky closing in overhead as the day was being chased away, and you took another deep breath through the mask, smiling again.

Just the sight of your team was reassuring, to know they’d found you, they’d come to collect you, to make sure you were okay, and your heart thumped steadily and surely in confirmation that you needed their comfort right now. They were talking, Newt using a lot of hand gestures and while you couldn't tell much about their features, you knew they’d all be flickering from amusement to confusion to horror. Newt was quite the storyteller, at any time, no matter the trauma.

They turned, Newt pointing over to the ambulance you were within, and you raised a hand to wave to your friend as you watched all of their attentions move to you, before the paramedic before you was summoning your attention once again. You turned to her, the call of your name snapping you to the moment, and as much as you didn't want to look away from them all, you knew you’d be reunited with them soon enough.

“Well, you definitely have a concussion.” She confirmed, and you pouted, taking a final deep breath from the oxygen mask, and then taking it off.

“Newt is going to live for the ‘I-told-you-so’.” You scowled, and she seemed to come into more focus within your memory now. You remembered her, she had been there at the chemical plant, she’d been new at the time, a trainee, fresh out of the academy and on one of her first cases, and you’d tried to comfort her about the card system, making sure to navigate as many red cards away from her as you could to make a hard day just a little easier.

She grinned, handing you a plastic cup with some tablets inside, and a bottle of water, with the lid already unscrewed. “I’ll spare you the medical analysis, I’m sure you know what to do.” You only nodded, taking both from her gratefully and tipping the pills onto your tongue, before following them with a gulp of water, and taking them down eagerly. “Two painkillers to keep the headaches and muscle soreness at bay, as well as the nausea.”

“As much as I’d love to chat, I’m going to have to rain-check. Am I good to go? I’m desperate to just get home.”

She chuckled, nodding, and you stood up, still feeling a little unsteady and lightheaded, but it was beginning to get easier. Giving her a final thanks, and climbing down from the van, you closed the doors up for her, banging on the back when they were sealed up, and she gave a thumbs up from inside of the window, before sorting everything out and preparing for their journey back.

Turning around, there was a body directly behind you, and you cursed loudly while jumping, eyes trailing up from a familiar chest to his face and raising a brow as warm honey-coloured eyes stared at you. “Fuck, Tommy, hasn’t anyone ever told you not to sneak up on someone who’d been freshly rescued after an abduction? We tend to be jumpy.”

He grinned, shaking his head a little at your words, before your own smile was following. His hands came up, cupping your cheeks, and you leaned into the warmth that his palms brought over the cold skin of your face, sagging a little at his touch. “I have a lot of questions, but the main one is; are you okay? I just need to know you’re alright, and everything else can wait.”

“I’m okay, Tommy, I promise. A little battered and bruised, but hey, what’s new?” He rolled his eyes softly, a yawn following on your lips as you covered it, not missing the fond look he held as he continued to stare, eyes sweeping over your features. You waited for a second longer, before nudging one of your feet forward to bump your toes against his, your brows raising a little. “What’s wrong?”

“I was just really fucking worried about you.” He whispered, eyes dropping down a little, fixing on your lips, and licked over his own. His hands fell further down, sitting over your jaw and he dragged a thumb across your lips a little, your mouth pouting instinctually as he did, and his lips flicked up at the edges, never taking his gaze from where his finger was resting. “Chasing after you is like being on a damn rollercoaster.”

“How’s that?” You mumbled, breath clouding in the cold air slightly but the words were whispered, and his lashes tickled against your cheek as he shifted to bump his nose against yours, dragging them together slowly, his lips pressing to his own finger on the other side.

“Exciting, addictive, a total rush, but a little scary right at the big drop.”

You brought a hand up, sitting over his cheek, his head tipping into your hand, and his thumb slipped away, leaving nothing between you to stop you from being able to taste the overly sweetened coffee on his breath that he drank whenever he got worried. “Don’t kiss me yet.”

“Why not? It’s me and you, and now I know you’re okay, and I just really want to.” He teased you, pushing in enough to trace his lips very gently against your own, sparks of electricity shooting along you at the fleeting brush that you could still feel but wasn’t enough to be a kiss, but already left you wanting more. “If you don’t give me a reason soon, I’m gonna’ kiss you breathless, and they’ll need to put you back on that oxygen mask.”

You let out a soft breath, an airy laugh, before finding the strength to pull back by a fraction. “I have a concussion.”

He snapped back, eyes wide and brows furrowing so tightly you thought he'd get permanent perry lines, his jaw dropping in disbelief. “You said you were fine! You little liar!”

“I am fine!” You took his hands, pulling them away from your face and weaving your fingers with his on both sides, before rocking up on your tiptoes, and pressing your lips to his lower cheek, hearing him whine a little at the near-miss kiss. “I’m just a little woozy, and tired, and shaken up.”

“You promise that’s all?”

“I swear.” You offered, and he smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to your own cheek in return as he respected your boundaries. “If you can set rules for our first kiss, then so can I. I want to be at my peak when we do, I don’t want anything to spoil it, I want to remember it perfectly, and not have such a killer headache, preferably.”

“I can live with that. We’ll wait. For now.” You nodded your head, foreheads resting together once again, and your eyes closed, simply soaking in how it felt to be surrounded by him, before a loud and exaggerated clearing of the throat was breaking you apart, and Brenda stood with her hands on her hips, a wicked smirk on her face as she stared at you both.

“Do we get any greetings, or do we not matter anymore? Because I was kinda’ worried about you too.”

You grinned, the woman who you were proud to call your best friend was holding her arms out for you, and you dropped Thomas’ hands, feeling him let you go and step back just as quickly now that everyone else had come over, and you wrapped her up in your arms as she squeezed you tightly, rocking you from side to side. Another pair of arms wrapped around you, and you grinned as the familiar smell of your partner’s aftershave overwhelmed your senses, the man clinging to you from the back as he wrapped his arms around the both of you.

Minho followed, a wicked grin on his face as he draped himself across Brenda’s back, squeezing all of you even tighter, and Thomas followed beside Newt, Gally and Fry coming next, until you couldn’t see out past the mass of bodies that had joined, feeling as though you were in the middle of a rugby scrummage and you could barely breathe, the laughter you were letting out doing nothing to help.

Eventually, Brenda was elbowing the men back, letting you slip free when they all backed away, and you missed all of their body heats, wrapping your arms a little tighter around yourself to keep warm All you had was the thin material of your uniform shirt, soaked in blood and clammy sweat, as well as various medicines and chemicals, with a vest underneath. It was doing little against the cold of the night closing in, twilight well past as stars started to make themselves known.

You shivered, rubbing your hands up and down your arms, wondering how Newt wasn’t feeling the cold, but he was excitedly retelling the tale already of the surgery the two of you had been forced to perform, a story that would last him for ages, no doubt, but it was his way of processing the trauma; to turn it into something he was proud to remember instead of something he was scared to think about, something that made him feel bold instead of terrified, and you wanted to support that, so you kept your mouth shut.

Stepping back over to Thomas, his gaze left his best friend, flicking down to you, his hands tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie, and raising a brow when you tugged his arm out of his pocket. He let you, his arm limp in your hold as he let you guide him, a soft pink flushing his cheeks as you tucked yourself under his arm, your cheek moving to rest on his shoulder, your hands tucking into his pocket and one set of fingers weaving with the fingers of his that were still inside. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, before turning to look up at him as his arm squeezed around you a little more tightly.

There was a grin on his face, one with a hidden meaning as he bit at the inside of his cheek to contain it. “You know, Newt is gonna’ give us shit for cuddling.” His fingers were moving over your back in slow patterns, large palm rubbing slowly and transferring warmth back to you where you were chilled to the bone.

“I don’t care. I’m fucking cold, and you’re nice and warm.” You moved, face pressing into him a little further, the rest of your words becoming muffled, and he chuckled.

“Well, in that case,” He simply rested his chin on the top of your head, freeing up his other arm to hold you more securely, and letting out a slow breath that became a slight yelp as you pressed cold hands under the edge of his hoodie to sit on warm skin, grinning cheekily at the scowl that formed as you did. “Is any of the story Newt is telling actually true?”

“Surprisingly, most of it.”

“Well, which p-” He was cut off, the gruff clearing of a throat making him fall silent, and you pulled back, slightly embarrassed as heat made itself known along your cheeks when you found the police officer to be looking for you, the rest of the squad falling silent too and all turning to look at you, following the officer’s gaze, and you untangled yourself from Thomas.

“Sorry to interrupt you all. I just need your statement, ma’am, it’ll only take a moment.”

“You haven’t given your statement yet?” Newt quizzed, clicking his tongue in a tutting fashion, and you stuck your tongue out a little bit at him.

“You still haven’t been checked out by a paramedic yet?” You mocked, his amused face falling as he mock-glared at you, Minho pinching his arm as he tried to insist he was perfectly fine, his friend telling him otherwise.

“I’ll meet you over by that car in a moment, it’ll only take a few minutes to get your statement.” You nodded, the policeman giving you a polite smile, before tapping his pen against the pad in his hand and wandering away to the vehicle.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Lips brushed against your ear, making you jump a little, and you turned back to face the man behind you, your lieutenant standing back up to his full height as you did, and raising his brows.

“No, I want you to take Newt over to an ambulance and force him to get a check-up. He’s more than happy to diagnose me, but he won’t do a self-diagnosis.” Thomas laughed, a hearty and full sound, and you assumed there were memories flashing behind his eyes of a childhood full of similar circumstances. “I’ll come and meet you over by the cars afterwards. I’m going to need a lift home, y’know..”

His hand came up, tucking away stray hairs behind your ear, and nodding his head. “I was already planning on that, don’t worry.” You smiled, head ducking a little, and you tensed up a little at the clenching in your gut again, fearing it was another bout of nausea rising, but instead, your stomach rumbled, loudly. There was a snicker, hidden in your hairline, and your lips pursed, a shy feeling growing within you once again. “I’ll take you to get some food, too.”

“Shut up.” You mumbled, a finger hooking under your chin, pulling your face up, and there was a smirk there that only made you flush further. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like you’re adorable? Because, you are.” You scowled, blush only growing stronger, and he smoothed a thumb over your cheek as did, glancing away over your shoulder for a second. “Go give your statement, I’ll wrestle Newt into an ambulance.”

“Mhm, ‘kay.” You twisted your head, nuzzling a little into his palm for a second, before pulling it away from your face and squeezing his hand. “I want McNuggets. McDonald’s drive-thru.”

“Whatever you want, angel.”

You raised a brow, hand smoothing down over his chest to sit just above his stomach, and his eyes dropped, following your hand, a slightly more vulnerable look on his face when he turned back to you; wide eyes, swallowing thickly. “Whatever I want?”

“Anything.”

You tugged on the front of his clothing. “Can I wear your hoodie?”

He froze for a second, before a rush of a breath was leaving him like a punch, and he smiled, reaching behind his head with one hand and tugging it up, stripping the garment off and shucking it down his arm, the long-sleeved shirt underneath rising up a bit as he did, and you forced your eyes away from the happy trail revealed or the flex of his biceps, taking the warm garment from him. He held it out, soft green material looking warm and inviting, flooded with his body heat and the smell of him, your fingers twitching to take it.

Undoing the buttons on the front of your shirt, you cursed under your breath at the cold while taking it off, just a tank top left underneath, before taking the hoodie. It caught on your ponytail, Thomas helping you to adjust it over your head before taking the ruining uniform from you and draping it over his arm like a waiter’s towel, nodding his hair and lifting your hair free from the collar.

He leaned in, lips pressing to your forehead, a soft kiss given to you, before he was pushing you backwards. “Go. Go give your statement, the sooner it’s over, the sooner we get you those nuggets. I’ll meet you at the cars.” Tucking your hands into warm pockets, you wandered away, bumping your hip against Brenda’s as you did and she stumbled a little from where she’d been balancing mid-yawn, flipping you off as you laughed while walking away, and making your way over to the officer.

He stood up straighter from where he’d been leaning against his car as you approached, offering you his hand and introducing himself politely, and you freed up a hand to shake, giving him your name for the record, before your hands were once again clenched with the oversized hoodie’s pockets.

It was a simple case, there wasn’t much to tell. In all honestly, you didn’t know much. You wouldn't be much help, you’d been unconscious for the first half of the journey and in the midst of your concussion symptoms the second time, and you’d never seen the man pull up. You did tell him what you could, about the unusual call, you and Newt splitting up to check the area, before finding the man under the bridge. You tried your best to patch him up, before the two of you had been taken at gunpoint, and you’d lost consciousness when you’d been put in the car.

You asked about the fate of the man under the bridge, your heart sinking a little at the answer you got. He hadn't made it, he’d tried to use the equipment you’d left him but had passed away before the hour mark had passed, and you gripped onto yourself tightly to contain how you felt. He attempted to comfort you about it, to tell you that it was the gang activity you and Newt had speculated it to be, and that the man who’d been stabbed was a criminal, but it did little to ease your suffering.

You were a big believer in second chances; if you didn’t you wouldn't be in the place you were now, with the family you’d found.

Once he had you sign off on the confidentiality forms and disclosures, your name signed next to Newt’s chicken scratch signature, you were free to go, more than ready to just go home. Everything ached, you were still sore and covered with pain, your muscles all tensed up and torn from the strain of the day, your hunger making you feel like you were being eaten from the inside out by your own stomach and the headache that came with it wasn’t a highlight of your day, and your bed was calling out for you.

As promised, the teams were over by the cars, music playing on the radio from within Brenda’s as the door was open, letting her lean against it, and Newt was sucking happily on one of the lollipops reserved for little children that some of the ambulances carried, his tongue turning purple from the false-grape flavour of it.  

He saw you coming, a little bounce in his step as you approached, before he was coming to stand before you, a smacking sound making itself known as he pulled the sweet treat away from his mouth. “You okay? Did he tell you about the guy?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, and he frowned, shrugging a little, but holding his arms open.

“He was a bad guy, you can’t save everyone, but you tried, okay? You gave it your best.” His words were true and you knew they were, you didn’t want to wallow in self-pity, you’d done everything you could without losing your one life, in which he would have died too, and you were trying not to risk your own life as much these days. “You’re okay, right?”

“Yeah.” You huffed, and he squeezed you a little tighter, clearly not accepting that answer, and waiting for me. “God, I hate this job sometimes, but I love it too. We save more lives than we lose, we change more lives for the good than bad, but every job has its bad sides.” It felt like you’d been having an awful lot of the bad side lately, but that only meant there was a lot of good to come to balance out the scales. “Have you texted Derek, yet, I bet he’s pretty worried.”

Newt let out a breathy sound at the mention of his crush, sagging in your arms a little before pulling back, and pale cheeks were flushed with warmth, the men avoiding your gaze and scratching at the back of his neck. “Not yet. Bren had my bag in the car, I got a lot of missed texts and a missed call, but I don’t really know what to say. It’s late, he finishes shift soon, I figure I’ll just wait until I get home.”

“Maybe you should go and see him.” You teased, poking at his shoulder, and your friend’s flush only deepened, shaking his head a little.

“I want to take a hot bath, and watch embarrassing rom-coms and eat an ungodly amount of food in a very unattractive way, and I don’t think me and Derek are quite at that stage. Yet.” He added the last word on, smirking as that cheeky attitude came flooding back, and you felt a presence coming to stand behind you. You knew who it was without having to turn, feeling it instinctively as a slight thrill raced through you, before a kiss was being pressed to the back of your head, an arm slipping around your waist, and a chin hooking over your shoulder.

Newt smirked, eyes moving over the pair of you slowly, and you ignored the look as he busied himself by moving to the backseat of Brenda’s car to retrieve your bag as well, and rifling through his own for his phone.

“Is this okay?”

“Why wouldn't it be?” You relaxed a little further into his hold, his fingers toying with the stitching underneath the pocket of the jumper idly as you sagged into him, feeling the movement of the muscles in his chest as he shrugged.

“Whole teams here, and you’re kinda’ the centre of attention right now. You and Newt. I didn’t really wanna’ push my boundaries, but I’m kinda’ afraid that if I let you go again, you’re going to get into some more stupid shit and get me all riled up again, and I’m still all full of adrenaline form these last few hours worrying about you.”

You moved to the side a little, twisting your head to be able to look up at him, eyes scanning over his face as you analysed his words, nothing but honesty and vulnerability shown to you. “Hey, I didn’t get myself into this one, it just happened. For once, I have no blame! I was cooperative with the criminal, kept my mouth shut, for the most part, you would have been proud of me.” His lips twitched with a soft form of amusement at your joke. “Besides, they all know how I feel about you, anyway. I’m not exactly subtle about it, and neither are you. I don’t think whatever this is, is exactly a state secret.”

He beamed at that, you weren’t sure why, but his face lit up with pure joy, and he nodded his head sucking down to peck the tip of your nose with a sweet kiss, one that made you feel ticklish, your face screwing up slightly. Turning back to your friends, you watched Newt stare at his phone for a second, considering accepting a call as his finger hovered over the accept button, the vibrating device with Derek’s name flashing along the top going off after a second, and you frowned.

“You sure you don’t want company tonight, Newt?”

“Yeah, I don’t really think either of you should be alone. Especially not with your concussion.” She pointed at you, but her attention quickly moved back to Newt, and the lanky blond shrugged. “How about a girl’s night? You can join in, Newt, because you can talk guys, so you’re acceptable.”

“Wow, thanks, Bren.” His tone was sarcastic but his face lit up a little, and he chuckled. Brenda turned back to you, raising her brows.

“Girl’s night?”

“How about a girls day tomorrow?” She pouted, and you grinned. “You’re right, I really shouldn’t be alone for forty-eight hours with severe concussion symptoms, but I think I can monitor them myself by tomorrow night.”

“Exactly, tomorrow night! Who’s gonna’ look after you tonight, huh? Girls. Night.” She punctuated her words with emphasis, and you tried to hide your giggling at her confusion behind your hand as even Minho groaned, both Fry and Gally snickered. “What?”

“Brenda..” Minho sighed, nodding his head towards you, where Thomas was squeezing you a little tighter, pressing a series of kisses along your hairline, and she studied you both for a second, before scoffing.

“Really? You’re taking Thomas home instead of me? Boo, you whore.”

You gaped, not sure whether to be offended or amused, and Thomas made the decision for you, protesting in offence on both of your behalves as he questioned why he was deemed as a ‘bad’ choice. “He’s bigger. He gives good cuddles. He promised me McNuggets. He smells good. Those are compelling arguments.”

Thomas’ chest puffed out a little against you and the compliments. “Uh, I smell excellent, I give great cuddles, I’d buy you a share box of nuggets that you wouldn't have to share, and I could put on tall boots.” She raised her hands, her voice teasing now, and your head tipped to the side as you stared at your best friend. “But, fine, girl’s day tomorrow it is.”

“I’ll come to that!” Newt chirped, sticking his hand up, and you nodded your head, Brenda taking the opportunity to high-five him.

“If Newt gets to go, then I’m staying.” You huffed, Thomas squeezing you a little tighter, and you lowered a hand to rest over his, soothing as his intense affections were based on the need for his comfort as well as your own.

“Uh, no.” Brenda deadpanned, her bluntness making you laugh. “You’re one of the main topics we’re going to be talking about. Newt gets to come because he can talk boys, and he tells me about hot doctors.”

“So I can’t come?” Minho chipped in, pouting a little for effect as he stared at Brenda, and her words went silent, no arguments to offer as her eyes narrowed on him, a silent argument between two colleagues that only you knew to be between two lovers, and you chuckled to yourself. He knew he’d won that battle, a smirk taking up on his face, and she huffed.

“If Min gets to go, can I come then?” Gally took a more polite approach, and you nodded your head.

“Sure you can.”

“You’re gonna’ fit all these people into your living room? On your two-seater couch?” Thomas teased, a couple of smirks being thrown in his direction at his reference to knowing your apartment so intimately, and you hadn't even realised that you’d been so freely inviting people to your home until now. You felt a little winded by the realisation, by the idea that it would be so simple to accept someone into the place that was so private to you, the place you’d retreat to after a long day to get away from work, but now, work was your family, and you wanted to share it with them.

“Well, Tommy-boy here can drive himself and you over to my place instead?”

“Team day at Minho’s!” Newt cheered, throwing his hands up in the air, and you laughed, the sound fading into a yawn as you covered your mouth.

“Okay, but late afternoon, because I’m exhausted, and I want a lot of sleep.”

“Late afternoon.” Brenda teased, rolling her eyes. “Midday. You better be there.” She barely gave Newt the chance to get the bags from the backseat before she was slamming the door closed, Gally twirling his keys on his finger and Fry already leaning against the car, half-asleep as his head was popped up on his hand.

You took your bag from Newt, who was catching a ride with Gally, the member of the firehouse who lived the closest to him. Brenda’s car was leaving first, spinning dangerously on mud-tracks as she left, and you were impressed with how recklessly she dared to drive surrounded by cops, but that was probably playing it safe for her. The rest of the team slowly followed, Thomas’ arm still wrapped loosely around your waist as he guided you over to his car, fresh mud spattered up along the polished paintwork, and your bag was placed on the backseat.

He was holding open the passenger door for you when you were ready, and you sank into the seat, offering him just a smile in acknowledgement, before he was rounding the vehicle to get in too, car starting up smoothly, and his hand on the back of your seat as he reversed out of the spot.

Switching gears, he inched forward slowly, pulling up the track carefully, and glancing back in the mirrors, before both hands were sitting on the wheel, and he was flicking on the indicator for the highway.

“You still want to go to the drive-thru?”

You considered it for a second, watching the road as he pulled out, before giving in to your craving. “Yes.”

“Okay.” He hummed, a hand reaching down to find one of your own where it was sitting in your lap, linking his fingers together loosely with your own. The radio was playing softly, the cars were flying past you on the highway as you weaved between lanes, an area you didn’t recognise, and clearly, Thomas wasn’t all that familiar with it either because he didn’t talk much, instead, focusing on the signage along the road for a long time.

It was a longer journey than you’d expected it to be, almost thirty minutes passing before you were entering an area of town that you began to recognise, the very edges of your territory as far as you’d expanded so far, and you squeezed Thomas’ hand a little tighter, letting him go every so often when he needed it to change gears or to drive, but his hand always seemed to find it’s way back to being pressed up delicately with your own.

Your mind slipped a little bit, wondering just how it was that you found yourself here.

It had been a long time since you’d allowed yourself to trust anyone, to really let anyone in, and now you found yourself surrounded. Your entire team had shown up to collect you tonight, all of them wanting to make sure you were okay; honest and true with nothing to gain from it themselves except for knowing that you were safe, and the man beside you had let himself dig in a little closer.

Instead of just holding your heart, he’d managed to let himself inside, residing there and making it his own with everything he did. The moment you’d laid your eyes on him, you’d hated him, hearing him already hate you felt like a bittersweet mouthful, making it easier not to get attached but hard as it always made you one step further from home. You’d spent so much of your life forcing people away while dreaming about one day finding your home that you’d never stopped to watch the time slipping away around you as the chances seemed to get further and further away, until Newt had forced you to.

