#also he set the joint back in place himself while staring at me instead of looking at his hand and that was so creepy

[zephyrchama]

Do you think demons crack their joints?

It was a lazy, rainy evening in the Devildom. An oddly calm one. The residents of the House of Lamentation were gathered in the living room, mainly because that's where you were.

Beelzebub and Mammon were snacking and watching Leviathan play his handheld game. Asmodeus was browsing a magazine, Satan was browsing a book, and Lucifer was texting with Barbatos.

Belphegor had been dozing off on your shoulder for a while. It was hard to move under the demon's weight. You had been stuck in the same pose browsing your D.D.D. until he finally shifted, leaning back into the couch. You seized the opportunity to roll your shoulders and take a much needed stretch.

You lifted your arms. It felt great. Crack.

"What was that?" Satan asked, glancing up from his book.

"Beel probably sat on a chip," Mammon said. Levi snorted, too busy to take his eyes off the game but in agreement with Mammon for once.

"It wasn't me." Beelzebub stood up to prove his innocence, revealing no food under him.

"It was me," you said. "Just my back."

"Hon, what?" "Your what?" Asmodeus and Lucifer spoke at the same time, and both gave you a concerned look.

"My back? I just cracked it."

The demons sprung out of their seats like you had just cursed them. Levi's game system fell to the carpet. Since he was already standing, Beelzebub strode over and pulled the back of your shirt up, asking "does it hurt?"

Startled, you pulled the front of your shirt down for modesty. "Woah, hello? Excuse me? Uh, what?"

While everyone gathered to stare at your back, Belphegor was stirred awake. "What's going on?"

He went to lean on your shoulder again, but Mammon swatted him away. "Hey! Can't ya see they're injured?" he growled. Belphegor huffed at him, deciding instead to help hold your shirt up.

"Poor thing!" Asmo cooed. With one hand he grabbed your wrist, and with the other he made a peace sign. "Look at me, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"I'm fine. Everybody just chill." Despite your insistence, the panic had already set in and nobody was listening to you.

Leviathan was shaking. "T-that's not good, right? Humans aren't supposed to make those kind of sounds." He was covering his eyes with his hands squeamishly but peeking through his fingers to stare anyway. "A doctor! Are there any human doctors? Should we call Solomon?"

"Yes, somebody call Solomon," Lucifer commanded. "Where did the crack occur?" He started gently prodding around your spine, making you squirm.

Satan tried to bump Lucifer's hand away from you while placing himself in Lucifer's spot. "Can't you see they don't like that? You're making it worse."

"Deep breaths," Mammon instructed you, breathing deeply in and out. He seemed on the brink of hyperventilation himself.

Lucifer refused to budge, but Satan persisted. He was now also poking you. "The damage isn't visible yet, but there could be internal bleeding. You have to lay down."

Belphegor scooted over to make more room, despite your protest of "I'm not going to move, nothing is wrong."

Asmodeus managed to already get Solomon on the phone. You couldn't hear him over Asmo's worried shrieks but knew he had to be laughing. Solomon was not going to let you forget this incident.

Beel, Lucifer, and Satan moved to try and pick you up but enough was enough. "I said I'm fine!! Everybody stay!"

The seven went crashing to the floor, finally allowing you to cover up. "I am fine! I'm fine! See!" You stood up dramatically and grabbed Asmo's D.D.D. to apologize to a snickering Solomon.

The demons were annoyed and concerned as they tried to pick themselves up. "If you're so fine, then explain that noise," Satan said.

"Humans just do that from time to time."

[deeisace]

Nightmare nightmare ughhh

[immeasurablesaladagere]

Bad Math

(note for my followers with requests going, I'm pretty burnt out of House atm. I will get to requests when I can, but getting back into writing for me and also my life stuff will take priority over them.)

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Word Count: 3948

Summery: Episode 3 of Double Life. Martyn regresses after accidentally killing himself and Cleo but is afraid to say anything. It turns out he doesn't have to, because Cleo can feel all of it.

-----

Cleo jolted up in her bed, a fresh rush of respawn-fuelled adrenaline coursing through her veins. She hissed through her teeth as moving shot painful pulses through the newly reformed muscles of her legs and back. 

“Martyn!” She seethed to no one, “Oh my god, you stupid—“ That idiot had just killed them both! What in the world was he thinking!? The soul string around her finger burned with her anger and she didn’t bother to stifle it. She wanted Martyn to know that her blood was absolutely boiling. She got a dull pang of something like guilt back before he shut that down, because of course he would. She rolled her eyes.

Her joints ached as she stumbled out of bed and out the front door, but she pressed on. Her items would despawn if she wasted time, and she wasn’t going to lose all of her hard work on top of a life. 

The cliff was treacherous, at least a 20 block sheer drop with mobs everywhere, and she cursed Martyn under her breath the whole miserable shuffle down to the riverbed. By the time she reached solid ground her muscles were throbbing and a small hoard of zombies were clawing at her feet. She felt the pinch of phantom fingers on her forearm, Martyn’s silent complaining, and she pinched right back. He’s done this to himself. He was lucky she wasn’t letting these zombies have a little nibble. 

Some of her items were washed up on the rocks, coated in watery pink blood and muck, but the rest were floating amongst the drowned on the riverbed, not worth getting if she wanted to stay alive. She scooped up what she could and began the climb back to the top. Several of her items were missing, her food and armour were lost to the silt, which meant even if Scott could lend her something to wear she’d have to go back to the bloody caves in the middle of the night. 

At the top of the cliff, Martyn’s items lay scattered in a pile where he died. Part of her wanted to leave his things to rot, maybe kick them down into the river, but instead she begrudgingly dumped them into a chest for him to retrieve. She couldn’t have him dying again because his armour despawned, even if the idea of inconveniencing him brought her a sense of sweet satisfaction.

Buzz. Her communicator vibrated against her hip, and she pulled it out. 

<ZombieCleo fell from a high place trying to escape InTheLittleWood>

<SolidarityGaming> WHAT

<PearlescentMoon> OOOOOO

<Impulse> Soulmate kill? O.o

<Smajor1995 whispered to you:> You okay?

<Tango> LOL

<Rendog> rip

And of course nothing from Martyn. No explanation, not even a fake apology. Cleo huffed.

<You whisper to Smajor1995:> Fine. Got my stuff back

<You whisper to Smajor1995:> Most of it. My armour’s gone

Martyn hadn’t shown his face yet, which was probably for the best. She might just beat the stuffing out of him if he came around for the next while. A part of her wondered why she hadn’t seen him yet, if not just to get his stuff back before running off again, his tail tucked between his legs. She stared across the chasm to his heart tower. From where she was standing she couldn’t see him in the windows or moving around on the ground. 

<Smajor1995 whispered to you:> Do you want me to help you mine? I think I’ve got a spare set of boots too

<You whisper to Smajor1995:> Yes that would be great thanks

The walk to their strip-mine was short, but in sopping wet clothes and coming off a respawn  it felt like a slog. Thankfully she made it without running into any mobs, and Scott met her at the entrance to the mine, pickaxe in hand and a concerned look on his face. “You alright, Cleo?”

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “Fine, just… frustrated.” 

Scott nodded sympathetically and made an after you motion to the mine. Cleo lead them down the tunnel system until they found untouched rock, which wasn’t too far, and set up a crafting table and a couple furnaces.

They worked in an unusual silence. Typically their time together was comfortable and full of banter, but it was hard to find something to talk about besides the glaringly obvious. She could almost feel how badly Scott wanted to pry and know every little detail, ever the gossip he was, but it was clear that he was determined not to from the near-constipated look on his face.

Cleo smirked. “Out with it then, ask me what happened,” She said, resting her pickaxe over her shoulder and leaning against the wall, “I know you want to. Although, I can’t really say I know myself.”

“Why did he kill you?” And wasn’t that the million-dollar question. “I know we’re not on good terms, but I didn’t think he’d do something like that. Not even Pearl has gone that far! And she’s crazy!” 

Cleo snorted, “I’ll tell you why, because he’s selfish! I don’t agree to a truce and he shoves me off a cliff!” She turned back to her pickaxe, punctuating every angry syllable with a swing. “Because he can’t just survive on his own. Ee’s like a parasite! Nagging on and on, and that weird tower he’s got in the ravine? Oh my gods—!” She was ranting, but it felt good to vent her frustrations to someone who wasn’t terminally dense and obsessed with the idea that ‘he’s your soulmate, you have to make up!’. What nonsense.

“And now we’re down a life, and I’m going to be stuck picking up after him because it’s always me, isn’t it? And it always will be! He’s just going to go running about willy nilly and I’ll have the consequences!” She swung her pick down with more force than was probably necessary, crumbling a pocket of lapis into dust, “He’s like a toddler!”

Suddenly, speak of the devil and he shall appear, there was a tug on their soul bond. It wasn’t ticks of damage like usual, it was an emotional tug. A ripple of nervous butterflies fluttered through her stomach, and she paused. Strange. Not the feeling itself, but the fact she’d felt it at all. The both of them had been stubbornly careful not to let their feelings slip through their bond ever since they’d officially split off in the first session. Probably a close call with a creeper.

Finally, after what felt like the thousandth poke-hole in the rock, she hit a pocket of iron. “Aha!” She exclaimed in victory, “Finally! This should be enough for at least a chest plate and some trousers. Come check it out, it’s massi—“

She faltered. There it was again, stronger this time. Her stomach twisted with what was definitely fear, and something else, too. It was fuzzy and hard to grasp. 

“Cleo? You alright?”

“…Yeah, I just… Martyn’s doing something. He’s probably caving.”

Scott hummed, sitting cross-legged on the ground and tossing a few pieces of raw iron into the furnaces, “Is he taking damage? You looked kinda scared there for a second.”