You had your own history that made you the way you were, but you’d never stopped to give Thomas the benefit of the doubt that he did, too, and you’d taken out your anger on him when it was unwarranted. He’d clearly forgiven you for it and moved on, but you’d never really apologised.

“I’m sorry, Tommy.”

He frowned, the neutral expression he’d held switching to a frown as he began to slow the car down, navigating through the car park as a surprising number of cars still milled around, shopping at the mall in the stores with later hours into the night and various fast-food joints, the illuminated letter ‘M’ calling out to you, and Thomas joined the queue of cars.

“I never said sorry for the way I treated you. I had stuff going on, I had a lot of issues, but I didn’t stop to think that maybe you had stuff going on too, and I’m sorry.”

He seemed stuck for a second, like a deer caught in the headlights, before he sank into his seat a little bit. “That’s okay, I forgive you. You didn’t know I had stuff going on at the time, I shouldn't have been mad at you, either. I took it out on you, but really, I had issues with someone else.”

The name was on the tip of your tongue, but before you could speak your next words, the static of the intercom requesting your order made the both of you jump, and Thomas rolled down the window. It took a moment, deciding as quickly as you could and putting in an order for what it was that you were craving as your stomach rumbled again, that typical greasy smell of fast-food drifting through the open window.

You stayed quiet for the rest of the transaction, reaching out to turn the music up a little bit as you switched over to a classical station, finding the latest chart-toppers to be a little overwhelming in the moment, but late-hour classical piano and violin notes were much more comfortable. The bags were hot in your lap as Thomas handed them over clutching his McFluffy in your hand carefully and staring down longingly at the chunks of chocolate candy and caramel sauce through the lid, somewhat regretting your decision not to get one when he’d offered you one.

Parking up at the back, a little bit away from where everyone else was, and you unclipped your seatbelt, watching him do the same, before he was pushing his chair a little further back and getting comfortable. You handed him over his cheeseburger, and the fries that followed, stealing one from his portion and watching as he grinned, sitting them on his lap and unwrapping the burger, while you opened up a box of nuggets, offering one to him.

You sprinkled some salt over the box, shaking the nuggets after he’d taken one to mix the seasoning, but you couldn't eat one, couldn't focus, not when a certain question was still hanging on the tip of your tongue.

“What’s up? They make it wrong? It’s pretty hard to mess up chicken nuggets.” He teased, leaning over to inspect them and winking cheekily as he plucked another from the large box, popping it into his mouth and chewing happily, a sound made as if to confirm to you that they were okay, but the food wasn’t what was bothering you.

“Can I ask you a question, and you promise you’ll answer honestly?” his brows furrowed, but he nodded, taking another large bite of his burger. You hesitated, picking at the edges of the bag, ripping the brown paper slowly, and you sighed. “That woman in the bar, that was Teresa, wasn’t it?”

He stiffened at the mention of her name, his face falling, and he was stiff as his head turned away from you to stare out of the dashboard, and your lips pursed, anxiety coursing through you at the time that it took him to reply. He chewed slowly, eventually swallowing his mouthful, and you took a cautious bite out of a chicken nugget as you waited. “Yes.”

You nodded, keeping it to yourself and looking through the bag for a packet of ketchup, opening up the small tub and dunking the savoury treat inside, swirling it around, and eating the other half. You licked salt from your lips as you finished, and turned back to look at him, where he was staring down at his food, a confused look on his features. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He took a breath, seeming to have an answer ready to go, as though he’d anticipated your words, before his jaw snapped shut, and he put his burger down, sighing a little and nibbling on his lower lip, before giving in. “I didn’t want you to know.” You raised your brows, not the answer you were expecting, and he turned to look at you, taking in your expression, and shrugging a little. “You said you wanted honesty.”

“But why?”

“Why didn’t I want you to know that was her?” You nodded, and he took a bite of his food, prolonging the suspense as he procrastinated on his answer. “I guess,” He spoke through his food, grimacing a little upon realising, and you couldn't help your smile, eating another one of your chicken nuggets. “Because you’re nothing like her, and what we have isn’t the same, and I didn’t want you to have to cross with her.”

“Did you love her?”

“Yes.” He didn’t pause this time, stiff once again as he gave you the truth without even considering lying, and you felt conflicted. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to reach out and comfort him, or comfort yourself and put your walls back up; in the end, the person best at comforting you was Thomas, and so you needed to be that for him. Reaching a hand out, you placed it on his arm, and he jumped at the contact, seeming shocked by it. He turned to look at you, eyes dropping to where your hand was sitting on his arm. “Are you mad at me?”

“I don’t have anything to be mad at you for, Tommy. I’m just sorry you got hurt.” You whispered, and he let out a shaky breath, his hand coming up to sit on your cheek, his face dropping to bump his nose with your own, sharing a breath and nudging into you.

“Just so you know, this is one of those moments that I would kiss you, if we’d already had our first kiss.”

“I’ll remember that.” You grinned, bumping back against him, before pulling away, and eating a chicken nugget as he whined slightly at the loss of intimacy.

“She, uh, she was a paramedic. You reminded me of her, at first.” You turned, realising that in the interest of honesty, he was going to tell you it all; the information that other members of the team skirted around and answered vaguely, a mystery that had been locked up tight to keep you out of, all of them having gotten hurt in some way. “She had the same attitude you did, she didn’t really let people in; a lot of walls. We were.. something. She didn’t want to put a label on it, she wanted me behind closed doors but never wanted me near her in front of the rest of the team. She had boundaries, she wanted me to come over late but never wanted me to stay the night, she wanted to have dinner and drinks but never in public. It felt exciting, but wrong. But I couldn't stop.”

“Thomas, you don’t have to tell me this.” He sniffed a little, eating his fries quietly and shaking his head a little as he relived the memories.

“I want you to know.” You felt touched that he wanted to share one of his deepest pains with you, but it was scary, because it meant you had to do the same. “I should have seen the signs, she always wanted more, and she never wanted to settle down, kind of like you.” His words cut a little, stinging, despite knowing them to be true. “She said she was leaving one day, out of the blue, and I blamed myself for it. We got into an argument, she didn’t even tell me she was moving house until she asked me to sign her transfer papers. We yelled a lot, and I was upset, so I signed them and told her to just leave. She did.”

“Is, uh, is that the day that-”

“Newt got hurt? Yeah.” His voice cracked slightly as he spoke. “She left, and I was upset, and about an hour later, we got a call. I’d been too busy pacing my office and seething over it that I didn’t call in for a substitute. Newt told me it was okay, he’d been comforting me. He went alone on that call, got stuck under material that had fallen on his leg. Minho found him and carried him out after he passed out.”

He crushed the empty cardboard carton in his hand, the sudden sound making you twitch at the shock, and he whispered an apology upon sensing the environment he’d created.

“Newt’s been my best friend since I was a kid, and because of my feelings, he got hurt. I shouldn't have taken it out on you, but there were just so many similarities, it was overwhelming. I didn't want you to meet her, because you're nothing like her.”

“I’m not? Kinda’ sounds like we’re the same.” You finished your food, packing the wrapped back into the bag, and facing him more confidently as you turned in your chair, and he chuckled.

“You’re nothing like her. She may have been what I loved once, but you’re something entirely different.” He picked up his ice-cream, peeling back the lid on it and poking at the contents with a smile on his face now as he mixed the toppings in. “You’re sweet, you get along with everyone and you want to be with us, I can tell, even if you were going to leave at first. You.. you want me, you don’t hide it. I like that. You’ve spared my best friend a lot of pain instead of causing it, and you make Brenda feel like a woman again when she’s surrounded by men, and you cook with Fry. You’re a real part of our family, I don’t think she ever was.”

Once he deemed it thoroughly mixed, he took a large spoonful of it, holding it up and poking it against your smile lightly.

“Take a bite, I know you want some. You can share mine.”

You did as told, accepting the ice-cream he was offering to you, and relishing in the sweet flavour. He took his own bite, and despite how happy you were, there was still a pang of lingering guilt as you kept back your secrets from him after he’d told you his. “You’re not the first firemen I’ve been involved with.”

“I figured as much.” You were a little surprised, pausing in your words as he looked at you like it was no big deal, and he shrugged, offering you another spoonful. “I mean, I figured you had to have some kind of history in a firehouse, with your transfer record, more switches than a lightbulb sees.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning at his joke a little. “Well, you were right. In my first house, I was straight out of the academy and young, and there was a fireman. He was charming, and very attractive, and he had this way that made my heart race.” You reached up, wiping a stray piece of ice-cream for the edge of Thomas’ lip. “Like you do.”

“I make your heart race?” He was smirking, liking knowing he had such an effect on you, and you redirected your attention to the dessert, turning the spoon he was bringing to his mouth and stealing the spoonful, the chill helping to calm your flushing features.

“You know you do.” You swallowed the treat, licking the sugary taste from your lips. “He had a previous injury, and a drug problem. I was young and naïve, and he wanted the ambulance stock for the pain so he could avoid surgery. When the truth came out, I took the fall and lost my job, while he got off with a reprimand and being put on probation. I had to move to a whole new state to escape it and find a new firehouse. When someone tried to get close to me there, I panicked and thought they would use me again. I moved, and I moved, and I moved. Whenever someone got close, I panicked. I got confused. I wanted family, and I was so set on finding that perfect family that I never stopped to let anyone in, until I came to ‘21, and encountered a moody lieutenant.”

Thomas grinned, cold lips pressing to your cheek as he ducked down, and you squirmed at the slightly sticky feeling of melted ice-cream, the cardboard cup empty as it had been shared between you both.

“My real family, there’s not much to say about them. I don’t have much, my mother hasn’t spoken to me in a while, she sends a birthday card every year, and that's about all there is for me. Until I found all of you.”

“It was just me and my mom when I was a kid, and there was a house fire. She’s never been quite right since, I grew up looking after her, and Newt was the kid across the road who brought me trays of food his mom made for us, and who brought me the homework sheets when I had to leave school early. He’s my family, too. This whole squad is.”

You felt like a weight had been lifted off of your chest from the confessions, from finally trusting someone enough to tell them your story, feeling the burn of tears in the back of your throat, but you were too tired to cry, having no tears left to give. “Tommy?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“Can we go home now?” He nodded, starting the car back up, and you leaned over the centre console a little to rest your head on his shoulder, feeling him turn to press a kiss to the top of your head. “When we get there, I want to go to bed, and I want you to stay the night, and then I want to spend the whole day with you tomorrow, in front of our family, without hiding anything.”

He took a second to reply, letting out an unsteady laugh, before starting up the car and nodding for you as you pulled back. “I would fucking love that.”

[ellitx]

💚 anon said: Angry yan-ish Himmel? Now let’s give him something to be angry about~

submission

TW: fighting, cursing, smut, blood, slight Bennet slander, OOC Albedo possessive yan-ish behavior

The year-end assignment was coming up and you and Himmel were standing side by side waiting for Prof. Zhongli to assign partners, giving each other hopeful gazes and crossing your fingers.

“Chongyun and Xingqiu… Keqing and Ganyu… Y/n and Albedo… and Bennet and Himmel, please go to your assigned seats and begin please…” Himmel’s world seemed to pause as he held his breath. 

‘Y/n and Albedo… Y/N AND ALBEDO!? That guy’s gonna steal her away… any glance he gives anyone makes them swoon…’ He thought in a shocking state. All he could do is stand there and watch you walk away with Albedo by your side as you give him a solemn glance, not even noticing his own ‘partner’ waving in his face to get his attention. 

“Uhh, you okay there…?” Himmel flinches and focuses his mind back on the present moment. 

“We’re gonna be partners! You ready to go?” Bennet gleamed. An optimistic smile sent to Himmel’s way. “Yeah… let’s go…” He sighed out, slowly making his way towards his table and shooting you a side-eye glance. 

“I’m sorry…” you mouth to him, only getting a shrug in return.

‘Great, just great… He put them together and not us. And I’m stuck with the guy with the 2nd lowest GPA in the class on top of Mr. Pretty boy sitting with my songbird… he better not dar—’ 

His thoughts were cut off and his eyes widened as he watched Albedo lean in closer to you. He was sitting one table behind you so there’s that at least, so he kept a watchful eye and open ear to your conversation, not once breaking focus not caring about the academic subject matter at hand. It made him sick having to watch Albedo completely devour you with his gaze, even watching him glaze his eyes over your exposed thighs.

“Hmm this all seems to be lining up quite nicely, you seem to be the most applicable partner Y/n~” Albedo complimented in his ever so buttery tone. “U-uh yeah you too! Thanks!” You stammer out awkwardly getting more and more uncomfortable.

Bouncing his leg quickly and leaning his head on his palm covering his mouth to try and keep composure, watching the both of you made him vile. Watching all of Albedo’s ways of trying to finesse you wasn’t working and was making his blood boil, seeing his darling put in such a spot.

“So may I perhaps get your number? For further discussion about the project, or maybe there are other matters you’d like to discuss?” he cooed. His question flustered you and you turned around to silently ask knowing Himmel had heard everything “What do I do?” You mouth to him.

“So what’ll it be Sunflower-” The nickname made you shudder.

Hearing this snapped something within Himmel, quickly standing to his feet and slamming his hands on the desk. “What is your fucking issue?! Can’t you see she’s clearly uncomfortable?!” Himmel shouted, drawing the whole classroom’s attention towards him in silent awe. 

Zhongli sighed, “Himmel please return to your seat, I’ll let you off with a warning that knowing you are usually very obedient. But next time there will be consequences…” He said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Embarrassed and even more upset hearing Albedo’s sly cackling.

Not soon after did the bell ring, all students scramble for the door except for you. You were going straight to Himmel. “I-I’m so sorry about all of this, maybe we can—” He pulls you in and holds you so tightly it’s almost suffocating. “Where’s Albedo..?” He breathes out. His breath ragged and hot against the skin of your neck “Umm maybe in the hallway…” you look up at him concerned.

“That’s all I need to know…” He kisses your temple and storms off.

“Himmel wait!!” You chased after him but were late due to having to gather your things. But one thing for certain is the loud yelling and banging you can hear along with a few students chanting: “Fight, fight, fight!”

You rushed to where the commotion is and try to make your way through the ever-growing crowd.

“You cocky piece of shit!! How dare you go and borderline harass her?!” You heard Himmel yell. You stood there wide-eyed with shock, going completely stiff. Both Himmel and Albedo had hands on each other, faces bloodied, with Himmel shoving Albedo against the corner wall. 

“Oh, and what does it matter to you, you’re nothing more than a childhood friend!” Albedo snapped.

You quickly snap out of your frozen state to try to break things up before they could escalate. “STOP IT…! PLEASE WHAT HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU?!” you shout with tears begging to form as you rush over to them. “C’mon Himmel, let’s go…” you pull on his sleeve to get him to pull away, and in this moment of courage you speak back to Albedo.

“For one, I am his girlfriend. And two, don’t you ever call me or anyone of that matter 'Sunflower’ ever again. Go. Get out here…” you quietly sob, leaving Albedo off.

Later settling yourselves in an old empty classroom to escape the crowd, most of the students and teachers had left for the day which was lucky, but you wanted to lay low for a bit while you tended to Himmel’s wounds. 

"You okay…?” You softly say while wiping away at the blood on his face. “I’m sorry Y/n. I’m honestly… just so scared to lose you to someone like him… so when I saw him make advances on you I couldn’t control myself…” He said with clear self-disappointment. 

“It’s okay. I just don’t wanna see it ever again… especially how easily you get sick, Himmel.” you say, pulling him to hold him close with him burying his head into your shoulder, squeezing you tightly. “I love you so much Y/n… I wanna show everyone you’re mine..” He whispers while starting to slowly nip and suck at your neck and pulling you into his lap. 

“Mmm… H-Himmel… W-what what if we get caught..?” You say instinctually wrapping both your arms and legs around him. “Honestly hope it happens, then no one would dare question us again~” He cooed pulling more of your supple skin through his teeth intending to leave beautifully dark marks. This causes you to grip onto him and bite your lip to keep yourself quiet. 

All the while Himmel’s hands started wandering downwards. Firstly running over your breast then down your sides then finally settling on your hips and tightly gripping them. “Mmm… Y/n it’s so unfair how the system makes you wear such revealing attire~ your beautiful form should be for our eyes only, you don’t know how much I hold myself back from taking you…” you didn’t think your face could get any hotter than it was but his breathy words right onto your ear made you weak. And at this point, you didn’t even care if you get caught. You needed him is all you could think of.

“Haa… then don’t, my love. Take me. Mark me. I’m forever and always yours, Himmel~” you say, slightly shifting your weight in his lap and grinding against him. Upon hearing your words, he almost instantly complied— placing a hand on your face to kiss you with such desperation it felt like it was going to be his last. His tongue was exploring every part of your mouth. 

Feeling him grow stiff under you, you began to move your hips on his clothed member, with him grinding against your soaked heat in tandem. 

“Mmm…! More… nng~ I want you so bad it hurts…!” You said looking at him with doe-like eyes. Himmel couldn’t resist letting his hand under your skirt and pulling your panties to the side and sliding two slender digits along your folds. “Ahh my love you’re already so wet… let me help you~” he whispers as he slowly begins to pump his fingers into you, curling them just right along with his thumb and swirling your clit to bring you pure ecstasy.

“Nngg…! Himmel s-so good ahh!!” You could feel him smirk into your skin. 

“Yes, my songbird~ I’m the only one that takes you there… not anyone or anything else…” His motions continued as you reached to undo his belt and pull out his shaft to try to please him in turn. “Mmm! Y/n… Haa~ I wanna feel your heat so bad…!” He moaned against you, only increasing the pace of his fingers as he felt every part of your inner walls he could even reach and rubbing the tip of your cervix, winding you tighter and tighter until… 

“Haa! Himmel I-I’m right there..!” Biting onto his shoulders and gripping onto him for some sort of stability as you release all onto his hand.

Shaking and coming down from your high, he slowly removed his fingers and licked your essence off of them. “Ever sweet my love~ now which one is Albedo’s desk?” Himmel asked with a smirk. You turned your head and pointed to the one in the back of the class. 

“I-I think it’s this one.” he smiles then picks you up and gently lays you. Stomach down and legs dangling over the other side. “You alright like this Y/n?” He lovingly looks down while turning his head to kiss you once more and you nod.

“Mhmm… thank you.”

He slowly pulled down your soaked panties whilst positioning himself behind you and lined his length up with your core and left himself there for a moment waiting for your permission. “Just let me know when, love…” you nod again and grip onto the edge of the desk as he slowly pushes himself within you. 

You both let out shaky moans as he filled you and stretched your walls. “Ahhh! You’re so tight…! You fit so perfectly around me…!

He began to slowly thrust into you, fully in and fully out, bending all the way over you and wrapping his arms around you to securely hold you close, leaving small kisses and love bites on your neck and shoulders. 

"Nnng!! Himme— Ahh…! More~!” you moaned out, feeling yourself clench around him.

“Y/n..! Don’t do that..! I can’t hold myself back… I need more!” He moaned deeply right into your ear while vastly increasing his pace, gripping onto your hips harder that completely clouded him with desire as he rutted into you with such force it makes your vision go white. 

“W-wait!! I- Ahhh…!” With each thrust, it shoots electric bliss through you. It’s so good all you could think of is how you wanted him to spill all of his white hot seed inside of you, and how each push hit your sweet spot every time. You could feel it creeping up on you again, your walls squeezing around him even tighter wanting to milk him for all he had. 

“H-Himmel—  I’m gonna— ahh!!” You almost yelled if it weren’t for you shoving a part of your shirt in your mouth to stifle yourself. 

“Yes, my sweet!! I– hng… I love you so much please! I’m so close!" 

And with just a few more thrust, you come unto him once more spilling everything you had onto the table and with him pulling out and shooting all of his seed onto the same spot. You slowly lift yourself off the desk and lean yourself onto him, until you notice he’s dragging his hand through your mixed essence to form the words: "She’s mine”

“"Just a childhood friend.” We’ll see about that~” he said with a smirk.

—

(to jail i go -💚)

[libraryofloveletters]

Soulmates In This Life & Another

Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz

Warnings: typical 911 level graphics, blood and injures, hospitals, mentions of praying, love confessions 

Category: angst with some fluff at the end

Word Count: 3.7k

Author’s Note: part 2 to my buddie fic!! this can be read as a standalone but for some backstory, read Just Friends // typical 911 level of graphics but a shitter description of the scene cause I’m not a firefighter and I’m lazy

----

“It was fine.” The three words would be the beginning of the downfall of their friendship in the upcoming weeks. 

A few weeks have passed since the kiss. 

They were fine, as they normally were.

Buck still regularly stopped in by the Diaz residence to see his two favourite boys and hang out with them. Eddie still had Buck babysit or drop Chris off at Buck’s place when he needed to go out or if Chris just wanted to spend the day with him- but with each day came a bit more distance. The random drop bys slowed, Eddie stopped asking Buck to babysit, and eventually, they stopped seeing each other outside of work altogether. 

Work was a completely different story. They still sat next to each other, they still talked but it wasn't the same. Eddie spent less and less time with Buck- Buck also taking the hint, kept his distance from Eddie, not wanting to upset him further. In the field, they worked together seamlessly- nonverbal exchanges, handing each other what they needed and assisting each other without question but all of that stopped the moment the truck pulled back into the station. 

Once again, station 118 had found themselves on a 24 hour shift and again, Buck is the only one still awake. He stood by the railing, looking down at the trucks parked in the station, counting the steps on the ladders as he waited for the coffee maker to be done. He thought he was by himself until he heard some tumbling in the kitchen, he turned to see Hen- halfway into the fridge looking for something. She stood, a bottle of water in her hand when she smiled at Buck. 

“Why are you moping ?” she took a sip of her water, sitting on the stool by the counter.

“I’m not moping” he says, walking back over when the coffee maker beeps.

“Okay, so why has Eddie been moping around then ?” 

“Are you trying to reverse psychology me ?” he gives her a ‘are you serious’ look.

“Would you know if I was using reverse psychology on you?” she questions the man in front of her. 

“Obviously” he trails off, she chuckles and shakes her head. “You and Eddie have been off the last few weeks, the moping around, the distance between the two of you- it’s awkward. What's going on?” she looks up at the blonde man who’s sipping on his coffee. Buck sighed- he wanted so much to confide in someone, to tell them about the kiss- about how he was in love with Eddie. 

Except, he always confided in Eddie, it was hard to turn to someone else. 

He could always go to Maddie, she would never judge him - or Bobby and Athena, they would give him advice. He knew he could turn to Hen, she’d know what to say and she’d probably tell him to follow his heart and tell Eddie how he felt. 

Buck chuckled to himself at the thought of telling Eddie that he was in love with him. Hen’s brow raised, looking at Buck in confusion. It was a bit strange that he was laughing by himself at.. nothing ? But then again, it was Buck so she didn’t think much into it. 

“Do you want to talk or?” she says, breaking his train of thought. 

“I uh- We, Eddie and I-” he paused, unsure where to go from there. 

“Evan, spit it out” 

“Did you just call me Evan ?” his mouth hung open slightly and she breathed a laugh. “Yeah, that’s not the point right now.” 

“We kissed.” Buck blurts out before he loses the courage to tell her. 

“Finally” Hen huffs, smiling at him. 

“Wait, you’re not surprised ?” 

“Buck, you’ve been drooling over Eddie since your first shift with him. I’m just surprised it didn’t happen sooner.” 

“Huh” was all the man said before walking off. 

“Yeah, good talk” Hen mumbled before turning her attention back to the book she had with her. 

--- 

40 minutes. 

That’s how long it had been since they last heard from Buck.  

He had run back into the building, even after Bobby had given him strict instructions not too but it was Buck- he never gave up. 

Eddie’s heart pounded in his chest as he stood helplessly behind the truck. Bobby radioed over for Buck, the static from the radio seemed echoed although the street was busy and full of people. It took all of Eddie not to run in there and look for Buck himself- actually he almost did, finding his way to a backdoor that was still structurally sound but Hen found him and reminded him that Christopher was waiting for his dad to come home and that Buck was more than capable of getting himself out. 

There he stood, Chimney and Hen beside him as Bobby radioed again. “Buckley, do you copy ?” Bobby waited for an answer but was met with static once again. 

The ground beneath them rumbled, Bobby looked at his team before turning to face the building. Just as the other 3 turned, they saw the entire building collapse. A 42 story hotel had been reduced to a pile of rubble. The team braced themselves as the building came down, hoping that it would come down as it once stood, in one straight pile. 

They all hoped that Buck has pulled a stupid stunt and jumped over to the next building. 

Eddie couldn’t bare the thought of losing Buck. He was the first to run towards the pile of rubble, pulling whatever he could pull and shouting for Buck. There were at least 4 other stations there, everyone started moving through, trying to find safe pathways to start the search for survivors. 

Survivor. 

That’s what Buck was to him- that, amongst other things. 

Eddie had made his way through a pile in the corner, a yellow piece of something caught his eye. He wasn't sure what it was but something in him made him think about Buck. He tugged until he got the piece out and it was a piece of Buck’s- or another firefighter’s turnout jacket. He stood there, hunched over, his hand on his chest, trying to steady his heart as all the possibilities ran through his head. 

Buck was stuck under all of this. Buck would die if they didn’t find him soon. Who was he to say that Buck was even alive? 

He pushed the heart wrenching thoughts from his mind. 

Buck is alive. Buck is alive. Buck is alive. 

Those 3 words were the only thing getting him through this. He needed to find Buck. 

Buck needed to be alive. 

Buck is alive. 

“Buck’s alive” he barely heard his radio over the chaos around him. Chimney’s voice ringing through the radio once more, Eddie let out a sigh as he heard the news this time. 

“Buck’s alive.” 

Eddie dropped everything, he didn’t mean too but Buck needed him- he needed Buck. He found the 118, Bobby stood outside of the ambulance. His hand comes up to hold Eddie back as he ran towards the ambulance. 

“Cap, move. I need to see him” “Eddie, Eddie! Hey, give them some space.” Bobby’s hand was against Eddie’s chest. His hand wrapped around Bobby’s wrist, trying to push him away to get to past him but Bobby was stronger than he looked. 

“Eddie, Buck needs all the attention he can get right now. Give them a minute to work, okay ?” 

Chimney jumps out the back of the ambulance, shutting one of the doors. “We're heading out now,” he shouts, making his way to the driver’s seat.  Eddie looks at Bobby, his head slightly tilted, his eyes silently pleading to let him go with them. Bobby reopened the door that Chim closed and nodded towards the inside. Eddie gives his captain a nod before getting in. Bobby shut the doors and hit the back as Chim pulled off. 

Eddie’s eyes trailed over Buck’s body, assessing his injuries. There was a large gash on his side that was currently covered by gauzes and he was in and out of consciousness due to the concussion he had. That was only externally, he had no idea what was going on inside- there were so many things that could be happening to Buck right now and they had no way of being completely sure until they reached the hospital. 

Hen could see the worry on Eddie’s face. Eddie was one to hold himself together but when it came to those he loved- he wore his heart on his sleeve. 

“He’s going to be okay.” She tells him- she isn't sure if those words are true but Eddie desperately needed something to cling too. 

“He's going to be okay.” Eddie repeats her words - he too, knows that those words might not be true but he tries to convince himself either way. 

The ambulance bounced as it hit a pothole. Chimney shouting a sorry from the front. The gauzes that were once taped to Buck’s side had loosened from the amount of blood that had soaked through and the pothole was the cherry on top. 

“Eddie, you’re gonna have to put pressure on it” Hen tells him, turning to reach a medical glove. By the time she turns back, Eddie’s hand is pressed to Buck’s side, his other hand holding Buck’s that laid by his side. 

Hen watched the man sitting across from her, the way his brows furrowed each time he glanced at the monitor, how his eyes glimmered with hope when Buck almost regained consciousness. Through all of the emotions, not once did Eddie’s hand shift from Buck’s side- not even an inch. 

When they arrived, Eddie and Hen moved along with the stretcher, following it inside as Hen told the nurses what his last vitals were and what injuries she has assessed so far. Eddie’s hand pressed to his friend’s side still, he silently mumbled a prayer- one he hadn’t said in a long time, hoping that his friend would pull through because he couldn't bare to lose some else. 

The nurse assured him that she was able to take him over for him, her hand ready to replace Eddie’s, yet he still walked with the stretcher. The nurse followed behind him, looking back at Hen. 

The stretcher halted in front of the OR doors, Eddie couldn't follow them in there and he knew that. “Come on,” Hen’s hand rested gently on his shoulder. 

Eddie’s heart was beating relentlessly in his chest, the fear of something happening to Buck if he leaves him was setting in but he also knew that if he didn’t step by that Buck could die right there, feet away from the OR. 

He glanced at the nurse, she nodded- her silent way of assure him once more that she’s ready when he’s ready. “Okay” he mumbles, carefully moving his hand as the nurse’s hand replaces his. 

He watched as they rolled him through the doors, he could still feel Hen’s hand on his shoulder. He walked with her back to the waiting room, Bobby and Chimney in there, Maddie too. 

All eyes were on Eddie, his hand stained red from being on Buck’s side. He hadn’t noticed until the red liquid fell from his fingertips and made little red droplets on the white floors. He walked away quietly, feeling the eyes on him until he stepped into the bathroom. 

Peeling off his turnout gear, he stepped out of it, leaving it on the floor for the moment being. The sleeve of his uniform button up was covered in blood, it had dripped down his arm. 

Discarding the shirt with his turnout gear, he stood in front of the sink, the cold water turning red as it went down the drain. He took a look at himself in the mirror. 

Parts of his face covered with dust and soot, a little drop of red on his cheek from when the gauze came loose in the ambulance, he wiped off the blood and returned to the waiting room, his gear and shirt hung on the chair beside him. He had on his regular LAFD t-shirt under all of that. 

Maddie took a seat beside him, her hand reaching for his. He didn’t say anything, he let her hold it. They both cared deeply about Buck in their own way. 

“He’s going to be okay” He tells Maddie- repeating the words Hen had told him during the ride over, he could see that she needed something to hold onto.

“He’s going to be okay” Maddie gave Eddie’s hand a small squeeze. She had been in the same waiting room countless times with the team but each time felt like the first and it didn’t get less scary either. 

--- 

Hours have gone by and only once has the doctor sent a nurse by with an update. 

“He's stable as of now.” 

As of now. 

The 3 words ringing in Eddie’s head. He knew how these things went, nothing was certain but for Buck’s sake, he hoped it was. His leg bounced, his eyes fixed on the poster about teens against drugs on the wall. 

The waiting room was almost empty, most of the team had gotten up to stretch their legs or get coffee. Bobby had stepped out to call Athena, giving her an update on Buck. Chimney and Maddie went to get some air and coffee, Hen had also stepped out for the moment, to call Karen he assumed. 

Bobby stepped back into the waiting room, Eddie still staring at the poster on the wall. He took a seat beside him. “You okay ?” he asks him quietly, not wanting to startle him- though not much scared him. 

“Yeah, fine. Did you get an update yet?” 

“No,” Bobby sighs, “Athena says she’ll be on her way with coffee and breakfast when she drops the kids off” 

Eddie hums. An announcement broke his thought, he only heard the last part- “cart to OR 3″ and his brain filled in the rest. The panic that just settled was starting to build again. Bobby noticed how Eddie’s entire demeanour changed after the announcement, his body shifted in his chair, his chest raising and falling faster than it was moments ago. 

“OR 6″ Bobby says, Eddie’s brows furrow. “What ?” 

“Buck’s in OR 6″ 

Eddie sighs. Bobby looks over at the man sitting beside him- sure they were all worried about him but no one was more worried than Eddie. 

“Eddie, can I ask you something ?” 

“Yeah, of course” 

“What's going on with you and Buck ?” 

The question hit him like a ton of bricks. Things had been less than normal between the two men, the distance after the kiss putting a strain on all the relationships in their lives. Eddie had to explain to Chris why Buck wasn't around as much and things were just awkward. 

The thought of losing Buck before he could make things right made his heart ache in the worst possible way. 

Bobby could see the way his question made Eddie stop and think. He resisted the urge to laugh but he let Eddie take a moment to figure it out. Bobby had seen the bond the two men formed since their first shift together- as long as you had eyes, you’d be able to see it too. 

From the way they looked at each other to the way they spoke about each other with glowing affection, it was hard to miss the feelings between them. 

The only person that seemed to be oblivious to this was Eddie. 

“Nothing’s going on with us” Eddie finally answers him. Bobby sighs, shaking his head. 

“Eddie, you know I don’t lecture you because I never felt the need too but I feel like I should now.” a slight frown on Eddie’s face from Bobby’s words. Bobby shifted in his seat, now facing Eddie. 

“Everyone seems to see it except you. That look you had when you saw the hotel come down- I've seen it before, on those who were waiting for someone they love to walk out but they didn’t. Why do you think you were the first to go running towards it ? Because you love him.” 

“We all love him Cap, we couldn’t just leave him there” Eddie tells him, he was unsure as to why he brought upon the fact that he loves him- they all did. 

“I understand that, but you love him.” the emphasis on the word love still didn’t connect the dots for Eddie- Bobby noticed the confusion on the man’s face. “Look at what's right in front of you, the most obvious answer is usually the right one.” he pats his shoulder before leaving Eddie to his thoughts. 

Bobby stepped out, Athena coming his way. He smiled at his wife as she approached him, his arm now over her shoulder. She leaned into his side when she saw Eddie in the waiting room. “Is he okay ?” she looks up at her husband for an answer, he hums. “Eddie’s about to realize that he's in love-” a loud ‘oh my god’ came from the waiting room, interrupting Bobby’s sentence. “Yup, there it is” 

“There’s what? I’m going to need some context here.” Athena says, still looking at the man in the waiting room. 

“He’s realized he’s in love with Buck” Bobby chuckles, “about time.” 

--- 

The sun was coming up, the curtains slightly opened in his room. Eddie had spent the night in his room, the chair in there was far too small for him as he kept drifting in and out of sleep. 

He had called Carla, letting her know that he wasn’t coming home that night. Maddie offered to stay but she deserved a proper night’s sleep in an actual bed. He promised to call her if anything changed. 

Buck stirred in his sleep, groaning as he turned. Eddie was half asleep and hadn’t noticed until he heard Buck groan. Sitting up straight, he saw Buck rolling back onto his back, “did you roll onto your side? Let me see” Eddie gets up, walking to the bedside. 

“What are you doing here?” his throat dry, a whisper was all he could manage. 

“Didn’t want you to wake up to an empty room. I spent everyone home to get some rest. Maddie said she’d be back as soon as visiting hours start.” Eddie tells him as he lifts the side of the gown to check if Buck had pulled a stitch when he rolled onto his side. Buck stayed still, feeling Eddie’s hand gently touch his side in a few spots, his fingers dragging across the edge of the gauze that was taped over what he was sure was stitches. 

“Chris ?” he asks, looking at his friend. “Home, with Carla”

“Eddie,” Buck’s hand reached for Eddie’s. 

“Buck?” his brows furrows- the typical Diaz look. Buck smiled at his expression.

“Why are you really here?” 

“I told you, I didn’t want you waking up to an empty room.” Eddie says once more, trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince Buck. 

The blonde scoffed, that was bullshit and they both knew it. “If you’re going to lie, be better at it.” 

Eddie smiled, thinking back to their kiss in the locker room. Buck had said those same words to him just moments before. Eddie's hand comes up to Buck’s face, cupping it. Eddie leans down, his eyes locking with Buck’s. The warmth Buck radiated was the only thing that filled Eddie’s head.

Things were different this time, he was completely and utterly ready to devote himself to Buck, no questions asked. 

Buck could tell him to stop and Eddie could pull away at any moment but neither did. 

Buck took in the moment, the way Eddie’s brown eyes glimmered as the sunlight hit them, the way his hand held his face like it was made to be there. His lips finally met his, the world stopped spinning and everything melted away. It was just the two of them, as it always was - but it was different. They were so different but they were made for each other.  

When Buck finally pulled away, he looked up at Eddie. The expression on his face was nothing but love- happy, relaxed, not a worry in the world. Little did Buck know but he was mirroring the exact same expression back to Eddie. 

Buck’s brows furrowed for a moment, the reality starting to flood in. Eddie could see the change in Buck. 

“What’s wrong ?” he asks him, sitting at the edge of his bed, his hand holding Buck’s. 

“Ana, is she,” he trailed off. It hurt his heart to bring it up but he couldn't knowingly get into something with Eddie if he was still with Ana because it was wrong to both himself and to her but also because it would kill him to lose Eddie to her. 

“I- uh, I ended things weeks ago” he fidgeted with his fingers, not looking up at Buck. “It didn’t seem right to lead her on when I knew I wasn’t in love with her.” 

“So are you saying what I think you’re saying ?” Buck asked, a small smile on his face. 

“What am I saying Evan ?” Eddie bit back a smile, looking at the blonde man on the bed. 

“That you’re in love with me Edmundo” 

“Ew don’t call me that” his face twisted into a look of disgust. Buck let out a loud laugh, before telling him “don’t call me Evan then.” 

The men bickered back and forth, laughing and prodding each other for the next few minutes. The room filled with laughter and love, so much so that it hurt their faces from how much they were smiling. 

“You know,”  Eddie’s hand rested on top of Buck’s, “I really do love you” 

Buck smiles, “I love you too.” 

--- 

Taglist: @dralexreid​ @mrs-dr-reid​ @ickletheficklepickle​ @yelenabelous​ 

[prfctethereal]

no body, no crime. | marauders

pairing: platonic!james potter x reader, platonic!sirius black x reader, platonic!remus lupin x reader, platonic!peter pettigrew x reader

wordcount: 3,608

warnings: this whole thing is about murder, blood, swearing, alcohol use

a/n: so i accidentally listen to no body, no crime all afternoon and felt inspired to write this. it was supposed to be shorter but oh well. let me know if i should write a part two - kennedy

***

I need your help. Come quick.

I scrawled the message onto three different spare pieces of parchment and hurried into the kitchen, opening the nearest window. The rush of fresh air could’ve been clarity for me but what was done was done. There was no changing the past, but changing the future was still on my plate.

Waving my arm in the night sky, I signalled my owl, Stefan, calling him over to the window. He hooted excitedly, eager to be put to use in the cold winter season. As he landed on my arm, a dusting of snow ruffled from his feather, onto my blood splattered torso, bouncing onto the kitchen counter. Looking down at my appearance, the severity of the situation settled in. There was a dead body in my living room and I had no idea what to do.

“Stefan, I need you to send these letters to the marauders. Go to James and Lily’s house first; it’s the closest, but whatever you do, don’t let Lily see it. Then, go to Remus’ house. Sirius is staying with him as well. They can both see the letter. Lastly, go to Peter’s house and make sure he comes. Keep pecking him on his hand if he chickens out. Can you do that for me?”

Stefan hooted loudly, which I instantly shushed, taking note of the time of day. I didn’t want to wake any of the neighbours. Once Stefan understood the instructions, I let him fly away. A comfortable silence was left in my house as I paced through the kitchen, not even thinking about what to do next.

“I need a drink.” I hummed softly for myself, swinging open the cupboard and taking out a bottle of red wine. After pouring a glass, I waited, sipping to calm my nerves.

It wasn’t long before I heard the distinguished snap of someone apparating, followed by a small squeal. James had arrived first, right into the crime scene. He called out my name, which I responded to, and he trudged into the kitchen, unable to make a coherent sentence.

What he saw was one of his best friends sitting on the ground, blood staining their shirt, a glass of wine firm in their grips, eyes glassy and dazed over.

“Are you going to explain this or…?” James trailed off, realising that he wasn’t going to get an answer quite yet.

“Wait until the others get here.” I responded monotonously, finishing the glass of wine with a single gulp. Mindlessly, I reached upwards to the kitchen counter, patting around for the bottle, before it was snatched away by none other than James Potter himself.

“Darling, if we’re going to be covering up a murder tonight, I think it would be best for you to be as sober as possible.” He cheeked, a cocky smirk on his face. It was soon wiped away by the sound of someone else crashing into the living room, followed by a high pitch yelp; a similar reaction to James’.

“[Y/N]? Did you kill someone?” It was the distinct voice of Peter Pettigrew who followed the quiet murmurings of James and I into the kitchen. When he walked through the door, he seemed to be nursing his right hand, which looked like it had been pecked over and over by an owl, most likely Stefan.

“Take a guess.” I muttered, unusually grumping as I desperately wanted to refill my glass of wine and drown out the sorrows and voices in my head. Oh no, I didn’t feel guilty for killing the man in the living room. I felt guilty for not even having any sort of conscience.

Peter joined us, sitting down on the other side of me. His eyes lit up as he noticed the bottle of wine in James’ hand, muttering a quick “thank you” before taking a swig of the burning liquid.

“The other two should be here by now.” I deadpanned. James and Peter hummed in agreement but it wasn’t long before the rest of them arrived. A knock at the front door signified that Remus and Sirius had arrived, as Remus always felt it was much more polite to apparate outside of someone’s home, instead of directly inside it.

Begrudgingly, I went to stand up, before toppling over into Peter’s lap. I hadn’t realised that the alcohol had already affected me so much, my fist clenching to my temples as I moaned in frustration. It was common knowledge that I was a lightweight. I should’ve thought of that before I let my gluttony become me.

“How about I get the door?” James suggested, standing up instead. “Besides, what if it’s not the other two? What if it’s the police? Can’t have someone covered in blood answer the door.”

As James walked off to the front door, I stayed curled up in Peter’s lap, his hand slowly stroking my shaking arm in an attempt to sooth me. New flash: it wasn’t working.

Two more screeches emerged from the living room which meant that Remus and Sirius had finally showed up. Still shaking, I finally rose from my seating position, with the help of Peter, and made my way into the living room.

It was the first time I had seen the mess I had made with a clear head, or a head that wasn’t plagued with wrath and hatred. Blood was all up the walls, coating too many surfaces to count. The body was lying face down on the carpet, fresh blood still leaking out of his corpse. A putrid smell filled the room, coming from the gas build up in the man’s body. Gagging at the sight, I held my ground, fighting the need to run away and throw up in my bathroom.

“Okay, Remus and Sirius are here now. Can you please tell us what happened?” James begged, his eyes filled with fear. I couldn’t blame him. Finding out one of his best friends had murdered someone must have been horrifying, but it was no time to ponder about the drastic change in our relationship. I needed to explain.

“Do you remember Este, the hufflepuff in our year? She was in our herbology class year seven. She was also in our potions class up until year six.” I started, looking at my friend’s around me, who were all listening intently. “Well, we’ve been friends since year one I guess. We were friends for many years. Even after we left Hogwarts, I still caught up with her. Every Tuesday night, we’d have dinner together and chat, you know, gossip about what’s going on. Anyway, one night, she was talking about her husband-”

“Husband?” Sirius interjected, completely confused. “Este never dated anyone during the entirety of Hogwarts. We’ve only been out for less than a year. How did she find someone to date and marry in that timeframe?”

“Well, they met the day after graduation, at a ministry party. Este was starting in the Magical Accidents and Catastrophes department and met Jason Bulstrode. They must’ve hit it off because a month later they were married. I went to their wedding in August; it was quite pleasant.”

“Okay, continue with the story.” Remus hurried me along, getting quite fidgety with the body behind him. He was anxiously looking behind him, as if the body was going to start moving.

“Oh right, anyway, one night, she was talking about Jason. She was getting nervous because she thought he was cheating on her. She kept talking about how Jason had been spending money on jewellery that wasn’t hers and how he has been coming home from work later and later, smelling like cheap perfume and merlot. I convinced her to confront him about it. A week later, we were supposed to meet for our weekly dinner but she never showed up. I went down to this bar that Jason always went to to see if he knew anything. He was drunk, going on about how she went missing. I didn’t believe it for one second.”

I paused, taking a deep breath. Peter had started drinking out of the wine bottle once more. Remus was fiddling nervously with his digits, as Sirius tried to calm him down, while listening in to every word I was saying.

“Another week goes by and a woman moves into Este and Jason’s house. You’ll never guess who. It was Lucinda Greengrass. I thought it was strange to see Jason move on so quickly because Este could’ve still shown up, but then it hit me. Este was never going to show up. Jason had murdered her. So, I did the only logical thing I could think of. I confronted him once again at the bar. He seemed a lot more sober though this time. When I brought up the fact that he killed his wife, he lunged at me. I thought I could apparate away to protect myself but he had already grabbed onto me. He was trying to kill me first, so technically it was self defence. I grabbed a framed picture from my mantle and smashed it on the ground. I used one of the broken pieces of glass and used it to protect myself. Then, I wrote a letter to you four and got you to come over. I think we’ve caught up.”

I was out of breath by the time I had finished talking, expecting to be bombarded with hundreds of questions. Except, they all seemed quite silent, their own plans formulating over in their heads. I stayed quiet, letting them think, biting my own nails at what was going on. Remus was the one who spoke up first.

“Did anyone see you leave the bar with Jason?” Remus asked, hurrying out of the kitchen into the living room. He seemed to be looking for something, but what?

“No.” I put simply, watching as Sirius’ face lit up, understanding what Remus was getting at. James and Peter made eye contact and with that, it seemed like everyone was on the same page except me.

“Then his last known location was the bar. He could’ve gone missing at the bar.” James muttered, following Remus. Except, James headed for the laundry, hurriedly looking for cleaning supplies.