He hadn’t, but Cleo checked her health bar anyway to find it perfectly intact. “Nope. He probably just got ambushed by a mob or something, clearly he’s not the most careful man on this serv—“

It was then that it crashed over her; the string on her finger tightened and a wave of crystal-clear and suffocating sadness flowed through it. It startled her just how fast her eyes welled up and her chest squeezed, nearly winding her. “What on earth..?” She gasped. Her pickaxe clattered against the stone floor as she stumbled back against the wall. 

“What’s wrong!?” Scott clambered to his feet and rushed to her side, “Do you need food? How many hearts are you on?” He demanded, shoving a piece of bread against her hand.

Cleo quickly straightened, gently pushing the bread away, “No I don’t need food, I— I’m fine, just—“ What was Martyn doing?

Part of her wanted to ignore this. Whatever this was, it wasn’t her circus or her emotional monkeys. Physically they were fine, so it was fine. She scrubbed the tears out of her eyes, only for them to come right back, blurring Scott’s fretting expression. 

But the other part, the stronger part, told her that this wasn’t normal. Something was wrong with Martyn and she couldn’t help but be worried. Outside of the game they were still friends, and she still cared about Martyn’s wellbeing even if he was being a terrible partner right then. 

“Something’s wrong with Martyn.” She said. Well obviously, well done there Cleo, very observant. “I don’t know what but it’s… a lot.”

A thick, hazy feeling settled behind her eyes like molasses. It felt gentle, like it should have been pleasant, but it only amplified the swirl of emotions rushing through her. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she sniffled. Deep in her chest something was crying out for comfort, and she had to stop herself from instinctively reaching out to grab Scott’s hand, even though he probably wouldn’t have minded.

Scott took a deep breath, tapping his fingers quickly against the hilt of his pickaxe. “Right. Not much to go off of, then. What does it feel like?”

She struggled to get her thoughts in order as wave after wave of emotion came through their bond. It was overwhelming, flooding every corner of her brain like tar. “Goodness gracious, keep it together, Martyn…” She mumbled to herself, trying to at least keep her vision clear, “Um… It’s like, heavy? He’s definitely sad, scared I think… My head’s all fuzzy.”

After a moment of looking deep in thought, a look of dread suddenly dawned over Scott’s face, “Oh no…”

“What? What is it?” Cleo asked, voice creeping on desperate as the storm inside her slipped into her voice, “Don’t just say “oh no” and then stand there with that look on your face, it’s stressing me out!”

Scott looked at her, eyes wide. “He’s not regressed, is he? Surely not.”

All of the pieces were suddenly falling together to make a terrifying picture. The hiding, the suffocating fuzzy feeling, all of the emotions flowing through their bond, the crying— Martyn was little. 

Cleo’s mind raced. There was a child running around in the middle of the night during a death game, scared out of his mind and most likely defenceless. It was a miracle he hadn’t taken any damage yet. Heck, it was a miracle they weren’t dead yet, came a sobering thought, it was a miracle he wasn’t chased down by a hoard of zombies, backed into a corner a slaughtered. Ex-soulmate status be damned, she needed to find him and soon. She fumbled with her belt for her communicator and quickly typed out a message with shaky fingers.

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Martyn where are you

To her surprise and slight relief, it didn’t take long for Martyn to respond.

<InTheLittleWood> i’m fine

<BdoubleO100> ?

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Sure. What’s wrong? Are you regressed right now? Also you’re in main chat

<InTheLittleWood whispers to you:> Fine. Not small. Dw boutt it

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Martyn. Stop messing around, where are you? Don’t make me get Grian, I’ll make him stop the session right now if I have to

The fuzzy feeling increased, and she blinked hard. If the rampant spelling errors in his messages weren’t enough to convince her he was small, that sure was.

<InTheLittleWood whispers to you:> Spswn

<InTheLittleWood whispers to you:> spawn

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Stay there, I’m coming to find you

“I’m going to get him.” Cleo said, pocketing her pickaxe and equipping the iron boots Scott had given her. Her shield was shoddy at best, but they hadn’t had enough time to make her anything else and they didn’t have any to waste now. It would have to do.

Scott stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, “Do you want me to come with you? If you give me a sec I can make a new shield and—”

“No, it’ll take too long. Besides, I think it’ll just freak him out more if you’re there with me.” She rubbed at her eyes and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring look.

“Alright, I’ll catch up, then. Just… be safe, okay?”

“I will. I’ll be quick!”

The run to spawn was a gauntlet, and the burning in her chest and throat wasn’t helping. Thankfully the tears had slowed and her vision was clear enough to dodge mobs as they appeared from the brush. By the time she arrived the sun had begun to crawl over the horizon, but the mobs wouldn’t be burning for at least another hour, which meant they weren’t safe just yet. 

Martyn hadn’t sent any more messages and he was nowhere to be seen at spawn. Anxiety rolled in her gut as she scanned the tree line for Martyn’s obnoxiously bright outfit. She was just about to message the group and rally a search party when she saw it.

A dirt shack. Built up at the base of a scraggly oak tree was a small dirt box, just big enough for one person to be huddled up inside if they really squeezed. She approached cautiously, noting the uptick of nervousness inside her as her footsteps grew closer. She carefully dug away the wall, and there was Martyn. He was curled up tight, red-faced from crying and snot dripping from his nose, staring up at her with eyes blown wide.

Cleo couldn’t help but wince; he was certainly a sight. They stared at each other for a beat before Martyn simply dissolved. He began to cry once more and the tears in Cleo’s eyes returned with a vengeance. He curled impossibly tighter into his little ball and began mumbling something. Most of it was complete nonsense, but she was able to make out one word, over and over again. ‘Sorry’.

A weight dropped from her shoulders and she let out a breath of relief. She schooled her expression into something softer and tried to bend down to his level, but Martyn tucked his face between his knees.

“Martyn? Are we maybe feeling a bit little?” She tried her best attempt at a comforting tone.

“‘M sorry!” he babbled, sniffling loudly, “Didn’ mean t’hurt you, I was joking, I didn’t mean it!” 

All this trouble for a joke, of course.

“I’m not angry with you, I’m just glad you’re safe. This server’s dangerous for a little kid, yeah?” Her assurances didn’t seem to make anything better. In fact, Martyn only seemed more upset. 

His fists clenched into the fabric of his jeans and his head shot up, “You are angry!” He cried, “’Could- ‘could feel it! You’re angry at me an ‘m sorry! I didn’ mean it!”  

Cleo sighed. He was right, she was angry. Buried underneath Martyn’s hurricane of emotions there was still anger for him, but that anger was for adult Martyn. Stupid, shortsighted adult Martyn who got them both killed, not the blubbering child in front of her.

“Martyn, look at me.” He whined stubbornly and turned away, and Cleo rolled her eyes. Oh no, she wasn’t in the mood for this game. “Martyn.” Teary yellow eyes peeked up nervously at her.

“I am angry, alright? I’m angry we died, but there isn’t anything we can do about it now, is there? You didn’t mean to kill me, but we’re still yellow. That’s that.” Martyn sniffled, and Cleo could see a fresh line of tears forming in his eyes. “But, just because I’m angry doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I want you to be safe, and I’m certainly not going to leave you all alone while you’re little.” Martyn seemed to consider that, scrubbing clumsily at his eyes. 

She reached forward and gently adjusted his headband from where it had begun to slip down into his face. “There we go, no more crying now. Would you like a hug—? Oof!” Martyn in her arms in an instant, crushing her in a death grip. He buried his nose into her shoulder and sniffled wetly. 

“Oh, gross buddy. Just getting snot all over my shirt, hm?” She chuckled, patting him gently on the back. He squirmed to be nearly cross-legged in her lap, slightly awkwardly because of the height he had on her, but she accommodated as best she could.

They stayed like that for a few minutes in silence, only broken up by the occasional sniffle. The golden string wrapped around Cleo’s finger felt pleasantly warm, the knot loose and flowing instead of suffocatingly tight, and she wondered absently if this was what the bond was supposed to feel like. Comfortable and soothing.

So soothing that she heard the rattling bones of a skeleton behind her just a second too late. 

Martyn gasped, “Cleo there’s a—!”

A sharp pain shot through her shoulder and she yelped. Martyn squeaked, and she curled defensively around him. The mobs.

She pulled out her shield and propped it behind her, and a second arrow lodged into the splitting wood with a thunk. “Martyn, can you run?” Martyn only blinked up at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed like a fish. She grit her teeth, “Alright, up we go then!”

Ditching the shield she hoisted him up under his thighs and prepared to make a run for it. Just as the skeleton drew back another arrow, it was smashed into a pile of bones by an out-of-breath Scott.

“Run! I’ll cover you!” 

Arrows whizzed past her head and zombies turned to follow her as she ran through the woods, and she prayed to admin that none would connect while she was toting a grown man on her hip. She could hear Scott not far behind cutting down anything that got too close, and thank the Admins for Scott Smajor.

Cleo liked to think she was strong, but Martyn wasn’t exactly a featherweight. By the time they all made home and the door was shut firmly behind them she was panting and her arms felt like jelly. 

“You, alright, Martyn?” She huffed, leaning him back to get a look at his face. He nodded and gave her a shaky smile. “You’re very brave then, aren’t you?”

“The bravest.” Martyn muttered, letting his head bonk against her shoulder. She winced. Now that she had a moment to breathe, she could feel the arrowhead grinding against her shoulder blade and the trail of sticky blood running down her back. Martyn was probably a similar story. It was a wonder he hadn’t started complaining about it yet.

“Cleooooo,” Came a whine in her ear, “M’arm huuuurts.” 

There it was. She chuckled. “I’m sure it does. Let’s get patched up then, hm?”

“I’ll see what we’ve got.” Scott said, sounding rather winded as well.

Cleo set Martyn down on the bed and dropped down beside him with a groan. She could be helping Scott find first aid, but she was pretty sure she’d earned a break at this point. Scott returned from the chests with a half roll of gauze and a meagre amount of instant health in a bottle. 

“We don’t have much potion left, but I think we have enough wool for more bandages if we need.”