“Missing?” I called, frantically trying to follow them, but they all seemed to be in a mind of their own, understanding what had to be done. James emerged from the laundry with a mop and a bucket of bleach. Peter came from the direction of the kitchen holding a massive black garbage back, gloves decorating his hands.

“No one knows you killed him, [Y/N], and we intend on keeping it that way. He’ll stay a missing man.” Peter finished off the thought, carefully trodding over to Jason’s bloody corpse on the ground. “Besides, Este is also classified as missing. It could be played off that they ran off together or something.”

I was rooted to the spot as I watched what was going on around me. Peter had put Jason’s body in a weird contortion to fit in the garbage bag and tied a knot. Quickly, he grabbed another to double line the bag, making sure there were no leakages. Once it was secure, Peter placed the bag outside to air out, making sure the smell wouldn’t linger much longer in the house.

Sirius was quick to clean the linen. He picked up the rug from the ground and hurried it off into the laundry so it could clean itself the muggle way. The next task was trying to remember the cleaning spells from year three and being able to execute them at such a high quality that it can get rid of even the strongest of stains, like blood.

“Can you help me with this, love?” Sirius cooed, motioning for me to help him with the stains on the couches. Muttering the incantation, we watched the stain fade ever so slightly. Cursing under his breath, Sirius tried again, whispering the spell once more. The blood splotch faded once more but only slightly. “At this rate, we’ll be here for hours.”

At this moment, Remus came back into the room, holding up what he was looking for before. My old boat keys. Being a half blood with a muggle father meant that he had taught me a few things about the muggle world. He had also taught me how to drive a boat, helping me get my boating license at only fifteen years old. It was perplexing though; why would Remus care about my boat? It wasn’t going to help us now.

“Where do you dock your boat?” Remus said calmly, spinning the keys around in his fingers effortlessly. By now, he had caught the attention of the rest of the marauders. Sirius poked his head out from behind the couch, James looked up from where he was mopping the floors, and Peter walked back into the living room from checking on the bag in the backyard.

“Uh, all the way back in my hometown, miles away from here. Old Muster Lake.” I stuttered out. With that, Remus opened up more of my drawers, searching for a map. When he had found it, he motioned for me to follow him into the dining room where he splayed the map out on the table.

“Show me.” Remus stated firmly, brushing his fingers over the dirty map. Hesitantly, I pointed my fingers about a hundred miles north of here. Remus bit his lip, thinking about what to do next. His breathing was shallow and I could feel his nervousness from here. All I hoped was that his plan would work out.

“Can you still drive the boat?” Remus said after a while, looking me in the eyes. I nodded slowly and Remus looked content, grabbing the map from the table and motioned for Peter to come to him. “We’re going to the lake to dump the body. You’re coming.”

“What? No.” Peter spluttered, his heart racing quickening. “I get terrible motion sickness. Oi! James!” Peter called James over who was focused on his task at hand, scrubbing the floor with the mop. “I’ll take over your job and you can go to the lake with these two.”

“Alright.” James huffed, passing the mop over to Peter. When they were ready, Remus, James and I walked outside into the night, walking over to the garbage bag where Jason’s body was already rotting. Even in the darkness of the night, I could tell that the bag hadn’t leaked, which was a good sign. With a nod of Remus and James’ head, I knew they were ready, so I held onto the bag while they held onto my arms and I apparated away into the night.

As we arrived at Old Muster Lake, a wave of post apparition nausea washed over me, nearly toppling me over if it hadn’t been for James holding me up. When I got myself sorted, I looked out onto the lake where I hadn’t been for years.

The whole lake looked deserted at this time of year. A faint mist was rising off of the lake, reflecting in the moonlight of the crescent moon. Big trees breathed in the like breeze, swaying softly in the wind. A hooting owl and the rustle of tree branches were the only noises that could be heard between the three of them.

Remus was the first to break the silence, stepping forward, his feet crunching onto the leafy ground. The dead leaves cracked underneath his shoes, giving away his position. He paused, listening out for anyone, sniffing the air slightly, before continuing to walk up to the docks. Thinking it was safe, James and I followed after him until we reached the end of the dock. The planks of the dock were old and unkempt, seeming like they might break underneath our feet. Carefully, we walked across the together, before the dock finished beneath us. I could see my boat a bit away from the dock, but it was too far away. There was no way of reaching the boat, until I had an idea.

“Remus, give me my key.”

“What?”

“I can swim over to the boat and bring it around. Give me my keys.” I repeated, holding my hand out to him. Obliging, he placed the keys on my palm and watched as I looped my digits around the key ring tight so it wouldn’t escape me.

I hadn’t swam in years. As I dived off the dock and into the freezing water, I remembered the rush of it. Resurfacing, I gasped for air, shivering in the winter water. My clothes hung uncomfortably by my side, sticking to my cold figure. My teeth chattered unconsciously, reminding me to get a move on before I froze in the temperature. We didn’t want two dead bodies in the lake now, did we?

Free styling in the lake, I stroked my arms by my side, swimming towards my boat in the ocean. It was about a seventy meter swim which was an okay length, but the warmth of the water made it feel like an eternity. When I finally reached the boat, I climbed up the ladder at the back and clambered into the boat. A chilly gush of wind hit my skin, sending goosebumps up my spine. I was too cold but I persisted, fumbling with the key in my hand and struggling to put it in the key hole. When it finally went in, I turned the engine on, letting a roar come out of the exhaust. Luckily, there was still half a tank of fuel in the tank from the summers ago when my family had come to the lake. Back then, it brought such happy memories. Now, not at all.

I brought the boat around to the dock, letting James and Remus pile in, pulling the heavy bag over the side of the ship. When we were ready, I sped off into the middle of the lake, where it was deepest, the perfect spot to dump a body.

“The next open season will be summer. By the time it comes, the body should’ve decomposed a lot more.” I spluttered out, my cold body shivering, making the words come out of my mouth in an unsteady stream.

“Here. Take this. You look freezing.” Remus said quietly, placing his jacket over my shoulders, which I gratefully accepted. Immediately, I started feeling much warmer, continuing on with our mission.

Once we reached the middle of the lake, there weren’t a lot of words said between the three of us. Instantly, James started untying the knot on the garbage bag, opening it up to the world. It reeked worse than before but there was nothing we could do about it now. With all three of our strengths combined, we managed to hold onto the bag and tip the corpse into the lake with a splash. Wordlessly, we headed back to the dock, as I dropped the two boys back off.

Again, I turned the engine off, tying the boat back up at the buoy. Holding onto the keys, I dived back into the chilling lake, though the cold didn’t affect as much as last time. Swimming back to the dock, I relished in everything we had done, remembering the body that was now decomposing in the lake. I felt dirty as I swam through the contaminated water.

Reaching the dock, I pulled myself out via the ladder and laid down on the planks, catching my breath. That’s when everything caught up to me. Tears were ebbing in the corners of my eyes, spilling onto my reddening cheeks. My lip quivered as quiet sobs spilled past my lips. Closing my eyes, I let the darkness consume me for a few moments, until I felt two strong arms hoisting me back up into a standing position. Stroking my arms, they both tried to soothe me from my breakdown. Minutes ticked by as I let my tears run down my cheeks. I was openly sobbing now. All I needed was a sleep.

“You wanna go now?” James muttered to which I nodded. Holding onto the deflated bag, James apparated us away, back into my unrecognisable house.

Peter and Sirius had done a fantastic job. There wasn’t a speck of blood anywhere in the living room; everything looked spotless. The rug that was drenched with blood had gone through the washing machine and was now back in its usual spot. The couches looked brand new, meaning that Sirius must have figured out how to do the spell properly. An aroma of fresh flowers flooded the room, overpowering the smell of rotting flesh. It was perfect.

“How did it go?” Sirius asked, appearing from the kitchen with Peter.

“It’s been taken care of.” I mustered up the courage to say. “Now, if anyone asks, and I doubt they will, but just in case, we had a dinner party tonight.”

The four of them nodded in agreement, heading for the doorway to leave, but I stopped them.

“And you stayed the night. Everyone had had a little too much to drink. That means no one would have slipped off to kill anyone, okay?”

With that, they all followed me up the staircase into the hallway of spare rooms for them to sleep in. I thought I was alone as I stayed out in the hallway, turning the lights out. I cried again.

I cried for a while.

Until I felt a reassuring hand on my back, calming me down. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t worry, love. No body, no crime, right?”

[heyitsyn]

Keeping Up With Seijoh Ep. 3

a/n: uwuwuwuwu this is an au since yanno,,,, they didnt really make it to nationals :(

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

GUESS WHOS BACK! BACK AGAIN!

anon:

may i request a scenario where seijoh made it to nationals and atsumu flirts with reader🥺

CAN WE BLS STOP THIS SANGWOO/ATSUMU TYPA BEAT BC I HONESTLY DONT VIBE W IT AND IT LOWKEY SCARES ME A LITTLE :o

OMLOMLOML YALL MADE IT TO NATIONALS

to be honest, it was,,, unexpected

you were sitting there, on the bench and gripping it in anticipation as seijoh and shiratorizawa were once again at a match point thanks to kyotani’s angry spike

going past 31, they were now 31-30 with seijoh in the lead

you could tell ushijima was getting antsy despite him covering it up and encouraging his team with a one-liner

your own team was buzzing with both nervousness and hope and iwaizumi was clenching and unclenching his fists in anticipation for the last toss

when the ball went up, oikawa’s eyes flashed, arms moving to set and the red-haired spiky guy was now watching which spiker he was going to give it to

however

he tossed it to no one

instead, oikawa’s hand flicked and he dumped the ball

it was like in slow motion and as shiratorizawa’s players scrambled to the floor, 

it was too late

the ball bounced on yellow polished floor before rolling away, completely unaware of what just happened and the lives it just changed

your mouth hung open, eyes trailing after the rubber ball like every single people in the gym

then it finally hit you

‘YOOOOOOOOSSSSHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’

a scream from iwaizumi lit the candle of happiness and you didnt even care, running out to the court to jump on your captain, tears flowing down his face and his arms squeezing you tightly against his chest

‘AKLDFJJSHKFEOIOWIHFSKESIFOEWIHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’

it was all a jumbled noise from everyone, your team, your coaches, the fans in the stand, and even from that orange boy and his team

the boys were hugging each other and crying and sobbing but oikawa’s hold remained on you, your own tears mixing with his sweat and coating his neck

‘you did it, oikawa-san. you did it’

you whimpered and he laughed and you felt him nodding

‘we’re going to tokyo. nationals!’

he choked out 

‘OIKAWA!’

the entire gym rumbled and you basked in the joy that the entire team radiated before having to stand with the coaches so they could shake hands with shiratorizawa for a good game

the locker room was loud, even much louder than the gym, with kindaichi’s loud sobbing and mattsuhana’s loud celebratory singing and iwaizumi’s joking shouts and eventually joining in

iwaizumi held his arms out for you and you giggled, crashing straight into him

you wiped his sweat filled face and he sat down on the bench, with you standing between his legs and his large hands gripping your waist

‘it’s not a dream, right?’

he whispered, eyes closed at the gentle feeling of you caressing his face

‘no, iwa-san. nationals is ours’

you soothed and he let out another loud laugh before pulling you close and burying his face in your stomach, probably crying again but this time, out of joy

for years theyve tried

and now, they succeeded

well,,, nationals should be a good thing, right?

hmm,,, maybe the honor of going

but the other players??

oh god

it was obvious when miyagi’s representative entered through those doors and eyes immediately went to their manager

it wasnt like you were the only female manager but you were an unfamiliar team so you have never been seen before

uwu youre so pretty like bow down to the goddess

oikawa’s hold on your hand was tight and his eyes flitted to everyone who looked at them, as if signalling them to back off and you were his

‘wahh, oikawa-san! kageyama told me that the best of the best are in here! he told me to look for fukurodani and nekoma!’

seijoh’s eye twitched at the mention of your new-found friend who you’ve been texting back and forth and him secretly teaching you everything about volleyball since your own team has been too busy preparing for nationals

they watched you try and stand in your tippy toes to find the apparent red and black jerseys and the black, white and gold jerseys

hmm,,,, it seems everyone had the same colors

‘ne, y/n-chan, you trust our team, don’t you? if anything, we’re part of the best of the best! you got the best setter right here!’

oikawa grinned but you nodded distractedly

‘come on, we got to go unpack and train’

iwaizumi nudged so you had to stop looking and you followed your captain, who still held your hand

but this is a typical fanfiction ladies and gents

as you were walking towards the locker room, there was a team that wore maroon colored jackets and were walking towards you

again, this is seijoh’s very first nationals so nobody really knew of them

they were more familiar of the white and purple jackets of shiratorizawa rather than the mint green and white of seijoh

however, oikawa seemed to know them

‘ah’

he whispered out, making you look up at him but his sights were straight towards them, a hard and cold look

‘ara? fresh blood?’

you cringed at the weird analogy and the guy with the black tips, who you infered to be the captain, elbowed him

 ‘excuse us’

he nodded in greeting and you noticed the guy with the bleach hair and you did a double-take, blinking rapidly

‘oh sangwoo?’

KSLDFJKDLFJSLDK KILL ME ALREADY

watari coughed, knowing exactly what you meant and it seems nobody else did except for the sangwoo look-a-like

and he raised an eyebrow in interest

‘hm? you called?’

another guy with gray hair, who looked exactly like him, rolled his eyes and he pulled him forward to walk after their captain

but he didnt let off yet

as he passed you by, he leaned close, breath fanning your ear

‘but its miya atsumu, baby girl’

ON GOD I WANT TO COMMIT WITH HOW GROSS HE IS LIKE BLS

kyo, who was behind you, growled at him and pulled you behind himself

‘she has name, fcker’

atsumu faked a surprise and backed away with his hands up

‘alrighty, then. didnt know you had a bodyguard, girlie. but maybe,, later on, we could get to know each other. alone’

YALL THIS IS GOING TO GET BETTER LATER I PROMISE HES NOT A WEIRDO PERVERT AS HE SOUNDS

osamu was annoyed and dragged him away, leaving you with your team, who were also extremely pissed off, especially oikawa

‘heh, the best setter in the country and yet he acts like a horny dog’

oikawa seethed, a pointy smile etched on his face

‘eh? best setter?’

you wondered but not given an answer because your captain would be damned if that atsumu decided to show up again

the locker room was actually the same back home

but kindaichi was sobbing again

‘t-this room! the best of the best! i cant-too much-’

you were busy hugging him and wiping his tears to notice the third years huddling over by the corner

oikawa was sitting on the bench while iwaizumi was changing into his practice jersey and the other two were flanked beside the captain

‘of course theyve got their eye on her now’

oikawa mumbled, fingers laced together and touching his lips

‘what can you expect? y/n-chan is an extremely pretty girl’

mattsun shrugged

‘but ugh, if i see that cheese face again,, i will fight’

iwa threatened, angrily slipping his arms through the holes

‘he reeked nasty! gross!’

makki agreed

‘so we’re agreeing to keep her in our sights right?’

they agreed to oikawa’s question and were going to stick by that word

but,,,,

what can you expect from star-struck players?

maybe its because theyve worked for so long to reach this point that the fact that they’re even standing in the tokyo stadium felt like a dream

‘guys, i need to go and fill the bottles really quick’

they mumbled distracted agreements so you sighed and lugged the crate of bottles

thank god there was a fountain nearby and as you were capping the last one, a familiar voice rang from behind you

‘oh? baby girl?’

you flinched at the weird nickname and thought that if you stayed quiet, hed leave

‘chibi? hey?’

he asked and made his way to your side, you closing your eyes and looking off to the side

atsumu thought you were interesting, not like every girl who would spread their legs at him and press up to him

the fact that you even AVOIDED looking at him was so foreign to him and your dismissive attitude made him so drawn to you

‘look, im sorry if i made ya uncomfortable earlier’

he,,, apologized?

but you didnt know who he was so you didnt know how out of character it was for him to even say ‘sorry’

'miya-san, hello’

you mumbled, eyes now opened but still focused on the bottle you gripped

he cracked a smile and was he,,,, nervous?

usually, hed say something dumb or sarcastic to cut the tension, but it was like he was even,,, careful,,, with what he wanted to say next

‘how-um-you like it ‘ere?’

if osamu was to see him now, he’d think his brother was kidnapped by those aliens oikawa swore up and down were real and was replaced by some opposite dimension version of atsumu

you gulped, mustering up a small smile before turning to look at him

‘miya-san, dont take offense to this, but just know i have a very loud voice and i can lift 80 pounds. and im the first one to ever beat iwa-san in an arm-wrestling match’

you puffed your cheeks in intimidation with your eyebrows furrowed but accidentally looking more cute rather than scary

were you,,, threatening him?

atsumu paused for a second to assess the situation and really understand the underlying meaning of your words

then he laughed

a real hearty laugh that made him go for a whole minute

‘-ahahaha!! whew, chibi-chan, ya’r a rare one’

wait i dont know how to type you’re with an accent !!!!!

he let out a few more chuckles then wiped a tear that fell

you just stood there 🧍‍♀️ 

‘you think its funny, miya-san? yahaba-kun and i also have a supernatural telepathy phenomenon-’

‘chibi-chan, i swear i wont hurt ya’

he promised but you backed your face away, an eyebrow raised

‘thats what they all say. if anything, youre scaring me more so i’ll-’

‘wait’

he held out a hand out but he quickly curled it, pulling it back to his chest

‘i,,,, listen i know how basic this may sound but,,,, youre the first to ever be like this to me’

you rolled your eyes

‘you think i havent heard that before? i have oikawa-san in my team, for god’s sake! ‘youre one of a kind’ ‘youre not like other girls’ yadda yadda’ try harder, miya-san’

you tilted your head with a crooked smile 

were you,,, playing hard to get?!

atsumu’s eyes shined, wanting to finally do the chasing rather than being chased

‘well, first off, chibi-chan, i need to know your name’

he leaned forward with his hands buried deep inside his maroon jacket pocket

‘my name? what good will that do? you already call me something else dont you? a name is meant to help people call each other and youve been calling me ‘chibi’ so what’s the point of giving you my birth name?’

even with a straight face, atsumu right away knew of your teasing as your eyes were shining brightly and had a hint of amusement in them

oh my god hes in love with you

he was in disbelief of your attitude towards him so he nodded slowly and laughed again

‘what can i do to earn that name then, chibi-chan?’

ehehehe kuroo,,,,, im in danger

you crossed your arms and pouted, leaning forward

‘ehh? why do you want it so bad? do you call others ‘chibi’ too?’

your expression of suspicion was so adorable that he couldnt stop himself from lunging forward and squeezing your cheeks between his fingers

‘so cute. youre my only chibi, chibi-chan’

you hummed, swiftly wiping his touch away from you

‘doubt it. ive only met you today and you’re already acting like this. what makes you think i think youre genuinely interested in me, miya-san?’

‘fate?’

this time, you chuckled, head leaning down

and as you looked back up, your heart stopped

by the distance, there was a familiar-looking haired boy with golden eyes and an also familiar black hair and steel blue eyes

oh dear

your emotions went sour but you saw the black and white-haired male laugh and the steel eyed male shake his head in disapproval but had the hint of the smallest smile

they,, were now happy

‘fate, you say’

you mumbled distractedly

‘fate instilled magnets in us so i just cant help but be drawn to ya’

atsumu grinned but you averted your eyes to look at him, a soft and genuinely happy look

‘would those magnets be strong enough to draw us together, even if we were in another life? if we were fated, would we meet again?’

you looked up at him, your eyes still glistening but this time, with the slightest bit of hope

atsumu sent you a confused glance but he still shrugged

‘i guess so, if i’m so drawn to you right now. maybe in our past life we were,,, together?’

he tested out, expecting you to roll your eyes and walk away but you laughed

‘well, i just witnessed it happening so maybe its possible?’

you wondered out loud

atsumu blinked again, getting more and more interested in you

‘chibi-chan?’

he asked you and you jumped slightly to look at him with a smile

‘say, miya-san, what if i told you that i remember my past life? and what would you say if i told you that you were in it?’

you grinned but atsumu scrunched his face together before smiling

‘hmm, i dont know what youre sayin but it proves my point!’

he exclaimed but you cocked an eyebrow, a sad smile resting on your lips

‘now what would you say if i told you that you were my nurse?’

a/n: omg i actually hate how this turned out like bls blast me on this

a/n pt 2: during my break, i actually re-read ‘in another life’ and i wrote this up after i finished it again and can i just say? I WILL NEVER SHUT UP ABOUT THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CREDITS TO LITTLELUXRAY ON AO3

a/n pt 3: hewwo im back again and since no one replied with a link, i can,,, guess??,,, that the book is gone??? or taken down?? but anyways, i just really wanted to post something and tbh, stuff like this cant be helped but i really do hope that it’s gone and if its not, dkasjdfkslf again send me the link

[chiwhorei]

ctrl

paring: h. shinsou x fem!reader

genre: smut, dark content, 18+ minors dni

word count: 1.4k

warnings: noncon, coercion, mind control, inappropriate use of a quirk, choking, a smidge of dacryphilia, a little degradation, mentions of a strip club, reader is an exotic dancer

a/n: so this is only day four five of kinktober and i’m already late. truly, not surprised but still sorry. i would rather finish pieces that i am proud of than just posting something within the barriers of a 24 hour period that i don’t like.

hymn: irl (ft. prelow ) by dsny

kinktober 2020 - noncon

It’s no secret that Shinsou Hitoshi is an exceptional hero. Passing him on his patrol, you’ll be met with a sweet smile and wave. He keeps Toyko safe and secure with a certain Kennedy-like charm. But Shinsou has a secret predilection he would rather keep from the general public. A vice he likes to let out at a dusty, rundown strip club on the unsavory side of town. A vice he likes to unleash onto you.

“Come on now kitten, I know you want to make me happy.” His voice rings from behind you, that familiar, rough tone makes every hair stand on end like exposed wires. The club is empty and sad for a Friday night, exactly the atmosphere that attracts the presence of a certain pro-hero. You want to tell the violet haired casanova to fuck off, but you know much better than that.

“What’s the matter, princess? Cat gotcha tongue?” He tuts, wrapping deft fingers around your arm. You’ve heard this song before, and you don’t want to dance. His grip is bruising, turning you around to face him.

“There’s my sweet girl. See, how hard was that?” His questions are always specifically grating, and you know it’s purposeful. You glare at Shinsou as best you can through the dimmed lights, pulling your arms from his hold. He laughs at the show, amused at the fight you always put up.

Shinsou pulls you forward by your hips and you stumble into his chest. He reaches behind you to grope your ass roughly. You’re smart enough not to let the sounds bubbling up in the back of your throat actually escape.

“You always wear the cutest little outfits when I come around. Did you pick out these panties just for me?” He asks, skimming his fingers across the purple lace on your hip, snapping it against your skin. Trying to walk away is pointless, and Shinsou revels at the knowledge that you aren’t going to get a chance to escape. All he has to do now, is get you to answer him.