“Oh, we will need. Hand me those, I’ll get started on Boy-Wonder, here.” 

“Arrow first.” Scott reminded, and oh right, the arrow. “Fast or slow?”

“Fast.” She said, then reached over and grabbed Martyn’s hand. “This is gonna hurt for just a second, okay? Squeeze my hand real hard.”

Martyn nodded nervously.

Scott set one hand on her back for leverage and grabbed the arrow with the other. “Deep breath, you two. One, two… three!”

Cleo grit her teeth and Martyn whimpered as the arrow came out, squeezing her hand like he was trying to pop a balloon.

“See? Not so bad, was it?” She said tightly, but it was hard to look convincing when Martyn’s tears were welling in her eyes. “Now, bandages. C’mon, shirt up.”

After taking a moment to collect himself Martyn tried his best to wiggle out of his shirt, but of course he didn’t take his bag off first and before Cleo could even attempt to correct him he was already tangled and giving her the most pitiful look. 

“You know what? That was my mistake, let me help you with that.”

Mirroring her own, there was a small puncture wound in his right shoulder blade bleeding sluggishly down his back. His wasn’t going to be nearly as bad as hers, but the emotional damage probably made up for it.

“This’ll make it feel better, alright?” She uncorked the bottle and dumped what was left of the potion over the wound, and watched as it began to stitch itself back together. By the time the potion was done, Martyn was in need of little more than a band-aid and her back felt a lot less on-fire than it had a moment ago. With the help of a bit of slime, she secured a layer of gauze over what was left of the cut and helped Martyn wrestle his shirt back on. Was it completely hygienic? No. But it worked in a pinch.

“Now you.” Martyn said, making a grab for the gauze.

“Ah-ah, nooo thank you.” She said, “I think Scott will help with that.” Not that she didn’t trust a toddler with her medical care, but he’d probably make a mess with the slime and she’d had quite enough of bath time for one night.

He pouted. “But I’m your soulmate! I wanna help!”

“You are, but you’re also quite the tiny thing, and I like this shirt. Scott gets it, don’t you, Scott?”

“Sure do.” Scott took the slime and bandages from her and in less than thirty seconds the job was done. 

Even though the day had only just begun, Cleo was absolutely knackered. She glanced out the window at the rising sun and blinked blearily. “We should probably let Grian know to call a break, shouldn’t we?”

“Noooooo…” Martyn whined, before letting out the world’s biggest yawn.

“Yep, on it.” Scott pulled out his communicator and sent the message, and a few seconds later the break message went out.

“Alright, naptime.” Cleo said, pulling Martyn to lay down on the bed with her and halfheartedly tugging up the blanket. Being able to finally close her eyes after the night she’d had felt like heaven.

Scott smirked and took pity on her, and helped bring the blanket up the rest of the way. “You two sleep, I’ll be across the way if you need me.”

She cracked one eye open as he turned to leave. “You sleep too, don’t think I forgot I dragged you out of bed.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Goodnight, Cleo. Goodnight, Martyn.”

Martyn was already dozing off, but he still giggled and called back a quiet, “Good morning, Scott.”

The door shut and the two of them were left in a comfortable silence. Their soul bond wrapped around them, pleasantly warm and light. Cleo was just about to fall asleep when she felt a ripple of guilt.

“…Martyn? What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?” She mumbled.

“M’sorry, Cleo.”

She rolled her closed eyes and felt around for his hand, holding it loosely. “I know you are. If you really want to make it up to me, you’ll relax and have a sleep. Cleo’s tired.”

“…M’kay. Good morning.”

“Good morning, Martyn.”

[derangederensimp]

One Shot Birthday Surprise : Reader x Toji x Nanami x Gojo

Happy birthday bestie ily this is for you but also everyone else enjoy.

Jujutsu Kaisen Smut

CW: Drug use(smoking weed), Fingering, Oral Male and Female receiving, Foursome, unprotected sex, hair pulling, creampie, humiliation, degradation, slapping, bondage and more.

Getting home after a long day of work and shopping, with groceries in your arms you go to close the door with your foot and instead met with a bump, you go to attempt to close it again pushing your foot harder and instead hear an “Ouch” from none other than Toji.

“That’s not very nice to do to your neighbor… or friend. Can I come in? I saw your arms full so I can help” he said as you took your foot off the door and turning around. He grabs a few bags and walks it over to the counter placing them down and taking the items out.

He plops himself onto the couch as you put away everything you bought. “So since it’s your Birthday and you like to keep it lowkey I was thinking of inviting Nanami and Gojo. Smoke some weed and chill?” He asked, turning his head towards you in the kitchen, watching you bent over picking up things from the bottom of the pantry. “Yeah, yeah, that’s fine.” You go to look at him but just before you can he already snapped his head away from the view he had on you. “Cool, I’ll text them” he said pulling his phone out and messaging the others in a group text.

Plopping next to Toji he goes to put his arm around your shoulder but just as he was going to a knock on the door followed by “you two better not be fucking in there” said by Gojo. Toji rolled his eyes just before he watched you walk past him ass looking great in your jeans so he couldn’t help but stare and resist the urge of slapping it. Opening the door Nanami was pinching Gojo’s arm with an annoyed look on his face. “Welcome, come on in” you say holding the door open. The men walk in and go to sit on the two love seats facing opposite of each other. “Still in work clothes I see, Toji didn’t even give you a chance to shower before intruding?” Nanami said taking off his glasses and setting them on the table. “Yeah, you know how he is, can’t be away from me for too long” you say laughing afterward not being able to see the red faces Toji.

“Well go take a shower, we will set everything up here” Gojo said pulling out the weed and grinder from his pocket as Toji headed to your kitchen to grab the bong that you kept under your sink. Walking to your room and undressing, wrapping a towel around your body and walking to the bathroom, the 3 men catching a glance at you before you shut the door and started the shower. You swore you could hear them talking a lot more after you had gone into the bathroom but shrugged it off and started the water getting in and washing up. Walking back to your room and picking out your sleep shorts and matching top. Plopping back next to Toji and turning on the TV to one of your favorite shows.

“Took you long enough, Joint or Bong?” Gojo asked holding both options out to you. Grabbing the joint and the lighter off the table to spark it up. The men passed around the bong until the entire living room started to get foggy from the smoke. Toji whenever he was high always became bold so it wasn’t a surprise when he pulled you onto his lap unexpectedly straddling him and bouncing you slightly with his knees as you all laughed. But what wasn’t expected was soon to come.

Looking up at Toji once you calmed down from your laughing fit you noticed this look in his eyes that you’ve seen once before. “Your going to make it up to me for embarrassing me earlier with that little comment of yours” he said as a grin formed on his lips.

“Should I tell them how you haven’t been fucked in a while, oops I guess I already did. Being your neighbor and all you know we have thin walls. I can hear you sometimes moaning out all of our names” he snickered as your face reddened. “Is that so?” Nanami asked, leaning forward in his seat as Gojo just looked at Toji wishing it was him you were straddling instead. “Oh yeah, you should hear how desperate she is for our dicks” Toji said as he ran his fingers along your bare stomach making you gasp slightly from the unexpected sensation. “You gonna be able to take us all Princess?” He asked before slapping your ass and rubbing the spot to soothe the sting it for sure left behind.

A smirk growing on your face as you like a challenge.

“With ease” you retort back watching Toji hood his eyes as he snaps his fingers letting Nanami and Gojo it was on. The men must have had this whole thing planned out with how they moved so synchronized. Nanami pulling your top off at the same time as Gojo unhooking your bra leaving you bare chested. Toji attacking your neck with kisses leaving hickeys behind as Nanami took a hardened nipple into his fingers and pinching slightly, and Gojo taking your other breast into his mouth circling your nipple with his tongue before flicking it with his tongue. His piercing added to the sensation driving you insane. The pleasure was becoming overwhelming and the 3 of them knew this.

Feeling Toji hardening underneath, you couldn’t help yourself and tried to move your hips but before you could your slightly lifted up. “Someone is trying to get even more pleasure without even asking. What a desperate slut.” Toji said and scoffed, making you feel slightly embarrassed. “must mean that [y/n] needs to be tied up huh?” Nanami said, undoing his tie and tying your arms behind your back. “The safe word is curse, you got it. If something hurts or you want to stop say it” Gojo said into your ear sending shivers down your spine and a tingle to your clit making your bite your lip and nod your head. “Let’s play a little

game, Gojo put your blindfold onto her and we will have her guess who is the one fucking her. We will say who was who once were done” Toji said, planting a few more kisses onto your neck and Gojo wrapping his cloth around your head.

Toji placed you onto the couch, none of the men talking as one of them picked you up throwing you over their shoulder as their hand imprinted a reddened handprint onto your ass making you let out a whimper. Being placed back onto your feet you feel hands pushing down your shorts and underwear hearing the fabric being stuffed into a pant pocket. Next your pushed to the bed with the mattress hitting the back of your knees making you sit down onto it. Legs being pushed apart as you feel licks being trailed up your thighs to your already dripping cunt. Firm hands squeezing your breasts as they put their lips right against your slit and placing a kiss before feeling their tongue slip out flicking your clit before sucking onto it.

Letting out a loud moan and soon after a hand being placed over your mouth squeezing your cheek slightly as they continued their licking and sucking removing their one hand from your breast and adding a finger into you pumping it in and out slowly making you moan but it coming out muffled and whiny. Which only seemed to drive the man insane as you felt his grasp on your mouth release hearing their clothes hitting the floor and being scooped up and placed on your back arms stick behind you as your thighs were spread and a tip being rubbed between your pussy lips before they thrust into you and setting a consistent speed. Wrapping your legs around them as they lean down onto you putting their head into the crook of your neck and breathing heavily. The man kissing your lips, the thrusts only become harder and faster making you moan into their mouth. Hitting your G-Spot perfectly making your eyes water from the pressure building up inside you.

“I’m going to cum” you mange to get out between kisses. Which seemed to only stop the man making you let a groan out as a last kiss was placed on your side before feeling the bed get lighter and hearing their footsteps head towards the door and hearing the knob turn. Trying to undo Nanami’s tie wiggling around and ending up on your stomach you hear footsteps approaching. “Come on, untie me already” you grunt out still trying to untie it yourself. You feel them untie it only to flip you into your back and tie your hands in front of you. Being flipped back onto your stomach your hips be pulled up to have your ass in the air and feeling your arms be pulled down closer to your legs as rope is tied around your ankles and connected to your wrists making you unable to move.

Feeling the man’s thighs touching your ass before feeling his tip line up with a hard thrust into you making your eyes roll into the back of your head. Whoever’s cock it was was filling you up perfectly, fitting in like a puzzle piece. The pace feeling different from the previous man. Your pussy tightening around their cock as they slap your ass with each thrust again causing you to get close to climax and left empty once again letting out a groan “Please more, don’t stop” you say hearing a tsk sound still not being able to tell who it was you feel them enter into you again this time going at a slower pace and not as hard as they were before. Even with the slow pace he’s hitting you perfectly, filling you perfectly. Mewls and moans filling the bedroom from the both of you. You’ve never heard either of the men having their way with you moan before so you still couldn’t tell who was who. The man must’ve felt you getting close again, fully stopping and walking out.

Trying to recuperate from back to back sessions you feel the pressure from the rope on your ankles be released and hands untied. Relaxing your body on your bed you let out a sigh knowing once again the last person to fuck you was still not going to let you cum just yet. But instead of being meet with a slap, or being tied up you feel the man lie next to you pulling you onto his lap to grind onto him. Moving your hips back and forth before holding you up teasing you slightly with their tip before you force yourself down onto their cock. A muffled groan comes from the man as you begin to ride him, taking control and hopeful in mind that you will finally be able to reach your high. Feeling their hands slap on your hips pushing you down harder onto them and lifting their thighs to bounce you up and down onto them.

Heavy breathing from the both of you as he slows down letting you catch your breath. Flipping you onto your back you feel the man hover over top of you kissing your lips softly and slipping back into you getting back into a steady pace making you moan loudly feeling your body shake and a knock on the door interrupting. But instead of the man stopping he picks up the pace of his own, feeling you tighten onto him becoming sloppy as you both reach your climax, him filling you up and plopping onto the bed next to you. The man kisses your forehead before getting up and leaving the bed.

A few minutes seem to pass before your bedroom door opens once again. Sitting up on your knees you feel someone untie the blind fold. Rubbing your eyes and blinking before looking at the 3 grinning men. “So do you know who was who?” Nanami asked to take a spot next to you. “I think it was you first, Toji, and Lastly Gojo” you said proudly. “Not even close darling” Nanami purred into your ear making you blush. “The rotation was Gojo, Nanami, and me” Toji said with a grin on his face feeling proud that he was the one who made you cum and came in you first. “Yeah, yeah you can go do your victory lap later. Did you hear the way she was moaning from me?” Nanami said, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure we can all make her moan just as loud together” Gojo said before biting his bottom lip.

With a nod of approval the other men joined you on the bed touching all over your body, kisses being planted, hickeys being left all over. Toji pushes you down lightly to lay down as he takes his spot next to your head. Gojo and Nanami staying by your legs. Trying to look at each man equally you watch them each stroke at themselves eyeing your like animals. Toji pokes your cheek with his cock making you turn your head toward him wrapping your lips around the tip and licking the slit making him shut his eyes in pleasure. Nanami rubbing your clit as Gojo fingers you slowly curling his fingers making you moan sending vibrations along Toji’s cock.

He begins to fuck your mouth, grabbing a fist of your hair and tugging it. Gojo pumping two fingers into you as Nanami leans his head down, flicking your clit with his tongue. Groans coming from each me and you. Gojo getting onto his knees tapping his dick onto your throbbing cunt before sliding back into you letting out a moan. Nanami sits back and strokes himself patiently waiting for his turn because he wants to hear you moan out his name. Toji and Gojo fucking into you synchronized maxing out your pleasure. “Are you gonna let her moan out my name” Gojo says lifting one of your legs up resting it on his chest as he pumps into you faster and harder as Toji pulls his dick out of your mouth watching saliva run down your chin and cheek. Gojo holds both your legs up as he fucks into you making you moan his name out and cuming onto him as he fills you up.

Gojo gets up from his spot and sits next to the other side of your head. Nanami getting between your legs now, already hard looking at you with hooded eyes. “Look at you, going to be taking 3 dicks at once. So cock hungry. I want to take her from behind.” He said. Flipping onto your stomach you stick your ass into the air as Toji and Gojo stroke themselves watching you look exhausted. Nanami without warning pulls your ass hard and down onto his cock hard hitting your g spot once again filling you completely and perfectly. Without any trouble making you moan out his name he continues to pump into you harder and faster as you take turns licking and sucking on Gojo and Toji. All going at the same pace stroking the two men the 4 of you all cum at the same time swallowing down both Toji and Gojo’s cum.

“Oh so you 2 get to cum twice? I don’t think that’s fair but I’ll let it slide since she looks fucked out of her mind” Nanami said pulling out of you and laying onto the bed all 4 of you catching your breath. Getting up and washing up you come back to see the 3 men cuddled up sleeping leaving you a space in the middle.

Masterlist for other fics!

Geto’s Best Friend part 2.5 Fluff and Smut Geto

Artists feel free to use my work to inspire your nsfw drawings! I’d love to see them if you create something so please be sure to share them to me 💛 or tag me on Twitter @ DerangeErenSimp

[uglypastels]

the Greatest Adventure // Eddie Munson

a/n: I´m just trying to cope and wanted to write out my feelings a bit. This has nothing to do with the show in all honesty, just pure fluff comfort. I still don´t think I´ll be able to make a proper comeback to writing yet, but this is an attempt. let me know what you think :)

word count: 788

warning: weed, fluff, no spoilers for the show. (also, it might be a mess, i wrote this in like ten minutes and just wanted to post it so idk if it makes any sense)

“I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I'll go to it laughing.” ― Herman Melville,

The room was small, and thus the smoke-filled it up rather quickly. Even with the window open, the air inside became stuffy and overridden with the incense of the bitter delight that came from the joint in Eddie's hand. He put it against his lips, inhaling harshly. The feeling burned at his throat, all the way down to his lungs, and he let it sting for another few seconds before casually letting the breath out in a cloud of grey. The release that his body got as he let it all out of his system just added to the bliss of it all. 

He passed the blunt to you and watched as you did the exact same as he had just done. He was enamoured with the sight of you in his arms, the smoke passing your lips silkily, like ribbons in the air, wavering off to the clouds that dispersed in front of him. 

'Can´t believe this is the last week of school,' you sighed out, passing him back the joint. He took it between his fingers but didn't attach it back to his mouth. Instead, he just watched as the tip slowly burned off.

'Yeah, it's crazy,' he chuckled, in disbelief himself. Seven years it took him to finally get to this moment. All those years had felt like the longest stretch of a marathon, and now, finally, he could see the end mark. The finish line was clear in sight. He just had to survive those last five days, which he could do no problem. There were no more exams, no more real classes, just formalities of attendance and, for once, he felt excited to be there. 

'So, what do you have planned once you get up on that stage?' You asked, looking up at him. Eddie's eyes had glazed over, but not in that usual manner that weed would get him. More in the "thoughts were miles away" type of way. He stared out ahead of him at the wall of his room, the spines of countless novels blurring together. 

'You know, I'm probably gonna flip Higgins the bird, maybe give dear O'Donnell a big ol' smooch on the cheek.'

'I meant more like, afterwards. What are you gonna do after all this is over?' 

He had seen that question coming for years but never had actually cared to give it much thought. All this time, whenever it came up, he had known it didn't matter since he was never any closer to actually reaching that point of his life. While all his friends had been considering colleges to apply to, he knew he would be back at the exact same lunch table after summer was over. 

But not this time. 

Now, the world was his oyster, finally opening up to him. The possibilities were endless. 

The first thing that came to mind was California. LA specifically. Or maybe New York. Somewhere where all the creative people hurdled. Or maybe even Portland, that's where all the freaks went to. He wasn't sure. It seemed like the places where he could get something out of his music. It would be difficult, but maybe if he worked hard enough he could make it. Get into contact with the right people who would get him what he needed to break through the surfaces of stardom. 

Or maybe travel. Go on the road with no destination set in mind. Get the cheapest plane ticket on the go and see where he would end up. There was so much more to see outside of boring old Hawkins and he wanted to experience it all. All the way from South America, to Europa, to Australia– right through Asia. 

All his life he had spent reading books and stories of heroes going on epic adventures, slaying dragons and finding their princesses. It was goddamn time he got an adventure of his own. 

Well, he had found his own princess already. She was sitting right next to him, wrapped up in his embrace, warm to the touch, most likely getting sleepy as you always happened to be after smoking. He smiled to himself, thinking of everything the two of you could do once you finally escaped this town. 

The freedom would be overwhelming at first, but you would figure it out. Take it one day at a time, creating a lifetime of memories.

Tomorrow, he decided, he would go out and buy a new photo book, and maybe some extra film for his camera. He wouldn't want to forget a single day from now on. 

'Well,' you nudged him in the chest, awaiting an answer.

Eddie hugged you tighter, kissing the top of your head, before mumbling out: 'I have no idea.' 

The End

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[poptod]

Cyber Security (Elliot Alderson)

Description: An online ad leads him to you, though in reality he has little interest in your ad. What interests him is how you accidentally doxxed yourself and how oblivious you are to that fact.

Notes: idrk what to say about this one its one of those things that i wrote at midnight after almost falling asleep to a fantasy and then realizing it could work as a fic. like i did this same thing with ‘close your eyes’ that one was also a before-bed-to-get-to-sleep fantasy. this is also not a particularly romantic interaction, though it can be read as such WC: 2.2k

+

Sweat drenched his sheets, bathing him in the cold wind that breezed past his only air conditioner lodged in a nearby window. He stared blankly upwards, half shivering and half overheated, as he once again found himself in a familiar predicament—the practice of sleep.