“I don’t know why we play this little game of petulance every time. You know how tonight is going to end.” Shinsou’s head dips right by your ear, brushing his lips against the shell. The fingers skimming your ass move to flit against your pussy, making your head fall onto his chest, you fist the fabric of his crisp dress shirt. It’s pathetic how easily he can get you. Every fucking time. The few patrons of the club around you are either ignoring the two of you, or enjoying the show. No one is going to stop Shinsou, no one ever does.

“You always cream so pretty for me when you let me take control. Just say the word darling, and I’ll take care of you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His words drip onto you like syrup, sounding sweet in a way that makes teeth rot. As Shinsou’s digits press against your core, an unfortunate, pitchy moan rips from within you.

Damnit.

You can hear Shinsou’s laugh like he’s submerged you in water. The world around is both the most silent and the most loud in these moments. This feeling, his quirk wrapped around you, a blanket of stiff wool. It’s familiar, it’s terrifying and comforting. You can feel everything acutely, the stroke of his hand on your cheek, brushing away the tears that have started to escape.

“No need to cry, kitten. We’re gonna have some fun. Follow me.” His command has your feet moving, you can see your hand in his in front of you, but everything is detached and foggy.

Shinsou likes the private room at the very end of the hallway, second to last door on the left. Every time. He directs you inside and sits on the plush couch. You stand in front of him with glassy eyes. So beautiful, so tame.

“You know what comes next, kitten. Take off the bra and panties. Slowly.” He says, unbuttoning his pants to release his already throbbing cock. As you drop the offending lace garments, lavendar in color and frilly, in your cloudy vision you see Shinsou stroking himself. He’s not one to waste time.

“Come here, princess. Take a seat.” Shisou pats his leg, reaching out to grab your hand, steadying you as you climb on top of his thighs clumsily. He places your palms against his chest to keep your rigid form balanced. His cock is upright against his abdomen, centimeters from your cunt. He likes you best this way, completely naked and drooling on his pant leg.

“You always put up the cutest little fight, but here you are making a mess that I’m going to have to clean up.” One hand holds your hip, thumbing circles into the soft flesh while the other moves towards your pussy. Your violet-haired captor crooks his middle finger in between your folds, teasing your lips before moving up to your clit, pinching harshly. The feeling would make your hips buck if you had any autonomy. Shinsou rubs melodic circles into the bundle of nerves, igniting your body in frozen fire. There’s no way to shy away from his touch, he is holding your hand over an open flame with no ability to jolt away from the burn.

Two of his long, thin fingers push into your tight, uninviting walls with an ease that makes your blood boil. It’s infuriating how good he is at this, and it’s even more infuriating how your body reacts. Because it feels so good.

Shinsou pulls his fingers out to examine, strings of your slick covering his digits and reflecting off of the reddened lights of the private room.

“Such a sloppy little cunny you have.” He says, rubbing his fingers together, “Here, have a taste baby. Open your mouth.” You head his command, opening wide so he can shove your own arousal past your lips.

“Go on kitten, suck.” As you swallow around the obstruction, Shinsou pulls you up by the ass to angle himself at your puffy entrance. He pulls your hips to crash downwards, fully burying his impressive length inside. Your pussy tightens at the intrusion, and you would scream if you had ownership of your voice. It hurts, it always does. But the lines of pain and pleasure are just as foggy as your mind.

Always the generous lover, Shinsou gives you a moment to adjust before he begins rutting into you. His fingers still find a home in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue so that spit pools and escapes onto your chin. You gag around him, the feeling of being so full makes you clench around his shaft. His pace becomes relentless, putting both hands to your hips to bounce your body against him harshly. His head rolls back in pleasure, twitching at the feeling of your helpless, conquered body snug around his cock. You can feel that familiar tension in your belly. Another stolen orgasm crawling up your throat and coating your tongue.

Just as the first wave of pleasure is creeping around you, your head comes up from underwater. You can move again, you feel the fog evaporate around you only to be replaced with the feeling of Shinsou’s hand wrapped around your neck. He administers pressure to your throat and you can’t help your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You’re no longer at the behest of the pro-hero’s quirk, but there’s still no sovereignty. Not with the chasing feeling of release on your doorstep.

“Be a good girl for me and cum, I know you want to.” Before you realize it, your hips are grinding down desperately. The coil wrapping tightly through every muscle-fibre snaps, propelling your body into a type of bliss that feels like drug-use. You pulsate around Shinsou, milking his own orgasm to follow closely with a resounding wail of your name. He releases into your swollen cunt in thick spurts as you ride out your own, sick high.

Exhausted, your body falls slack in Shinsou’s arms, body slick with sweat and tears, wetting Shinsou’s shirt under you. He holds your shaking body tightly to his own, breathing slowly returning to normal.

“See? I told you I would take care of you, kitten.”

You want to bang your weak fits against him, you want to protest, argue, scream. But you can’t, because he’s right.

Shinsou is always right.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[something-tofightfor]

Magnetic: Chapter 1  - Home

Pairing: None, yet. (female reader insert; no ‘Y/N’)

Word count: 7,097

Rating: I think you swear a couple times. There’s some blood mentioned. Grogu recalls some past trauma.

Summary: A disappearance. A revelation. An offer. A decision. A discovery. They’re all connected - and everything’s moving quickly. 

Author’s note:

Hello, friends! Second part for the week. I’m trying to figure out what the best posting schedule will be moving forward, and I’m thinking once a week, maybe Thursday or Friday night (EST)? We’ll see. 

Please make sure you read the previous 2 pieces of this story before this one (top of my Masterlist), or it won’t make much sense.  Nothing much ese to say here except that if you want to be tagged, please let me know and I can add you before the next chapter. Enjoy. 

(banner created by @malionnes)

Grogu! You called out for him, not taking the time to consider what to call him, his name your only thought. Come on, this isn’t funny anymore. It was the third time you couldn’t find the kid - but only the first that had been your fault to begin with - and this time, he’d been gone for hours. You’d noticed that he seemed off after your trip away from the Academy and into the market, but over the course of the following week, the kid had disappeared three separate times, striking fear deep into your heart each of them. 

 You’d found him the first time he left, sensing him by accident as you searched the lower level of the building, getting just a glimpse of his view, rocking back and forth in the hanging canopy of one of the freighter ships’ sleeping quarters. He’d been surprised to see you, but excited, too, babbling as he reached for you to lift him up and cradle him to your chest. The second time, one of the Masters found him based on a memory you recalled, urging him to check near a small pond at the edge of one of the fields nearby. 

 This time? You were determined to be the one to find him again, needing to be the one that got to Grogu first and bringing him back into the warmth and security of the Academy. Why? Why does it need to be me?

 You knew the planet was safe. You were sure that the area surrounding the Academy was even safer. You believed that the kid was more than capable of fending for himself if it really came down to it. But you also knew that he was still young, still got overwhelmed - and still overestimated his own capabilities. So you’d left the walls of the Academy and ventured outside, the hood on your cloak lifted to ward off as much of the rain as possible, and taken a seat in the center of the main courtyard, legs folded beneath you. Grogu. Kid, come on. Your eyes were closed as you searched for him, letting your mind wander and covering as much ground as possible. 

 All of the Masters were looking for him, but they - as well as you - also knew that after spending so many years closing himself off from the Force and the Jedi, he was adept at concealing himself when he wanted to. He has to want to come back. You’d said it to Master Skywalker, the man’s eyes wide and anxious as you told him that you’d only turned away from him for a few seconds to adjust his bedding, meaning to help the kid tidy his room before the two of you spent the night playing in one of the covered outdoor areas, using the time off from his lessons to practice focusing and just relax together. He wouldn’t go far. He wanted to be here in the first place, but he … You’d frowned, the same thought dawning on you and Skywalker at the same time. What if he doesn’t want to anymore? Meeting his clear, blue eyes, you both felt and saw the worry in them, knowing that it was a real possibility.

 The man had sent you off to search for the kid, and you just hoped that something - anything was enough to get through to him. Even a single thought - a split second of connection - would help you locate him, but you didn’t know where to begin. The minutes passed and nothing happened aside from your cloak getting damper by the second, a chill settling into your body, fear creeping in along with the cold. You’d called on all of your training to focus on the kid, finding that while most Jedi looked at intense emotions being detrimental, they helped you, enabling you to isolate specific individuals based on what you knew that they felt. But there was nothing - no thoughts of frogs or hyperspace, no thoughts of speeders or a tiny hammock. No thoughts of - “Oh, kid.” You gritted your teeth, using one hand to swipe at your face and push your dripping hair away from your eyes. “I’m sorry, but I have to.” 

 You closed your eyes again and sighed, settling onto the ground and placing your palms against the earth, swallowing hard. This has to work. Concentrating with all your energy, you thought of the Mandalorian; pictured his stance, allowing yourself to get lost in the memories you’d seen through Grogu’s eyes. A man standing at the foot of his carriage, one gloved finger extended, almost in disbelief. You saw him fearlessly facing off against a giant beast - a Mudhorn, your memory supplied for you. The Mandalorian watching from a short distance away as you - as Grogu - ran through the tall grass, chasing something. Countless memories were in your mind and you flipped through them, trying to isolate one thing from each; the thing that was clearest and most memorable - the most important pieces of the Mandalorian Grogu carried with him. The armor. The way it felt to be held against his broad chest, one arm tucked beneath you, the other stretched across your body, keeping you from bouncing too much as he strode across the ground. The way he handled the pulse rifle and the blaster as if they were weightless, extensions of himself. A vague read on his thoughts time and time again - keep him safe the repeated mantra - something that Grogu had gotten used to. His posture in the pilot’s seat. His stubborn nature. 

 You felt like you knew the man even though you’d never met him, and by the time you got to the last thing in your arsenal - arguably the most important one - you were exhausted, letting the emotion wash over you along with the rain. Grogu. Grogu. A quiet, surprised laugh. Grogu. It was as if the man was speaking directly into your ear - the sound of his voice was clear - but filtered -  in your head, and not a moment later, you felt a quiet coo and a slight rocking sensation as the kid revealed himself to you. Thank the Maker. 

 You were on your feet as soon as you felt it, body turned toward the small stand of trees off in the distance. I’m coming, kid. Please don’t run. I’m coming. Tell me more about your dad. Every step you took was punctuated with another memory fragment, but these weren’t your doing - they were the child’s. 

 Some of them you’d seen before, others were entirely new - looking up at the man from between a pair of boots planted firmly on the ground of some desert, the man’s quiet breathing reaching your ears even though you couldn’t see anything in the dark as he slept next to you. You reached the trees as you saw the Mandalorian’s excitement at Grogu using the Force on command for the first time - the small metallic sphere slowly gliding through the air and out of the man’s hands. The trees. That’s why he…

 The memories kept coming, and by the time you laid eyes on the kid, standing atop a fallen log, his too-big hood pulled up and over his ears and most of his face, eyes closed, you were nearly overwhelmed by the emotion you felt for the beskar-clad man. They’re not my feelings though. This is how much he … They’re never going to … Luke’s never going to get him to … “Hey, kid.” You croaked out the words, pushing your own hood back and away from your face to cross the small clearing. “You scared me.” Reaching him, you dropped down to one knee, the damp from the ground immediately soaking through the material of your pants. “Scared all of us.” But instead of opening his eyes or replying, you were hit with another memory, and you couldn’t keep from clasping a hand over your mouth, tears leaking from the corner of your eyes as the kid’s emotions flipped to anguish. 

 You were looking down at the man as he stood next to a woman, distance between you growing by the second, and you realized that it had been the moment Grogu was abducted. He was right there. So close. You had the thought before you could stop it, a gasp leaving your lips as the memory replayed, and you focused on the Mandalorian’s posture, everything about it screaming defeat. “He didn’t give up on you kiddo. He was just a few seconds too late. He came and got you as soon as he could.” 

 You spoke the words out loud, too tired to think them. I know. Despite your fatigue, you felt relief as the kid replied, your eyes opening. Grogu’s eyes were open, too, and even though it could have been the rain that caused the dampness at the corners of them, you knew it wasn’t. Grogu blinked at you twice, and then his mouth opened in a quiet cry. You finally reached for him, pulling him tightly to your chest and resting your cheek against the top of his head as his fingers clutched the soaked edges of your cloak. 

 “You miss him so much, kid. I know. I can feel it. You’re like me, hmm? Can’t turn it off, can’t be …” Can’t be what they expect you to be to rise in the ranks and become … “It’s gonna be alright, little guy. But we have to get back. We have to get out of this rain or we’re both going to get really sick.” You carefully stood, relaxing your hold on him slightly, and after a few seconds, Grogu looked up at you, his expression unreadable. “Gotta get you into some dry robes, right? Find something warm to -” Home. The force that the thought erupted with was enough to make you stumble, and you inhaled sharply, biting down on the inside of your lip. Home. 

 Even though Grogu didn’t fight you as you made your way back to the Academy, you knew that that wasn’t what he meant - nor was it his preferred final destination. 

 --- 

 A few days later, you were called into one of the conference chambers, the room well-lit, even though there was only one other person inside of it. “Master Sk-” The young man shook his head, closing his eyes. 

 “For right now, call me Luke. No need for any formality.” It was strange to you; you’d gotten accustomed to addressing him as Master during your training, and again when your paths crossed in the halls or open spaces. You knew he wasn’t as strict about his title as some of the others, but after everything he’d done, he deserved respect. “Are you feeling better?” What? “Our friend told me that you got sick while finding him the other day.” 

 “Oh.” You smiled, shrugging as you stopped a few feet away from the man, a small table between you. “Yeah, I feel better. Just the flu. I told the kid we’d both -”

 “He’s fine. I’m not sure he can get sick.” You stopped, pressing your lips together. “Sit, please.” You did, noticing the tightness in Luke’s tone and finally looking closely at the man’s face. He’s worried. But what … “You’ve gotten close to Grogu since I brought him back.” It wasn’t a question and you just nodded, still eyeing Luke. “He’s very powerful. I’ve only seen anything like it once before, and that …” Luke looked down, taking a deep breath. “He’s made so much progress, and I think he …” The man trailed off, and you waited silently, hands folded on the table in front of you. Where is this going? “We were all very disappointed when you stopped your training.” 

 He met your eyes again, the bright blue full of honesty. “It was the best option. I can’t… No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t control the way I …” Luke’s lips twitched as you faltered, but it wasn’t unkind. “I’ll be much more helpful here, or in another city, on another planet as an instructor, it -”

 “You were skilled with weapons. Quick on your feet.” Luke leaned back in his chair, and you nodded, unsure of where he was going. I must look like an idiot, just nodding. “But your true talent is seeing, right?”

 “Yes.” You considered his words carefully. “I’m more comfortable with that. It’s hard, sometimes, because I can’t block it out, but it’s useful. And I know -”

 “I watched you with your training blade.” He narrowed his eyes. “You held your own. Even in the beginning.” What is … 

 “I was older than …” You stumbled over your words. “I didn’t even come here until I … it’s easy to block attacks if I know that -” 

 “I know.” Luke glanced up. “You stopped your training right before you would have gone through the Gathering ceremony.” I did. I don’t need… didn’t need… “Why then?” He waited for your answer, and even though you took some time to think through it, you were honest when you spoke next. “There was no point in me going through with it if I wasn’t sure. I don’t need a lightsaber if I’m not going to …” You gestured at him with one hand. “I wasn’t going to go through the Trials. I stopped before it even got to that point.” You reached up, touching your temple. “I know I was on a different timeline than everyone because I was older when I found this place, but …” 

 “You would have passed them.” That’s also not a question. “And you know it, too. Emotions are part of what makes us who we are. It wasn’t always that way, and if they’re not carefully managed, things … get difficult.” He paused, closing his eyes. “But your lack of focus, the inability to tune things out?  Your fear of what you can do? Those don’t have to be limitations.” He smiled again. “I’m training my sister, and there’s no way she’d be able to stop herself from feeling everything for the people she loves, too.” That wasn’t news to you, but you were surprised that he was speaking so openly with you about what he did on his own time. “Grogu is thriving here, at least when it comes to his abilities. He’s skilled. He’s capable. He’s grown a ton in the short time he’s been with us.” Luke paused, inhaling. “But he isn’t happy.” 

 “No, he isn’t.” Afraid that you’d spoken out of turn, you widened your eyes, ready to apologize. 

 “The other Masters and I have …” Luke’s shoulders slumped. “We’ve decided that it might be a good idea to return him to the Mandalorian for some time.” His words shocked you, but Luke didn’t give you time to think too deeply about them. “Bringing him here was the only option before. But now … things have settled with the Mandalorians somewhat, there’s very little in the galaxy that poses a threat to Grogu. Now that we know that he’s alive, and what he’s capable of, everything’s different.” 

 “I think he wants to go.” You whispered the words, staring at your hands on the table. “When I found him the other day, he was so sad, and he kept saying home, but it wasn’t the Academy he was talking about, he -” 

 “He wants his father. He wants his home.” Luke’s voice hitched. “I expected it, but not this soon.” I… oh. But what does that mean for me? “We’re not holding people here against their will, and that extends to everyone.” You looked back up, meeting his eyes again. “We’ve sent a message out. A transmission to Mandalore, which is the last known location of the bounty hunter Grogu was with.” So it’s happening then. “We don’t want to get his hopes up, because we don’t know how long it will take to get an answer, but…” Luke wet his lips. “There’s a good chance he’ll be on his way soon.” 

 You felt a multitude of emotions at the revelation, but the most overwhelming was relief. He’s going to be so happy. “Why are you telling me this?” You spoke quietly, still unsure. “I’m no one, I have no standing with you, I’m not even -” 

 “He likes you. Grogu … you’ve connected with him in a way that no one else here has been able to.” There was another pause. “If … when he goes, he’ll need someone to go with him.” What? “We can’t spare a Master, and none of the Knights would be suitable for the trip.” Are you saying … “He listens to you. He speaks to you. He shares things with you, much more than he does with anyone else.” Luke waited, but you didn’t say anything, still trying to process what you were hearing. “And to put it in very simple terms, Grogu is one of the most talented Force users I’ve ever met, and I’d feel better if he -” 

 “But I’m not a Jedi. I’m not ...I just … I was going to be a Consular, not a Guardian or a Sentinel … how can I …” Luke’s smile grew, and he leaned in, hands flat on the table. “I’d do anything to protect the kid, but reading thoughts is -” 

 “You know, I was almost 20 the first time I used a real lightsaber.” He shrugged. “And it wasn’t even one that I built.” What? “You’ve had experience with the practice blades. How long has it been since -”

 “Over a year. Just before Grogu came here, I -” Your heart was pounding. “I haven’t even thought about …” There’s no way he’s suggesting that I head off with the little guy with a lightsaber in my hand to… 

 “Ilum is no longer safe to travel to for… us.” He stood, pushing away from the table, and circling around to your side, stopping next to you. “But we’ve been searching the galaxy, and … we’ve found kyber crystals in other locations. Many more of them.” More? “It’s too dangerous to take a group of younglings to search for their crystals as was done in the past, so we’ve brought them here, for when they’re ready to choose them.” There’s no kriffing way he’s going to …  “I’d feel a lot better about you leaving with Grogu for a while if you had a lightsaber.” 

 “But I …” You shook your head back and forth. “Master Skyw - Luke, I’m not trained. I wouldn’t be trained later on, after we left. Grogu doesn’t use a… I wouldn’t be able to practice with anyone -��� 

 “No, that’s not true.” Luke cocked his head to the side, and you caught one of his thoughts. She hasn’t said no. “The Mandalorian has a lightsaber, too.” What? A Mandalorian with a ... “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, but…” Luke leaned in, only a foot or so away from you, his expression serious, but excitement in his eyes. “You’d get your practice in, if he agreed to it.” You thought for a few seconds, picturing the Mandalorian in your mind, and feeling yourself shiver at the thought of sparring with the massive man and his armor. At least I wouldn’t hurt him. “Think about it. It shouldn’t take long to build, you’ll just need the parts and the crystals.” Luke straightened up. “This is an offer not many get. I trust you. Grogu trusts you. Your use of the Force is unconventional but it’s… true. And? You care about him.” Luke sighed. “He’s special.” There was a long pause, and Luke met your gaze again, unblinking as he said your name. “You don’t have to hide it from me. Your time here isn’t … you’ve been thinking of what comes next for you.” 

 “I have.” You swallowed hard. “To be honest, if Grogu wasn’t here? I probably would have …” Already tried to find another job, at the very least. 

 “I know.” Luke watched you for a few seconds. “And speaking of him, can you keep this from him? Keep the kid from -” 

 “Yes.” You were certain of it, and keeping the secret for the few days it would likely take to hear back from the Mandalorian would easily be the most important thing you’d ever been tasked with. “I can. I will.” Especially if I’m building a… “Luke? Master Skywalker?” He hummed a reply, still watching you. “Can I let you know tonight? I want to think about …”

 “Of course.” He gave you a nod, and you understood that the conversation was over. “Remember, Grogu can’t know about this. If the Mandalorian doesn’t return the message? If he can’t take some time to -” It was your turn to stand, shaking your head slowly back and forth as you faced the Jedi. 

 “He will. If what that man feels is anything like what the kid does?” You rolled your eyes, chewing on your lower lip. “He’s probably already answering your call.” --- 

 But as far as you knew, the Mandalorian didn’t respond that day. And by the time you sought Luke out again that night, your body coursing with adrenaline, it was a good thing that you hadn’t seen the kid, because you wouldn’t have been able to stop thinking about the man’s offer. My own lightsaber. I gave this up, I shouldn’t … But you knew Luke’s reputation, knew that the suggestion wasn’t a hasty one, and that his offer had likely come after discussing it with others of his rank. And that means that other people … they think I … 

 The doors slid open, and with a swish of robes, Luke gestured for you to come in. Am I really doing this? Am I … “You’ve made a decision?” He stood with his arms held behind his back, head cocked slightly to the side. “I can tell that -” 

 “I’m perfectly fine with …” You closed your eyes and took a breath. “I understood that when I chose to stop training, I wouldn’t ever be … I wouldn’t ever become like you. Like Master Ordo or Master Sirrah or any of the others. I’d stay right where I am. Attuned to the Force and able to help in some ways, but never … never have the rank or the reputation. Never be able to say that I was a Jedi. And that’s fine. I know now that my limitations are…” You trailed off. Stop rambling. “You took me in when no one else would and helped me understand what was happening with and to me, and I won’t ever forget that. I can’t ever repay you, and that’s why I wanted to stay here. To be… useful.” Luke nodded, but stayed quiet. “But I’d do anything to keep Grogu safe. And if me… not continuing my training, but moving forward with the -” 

 “You’re not making a lightsaber because you’re a Jedi, you’re making one because you need it to protect yourself and help to protect Grogu if necessary.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but it was forceful. “You won’t have rank. You won’t be a Knight. It’s rare, for non-Jedi to use them, but there are trillions of people in this galaxy, and it’s impossible that all of the blades of old are accounted for.” He shrugged. “It’s no different than using a vibroblade or a blaster. It’s just a weapon. A powerful, intimidating weapon, but ... “ He stepped closer to you, moving his gloved hand from behind his back and laying it on your shoulder. “One that you know how to wield. There are many people that won’t have ever seen them before, and that gives you another advantage.” 