It was no secret he had trouble calming himself down, and that aspect of himself reached into the evening, as well. He already downed three melatonin pills hours earlier, along with smoking a joint that should’ve put him to bed. Unsurprisingly, that did not work.

“Xanax,” he mumbled to himself, hearing it bounce back from empty walls. “Need to get xanax.”

In the meantime he raised himself to his feet, padding across freezing floors to his computer. With a click of a button the white screen buzzed to life, shining bright onto his sleep-heavy eyes, that did their best to acclimatize to the sudden change.

Hypnotization—strange as it might’ve been—had worked a couple times before. Not all the time, but decently enough to give it a try. He had work in the morning and he didn’t need to be more miserable than usual, especially since he hadn’t slept almost the entire weekend.

sleep hypnosis

The blinker flickered for a moment before his fourth finger slammed down on enter, the last step in calculated movements. What popped up first was a video titled [ SLEEP HYPNOSIS ] 8 Hour Loop with a screencap of a spinning black and white screen. Below that, however, was something he hadn’t seen before—a YouTube video titled exactly what he’d typed, lacking the caps just as he had. The title screen appeared to be some sort of poorly-drawn painting.

Curiosity overcame his hazy, aching head, and he clicked, finding a playlist of videos containing what could be the titles of songs, along with several different poorly-drawn title screens.

The first video began to play before he could realize it. What he first noticed was it was bereft of ads—that meant the publisher made no money off the album.

Sat in the presence of God

whose name means filthy old fraud

Captions had been manually added by, he assumed, you. The author. There were three views on the video, no comments, and no likes, leaving few other options.

Maybe it was the melody—maybe the lyrics, who talked of a world plagued by aristocrats. But he found his eyelids heavy, dropping dark eyelashes in his vision that blurred the screen. By the third song, reciting verses of an Islamic poem, he was slouched in his seat.

He slid down to the floor, crawling his way back to flop onto his bed. The music continued to play till the first ad popped up, at which time he opened his eyes, seeing a music video from Katy Perry, at which time he promptly reached over and unplugged his computer. He wasn’t sure which cord he pulled out, but the screen still went black. With that, he just barely sneaked into his covers, dozing until the morning.

It was far too easy to get information on you. Your full name was stated clearly in your youtube bio, alongside several different social media tags leading to instagram, tumblr, and facebook.

Facebook alone provided him the means to your address, and he didn’t even have to go looking for it. Your most recent post was an ad, searching for someone good with computers to aid you in your recording process, which you noted as ‘dismal’.

Are you fucking kidding me? He thought to himself, reading the ad once more.

Your address, your real, physical address was stated as the place you wanted to meet those interested in helping you. On the internet. You had doxxed yourself after less than a year of being online.

Okay, he thought, clicking on your listed email. Someone needs to be taught a lesson.

Three days later—after about two weeks of listening to your echoing voice every night—you replied, sending a cheerful email detailing when you would be available to meet him. After shooting a short message back, the date was organized.

Two more days and he was standing at your doorstep, his neck craned upwards as he scanned your tall, narrow home squished between two other apartments. He just barely knocked before the black door swung open, revealing a familiar face belonging to a stranger. Elliot was dressed in his black hoodie and jeans, a stark difference to your long, colorful robes, coming out of a sort of fantasy world.

“Hi,” he said, his voice grating with how low and quiet he kept it.

“Hello,” you said with a smile that did not match his hunched posture. “Are you Mr. Alderson?”

“Elliot,” he corrected, his chin just barely raising to meet you. “Elliot Alderson. Elliot works.”

“Alright,” you said, nodding. “Come inside? I was just making tea. Do you like tea? Or do you prefer coffee?”

“I... I’m fine, thanks,” he said softly, scooting past you when you opened the door wide enough for him to enter. He sucked in a breath as his chest brushed yours.

Your home was modern—far fancier than Elliot’s own apartment, with large windows flanked by soft grey curtains. A small, upright piano was in the corner of the living room, set upon a reed mat lined with Korean symbols. The couch was clinical, made of a sort of black plastic leather that matched the grey skies beyond the window panes.

He sat down, shifting his feet closer together as his fingers dug into his palms, continuing to scan the room in its’ entirety until you returned with your own tea.

“What kind of experience do you have? School counts,” you said, setting your cup down on a tiny plate whose decorations matched your teacup.

“I’ve been... experimenting, with computers, since I was around 9,” he said, mumbling the words out as his shoulders hunched awkwardly down. “Have a job at a cyber security firm. Started a while back.”

“You still have that job?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small nod. “Jus’ thought this would be... fun.”

The dead look on his face indicated no humor whatsoever, but you took his word as it was.

“How’d you find the ad I put out?”

“I... I listened to your music,” he answered honestly for once. “Helps me fall asleep.”

“Oh,” you said, clearly taken aback. Your face grew warm as you glanced away with wide eyes. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You’re not very good with technology, though,” he said in his usual low, grating voice.

“Not really,” you chuckled sheepishly. “That’s why I put out the ad -“

“No, not that,” he interrupted you. “You put your physical address on the internet. You doxxed yourself. Do you even know how dangerous that is?”

The lyrics of your songs pointed towards a kind of brilliance, balanced against emotions felt thoroughly on pages and screens. It didn’t match your actions at all.

“What’s doxxing?” You asked.

Elliot had to physically stop himself from sighing and leaving.

“You want everyone to know where you, a minor celebrity, live?”

“I’d hardly call myself a -“

“I could’ve been a murderer,” he said, reaching into his bag.

He looked you in the eye as he pulled out a gun, clicking on the safety before he pointed it at you.

“This is how easy it would be to kill you.”

As expected, you stiffened at the sight of the iron barrel, your fingers withdrawing to your chest. Your lips pursed as you met his gaze once more.

“Please put the gun down,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

He did as you said, resting the gun on the table.

“That’s a hell of a way to start an interview, Mr. Alderson,” you said quietly. “Please get out of my house.”

His heart sank. What had he expected? For you to fall to your knees and sing to him as he desired you to do? He threatened you with a gun to teach you a lesson, and you reacted accordingly. Calmer than others would.

Elliot stood on shaky legs, sliding the pistol into his backpack before he zipped it up. Throwing the pack over his shoulder, he swallowed through a tight throat, shuffling as he delayed his departure.

“Keep safe from people like me,” he said in a strained mumble. “Take that ad down. Meet people from the internet only in inhabited, public areas.”

You tapped your fingernails on the table for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip. Suddenly you stood, tugging on his sweatshirt sleeve to get him to face you, instead of staring at his feet.

“Alright. If you’re really so good at the internet -“

He ignored your incorrect grammar.

“- and... if you actually do want to help me with my songs,” your tone softened, “then you’ll be able to find my real name, not my stage name. If you do.. I’ll hire you.”

“Alright,” he said monotone, knowing the battle was already won.

Even though he knew your name already, he turned away and left to his apartment, immediately going to work on figuring out everything he could about you. If you willingly still offered him the job after that, he knew it would take a lot to scare you off. He could impress you.

It was, after all, the only thing he was good at.

Two days later he showed up at your apartment again, quietly thanking you when you let him in. The clean floors and walls remained unchanged since his last visit, and you led him to the same table, sitting him down on the same seat.

“Your name is (Y/N) (L/N),” he started with. You already appeared to be surprise. “You grew up near LA and you’ve had a chronic illness all your life. At eleven you saw your first therapist.. that must’ve been when you first got diagnosed with depression... and anxiety.”

“Killer duo,” you muttered.

“Your parents split when you were thirteen, which came at the same time as your dog, Penelope, died. Or... sometime that year. When was that... 1997?”

“1999,” you said quietly.

“Your mom homeschooled you,” he continued. “That’s probably why you don’t know how computers work. Rather eclectic, in a.. boring way... an ex-Amish, right?”

You nodded and his heartbeat tripled. Everything was right thus far despite a two year difference in his guesstimate of your life’s timeline.

“Then there was your dad... logger in the Redwood forests. Burly guy. Not a great man, from what I saw,” he said.

“He was fine,” you said with a small shrug as you looked away. “Didn’t ever hurt me, or anything.”

“Abuse isn’t always physical,” he said faster than he could think, dizzied by his own memories playing behind his eyes.

“I know,” you murmured.

You went silent, so he continued, hoping to pry more precious words from you.

“Your favorite color is yellow,” he said, leaning closer to you. “On Valentine’s you get chocolate strawberries, and on easter you get kinder eggs.”

Nothing.

“You studied mythology as a kid, and you made paintings of the forest you lived in with your mom. Santa Cruz mountains, I think.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I miss the forests.”

“I know. You want to visit Ireland again because it’s a land of faeries and moss, it’s a breeding ground for your song lyrics.”

“How did you find all this out?” You finally asked.

“You use the same password on everything,” he said, though that was far from the actual answer. “Your web browser tracks all your movements and you don’t try to stop it, or hide ads, or stay away from sketchy websites. Your parents aren’t much better, either.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you brought your hand to massage your brow.

“You’re way too smart to be helping me,” you said with soft laughter, blushing with your smile.

“It’s better than working for E Corp,” he said, huffing out a laugh that was hardly humored.

“E corp?”

“My.. uh, place of work,” he brushed off his slip. “My point is... I’d rather work with you and do easy work than work with my current fucking coworkers.”

You laughed, truly and fully this time, curling into a little ball that shook with the force of it. Your feet tucked into your tiny chair, making you even smaller.

“Bad people or just annoying?”

“Stupid,” he chuckled. “Don’t let me wear my sweatshirt.”

“Ooh, now it’s my turn,” you suddenly interrupted him, earning a strange look. “I’ve noticed things about you, too. I couldn’t learn anything off the computer, but you, you have anxiety too. Probably some childhood trauma.. maybe a dissociative disorder of sorts or a form of PTSD. Your jacket is like your home, and... you have sensory issues. Few types of fabric, don’t like to be touched, if I had to guess I’d say you might be autistic.”

“Blunt,” he said after a full minute’s silence.

“Do you mind?” You asked.

“No, not really.”

“Good. Then you’re hired,” you said with a smile, extending your hand for him to shake. “If you still want the job, of course.”

He watched you with evident apprehension, but took your hand after much thought, shaking with a firm grip.

“When do I start?”

[solomonish]

Way To Go MC, You’ve Allowed Yourself to be Poisoned (Demon Brothers)

CW for: descriptions of food and eating, brief descriptions of choking-like symptoms. (mainly in the intro, though the individual stories mention coughing, (light) blood and fainting). there will be talk of food and keeping an eye on what is being eaten in the individual character stories as well.

Ahh thank you nonnie! I got tired and stopped at the demon brothers but I’ll finish the nowdateables later if you want! Which let’s be real, I’ll probably do soon because I wanna write for Solomon lol

I hope you like it!

---

It started off like any other night, with you grabbing a seat at the dinner table as the last of the food was placed in the middle. Someone beside you took your plate and gave you your portion for you, smiling at your murmur of thanks as they set it down. You waited until the last person, Levi, sat down, smiling at him as he muttered something about finishing a level to nobody in particular. 

The moment you ate your first bite of food, something felt...off. Your tongue was tingling the slightest bit and you swore you could feel an uncomfortable heat follow the food as it slid down your throat. Thinking it was just a weird Devildom spice - after all, you’ve been here for how long? and nothing has happened yet? - you take another bite and immediately regret it.

Though such a food was no big deal for demons, it was powerful enough to knock you out of your chair and hunch over, grabbing your stomach as you cough forcefully in a desperate attempt to get the food out. Your insides were burning, your airways closing in and your chest crying out in pain the more you coughed. Soon enough, tears clouded your vision, and though you could hear the chaos around you, the only thing you could focus on was what felt like fire burning you from the inside out.

When you start coughing:

The moment you let out a little cough, his eyes are on you curiously. It’s just a remnant of the days when you were still so new to it all: the fragile little human makes a strange noise, be prepared to save a life.

He almost let his eyes fall from you, but he noticed that you weren’t stopping. It wasn’t the first time you had caused a scene at dinner, saying something afterwards about it “going down the wrong tube.” Still, this seemed...different.

When you fall off of your chair, he’s out of his before you even hit the ground. He’s kneeling by your side a second later, trying to tilt your head towards him so he can fully understand what is happening.

He finally realizes that you aren’t just choking and this is much more urgent when the blood starts coming out of your mouth.

He takes his attention away from you for a moment to ask who cooked dinner, and the brothers promptly rat out Mammon.

Though Lucifer is clearly agitated at that, he decides to lecture later and instead ask what Mammon put in the dish. Everyone erupts at once about halfway through because “How could you have forgotten what that will do to a human??”

That’s the last thing you remember for yourself - whether from the poison itself or being unable to breath through all your coughing, you passed out fairly quickly afterwards

Taking care of you afterwards:

Lucifer isn’t the type to panic in the moment. He’s very accustomed to taking the lead and having everything under control.

That’s in the moment, though. When he has Satan mix up the remedial potion, he’s fine, checking over you and keeping his brothers a safe distance away while he makes sure you’re still breathing. Once you’re safely in bed, brothers having been banned from your room until at least morning, and he’s the only one left lingering in the doorway, that’s when it all begins to set in.

There’s less regret and more general uncertainty in these moments - it starts with him wondering if he should really leave you alone, and soon enough it spirals into him reminding himself just how careful he needs to be with you in the Devildom. (And really, after taking charge of seven demon lords on accident, isn’t it just like you to get killed by a spicy leaf? Honestly, he should’ve known better.)

Once you finally do wake up, he tries to act like his normal “down to business” self - “I’ve told my brothers they are not to overwhelm you today, though we both know how that will go. I’ve made Leviathan figure out what bland foods are safe for humans, you’ll have to take it easy for now as your stomach is still irritated. Let me know immediately if you feel woozy or nauseous for any reason-” He prattles on and on, and though you’ve stopped paying attention you can still feel the softness in his tone

He tries to be gentle with you, and you have to remind him that you were just poisoned, not bedridden for months. Sometimes he’ll shoot you a glare and try to justify himself by saying it’s just like you to make another foolish mistake, but others he just won’t say anything and will keep the hand he has placed on your lower back “for safety”

Firmly believes in establishing as many preventative measures to keep this from happening again, so the next few weeks are going to be....a lot.

Sets up an alarm so he can remind you every lunch not to pick any of the “not safe for humans” options. Probably also gets you a seat in a class that goes over poisonous plants in the Devildom. 

Do not try to skip this. It’s easier for everyone if you just let him ease his mind how he likes.

When you start coughing:

At first, Mammon assumes that you just heard the joke he made and (naturally) started laughing so hard your weird little human body couldn’t take it

So essentially, you start choking and he starts laughing at you thinking you’re laughing together

That all stops the moment you fall out of your chair and double over, suddenly dry heaving on the floor.

He sort of short-circuits for a second, not entirely sure what to do until one of the more knowledgeable brothers stoops down beside you

They tell him to just keep your airways clear and make sure you’re still breathing while they go to get the elixir they need, and he does. It’s one of the few times they see him so serious - he just doesn’t want to mess up, so he doesn’t focus on any of their comments or bite back

(”Gee, Mammon’s actually stepping up for once” “Yeah, too bad he was the one that poisoned them in the first place”) 

(Lucifer: he WHAT)

Taking care of you afterwards:

Mammon is usually the first thing you see in the morning, so that doesn’t come as a surprise. What does surprise you is how quiet he’s being. 

When you sit up and groggily ask, “Is something wrong?” (barely getting the words through your swollen lips) he is torn between trying to say something smooth (”N-not now that you’re okay!! not that i care....”) or calling you a dumb human. So instead he just stares at you

Eventually you can get it out of him what happened, and it explains why your face feels like it had been burned and your stomach feels gross

Mammon says he’s going to come up with a surefire way to protect you so nothing like this ever happens again, but his version of protecting you is sticking by your side 24/7 and he already does that so?

You’re the one that’s going to have to take the lead. Make a list of common ingredients that are SUPER deadly to humans and make sure you both have one for reference

Soon enough, though, he figures out how he can help you without your guidance and you catch him pointing out what’s safe without you having to ask

He follows you to the lunch line and examines the clear plastic boxes until he can point out a few human-safe options. He’ll bend to whisper in your ear in line at some fast-food joint. If you’re not sure, he’ll be the first to ask before you even remember that’s something you should be doing anyway.

He’ll even try to make dishes he thinks you’ll like without the poisonous ingredient! Sometimes it takes a few tries but if he wants you to try something with him, he WILL make it himself

When it comes to you, Mammon really will give you the best care he can. Sometimes he just needs that extra push to think things through.

(And if this wasn’t a push. a hard shove. over a cliff. into shark infested waters)

(don’t do this again, mc. his demon heart can’t take it)

When you start coughing:

Levi has never mentioned how his brother don’t normally speak much to him at dinner and he’s just learned to be highly attuned to you. He notices a lot of little things you do, and is normally the first to realize when you’re choking or something.

That’s why, when you start coughing this time, he is the first one to panic. He knows that that isn’t a normal cough, he just doesn’t know what to do about it.

He looks down at his plate and realizes what’s on it, something he cries out right when you fall to the ground, clutching your stomach. You’re on the other side of the table and his brothers are already crowding around you, so Levi doesn’t get to see the blood and can only hear your coughing.

When your coughing gets weaker as you faint, he freaks. the. fuck. out. Did you die?? Even as he tries to look over his brother’s shoulders, he can’t get a good grasp of what happened until somebody tells him.

(It doesn’t matter much though. He’s still stuck in a loop of wondering what he could’ve done if he had gotten to dinner sooner, if he had managed to score a coveted seat next to you, if he had just looked at his plate or offered to take over for Mammon...)

Taking care of you afterwards:

You wake up in your bed and Lucifer is the one who comes in, asking you how you feel and if you’re up to classes to die. 

Being poisoned sure does take a lot out of you, so you ask to stay. Lucifer gives a quick nod and warns you not to shirk your duties, wishing you a fast recovery and letting you know that (human safe) food has been set aside specifically for you.

You doze off soon after (hey, a sick day may as well be spent sleeping in, right?) and when you wake up, somebody else is there, looking at you with inquisitive orange eyes and nearly scaring you half to death.

When you scream, he screams, backing up into your dresser and knocking some of the things off of it. 

“I-I’m sorry-! I was just- told to check up on you- just in c-case....I’ll leave now!”

Boy’s gonna make you chase after him when you’re basically sick smh

If you go to his room and demand to be let in, he will - and he’ll let you stay under the guise of “well if you have to check on me every hour it’ll be less of a hassle if I just stay here...”

You won’t be able to get him to say he feels guilty for letting this happen, but when you pick up on the signs ensure him that he’s doing fine taking care of you. HIs cool room helps soothe your mouth (which is still a little irritated), and you’re honored he has an alarm set to check up on you

You know he’s feeling better about it all when an alarm goes off and he just asks “Hey you good?” and he chuckles a little bit when you respond “Hold on I gotta check my own pulse....... yeah i think i’m good”

Overall he is worried but he doesn’t know how to communicate it? So it’s a lot of quick, worried glances and double checking nutrition facts on packages before he hands them to you.

He kind of leaves you to your own devices, but he does send you worried glances every now and then until you’re recovered. He also makes it a point, when Mammon’s on dinner duty, to tell him exactly how he prepared the meal, though you don’t know if it’s for your sake or just to bother him. Probably both.

When you start coughing:

Satan has taken to leaving his books in his room for most dinner and talks to you in their place, so he notices what’s in the dish pretty quickly.