 “And I’ll need all the advantages that I …” For the first time, you considered what you’d be agreeing to - traveling far from the Academy with Grogu, to a place that was likely inhospitable, deep in the throes of a power struggle, just to reunite him with a man that had his own concerns and responsibilities. “I’m ready. If you … I’ll do it. I’ll pick my crystals and try my best to build a … and I’ll take Grogu. If the Mandalorian returns your message, I’ll make sure he gets back to where he …” Oh, stars, what am I agreeing to?

 “Let’s go.” Luke squeezed once, a smile overtaking his face before he pulled his hand away and stepped around you, heading back for the door. “I already knew you’d agree, but I had to hear you say it. We’ll go tonight, you and I, and start the process.” What? I wasn’t … “It doesn’t take long to complete your build, but the sooner you have it done, the sooner we can restart your training.” 

 “Who will I be -” He stopped as you turned toward him, his head angled to the right and the smile still on his face. “Me.” 

--- 

 The next few hours were a whirlwind. You’d had to travel away from the Academy with Luke in the darkness, side by side on speeders to get to the location of the kyber stash. After dismounting, you had no idea where on the planet you were, and you were almost convinced that Luke had complicated the journey, ensuring that you couldn’t ever reveal the location to anyone, even on accident. Smart. Dismounting, Luke led you toward the mouth of a cave set deep within a rocky outcrop, the moonlight helping to provide the only glimpses of your surroundings. “It doesn’t even feel like we’re still -” 

 “This place was chosen because it’s where we feel the Force the most strongly on this planet.” Luke was a few steps ahead of you, ducking slightly to enter the cave. “It’s isolated, but it’s safe. It’s nothing like the crystal caves on Ilum are, but it’s …” He sighed, reaching for the lamp that was attached to his belt. “There, they grow straight from the floors and walls. They call to you long before you even enter the main caverns. But there’s so much power in those caves that it’s overwhelming.” You saw the outline of his body as he lit the lamp, bathing the walls around you in a soft glow. “Someone like you there? Someone that already sees and feels more than the average being?” He laughed quietly, picking his way carefully through the dark. We’re going down. The path, we’re underground. “I would have liked to see that.” 

 The two of you walked in silence for a few minutes, Luke leading you through the twists and turns easily, though you stumbled a few times. “I’d get lost down here by myself.” You spoke quietly, doing your best to keep up. “I’m terrible with directions. Always have been.” But there’s something here, you realized, feeling your body relax the deeper into the cave you went. It’s like I should be here. “Are there caves on Mandalore? I -” 

 “I’m not sure.” Luke kept walking. “I’ve never been there, and there’s not much known about it. You’ll be one of the first people to see it after … everything that’s happened to it.” All of the fighting. The occupation. The destruction of … “Everything.” He stopped, and you did too, eyes focused on what was ahead. “We’re here.” Here?  Where’s … “I won’t be going in with you. This isn’t my journey.” 

 “Where am -” But as your eyes adjusted, you saw a slightly darker area in the wall, and realized it was an opening. “What do I …” 

 “This isn’t a trial, remember that.” Luke took a deep breath. “But you’ll still need to … search for your crystal. I don’t know what you’ll see in there, if you’ll see anything. I don’t know how it’ll go. But I do know that you’ll know what to do when it’s time.” What is he even … “Here.” He handed you the lamp, passing the smooth metal handle into your hand without pause. “Take your time. Think it through.” You saw one of Luke’s eyebrows rise. “You’ll have this thing for the rest of your life.” Oh, fantastic. No pressure, right? 

 But you only nodded, thanking him quietly and stepping past the man, between the shadows and through the open space. I don’t even know what I’m looking for. You could feel the power of the place - a low, thrumming sensation that almost felt alive. He wasn’t kidding about this being a concentrated … damn. The deeper into the darkness you walked, the calmer you felt, and that worried you - slightly. “I’m walking into a damn cave in the middle of nowhere at midnight, I should be …” But your words trailed off as the pathway opened up ahead of you, a slight glow adding to the light of the lamp you held. What the … 

 Glancing up, you saw that you were in a large room, the ceiling high above your head. It wasn’t massive by any means, but it wasn’t small, and after only a few seconds, you set the lamp down, continuing to walk through the space. “This is beautiful,” you whispered, eyes moving over the walls. “I’ve never …” You knew from what Luke told you that most of the glittering spaces in the walls weren’t what you were looking for, but nonetheless you were drawn to them, fingers glancing over the rough and pointed edges, lips curving into a small smile. Closing your eyes, you tried to calm your mind, letting yourself relax, and again felt the pulse in the air, focusing on it. It’s stronger back there, in the… the corner. 

 Making your way toward the back wall of the room, you heard a crunch beneath your boots, looking down to see that there were more small crystals on the floor, shattering into glittering piles of glass that crumbled into the dirt floor as you stepped on them. Minerals, you realized. They wouldn’t store something so valuable on the ground, not … not when people are just wandering through here. It calmed you further, and by the time you reached the back wall, your mind was blank. Alright. Let’s do this. Taking a deep breath, you pressed both palms to the wall, unsure of what else you needed to do - or where to begin looking. The wall felt alive beneath your hands and you gasped, knees buckling slightly as you began to see images in your mind - men and women, glowing bursts of light, the darkness of space, littered with millions of glowing pinpricks of starlight, the same deep brown eyes from your dreams. 

 At that, you gasped, lowering yourself to the ground and dropping your chin to your chest, hands moving from the wall to the floor, fingers curling in the pebbled soil. I don’t know who you are. Why am I … The harder you tried to focus on the image of the man, the hazier it got, but the feelings that came with it became much more pronounced. Sadness. Despair. Regret. With a cry of frustration, you forced yourself to think of something else, letting out your held breath and then pressing your lips together to the point of pain. It’s not real. I’ve never seen … that’s not why I’m… 

 More time passed, your breathing evening out, mind returning to its blank state, and for the first time in more than a year, you didn’t try to keep from tapping into the Force, instead letting it in. This must be what Grogu felt when he went to Tython. You had the thought before you could stop it, and the kid’s face then filled your mind, your chest tightening as you thought of everything he’d been through - everything he’d likely still have to experience in his long, long life. I need to do this so he can go back to … You thought of the Mandalorian then, seeing the man from Grogu’s point of view; the sharp edges of the bottom of his helmet, one tiny, clawed hand resting against the smooth Beskar of his breastplate. “Alright, kid.” You let out another breath, nodding your head. “It’s time.” 

 Pushing the thoughts of the man and the child out of your head, you focused on what you were feeling, pushing out with your mind to see if anything pushed back. This is stupid, it’s a piece of … But instead of feeling nothing, you felt a slight spot of warmth; a pinprick of light shining in the darkness. Before you could completely focus on it, it was gone, replaced with another feeling - that of fear. Instead of the light from the cave or your lamp, when you opened your eyes in surprise, your mother was standing in front of you, one hand held over her mouth in shock as your younger sister clutched her hip, eyes wide in fear. It’s not … not possible. 

 You hadn’t seen your mother and sister in years, and at the sight you yelped, scrambling to your feet and holding your hands out in front of you. They haven’t aged. “M-mom?” Blinking, you looked down, head moving back and forth. “It’s ok, I’m not -” 

 “Dangerous.” You heard her voice clearly, the hiss at he end of it. “You are dangerous. To yourself, to us, to everyone here.” The words stung, and you shied away, never looking up from your sister. “Too dangerous.” 

 “No. I’m not. I wasn’t, I …” But you trailed off, focused on the little girl and the way she was looking at everything but you. “I didn’t mean to …” Your mother’s laugh cut through the air, sharper than any blade that existed, and you immediately went quiet, tears springing into your eyes. 

 “Hide it, girl. Hide it or get out.” She pointed, gesturing over your shoulder. “I didn’t raise a witch.” You were crying, the tears tracing lines down your dusty cheeks, but you couldn’t speak, instead staying on your feet, head whipping back and forth. No no no no, you just didn’t know, we didn’t understand, I’m not … “They’re all talking about you.” She spat the words, eyes narrowed. “Talking about my daughter, about me, about your father, asking if your sister can use magic too, asking if -”

 “No!” The word erupted from your lips, stopping your mother’s speech. “I am not a witch. I am not dangerous.” You were still crying, but your voice was strong. “It’s not magic. It’s the Force, and it’s useful, it’s good.” You said her name, reaching out with one hand but the woman recoiled, pulling your sister with her. “I was barely an adult and you were more worried about …” Sniffling, you continued. “You made me think that I had to hide what I am, what I can do just to survive. But I didn’t. I don’t.” You straightened up, staring at the woman head on. “You were wrong. You didn’t know it, but you were… there was no reason to…” She’s already said this to me.

 You widened your eyes as you remembered the day your mother had given you an ultimatum: hide your ability or get out. But it hadn’t really been an option, since you’d blown your cover - accidentally reading a boy’s mind and reacting, warning one of your town’s lawmen that he’d committed a crime and then honestly telling him how you’d known. Unsure of how to explain the way you’d come to know the information, you revealed more - other people’s thoughts, things they’d kept hidden, the lawman’s childhood best friend’s name - in an attempt to make them understand that it was real. But from that day, the entire town had avoided you, in turn, shunning the rest of your family as well. But it wasn’t my fault. You’d wished every day that you’d kept your mouth shut instead of trying to make them see, but the true end of your time at home had come just months later. 

 “I’m sorry.” You dropped to your knees, saying your sister’s name. “I was trying to help you, and I didn’t…” The two of you had been playing near the forest behind your home, the little girl skipping over the ground when she’d tripped, a short scream the only noise you’d heard. Without thought, you’d turned your attention to the girl, fear filling your heart as you saw her falling toward a large boulder, half buried in the ground. You didn’t know how you’d done it, but in the blink of an eye, she was frozen in midair, hands outstretched and the sound of her wail still carrying through the air. Stunned, you’d realized that you were holding her in place, one hand reaching out for her to keep her from hitting her head. “I couldn’t control it because I didn’t know what it was and I …” At the sound of your mother’s yell, your concentration had broken, your sister falling through the air, her temple glancing off the rock. Though it wasn’t as direct a hit as it would have been, there was still blood, and by the time the woman had made it to the two of you - your sister crying as she laid next to the rock, holding her bloodied head and you, exhausted and crumpled on the ground - the little girl could only say your name in response to being asked what happened. And that was it. They never … they didn’t want me because they … “We didn’t understand. But I wasn’t dangerous. I’d never hurt you. I’d never hurt anyone. I just needed to … needed to know what …” 

 You were crying again, eyes closed and your shoulders shaking. You hadn’t thought of the confrontation in years; it felt more and more unreal with each passing month away from the small town you’d grown up in, traveling off-planet and to a larger city as soon as you’d earned passage on a ship, finding ways to get information in each new place you went. You’d picked up a lot of skills in the months you’d traveled before you found anything close to information about people that could do what you did. 

 I wanted to go back. Wanted to tell you … Sniffling, you looked back up, the woman and child standing in front of you silently. “I can’t hide this. I shouldn’t hide this. People like me are the ones that protect … the Force is …” You took a deep breath, straightening your shoulders and meeting your mother’s eyes. “This is who I am, and it’s what I want.” 

 In the blink of an eye, the cave went dark again, the figures disappearing as fast as they’d shown up. Breaths quick, your jaw dropped, eyes darting around the darkened space until they found that same pinpoint of light - this time brighter. Silently, you got to your feet, still breathing heavily. What is … You reached the wall, kneeling down again and stretching your hand out until it touched stone. It’s in the wall, but it … Frowning, you moved your hand down, feeling the slight protrusion as your skin touched the point of light, the prismatic shape contrasting with the rest of the mostly smooth lower wall. This is it. You knew it as soon as your hand touched the crystal, heart rate increasing again as your thumb and first finger pinched it between them, tugging toward you. It didn’t move right away, but after a few moments you felt it wiggle, and then, after another pull it came free, dropping into the waiting palm of your other hand. “Oh.” 

 It was a pale golden orange, and although the light that guided you to it faded to a dull twinkle as soon as it was pulled free from the wall, it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. It’s mine. You stared at it for a few seconds, trying to control your breathing, and then shut your eyes, fingers curling around the tiny thing. It chose me. Giving yourself a few seconds to collect your thoughts, you stood, walking back over to the lamp and leaning over to pick it up, the crystal still held loosely in your free hand. 

 You made your way back to the mouth of the cave, carefully walking through the narrow space, and were surprised to see Luke sitting on the ground with his eyes closed, back against the wall and his legs stretched out in front of him. “Mast - Luke?” You spoke softly but the man sprung to life, eyes flying open and his hand going to his waist. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, but I -” You held out your hand, uncurling your fingers. “I think I found it.” 

 “I… you…” He shook his head, blowing a breath through his lips. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but it took so long, I couldn’t…” Took so long? I was only in there for … But even in the low light, you could see the shadow at his jaw. His beard is … that means… “Yeah. It’s been about twelve hours, you …” 

 “What?!” Shocked, you shook your head. “No way, I -” But Luke had never lied to you, and you knew that he wouldn’t have fallen asleep unless what he was saying was true. “I didn’t mean to take so long, I … I saw my -”

 “No.” He shook his head quickly, eyes on your outstretched hand. “What you saw? What you said? That’s yours. I don’t need to know about it. The only thing that matters is that  you …” He leaned closer, smiling. “You found the heart of your lightsaber.” Luke glanced up at you, his sandy hair falling over one eyebrow. “Let’s get back, if you can manage on the speeder, otherwise we’ll camp here today. Then you can begin building.” 

 “I’m good. We should get back, I wonder if Grogu’s….” You winced at the thought that he might have found an empty bed the previous night, wondering what he’d think - where he would think you were - and gestured past Luke. “Plus it’s got to be light out, if it’s been so long, so that will keep me awake. We should get back.” You closed your eyes. “Maybe the Mandalorian returned your message while we were gone. And if that’s the case then -”

 “Then we need to hurry.” Luke smiled at you, giving you a single nod of his head. “I agree with you.” He didn’t say anything else; instead the man turned away from you and began heading back the way you’d come from the previous night, quickly disappearing into the darkness. 

---

Tag list is OPEN. Please feel free to ask to be added!

Magnetic/Din Djarin Tag List:

@the-blind-assassin-12 @pheedraws @alraedesigns @malionnes @deceiverofgodss @thisisparadisemylove @siegfriedkingsglaive @valkblue @hehe-oof @jynrumbly​ 

[korpuskat]

Start Game [Tomura Shigaraki/Reader] - Part 2

[Ao3 Mirror]

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,781 Summary: A week after your last outing, you finally meet up with Tomura again. He’s injured and won’t say why- but hey, at least he’s down to game again. Contains: dry humping, dirty talk, praise kink ===== [Part 1] [You Are Here] [Part 3] =====

“You’ll like Cloud Seven. Each of the characters has a unique Quirk, makes for more varied gameplay.” He says, dragging you by your arm- his left hand wrapped around your bicep. “There’s even one that doesn’t use his quirk at all.” Your head is still spinning, kind of nauseous from your unconventional mode of travel. A portal- someone’s quirk- that’s all he’d tell you. A friend’s. But to be honest, you’d kind of figured he was his only friend. Though... who else had he been hanging out with for the last week if not friends? You knew enough that he wasn't close with his family (one too many unanswered questions left you drawing your own conclusions).

You didn’t even really get to look around where you’d ended up, staggering as your mind fuzzed as though sea sick. It’s all you could do to cling to Tomura’s slender arm as he guided you into a dark hallway, then into a room-

You raise your free arm to shield your eyes. In the pitch black, the bright blue light from a computer screen burns at your retinas. Tomura guides you in, shuts the door behind him, and flips a switch. In one corner of the room a floor lamp lights up, a soft yellow barely overtaking the monitor’s light. It’s a mess- trash and dirty laundry cover nearly every visible inch of flooring, routes between the door, bed, and the desk are carved out and well worn.

Tomura passes by you, grabs two controllers from in front of his television and touches a button on the console. It beeps as he crosses the room again, sitting on the edge of his bed- unmade, the sheets rumpled from last night- and scoots back across the narrow mattress so he can lean back against the wall. Right in the middle. You fidget awkwardly for a moment, but the colors in the room swirl as the console’s menu appears- and Tomura sets the other controller to the side.

It’s not like you haven’t been closer.

Swallowing your fears- because if there was one emotion Tomura could bring out in you, it was that giddy, untouchable fearlessness- you mimic his motions, settling onto the bed with the wall at your back, legs stretched out in front of you.

Like this, his thigh presses against yours. Warm, but firmer than you imagined. He doesn’t seem to mind, hardly even pays attention as he navigates over to the game, and the loading theme begins. Then- shifts. He hums, sits up, and sets his controller on your lap.

“What’s…?” You start, but blink and watch as he pulls at his gloves. He works the fabric over his wrist up in careful movements, never entirely grabbing it. Black cloth slides over his thumb, only then does he pull it from the fingertips. You blink, look at his uncovered hands.

White bandages extend out from under his sleeves, wrapped tight around his wrists. You gasp, cover your mouth with your palm. “What happened?” On his right hand they extend up over his palm, curling around the bases of his fingers to keep them in place. They look dirty, frayed at the edges from how long it’s been since he changed them. But his fingers look-

You swallow and look away.

It’d been a week ago. This was the first time you’d seen him since then, the first time your mind has buzzed in confusion and wonder and all your thoughts are narrowing down into will he do that again? It was intoxicating being around him before, your mysterious gamer friend- you’d thought about him like that more than a few times, but you’d always thought he wasn’t interested. Not until--

He drops the gloves onto a nightstand, covering up a digital clock. You glance at them and then up to-

Another wave of heat passes over your face and you want to sink into the bed, into Tomura’s bed- and he’s looking at you. A crimson iris perched in the corner of his eye, looking straight at you and your crisis- and, oh he’s reaching for you, that same hand you’d been thinking about passing over your lap- your heart is slamming in your chest, pulse quick and weak and you think you may just pass out-

And Tomura picks up the controller with three fingers. His eye slides back to the screen, the main menu finally loaded. All you can hear is your own breathing, the blood pumping in your ears. He cringes, shifts the controller in his right hand, adjusting to keep his index finger outstretched. Your hands tremble as you take your own controller, the screen splitting into the co-op mode.

.

.

.

The bright light of the television burns into your eyes- half blinks white two, three times in simulated muzzle flashes before the fake radio buzzes. ”Targets eliminated. Got ‘em.” Red text, bright and bold appears on screen, Mission Accomplished.

You let loose a little relieved laugh- not that you had much to worry about with Tomura as your partner. “Nice shot at the end.”

“Easy.” Tomura says flatly, unimpressed. “We haven’t done anything since then.”

And it’s only then you realize he’s not looking at the victory screen, the chart displaying the laughable difference in your stats. In the low, flashing light you’re back in the arcade. Turned entirely to face you, his eyes opened wide in the darkness, soaking in all the light to see you- his awkward hold on his controller persisting as he begins to shift.

Your hands tremble, but all you can do is squeeze the plastic tighter in your hands. “What do you mean…?” Your voice comes out breathy, weaker than you imagined. "You said you were busy last week. I- I wasn't avoiding you, if that's what you're worried about. I..." Your cheeks burn, "I like spending time with you."

The controller bounces on the mattress as he drops it. “Is that why you agreed to come here?” His tone changes, drops into that same restrained giddiness that had you spreading your legs for him before. It still works; an electric shiver shoots down your spine, nestles itself between your legs. Your mouth opens but no words form- and Tomura inches closer. “Coming over to a stranger’s house… That could be dangerous.”

Fear makes you shiver, but it is not fear that fans the flames just under your skin. “We’re not strangers,” You protest. It’s flimsy at best, a weak technicality. You don’t even know his last name, don’t even know where you are. That’s not what matters, you tell yourself. It takes everything in you to stop your lip from wobbling under his piercing gaze. “I… I trust you.”

A beat passes, a pause just long enough to make you wonder if that’s the wrong thing to say. Then his dry, damaged brow drifts up- and that electric gleam is back into his eyes, making his pupils expand out until there’s not a speck of red left. The trembling returns- and Tomura lays one hand just above your knee- index and pinky fingers lifted away from you.

You jolt, the thick muscle of your thigh tensing hard beneath his palm- his touch wavers before he’s murmuring half to himself, “Careful, careful…” His other hand lands on the controller, taking it from you with three fingers. “We don’t want any accidents, do we?” Your head is cotton-stuffed, his words do little more than making your brow pinch.

Without the controller to occupy your trembling hands, you splay them over his sheets, fingers spreading wide and pressing into the mattress. That’s fine by him- no resistance as he slides ever closer, until he’s nearly pressed up against you- but not quite. He hovers, touching nothing except where his hands still sit oddly, never quite fully laying his fingers on you. This close you watch as he breathes, his dry lips parted, tongue peeking out to try to wet them.

A hand touches your face, you know it’s his right with the rough bandages pressed to your cheek. “It’s okay.” He says, though you don’t know who it’s meant for. “It’s okay… let me just…” The pale skin of his throat bobs as he swallows and- he leans in.

He barely brushes your lips, the rough edges of his mouth catch on your own- and he takes the tiny gasp of shock as permission to do it again. This time, he’s bolder, his confidence growing exponentially- fully pressing scarred lips to you, moving in sloppy, unpracticed motions. Finally, your hands become your own again- one curling into his shirt, keeping him close, the other landing at his hip, your fingertips ducking under where the fabric has lifted, finding his skin cool beneath his clothes.

The contact makes your skin buzz- you’ve never touched him, not really. You’ve- you’ve never kissed him- but he struggles to breathe in and his chest expands against your palms, his tongue finds its way behind your teeth and all you can do is hold onto him. It’s already too much, his presence, his attention overwhelming you in the dark of his room.

“Come here,” He tugs at your pants with his left hand. “Lay down.”

Perhaps you should be ashamed how readily you’re moving your shaking body, but his voice has you feeling weightless. He shifts his long limbs as you lower yourself down to his sheets, your head nearly hanging off the foot of his bed. He looms over you, mouth open in a pant, practically drooling as he stares down with lust-glazed eyes. He could ask anything of you, anything-

“I hurt my hand.” Tomura swallows loudly- and your universe narrows down to his fingertips ghosting along the edge of your shirt.

“That’s…” The words fade on your tongue. “That’s okay.” You stroke your thumb against his side- feel the muscles of his abdomen constrict, watch how his brow lifts at your touch. Your face burns, embarrassment makes you turn your gaze away. “We don’t have to… do anything.”