However, the second step of realizing what it could do to a human doesn’t quite hit him until you’re already on your second bite.

He reaches out to grab your wrist anyway, watching you cough while also staring at him in confusion. As he watches your face redden and your mouth swell, you take your wrist from his grasp and cover your mouth with your hand.

He’s the one who knows what to do, so he appoints someone to keep and eye on you while he runs (yes, runs, but he’ll act all cool about it if his brothers bring it up later) to his room to get some potion that’ll (hopefully) negate the effects

(Don’t let him hear me say this but) he’s similar to Lucifer in that he’s very level-headed when it happens - somebody needs to be focused on the cure when some of his more dramatic brothers are screaming (looking at you, Mammon and Asmo)

Taking care of you afterwards:

Satan might be the best at taking care of you, but he’s probably also the least fun.

Once he realized a while ago how fragile a human could be (and that he was interested in actually keeping you alive rather than just watching how long it takes for something to hurt you), he put in an effort to read up on how to help a poisoned human in the Devildom.

He knows how you must be feeling, and he offers you soothing teas or even a (human safe!) numbing lip balm to help you out.

(He finds great pleasure in how ridiculous you look, now that the danger’s passed - though he won’t tell you outright, you can tell it by the amused grin he isn’t even trying to hide)

Don’t be surprised if you catch him eyeing your plates of food for a while after the incident, and any time you catch him in the act he’ll look at you, take a drink out of the nearest cup and lift his eyebrows in a weird little acknowledgment that he’s been caught before saying “It looks tasty.”

Overall, he’s the standard amount of worried? Even though he will take every opportunity to tease you about how you looked afterwards or how feeble you are to be taken down by something so small (jokingly), he won’t ever get out of the habit of double checking your food to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

When you start coughing:

Asmodeus eyes you warily when you start coughing, but continues with his entertaining until you hit the ground.

He’s by your side in an instant, hands hovering over you as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself (he doesn’t).

He doesn’t remember calling for Satan, but Satan is the one who kneels by you, so maybe he does? His focus is on you and deciding on something he can do to help.

This ends up shielding your face, puffy and a mess from your tears and retching, from the others who are all peering over at you in concern. He knows it’s not the most pressing detail, but he figures that maybe he can preserve your dignity a little bit, no?

He follows the action with his hands covering his mouth nervously, watching as they have to force a potion down your throat now that you’re unconscious. He’s allowed to stay by you once they determine that you’re safe since he normally doesn’t cause too much of a fuss - not when he looks as pale and miserable as he does now, anyway.

Taking care of you afterwards:

He’s not too experienced in the healthcare field, but boy does he know self care! He knows how to get your skin feeling less gross after the rather...irritable reaction it had and the best way to rest is if you feel totally physically relaxed, right?

For a while, if your stomach still feels like it’s churning or you’re otherwise unfocused, he’s the first to defend you from anybody who thinks you’re overreacting. 

Also makes sure nobody outside of the house knows how...unsightly of an ordeal it was. He isn’t shaming you internally or anything, but he’d loathe to have such an unpretty picture in people’s heads when you’ve been nothing but showstopping the whole time beforehand!

Will make sure to grab a seat across from you juuust before you take a bite for a while. It doesn’t matter if he’s across the room in the middle of a story or if you’re at a cafe with someone else and he’s still home. You’ll find him sliding in wordlessly to the seat across from you and watching you intently, making sure you’re eating something that isn’t going to burn you from the inside out.

Has multiple websites bookmarked on his D.D.D. that tell him what is poisonous to you and makes sure YOU are aware of what you’re putting inside your body before you eat it. He seems to genuinely think you’ll forget to save yourself from such a life-threatening situation, but the pout he gives you when you try to get him to stop is enough to convince you to live with it.

When you start coughing:

When you start coughing, he reaches over and starts patting your back absently in the way that usually helps.

He notices the way you grasp onto the table in an attempt to keep yourself up, coughing into your other hand as it gets worse by the second. When you almost slip off, he reaches out to catch you before you hit to floor

Is ready to do the Heimlich when one of his brothers stops him because 1) he’d probably snap you in half, and 2) that’s not what’s happening

He watches blankly as Satan approaches him, laying you down gently as instructed. That’s probably worse, watching you writhe on the floor like that.

He’s the one instructed to help hold you down so they can feed you the potion cure. He wants to hold your hand but it’s covered in blood, and he doesn’t want to risk loosening his grip on you and you somehow spilling it.

Taking care of you afterwards:

He’s the one most shaken up about the whole ordeal, I’d think? While the others are definitely worried he’s the one that has the BIGGEST problem with the feeling of helplessness so I think it would bring back some memories

He definitely keeps a watchful eye over you until you can tell him coherently that you’re okay, and even then he’s still treating you like porcelain for a short while

He can’t help it! Any time he’s reminded of just how frail you can be (and how unexpectedly something horrible can happen) he just...needs a few gentle moments to collect his thoughts.

Does NOT want you even looking at anything that has that plant in it (or anything else poisonous for that matter). Will straight up eat an entire dish from the pan if you give it a glance that he thinks means you’re thinking about eating it. He can usually get away with it since that’s similar to what he already does, but every now and then you see the look in his eyes and wonder if there’s something more to it

He’ll warn you in the future if he knows something is poisonous, but if you’re trying something new he’ll automatically ask you “Can you eat that?” If he doesn’t know, he can at least remind you to check for yourself.

When you start coughing:

Very few things can snap Belphegor out of a drowsy dinner stupor. You suddenly falling on the floor and coughing your insides out is one of the things that can.

If his brothers weren’t so concerned with you, they’d have a few quips about how quickly he startled awake

The first thing he does is dart his eyes back to the table, where he quickly realizes that they just inadvertently poisoned you. When he turns back, it seems the others have already come to that conclusion and someone is running off to help you

He knows that he doesn’t have much to offer in terms of help, but he will tear somebody (Mammon) away from you and kneel next to Beel.

He keeps himself under control by comforting Beel as he holds you down. 

There’s definitely a sick feeling in his stomach, something familiar about you lying on the floor and bleeding that he doesn’t like. He pretends to be averting his eyes at the sight of them forcing a potion down your throat and not some regrettable memory.

Taking care of you afterwards:

You wake up and Belphie is curled up next to you in your bed. Nobody else is in the house and it’s 3 PM. You feel gross and you can’t reach your phone to actually confirm what time it is and you have no idea what the fuck is going on until he wakes up

Which he does, after you poke and prod him enough and he’s very grumpy about it

“yeesh, you get poisoned and suddenly you think you’re the princess of the devildom”

“I get WHAT”

Definitely is planning to get Mammon back tenfold

He tries to act nonchalant about it but he does keep waking up ever few hours and lifts his head to like. check that you’re good for the first day or so. 

Sometimes he gets this sad look in his eyes and you have to smooth his hair back and reassure him that everything’s okay. It works a little but if he thinks he can trick you by pretending to sleep and then steal a few moments where he can Brood on his own while STILL cuddled up next to you, he will.

Suddenly takes an interest in what you’re eating. Every day. Every meal. 

He doesn’t go to check on you but he does text you a few minutes before lunch or if you’re getting dinner somewhere other than the house “What are you planning on eating?”

Gets real huffy if you don’t give him a straight answer. Usually will respond with a “Whatever don’t get yourself almost killed again”

If you decide to get cheeky and answer “Probably straight poison, like right out of the mysterious bottle with a skull on it” he will just say “ugh, sounds like you. have fun.”

“...”

“...”

“...seriously, don’t do that mc.”

he sets alarms to wake up so he can make sure you don’t ingest literal poison be a little nice to him please

[yespleasetommyshelby]

Should've just asked - Part 2 - Oscar Diaz

One week, seven days, 168 hours, 10080 minutes, 604800 seconds, since he fucked everything up with y/n. Threw it all away because his own insecurities got the better off him, all because he didn't just ask.

He hadn't seen sad eyes since that day either, leaving him alone to stew in his own bubble of self pity. He hadn't left his home since that day, instead opting to send Cesar to the store when something was needed or delegating his Santo's jobs to other members. The bags that y/n and Sad eyes had left behind in the mall sitting against the wall opposite him, mocking him with their bright colours and smiling logos, he'd looked through them as soon as he'd gotten home, each one filled with balloons, banners, anything you would need to through a birthday, even a badge that read 'birthday king' in big bold letters.

Today was his birthday, his 26th, a day where he should've been out in the yard celebrating with one of his famous Santo's parties with the love of his life by his side but instead he was sat in an empty house, bar his younger brother, wallowing in a pit of self pity.

"You still sulking?" Cesar asked as he watched his brother stare at the blank space by his feet, interrupting his pity party.

"Fuck off." He muttered, reaching for the half smoked joint that had been abandoned in the ashtray an hour ago.

"It's been a week Oscar, you can't sit around moping all the time, yeah you fucked up, I get it, but sitting here isn't helping anything." Cesar sighed, this past week he'd seen a side of his older brother that he couldn't remember seeing before, sad and bitchy Spooky was not a pretty sight.

"You don't get shit." Oscar sighed as he lit his joint, breathing in the smoke before exhaling slowly. "I fucked up the best thing to ever happen to me, to us, I lost mi amor Cesar." He mumbled, his eyes filling with tears that he rapidly tried to blink back.

"I know, I know I've never had anything like what you and y/n have, how about we go to the mall? I need some new trainers for school." Cesar asked, watching Oscars face carefully.

"Can't you take your little groupie with you?" Oscar muttered, stubbing out his joint in the ashtray before leaning back and covering his eyes with his arm.

"Please Oscar, it'll help get your mind of shit." Cesar tried again, desperate to get Oscar out of the house and the hole he was currently wallowing in.

"Fine." He sighed, pulling himself up and heading towards the door, missing Cesar pull out his phone and send a quick text.

He's out.

-------

Just down the street y/n grinned as her phone dinged, the text she'd been waiting for finally coming through.