Tomura whines. Whatever space was between you is gone all at once- his elbows collapsing onto the bed. “I want to,” His nose prods at your chest, soft hair falling across your face. His next inhale shudders, “I want you.” Heat rushes in your veins, gathers between your legs- and Tomura shifts again, works his way up your body until his mouth sits next to your ear and your head fills with his low, rasping breathing.

Until his hips move. Through so many layers of clothes, he’s hard and pressed right up against you, slotted between your legs. “Can you feel it?” Right against your ear. Low and rumbling- it’s not a question. He already knows, knows by the way your fingers violently twist into his shirt, your nails sink into the skin over his ribs. Knows by the way your hips lift on their own, a tiny, desperate movement that comes without your permission.

“I want to touch you…” His breath shudders. It starts off with stuttering, stiff movements- as though he’s trying to stop himself from rolling his hips down against you over and over. Like the first was for show, just to make you squirm beneath him and now- now he can’t stop. The motions smooth out as he goes. No longer jerking and forceful, like he’s trying to fuck you through your clothes, but firm and continuous. You can’t complain; your pussy sings with every drag. “Want to…” He drives against you with abandon, cock pressing between your legs- “Want…” He gasps, but he’s already lost the thought, his mouth moving without thought. “Want… oh, fuck.”

Your legs tighten around him, draw him closer, calves pulling at the backs of his thighs. Air hisses through his teeth- pain. You stiffen, start to sit up- and Tomura is gone in an instant. He reels back onto his heels for only a moment- and then his arms are forcing their way under your knees, his hands held in tight fists. Your breath catches- seeing your legs lifted up to rest on his shoulders- and he’s on you again.

Folded in half, there’s little you can do but take how his grinds against you. Rutting hard, all you can do is mewl and sink into his mattress, rock uselessly into each thrust. “You’d want it just like this-” He grunts, shifts his left arm- but doesn’t miss how you moan beneath him, nod thoughtlessly because yes- Tomura on top of you, holding you down, whispering in your ear all the things he’ll do to you. His expression softens, his face coming back to hide between your jaw and shoulder. “You’re so good, so good to me. Letting me touch you-”

“I like it.” You whimper, clutch at him. “Oh, gods, Tomura, please-”

“You want…” Tomura hesitates, licks his lips. “You want to be good for me?”

You whine, nod frantically- more than anything you want to make him happy, want to tell him you’d do anything for him, if only your mouth could put words together again. If his hips would just stop for a moment-

“That’s right.” He coos, pulls his face back. Framed by waves of his light hair, his cheeks are burning red. “Then be good and cum for me. Let me watch you.”

That’s all it takes to have your teeth sinking into your lip, every nerve in your clit set alight. It’s not the same as his mouth- those precise, tortuous movements with the tip of his tongue, but the weight of him on top of you- knowing he was getting off on this too- it’s enough. The dam breaks, liquid pleasure rushes through your abdomen- makes your thighs twitch and spasm against his chest.

Your lips part- to moan, to praise him, you aren’t sure- and his left hand catches your chin. Pinned with his index finger and thumb, he holds your face still- his teeth catch your bottom lip and bites. His teeth sink into your soft mouth, drag the thin skin between incisors- and all you can do is keen, ride out the wave of your orgasm against the firm shape of his cock.

You’re still trembling when he lets go, pants hot and damp against your cheek, “That’s it,” He groans, eyes pinching closed. “So good, perfect for me- mine.” You whimper, nod again, choke out his name- “Mine, mine, all mine.” And every muscle goes stiff, his hips stuttering in their pace- and through his hair you watch as his face draws in tight, the damaged skin of his brow pushing together over his eyes-

And his mouth drops open, eyes cracking open just enough for you to make out the crimson of his iris, staring down at you through his thin lashes. “Mine,” He repeats, low and quiet, his lips barely moving. You nod wordlessly, release your hold on his shirt and side to cup his thin face. Shock makes his pupils recede into pinpricks, before softening again, letting his eyes fall shut once more.

He groans and rolls off you (much to the relief of your aching thighs) laying on his side, pressed between you and the wall. You waste no time in turning towards him, huddled in close. He pants, his mouth opened, lips cracked and scarred- and you still so badly want to kiss him. It almost feels forbidden now- he’s initiated everything. But perhaps…

You crane your neck upwards- and as his eyes crack open just enough to watch you move in. His chin dips, lets you find his lips- and it’s like the first. Soft, unhurried- his left palm presses over your cheek, the tips of four fingers curl under the line of your jaw, his thumb hovering away from your skin. You break away only to sigh.

“Are you hungry?”

You blink, look up to him. “Um, yeah, actually.” The moment is lost, but you can’t help the smile that slips over your face. “Though, I think we’ve kind of done this backwards.”

“Backwards?”

“You’re supposed to take me to dinner first.” You grin, smooth your hand over his shirt. “But it’s okay. I, ah, like how this turned out.”

He watches for a long moment, before the corners of his mouth also lift, lift until his teeth peek out from his pale lips. “A date. What did you have in mind?”

Putting a name to it makes your cheeks heat again. You fumble, arch on the bed to dig around in your pockets until you can find your phone. It unlocks easy- and Tomura watches as you type in the search bar. “I dunno. Let’s see what’s around here.”

=====

If you like my writing, please consider reblogging or leaving me a tip!

=====

Tag List:

@annonymousbread

[evermorehaikyuu]

Day 1

Title: Broken Heart

Note: As it is Angstember, I will warn you from this moment on: none of these angsts have a happy ending. That’s it, enjoy the ride.

˜”*°•.˜”*°•.•°*”˜.•°*”˜ 

There was nothing left to say. There was nowhere to go. It was all ruined and all because he couldn’t repress what he was thinking. Maybe honesty was the best policy, but in this situation, honesty made him lose the person he loved the most. 

All Kenma could do is sit in his gamer chair, his knees pressed to his chest as he started streaming. However, everyone realized that he wasn’t as sharp as he was the week before. Something had clearly happened and it showed on his face and how he was playing. His mind was whirring as he shook his head, trying to get his head in the game. But if loving someone was hard, letting them go was soul-destroying.

“Hey, Kenma, I found someone to play with us!” Kuroo bounced inside of his room as he was playing another game that his parents had given him the day before. 

Kenma looked up to see someone around his age peeking through the door, her face timid as she glanced at the floor. He was immediately reminded of Kuroo when they first met. All he could do was glance at her, a question in his eyes.

“This is Y/N L/N, she’s my new neighbor! Come on, let’s go play something, Kenma.”

He hesitated for a second, but it was Kuroo. Kuroo was his only friend and if he wanted him to play with the two of them, it was fine by him. Until he realized that they were playing volleyball.

“No, you have to put your arms together like this!” Kuroo stated, helping Y/N out. She frowned before looking at Kenma and blurting, “Do you get this at all?”

He was taken aback as those were the first words she had ever directed towards him. He was amused at her disgruntled face, reminded of his own expression when he started playing. Without saying a word, he walked over and started aiding Y/N in her position. That was how their first meeting went without a hitch.

~

“Kenma, I have a new game, do you want to come over and play with me?” 13 year old Y/N grinned at him, scrapes on her hands and legs.

He studied her scrapes, small tan Band-Aids covering her injuries. Reckless. But he still cared for her, even if he hardly showed it. “What happened to you?”

“Kuroo and I were playing soccer.” She picked at one of the Band-Aids on her hand, frowning before looking up at him expectantly, her eyes lit up like spotlights as she watched his reaction.

Without thinking twice about it, he nodded and headed to her place afterschool, settling down next to her as they started to play their game. About a few hours of this, Kenma had won multiple times and put down his controller. “Again?”

Silence. He waited for a second before looking over and finding that Y/N had fallen asleep. It was a weary day and yet she had offered to play a new game with him, knowing that he liked video games. With a sigh, he reluctantly put his jacket over her and went back home.

That’s when the tiniest spark began.

~ 

“You’re the setter for Nekoma?” Y/N asked, an arm slung over her knee as she tilted her head towards him in curiosity.

“Yeah.” He turned his head away from her, his hand clasping the psp in his jacket pocket. “It’s supposed to be the position where you don’t move that much.”

Y/N chuckled, staring at him with admiration in her eyes. She was so proud of how far he had come in a few years. She had never doubted him for a second, knowing that there was so much potential inside of Kenma Kozume. “You’re amazing, you know that, right? I never questioned if you could make it or not.”

With a gentle kiss to his temple, she stood up and walked back to her place, leaving him with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Did Y/N blatantly express how she felt towards him or was he just bringing his hopes up? But since that day, he didn’t understand why his heart rate sped up when he was near her or heard her name.

After winning a game, Y/N walked over to him and merely said, “Come with me, I want to show you something.”

Kenma followed her without thinking twice about it. She led him through the city, the lights bright and joyful, bringing a sense of calm to him only because he was with Y/N. As he peered at her, he looked at her eyes, reflecting all of the lights in the city as she walked through with confidence in her step. It seemed so long ago that she was bashful when they first met. She changed, for the better and it was something admirable to him.

The walk was no longer than thirty minutes. Usually he’d internally want to go home right away, but she was an exception. Going through cherry blossom trees, she plucked a blossom off of a low-lying branch, smiling down at the flower in her hand. She looked up at a hill with an enormous tree on it. Quickly running up, she beamed down at him. “Come on, Kenma, it’s a better sight up here!”

He didn’t change his pace, yet he reached the top of the hill and observed the area, trying to see where Y/N was. He immediately spotted her sitting down, her back to the trunk of the tree as she stared up at the stars. Kenma sat down next to her, looking up at the constellations as well. The stars reflected on the body of water across from them, making the scene picturesque and like something out of an art frame.

“I’m proud of you.” She muttered after a few moments. He peered at her and she continued. “You’ve worked so hard to get where you are and look at you now. You’ve changed. But the change made you who you are right now. It’s impressive, it’s been an inspiration to me.” Her face had a faraway expression, yet her hand crawled over to his and interlaced their fingers. Kenma did not have anything against having her hand in his.

“I hope you know that no matter what you do, I’ll be by your side, no matter what.”

~

“What? So now you’re ignoring me? Kenma, we’ve been in the same house for years now.” Y/N said, huffing as he walked to his office. He never took a break and it annoyed her. Along with that, he never looked her way, not even when she had made his favorite food.

“Just let me finish this and I’ll come back out.” He shut the door, leaving Y/N alone with his untouched food on the table.

The same excuse every time. He was either too busy or too tired. They were supposed to be working together, helping the other out as much as they could. Every relationship had their rocky parts, but it seemed as if it never stopped in their case. It made Y/N feel hopeless. Everytime she saw Kenma, her heart lifted and started pounding, her fondness for him never changing. Even now, she still loved him, although he seemed distant.

Love was a fragile thing. Yet she was grasping to the bits she could hold on to. The price of love was something awful, yet blissful. There wasn’t a lot she could do, but start letting him go slowly.

As the days went on, she found herself suffering silently, bingeing shows for days on end and her sadness getting worse and worse. It felt as if Kenma was never there, even though he was a few steps away. Time passed through like butterflies, fluttering away from her hands. Until she was sick of it and couldn’t resist her outburst.

“Kenma, can you come out here for a second?” Y/N asked with calm, her tone efficiently coming across as irate to anyone that could hear. 

The aforementioned man came out of his room, his hair tied up in its usual messy bun. From the look on his face, Y/N had interrupted him from doing something important. Then again, that was his go-to excuse.  “What?” That was it. He wasn’t sugarcoating how he felt and it stung her. 

“We have to talk.”

Usually, those words would bring some sort of foreboding, but not to him. He had expected this and yet never wanted to do anything about it. He put the psp back in his hoodie pocket, his eyes examining her. It was clear he wanted to be anywhere but there. 

“You told me--no, you’ve been telling me that we were okay, that we were fine. So explain one thing to me, Kenma, why have you been avoiding me?”

He stayed there quietly, not realizing what was going on. He wasn’t stupid, but he couldn’t see the obvious thing. “I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve been busy.”

“That’s always your excuse. We’ve never gone out for something, we’ve never stayed in the same room together.”

“Maybe because you always leave the room when I walk in.” His temper was not short, yet something about the conversation made him overthink. Overthinking was not his forte, nor was it a state of mind that he was usually in. Overthinking made him frustrated because he was the analytical one, he knew the results of something, so it wasn’t his fault that he was thinking that way.

“You’re pinning this on me?” She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Kenma, I’m not the one avoiding you, you’re the one that’s locked up in your office all day! I don’t want to disturb you, but I don’t want to be the one to initiate everything.” Her voice cracked the slightest bit at the end, but she cleared her throat.

It didn’t escape Kenma. In fact, it made his blood boil more. This wasn’t a situation to be weak in and yet she was showing signs of weakness. This wasn’t supposed to happen. “Why are you arguing about this with me?”

“You’re completely missing the point! We’re supposed to help each other!”

Blank.

“I’m the one supporting you, why can’t you do the same for me?”

Unforgivable.

“Kenma...please….”

Unjustifiable.

“Tell me what to fix, how to fix us.” Her face held a plea, but in her eyes, it was all clear. She wanted him to apologize but apologize for what? Being busy? Working so that they could both have a good life? He couldn’t hold back his next words.

“Don’t you get it?! I’m working hard for me, I’m doing what I should’ve been doing a long time ago!” He snapped, his face contorted in anger. He took a deep breath and with a growl, he stated, “There is no us, there never was.”

It was a split second later when he realized what he said and his eyes widened as he saw Y/N’s eyes glimmer with tears before she blinked them back, her breath coming out shakily. “None of this was real. I should’ve known. You’re just like the rest of them.”

He tried to reach out for her and she ripped her arm out of his grip, slamming the door to their room.

That night, he felt an emptiness creeping amongst the house and he peeked inside of the bedroom before completely opening the door. His eyes flitted everywhere, his heart twisting inside of his chest. Everything that was hers….everything was gone. The clothes he had bought for her still hung in the closet, along with the hoodie she had stolen from him whenever she felt lonely. All of the items he had bought for her...left behind.

No, she can’t have left, she can’t. Kenma thought as he dug through the room, trying to search for something that would give him an idea of where she was but nothing. She was gone. He had done the thing he never wanted to do in his life. 

His love had left. She wasn’t going to be there for him when he started breaking apart.

~

It had been a week since the incident and he had not heard from her or about her. His hands shook on his console as he swallowed and continued talking quietly into his headset, but his skill did not match that of a week ago. 

It was funny, he thought, how love could be so fragile and yet humans had a tendency to leap headfirst without worrying about the repercussions. Then again, that was what he did when he fell in love with Y/N.

After the stream, usually he’d head right into editing, but not today. His heart hurt too much. She meant everything to him and he gave her nothing in return. They had been together for years and her love for him had never faltered. It wasn’t her fault. It was his.

Walking through the city, he was always with Y/N as they went to their place by the tree, through the cherry blossom. He remembered staring at her while her eyes looked up in wonder, every part of her easily awed by the bright pink efflorescence around them. He remembered her reaching for his hand and interlacing their fingers without thinking twice about it.

So many memories. 

All of them now gone. 

As he walked up the hill, he couldn’t help but hope she was up there, waiting for him with her hand out. In fact, when he was up there, he had a gentle and expectant smile, only to realize the cold and hard truth: she wasn’t there awaiting him. 

Sitting by the trunk of the tree, he looked up at the stars, but they didn’t shine as bright as before. Without her, it was bleak, it felt like he had no hope.

Kuroo had asked him what was going on, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer it. 

Kenma brought a little black box out of his hoodie pocket, rubbing his thumb across the velvety cube. Inside was a 24 karat ring, simple but with intricate patterns weaved inside of it, a metaphor to their love. It was supposed to be opened for her to take, for them to create a new life together. Yet he had messed it up.

He held the box in his hand as he pulled his knees to his chest, burying his face in them. His vision started blurring with tears, his throat feeling like it was being scraped by a fork. Hot tears started running down his cheeks as his mouth quivered as he tried to hold back his sobs as the memories raced through his head.

All the comfort he got from Y/N, he wouldn’t get it ever again. He could only comfort himself from then on. Choked wails came out of him, anguish piercing him like bullets. 

He stayed like that for a while before wiping his ongoing tears away. Standing up, he clasped the tiny box in his hand, staring at it before setting it by the trunk. Hopefully whoever found it would be able to love their significant other like he couldn’t.

Taking the first step was the hard part. Walking away was the laborious component. 

No matter what he did, he couldn’t love her. He tried so hard to do so and it backfired on him. He walked alongside the city, everything dark around him.

Love was a fragile thing. So fragile anything could rip it in half. He ripped her heart apart. And he'd have to live with that for the rest of his life.

Taglist: @skyguy-peach​ @jovialnoise​ @versatilewindow​ @tsukiibaka​ @jaegersblogh​ @kodzuken-pie​ @sugusho​ @tired-penguinn​

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Seahorse (Spencer Reid x Trans Male!Reader) NSFW

Summary: Spencer and Y/N have always wanted kids. Here’s the time Spencer was brave enough to broach the subject of how they would go about it. Plus a few more times after that.

AN: @imagining-in-the-margins​ came up with the idea of Spencer’s trans bf having a baby amidst man many many prompts for Spencer x male!reader to indulge my daydreaming and I ran with this prompt. 

Thank you to @writing-in-april​ for being my beta on this one! Couldn’t have done it without you, beebs <3

This is the NSFW version. If you are under the age of 18, please do not read! Here’s a SFW version of the story.

Word Count: 5.7k words 

Content Warnings: Trans man is pregnant, coming off testosterone, impregnation kink, pre-op sex, allusions to Prison!Spencer.

Masterlist // Gif Credit // SFW Version

The halls echoed with the unbridled joy of little ones calling out “Nemo” and “Dory” at the sight of the clown and surgeon fishes. Spencer bounced on the balls of his feet as he looked around the next room in search of his goal. He stopped when Y/N spared a look in his direction, away from the tank that had captured his attention for a solid five minutes.

“JJ sent me a video of a shrimp solving a Rubik’s Cube the other day.” He grinned.

Ah yes. JJ had also sent Spencer a video of little Henry swinging a mini softball bat about just like Spencer had done. For one game and one game only he had insisted, despite Y/N’s own resolve that he looked hot in the kit.

The walk through the tunnel was the slowest slog Spencer felt, but it was the only attraction in the aquarium to properly distract him. Lights above them filtered through the water, bouncing off the painted walls of the tank in a blue glow. Various species in a perfectly balanced ecosystem swam around one another without a care in the world. A particular stingray flapped its body against the glass, and three children nearby laughed at its funny shaped mouth.

“I used to sit on my mum’s shoulders when we walked through these. Touch the ceiling as if I could pet the fishes.” And Y/N’s hands stretched up over him, his eyes following a shark that slinked overhead, “When I got too old, I’d just press my nose against the glass and stare back.”

Nerves returned at the sight of a circular tank in the centre of the room holding something familiar. Seahorses curled their tails around the plants that waved together like a crowd at a concert. Little babies bobbed about the parents, translucent and wriggly.

Spencer coughed and spoke while Y/N took in the creatures, “Did you know that the seahorse is the only animal where the male carries the children?”

Suddenly his throat was dry; the words he’d been rehearsing dragged to a halt. Y/N turned to face him properly, guiding Spencer to the left as a little girl stood on tiptoe to see the seahorses as he continued to struggle.

“Well, that might not be true actually.” Spencer choked a little on his words, his voice’s volume steadily declining into a soft whisper, “I know that some human men can have babies.”

Y/N’s face clouded with doubt for a moment. Then it clicked and his face cleared, “Spencer, tell me what you’re getting at.”

Spencer twisted his hands around one another, “Have you ever thought about us having kids… biologically?” He watched Y/N’s Adam’s apple dip as he swallowed hard

“You mean like me being pregnant?”

“Yes, have you considered it an option for us?”

The conversations of other aquarium patrons were forgotten as Y/N took his gaze away from Spencer. His eyebrows were low as he considered his words carefully. Y/N always thought about the implications of what he was saying, maybe a little too much. Spencer could be biased though; his impatience did not mix well with his anxieties.

Eventually, Y/N turned back with a brave face and said, “I’d have to think about it some more.”

“Ok.” Spencer nodded, his chin wobbling a little.

There was hope though: he needed to think “some more”. Implying Y/N had thought about this before.

Near the end of their trip, Spencer did find himself in a staring contest with a little seahorse plushie with large eyes and an anatomically inaccurate tongue hanging out. In all honesty, it was kind of ugly.

“Spencer, come on. You know how I get around stuffed animals.”

How empathetic his boyfriend really was, projecting feelings of love onto the inanimate objects then making the excuse that he had to buy it now.

Spencer did have to leave the toy behind though. Out into the sunlight of the parking lot, he winced before he put his sunglasses back on.

“Park?” Y/N offered his hand and smiled. It was an olive branch, something to say that Spencer’s query had not ruined their day out together.

Spencer accepted and squeezed his hand. “Park.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Y/N had a hand on their lower belly, some space between the fingers as if there was an invisible bump there to accommodate. His head had tilted while he thumbed over the air.

As drowsy as Spencer was from work, his mind was focused without a distraction on what he had seen through the ajar bathroom door. He could barely pay attention to the Doctor Who episode Y/N put on. In fact, he doubted anything could take his attention away from the idea of having a child with-

“What do you think about me being pregnant?”

Spencer’s eyes shot wide open, then they were covered slightly by his inquisitive eyebrows in his attempt find an answer. Especially with Y/N looking on him while he waited for him.

“I think you’d be so beautiful carrying our baby. But if you wouldn’t be comfortable, then I wouldn’t make you. We still have surrogacy, fostering, adoption to consider,” was his answer. Never a lie, but the truth was always softened.

Seemingly satisfied, Y/N looked back at the episode. But Spencer couldn’t wait anymore, forgetting about anything else in the world except for this.

“What do you think, Y/N?” His body leant in towards his boyfriend’s.

Squirming in their spot on the couch, Y/N hummed before he answered, “I froze some of my eggs before I started my transition. I also sold some, for a down payment on a house or my wedding.”

Spencer’s heart thrilled at the possibilities. A house together? Matching suits at their wedding? He almost neglected to think about the fact that pregnancy was suddenly a very viable option for their future.

Regardless of Spencer’s many, many thoughts, Y/N continued, “And I thought that perhaps, if I found the right person, I would like to carry their child.” His palm opened up to him and Spencer instantly took it. “I know you’re the right person, but I’m not sure I want a baby now.”

“Of course,” Spencer lifted Y/N’s hand to his lips, “Whenever we’re both ready.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Spencer pushed the dirty bedsheets into the washing machine; it wasn’t that big a deal. If the blood didn’t come out, then they could always buy a new set. Although they should really be saving money for decorating the nursery.

“Spenceerrrr.”

As the machine rumbled into life, Spencer returned to Y/N, curled up on the sofa with a heat pad to his gut. No amount of warnings from their doctor could have prepared Spencer for how emotionally straining it was to see his boyfriend suffering. Y/N was taking this a lot harder than Spencer – and rightfully so, it was his body that was changing.

“Why did I have to have such strong paternal instincts?” He grumbled with his eyes still closed.

Spencer let out a laugh, but it was cut off quick when Y/N whimpered loudly. He knelt down before him and cupped his face. Y/N’s cheeks were warm; his hands clung to Spencer’s wrists like a lifeline.

“What do you need?” Spencer asked softly and Y/N sighed, keening into his cooler palms.

“Can you tell me I’m handsome please?”

“You are the most handsome man in the world, and I adore you every minute of every day.” Spencer kissed Y/N’s pouting lips gently, “Handsome inside and out, I never wanna think about life without you. You just make everything in my life better.”

His fingers moved to brush away a tear that slipped down Y/N’s face and over the ridge of his nose. But he missed and it dripped onto the pillow.

“You’re doing so much for us, for our baby.”

“It’s not even real yet,” Y/N sniffled. His hands finally released Spencer and pressed the heat pad into him.

“It’s gonna be.” Spencer bumped their noses together, “We’re gonna be dads.”

A hoarse laugh met with a hint of a groan in Y/N’s chest, “Yeah. We’re gonna be dads.” That sound and those words were all Spencer needed to feel better. But he wished the same could be said for Y/N. The only thing he could provide was a promise of future relief:

“How about we order in tonight?”

“Ugh, yes.” Y/N burrowed his face into the pillow.

When their bed was made up properly, Spencer and Y/N cuddled together. Unfortunately, Y/N was restless, trying to find a comfortable position while his painkillers kicked in. Spencer kept his complaints to himself, allowing himself to be shifted around in Y/N’s hunt for relief. Honestly it was the least he could do.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“The reproductive process begins when a male and a female seahorse do daily pre-dawn dances, intertwining their tails and swimming together.”

“Well, it’s nearly nine, so definitely past dawn.”

“I’m trying to be romantic, Y/N.”

Y/N adjusted the bed sheets around his middle, “We don’t have tails either and - if I remember correctly - your last sexy swimming encounter ended poorly.”

Spencer flushed at the memory of Lila in the pool; another memory turned the pink to red. Y/N had laughed so hard his gut ached when Spencer told him about how awkward he had been around Lila. This was before the context of the case had been disclosed, promptly removing the space for any more laughter.

“Baby?”

Y/N was touching his face. Spencer’s head emptied itself of all thoughts of Lila. This was not what he wanted to be thinking about right now. Y/N’s laughter maybe, but none of the rest.

Tucking a curl behind his ear, Y/N leant in close, “If I’m ready, and you’re ready, you know what happens.” His eyes wandered down Spencer’s face, “And it’s not swimming together.”

But, just as their lips were about to touch, Y/N jerked away from him. “Wait, I gotta brush my teeth first.”

Spencer moaned with indignation while falling backwards onto the bed as Y/N disappeared from view. A few seconds later, he heard the electric toothbrush buzzing. With a burst of energy, he stripped himself down to his underwear – a petty way to get back at Y/N who had made it very clear that undressing Spencer was one of his favourite parts of their sex life.

When Y/N returned, with the minty freshness he apparently desired more than his own boyfriend, he said “What? You already did this morning?”  His eyes looked down at Spencer’s chest and his lips twitched into a pout. 

Spencer held back his grin, keeping his triumph at retaliation to himself as he said, “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard, Spencer.”

And with that, Y/N crawled onto the bed, over Spencer’s body and kissed him silly.

Any remaining thoughts of sleep were dispelled as the men took turns worshipping each other’s bodies. Impatience chased them in their desires, deliciously enticing them to push the pleasure further and faster. While Y/N kissed his neck, Spencer’s thoughts fixated on how perfect his boyfriend felt pressed up next to him. He couldn’t wait anymore, he just had to get inside him.

“Let me put a baby in you, Y/N.”

A whine passed through Y/N’s lips at his words as he adjusted his grasp on Spencer’s body, a hand in his hair to pull him back in.

“Do it.” He whispered into the space between them, “Please.”

As quick as they appeared, the insecurities Spencer and Y/N were holding released. Their moans harmonised when Spencer finally pushed into Y/N. His legs wrapping around his skinny waist, luring him in. Spencer was enraptured by the feeling of his boyfriend’s weight against him. God, he wanted to go slow, appreciate Y/N for all he was worth. But his greed got the better of his intentions, eating up all of Y/N’s encouragements – both the words and the noises snatched from his throat.

When they were both spent, Spencer and Y/N sagged into the mattress, wrapped up in each other and the covers. The burning warmth of their bodies drew up two soporific smiles on their faces.

“You know, a seahorses’ body shape means that they’re inept swimmers, and they can actually die of exhaustion.”

Y/N poked Spencer’s sternum. “Is that your way of makin’ fun of my stamina? Give me a few minutes; I’ll be on you like a rash.”

Grinning at such a prospect, Spence continued, “They also mate for life monogamously.”

He felt two fingers touch his cheek, "Spencer, I love you and your endless fountain of knowledge.” Y/N paused to peck the corner of his lips, “But I’m not actually a seahorse. And, though I do plan to mate with you for life, if you wake me up before the sun is above the horizon for a ‘dance’, I'm gonna suffocate you with my new body pillow.”

“Oh, you got your pillow?”

“It’s en route.” Hence why Y/N was content to use Spencer in lieu of said pillow.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

When Spencer disclosed to Hotch that he would need some time off because he and Y/N were considering having a kid, first thing on a Monday morning, Hotch didn’t let anything on. There was a hint of a hint of a smile though. His eye wandered to the school photo of Jack he kept on his desk, and he was greeted with the memory that Jack almost shared a name with Emily’s cat.

Naturally, Rossi found out next. Technophobe Spencer Reid had left his computer screen on a website for baby blankets, and Rossi had been the one to pass by first. After turning the monitor off, Rossi took Spencer aside in the break room and spoke about how wonderful it was that he was going to be a father. Then he kissed both his cheeks, leaving with misty eyes and a smile that he wouldn’t explain to Penelope passing by. Spencer blinked then finished making his coffee.

The next conference room meeting – the same day and just for an update on the paperwork deadline - Spencer simply decided to drop the information that he and Y/N were planning on having a kid as if it was his thoughts on their next unsub’s motivations were.

Three seconds of silence later and an uproar exploded.

From then on, the week was filled with pokes and ribbing at his upcoming parenthood. A peek into the future.

After making her a cup of coffee, Spencer sat opposite JJ at her desk and asked for advice. Her response: offering Spencer the opportunity to babysit Henry more. Obviously he accepted; more time with his godson was always a good thing. Then she went into how parenting was just a natural thing that he would know when the time came. Not very reassuring on its own, but with his best friend’s support, Spencer felt a smidgen better.

Penelope admitted that she had saved outfit ideas on Pinterest for Spencer – among other members of the BAU. When Spencer dared to enter her lair, she showed him several. Apparently that wasn’t even a dent in her collection, and she had already placed an order on a little bow tie. Spencer left before she tried to organise a shopping trip; neither Spencer nor Y/N were really fans of retail therapy.

Derek was teasing away, “Spencer and Y/N are gonna be baby daddies.” And every single time, Emily would join in. She liked to claim she was the reason Spencer was having a kid, reminding him of when JJ was pregnant. He had been incredibly weirded out by the baby kicking, but Emily had asked if he had considered having “baby geniuses” and he never gave an answer.

To be fair, Spencer never could have seen this coming. That made it all the better.

Apart from when Derek began supplying a realm of baby names, that varied from “oh that’s actually cute” to “oh my god, why would you even consider that a name for a real child?” Spencer was happy to rank them aloud for him.

The cat was only half out of the bag though.

Now Spencer had always been affectionate when he and Y/N were together. But the second it spilled into their public lifestyle, Y/N knew something was afoot. He was quick to pick up on this when he went to collect Spencer up for a chilled date night and Spencer kissed his cheek in clear view of the entire bullpen.

“You told them, didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t wait, but I do have my paternity leave arranged!”

The team swarmed to deliver their congratulations. And it was then that they revealed that they all thought that Spencer and Y/N were planning to adopt or look for a surrogate. Their embraces didn’t spoil the unexpected second part of their announcement; Y/N looked like he’d simply put on a few pounds rather than gained a baby bump beneath his button-up. Naturally, there was even more of a hubbub than before when they discovered that Y/N was already pregnant.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“Spencer, baby, you gotta calm it with the ocean theme.”

“But…” he pouted, holding up the finished mobile. Brightly painted sea creatures and chunks of coral dangled delicately in a circle. Sure enough, there were orange seahorses hovering about their habitat.

“It’s very sweet and I adore you for it,” Y/N kissed Spencer. “Not everything has to be related to seahorses though.”

“I guess not.” Spencer’s defeated tone did not last long. His face brightened and he whipped a blanket adorned with little seahorses and bubbles at the edges out of the cot. “But - this online store was taking commissions, and you always say support small businesses!”

Thank god Y/N had been the one in charge of painting the walls. An underwater mural would have been a step too far.

“You, Doctor Spencer Reid, are so…” Y/N’s hands were up in the air between them, searching for an adjective to describe Spencer appropriately. Then he settled those hands on his shoulders and Y/N kissed him.

When they drew away, Spencer spoke, “I’m so what?”

Y/N shrugged, “Just so.” He kissed him again, lingering longer than before and smiling as Spencer’s hands touched the obtrusive roundness of his belly that pressed into Spencer’s stomach. They were so close to meeting their little bubba.

“So are you.”

“Ok, don’t have a go, I bought this before the ban,” Y/N held out a gift, wrapped in sea-green tissue paper and bearing a blue bow.

Folding the blanket neatly over the bars of the cot, Spencer eagerly yet daintily unwrapped the present. As the tissue paper fell to the carpet, his hands trembled.  Eyes shining, he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the latest scan that was framed by tiny seahorses to thank Y/N.

There was more still, as Y/N explained, “There’s another behind there. I’ve seen the state of the one in your wallet.”

“It got caught at the bottom of the pouch,” Spencer said quietly, unbending the catch on the back of the frame. Sure enough, two of the same photographs spilled into his waiting palm. Truth be told, Spencer had already taped his torn photo together again and it was going to stay in his wallet. This spare would be in the post soon, on its way over to his mother. God, she was so excited to hold a baby again. The photo album would have to do for now.

“Could you maybe recant the ocean ban? Because I saw this and I knew it would really go well with the blanket and the mobile.”

Sighing, Y/N’s head tilted back, “What is it?”

The pretence of annoyance couldn’t be maintained towards Spencer’s face beaming back at him as he held up a wonky looking seahorse plushie. It wasn’t the same one he’d seen before. Some heartfelt child had taken pity on that one and given it a forever home. No, this was a perfect little present for his bubba.

Y/N thought so too as he let a grin settle onto his face.

“Ok, we can keep this one. But no more from now, alright?”

“I suppose. Besides, our baby isn’t our seahorse. You are!”

“You better not buy us a fish tank for my birthday.” A spike of nerves hit Y/N when he couldn’t quite catch Spencer’s eye to confirm his word. “Spencer? Promise me... Spencer!”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“How are you feeling, Baby Daddy?” Derek hugged Y/N who was reclined in his bed. His body pillow propped him up for his visitors.

Y/N wrinkled his nose, “For once, I wish I was a real seahorse and I could have just sneezed her out.”

Katia Nikola Reid definitely looked like she’d been sneezed on when she first entered the world, screaming her teaspoon-sized lungs out. Named after a hero of both Y/N and Spencer, one day old, bundled in a blanket, she scowled at Spencer’s dopey face looming over her while Emily held her tight.

A hoard of presents huddled in the corner of Spencer and Y/N’s bedroom. Emily thought it’d be a great idea to bring the baby an Ikea shark that was bigger than the child – and would definitely take up around half of her cot.

“She’s already got him wrapped around her pinky finger.”

“Yes, she does,” Spencer agreed giddily.

Next, Derek took her in his arms, untucking her arms from the blanket swaddle to give her a fist bump. He swayed her about the room while Katia relaxed a little more. The deep humming in his chest soothed the wrinkles on her forehead. Katia stretched as if to touch his face, and her mouth gaped at him.

“Aww, baby genius is ready for a nap.” Derek yawned too, “Who’s gonna micromanage me while I put her down?”

“Me! Me!” Y/N said, his enthusiasm muted by tiredness. Spencer leapt to his side, helping him out of bed, his teammates watching fondly as he did so. Y/N was allowed out the room first, Derek close behind and clicking his tongue at little Katia.

“She’s so sweet,” Emily said, her eyes on the pair’s backs and the dangling loose blanket from under Derek’s left arm. “I’m so happy for you both.” And she hugged Spencer tight; Emily always gave such good hugs. Good thing she was going to be around to give plenty to his daughter.

Then, down the hall, he heard Derek say with sarcastic resignation, “Oh Spencer, I thought Y/N was kidding when he said no more seahorse themed items.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Y/N ended up climbing into the bathtub with Katia. Even as she had grown into her chubby features, looking more and more like him and Spencer with each passing day, she was still so small.

Sitting up with her in his lap to help her out, Y/N lowered her into the warm water. His fingers tenderly rubbed the blackcurrant scented soap on her tummy, copying her expression as her tongue poked out between her gums. Her jerking legs rejected the water that Y/N’s hands cupped to rinse the bubbles off.

“Oh!” Y/N said in surprise as Katia sneezed, “Bless you.”

He heard the front door go, but he let Spencer follow the clues to their bathroom. Sure enough, the Doctor soon entered with his jacket shed, already rolling his sleeves up as he dropped onto the bathmat. A hand curled at Y/N’s chin as he kissed him before it stroked over the damp wisps of hair on Katia’s head.

“Hello. Hi.” His voice was that bit more delicate as he caught Katia’s eye and welcomed her big gappy smile.

Y/N tilted his head towards Spencer. “Good first day back?”

“I missed you both.” Spencer swished the water around by Katia’s side, “Isn’t it incredible how she’s experiencing all of this for the first time?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Spencer giggled away as the surrounding bathwater yellowed and Katia flapped her arms.

“Mind your language.” He said without any weight to his warning, “Our little girl can’t help it.” Then he stood and prepared her towel, a deep-sea blue that brought out her eyes. “Can I feed her tonight?”

“Of course, baby,” Y/N agreed as he lifted Katia out of the tub, where Spencer caught her and bundled her up with skilled speed. As he dried her off, Katia cooed away to herself. She did get a little pissed off when he dressed her up in a clean nappy and a sleepsuit, but Spencer couldn’t take her crumpled expression seriously without the tears.

The rocking chair had to be one of his best investments for his daughter’s room. It soothed Katia from the darkest of tantrums, a familiarity that swayed her. She fit so perfectly into Spencer’s arms and he fit so contentedly into the seat. Her eyelashes fluttered slowly shut as she drank more milk.

Not quite strong enough to sit up on her own, Katia leant fully into Spencer’s hand while he burped her – thankfully not for long. Then it was off into her cot.

Y/N watched him from the doorway as Spencer stroked the apple of Katia’s cheek while she drifted off into slumber. An effortless smile danced on his lips even as he switched the lamp off and welcomed Y/N over to see their sleeping babe.

“Love seeing you with her, Old Daddy Spencer teaching her everything she’ll need to know.” The kiss that followed was certainly not appropriate for their daughter’s nursery, so he took Y/N by the hand, leading him into the hallway. Even then, between the short pecks that pressed against his lips, Y/N continued to talk, “Is this how you felt while I was pregnant?”

Breath hot against his face, Spencer swallowed hard while Y/N said, “Seeing my handsome boyfriend carrying our child? I think I get it now.”

His hand slipped up Spencer’s shirt. It was crystal clear what his intentions were. Spencer was already close to panting when he pulled Y/N flush against him. With more desperation this time, they fumbled around their home until they made it to their bed. Spencer’s hands aligned with the stretch marks on Y/N’s thighs as he grabbed them and pulled him on top.

He huffed as Y/N’s teeth tugged and released his bottom lip, “We have to be quiet.”

“I can be quiet.” Y/N ripped off his shirt in one smooth movement, “Can you?”

Spencer couldn’t give an answer. Instead he pulled Y/N back against him as they fell onto their sheets.

Their first time in months, it didn’t last very long, but it was exactly what they needed.

 ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 The biggest surprise of the evening was that Rossi put down his drink to hold Katia. To be fair though, he had already had a few. Hence why he was singing and dancing around the garden with Katia in his arms. What a sight to behold, it eased the pain of Derek and Hotch’s absence, their own kids to take care of now.

Eventually Rossi relented, allowing Penelope to take Katia, turning to Y/N who had kept a watchful eye on his actions, “Promise me you’ll bring her over when she’s allowed to eat food.”

“I can’t give her your food for her first taste. She’ll be disappointed for the rest of her life,” Y/N joked, Rossi letting out a boisterous laugh that made Katia giggle in turn.

Penelope got to hold Katia next and show her off to Henry who was very intrigued to learn more about his godsister – Spencer told him that was who Katia was and it stuck. Henry became Penelope’s little shadow until they found a seat for him and a cushion for his lap to hold the baby. His joy unbridled at such a responsibility was adorable. He posed for many photos, while Katia for once stayed quiet.

Spencer was tired but the best kind of tired. A night in with friends, watching his boyfriend and his daughter be welcomed as much as he was, it wasn’t a surprise but it was always a delight. And this moment right now, Y/N cradling Katia’s with one hand squeezing her little foot before he planned to take her into Rossi’s office? What a life they had cultivated together. As he sipped his drink, the bliss in his tummy was not doused by it.

 ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Slouching on the sofa, Spencer watched with tired eyes as Katia stumbled in the room, her hands held in Y/N’s while she waddled between his legs. Her round face lit up at the sight of Spencer. Her pace increased beyond her abilities and Katia swung forward a little as she almost fell over.

“Oh dear,” Y/N cooed while Katia got back to her unstable feet. “That’s it, there we go.”

Spencer wished he had the energy to properly appreciate this moment, especially since both his boyfriend and their daughter were grinning like they shared a secret.

Katia dropped down onto her nappy-cushioned bottom then began to crawl over to Spencer’s feet. His hands, although dirty, rough and near ruined, accepted her offer and lifted Katia up into his lap. They stayed for safety around her middle, keeping her sat up straight as she looked on him with those big eyes. Eyes that were fresh and untainted copies of his own.

Y/N sat down beside Spencer, leaning in close to Katia so he caught her attention, “Hey, why don’t you show your Daddy what we’ve been practicing?”

Looking away from both her Dads, Katia drooled and pushed her fist in her mouth. Y/N waved until he and Spencer were back into her line of sight.

“Go on, sugar plum.” He pointed to Spencer, “Who’s that?” And he mouthed the answer to her.

“Dadadadadada.”

It was barely above a whisper. But her little grin, the top of a tooth poking out of the centre of her bottom gums, the way Katia looked at Spencer when she said it? A soft “oh” fell from Spencer’s lips and he clutched her close, her chubby arms barely reaching around his neck. His breath shaking out of him, he kissed the thick thatch of hair that had sprouted in his absence. He could feel Katia whispering “Dadadadada!” again.

“That’s me, Katia, I’m your Dada.” He sniffed back the sting in his eyes at the absolute proof that, in his time away from her, she had remembered him. When he moved away, placing Katia back into his lap, he closed his eyes as Katia’s scrabbling fingers rubbed across the tip of his nose.

Katia made a sudden attempt to stand, throwing her entire bodyweight towards Spencer. Spencer’s breath was snatched from his lungs and the tension remained even after he caught her with ease.

“You ok?” Y/N said and Spencer noticed that his hand was supporting his against Katia.

Spencer nodded weakly, “Hmm, you?”

“Better now.” Y/N let his hand go and began rubbing Spencer’s back in the same circular motions that Spencer rubbed Katia’s.

A tug snagged Spencer’s head to the left and he tutted as Katia grabbed at his cheek, “Ow, Katia, no.”

Instead, Katia took a fistful of the next thing she could find, which was Spencer’s hair, and she cried out an identical (if higher pitched) “Ow!”

“You hurt Spencer, not the other way around, Katia. Stop faking.” Y/N scolded playfully.

But Katia repeated Spencer’s outburst again, “Ow!”

Y/N lifted Katia’s little fist from Spencer’s hair, and it immediately clamped down on Spencer’s finger as an alternative to wave about.

Spencer kissed her hand, still so tiny and forgiving against his. He looked at Y/N, blinking fast as he half-heartedly said, “She’s so like you.”

The lock of hair Katia had yanked on curved around Y/N’s touch as he put it back into the disarray of fluff that stood around Spencer’s head, “That’s funny, because I think she’s so like you.”

 ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Tilting the pram onto its back wheels, Spencer pushed it up the step and into the aquarium tunnel. Katia lay back in her seat while gumming on her blanket corner. Her eyes were ready to take in the sights.

Y/N knelt before her, suffering a few kicks to his knees from Katia’s excitement. Her pram clips were undone. Little Katia was released into her Daddy’s arms then plonked up onto his shoulders. Her starfish-like hands pressed up against the glass. Her mouth became as wide as her eyes as she pointed at the stingray rippling past. She had seen fish before (Carl and Rosalind at home) but never like this.

“Yeah, that’s a ray, Katia,” Y/N rubbed his fingers over her back, his hands still to keep her steady.

Spencer pointed his finger right next to hers, “They use their electro-sensors, not their eyes, to find their meals which consists of shrimps, clams, and -”

Katia shrieked – interrupting his and she smacked her hands against the glass. No one seemed to mind though. Some patrons in the tunnel even chuckled at her behaviour. Like she needed any more encouragement, especially with Y/N grinning up at her and tickling her sides to elicit more laughter from his daughter.

When Spencer’s hand dropped, Katia shouted again. A little confused, he returned it and Katia took his finger in her hand then began dragging the tip across where the ray was.

“She wants it as a pet, what do you say, baby?”

“I thought you said not to get you any fish for your birthday.”

Eventually Katia was returned to the pram. Her head was thrown back to watch the rest of the tunnel go by. Then she hid her face in her blankie once they were out in the last few exhibits. There was a little tug of war to get her to let it go (she was a lot stronger than Y/N gave her credit for) and see the one other exhibit that both parents were invested in.

Taking her hand again, Spencer squatted beside the pram. “Hey look, the men seahorsies have the babies. They’re just like your Daddy.”

“Your favourite Daddy,” Y/N ruffled Spencer’s hair while Spencer pretended to be outraged. Katia caught onto the dramatic expression Spencer was wearing and copied him with a gasp added for good measure.

“What d’you reckon, any of these were babies when we went to visit last time?”

“Well, Y/N, the lifespan of these seahorses is approximately a year. So they could be.” He knew it was unlikely but, for the sake of the smiles on Y/N’s and Katia’s face, Spencer let it be.