"Hey Sad eyes!" She called into the spare room where he had been staying for the last week, opting to stay and comfort the upset girl rather than spending nights in his own bed.

"What's up?" He asked as he opened the door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Were you seriously sleeping at 2 in the afternoon?" She asked with an amused smile. "Anyway, Cesar's managed to get Oscar out the house so I'm heading over there now, you coming?" She asked with a smile, excited yet nervous at the thought of seeing Oscar again.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming, just give me two minutes." The man grumbled before going back into the room.

Yes, y/n was still pissed about how Oscar had acted a week ago, calling her out for being a cheat in the middle of the mall after doing nothing more than planning his birthday. But at the same time the last week had been hell, she'd received multiple texts and missed calls from Oscar, all apologising for that day, for making a fool out of all three of them. No matter how badly he had embarrassed her that day he was still the only thing in her heart, the love of her life and she was determined not to throw it all away, they had fixed every other problem that had arose in their relationship and they was going to fix this too. Which is why her and Sad eyes were currently on their way to the Diaz household, ready to throw him the most surprising surprise party there ever was.

"Alright, you start to put the food out and I'll get started with the decorations." Y/n smiled as she went over to the bags sat against the wall, the same ones that her and Sad eyes had gotten at the mall. "I'm surprised he didn't throw this out." She mused, digging through the bags to find the balloons.

"I've told you, the guys borderline obsessed with you." Sad eyes laughed from the kitchen.

An hour later and everything was set up, banners covered the walls, balloons floated through the house and yard alike while the food and drinks tables looked immaculate, thanks to Ruby's help.

Everything was in full swing, music blasting, drinks in people's hands as she received yet another text that she was waiting for.

2 minutes out.

"Alright! Everyone be quiet, he's just coming!" Y/n yelled, the music being cut and the loud laughter turning to hushed murmurs as her nerves grew knowing Oscar was just about to walk through the doors.

The loud slamming of the front door caught everyone's attention as they stood anxiously waiting for the Santos leader, the faint 'what the fuck is this?' Making her chuckle only being able to imagine how confused Oscar must have looked right then.

"Surprise!" Everyone cheered as Oscar and Cesar appeared at the back door, Cesar sporting a grin as Oscars wide eyes roamed the crowd before landing on y/n.

"You did this?" He asked quietly, not yet making a move as his mind tried to decide whether this was real, if she really was stood right in front of him.

"Well." She smiled bashfully. "I had some help." She shrugged as Sad Eyes came from round the corner with two coronas in his hands.

"Happy birthday Spooky." He smiled, holding a bottle out for Oscar to take, smiling and clinking their bottles together once Oscar took one.

"Aye, listen man, I'm, uh, I'm sorry about hitting you, the other day." Oscar sighed, feeling weird having to apologise for punching someone who was basically his brother.

"No worries Spook." Sad eyes chuckled patting his brother on the shoulder. "Now go get your girl." He smirked, nodding towards y/n who was stood a few feet away talking to Cesar and Jamal.

"Hey, uh, can we talk?" Oscar asked walking up to her and rubbing the back of his neck from the nerves.

"Yeah, sure." She smiled, feeling her heart beating through her chest as she looked up into his eyes.

They were both stood staring at each other before Cesar clearing his throat pulled them out of whatever trance they were in.

"Hey Jamal how about we go find Ruby?" Cesar asked, raising his eyebrows at Jamal who just didn't seem to get the hint.

"What? Why? We see him all the time." The young boy shrugged, oblivious to the scowls he was receiving from the Diaz brothers and the amused look from y/n.

"Beat it." Oscar deadpanned, smirking as Jamal quickly turned and walked away leaving Cesar to follow with a chuckle.

"Was there any need for that?" Y/n giggled as she turned back to Oscar, looking up at him with an amused glint in her eye.

"Kid doesn't know when to take a hint." Oscar shrugged, not seeing the issue in how he spoke to Jamal in the slightest.

"Yeah well, he is Jamal." Y/n shrugged with a laugh. "Anyway, what was it you wanted to say?" She asked remembering why the Santo had come to her in the first place.

"I uh, I just wanted to say I'm sorry, ya know, for blowing up on you the other day, I know how stupid I was being and I called you out for bullshit you didn't even do." Oscar sighed, his hand that wasn't holding his beer clenching and unclenching at his side as he tried to find the right words. "Just uh, just the thought that you were out with some other cabrón made me see red, I didn't even think to ask, I just wanted to punch whoever it was in the face." He spoke quietly, y/n only just hearing him over the music that had started up again.

"Oscar, you're right, it was stupid." She snorted making Oscars heart drop his eyes going straight to the floor, it was too late. "But." She started, making his eyes flick back up to her immediately. "But I love you Oscar Diaz, I love you so fucking much that this last week has been killing me. I don't know what to do when I'm not with you Oscar, and I don't ever want to have to do that again." She sighed, a lone tear a sliding down her cheek which he quickly reached up to wipe away.

"I love you too mi amor, I know I get jealous and over protective but that's only because I don't want any one taking you away from me, not now, not ever." He mumbled shaking his head slightly before putting his bottle down on the nearest table.

"I know, baby, I know." Y/n smiled, reaching up taking his face in her hands, thumbs rubbing along his jawline gently. "You know if the roles were reversed I would've done much more to any hyna I thought was coming for you." She giggled, already having thrown hands with one before.

"Trust me, I remember, that shit was hot." Oscar chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist as hers slid from his face to going around his neck, opting to rub the bottom of his neck rather than jaw line.

"Now what?" Y/n asked, her eyes flickering between his.

"What do you want?" Oscar asked quietly, not wanting to push her into anything that she didn't want.

"What do I want? I want you Oscar Diaz, I want you everyday for the rest of my life, jealousy and temper included." She laughed as he rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"Good." Oscar smirked down at her. "Because I ain't never letting you go." He whispered, pulling her towards him, leaning down and planting his lips on hers for the first time in a week.

"I love you Oscar." She mumbled happily, resting her head on his chest as his arms wrapped around her back.

"I love you too mi amor." He smiled, placing a kiss on her forehead and squeezing her tight.

"Also, watching you punch sad eyes in the face really turned me on." She mumbled with a laugh as she felt Oscar tense slightly.

"Is that right?" He chuckled, looking down at her. "Well it's been a week, we best take care of that." He laughed before pulling away and lifting her over his shoulder before heading into the house landing a swift smack to her backside.

"Woo! Spookys gunna get some!" Was heard as he carried her through to the bedroom, both of them laughing as he threw her onto the bed.

"You're so perfect mi Reina." Oscar whispered leaning over her as he stroked a few stray hairs out of her face.

"If anyone's perfect here it's you." Y/n smiled letting her eyes wonder his beautiful features. "Just promise me something." She mumbled after placing a quick peck to his lips.

"Anything." He answered immediately, ready to give anything and everything to make her happy.

"Next time, just ask." She giggled as he rolled his eyes.

"Putá." He mumbled as he leaned down for a slow kiss.

"But you love me anyway." She whispered.

"Always mi amor."

One week without seeing each other.

Seven days without so much as a smile.

168 hours without a kiss.

10080 minutes without an 'I love you'.

604800 seconds without each other.

One surprise party to fix it all.

[dangerouslyallaboutdraco]

Hello!! May I please have a Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader where they are making out and get caught by her overprotective older brother? And so they try to explain themselves and stuff bit her brother ends up taking the reader with him and just her brother being worried about her absanana

Found out

A/n: Of course !! I adore getting these requests. I chose the reader to be the sister of Cedric, just because the prompt sounded a lot like how I imagine him but feel free to request another character. This is set during 4th year and is an AU where Cedric doesn't die. Also slightly sexual towards the end

Being Cedric Diggory's younger sister was difficult, the popular Hufflepuff always had a crowd hanging around him but he and Y/n weren't completely alike.

When the Triwizard tournament was announced Y/n had begged him not to put himself in danger. But Cedric wanted to win that cup, and he was stubborn. Of course, she was beyond proud of him when his name flew out of the cup but she couldn't stop the bad feeling in her stomach.

"Cedric, you know you don't have to do this," Y/n begged him once she'd pulled him out of dinner one night. The sibling pair didn't talk to each other much during the school day, due to their differing social circles, but they were close.

She stood next to him in an alcove near to the big doors where the rest of the school was sitting.

"Y/n, if I win this mum and dad are going to be so pleased." He had the proudest look she had ever seen him with. Such a wide smile.

Growing up he was always the more carefree one, willing to get on a broom before their parents allowed them, climbing any tree around their house and getting into any number of bad situations for his friends. He was a risk-taker, Y/n knew that. But he was the most honest person she knew and if he said he would be okay, then it would be okay.

"Just be safe, okay? I'll see you out there tomorrow." She made him promise as she gave him a hug.

Cedric nodded and pulled away. "I promise, don't worry about me. Get some sleep." He told her, still fulfilling his protective older brother duties.

Y/n didn't notice Cho Chang until she stood next to Cedric, threading her fingers in his in a way Y/n hadn't seen before. She had heard the rumours that her brother was going out with Cho but wanted to wait until he confessed.

"Sorry to interrupt." Cho started, smiling awkwardly at Y/n who quickly cut in.

"No, don't worry. You can take him." Y/n told her with her own soft smile to let Cho know she didn't mind.

She looked relieved at that, clearly not wanting to piss off her apparent boyfriend's sister this close into their relationship. "It's nice to officially meet you, Ced talks about you a lot," Cho replied as she held out her hand for Y/n to shake.

Y/n had only ever heard their mother call Cedric 'Ced' and that was when they were really young and he was feeling sick but she thought the nickname proved their relationship was close.

"Yeah, you too." They did know each other, only by mutual classmates and Y/n found it mature she introduced herself.

"Okay, we should go, I'll talk to you later, Y/n," Cedric said, breaking the slight awkward tension he had created and turning the girls' attention back to him. When Y/n looked at him he looked awkward as he bit his lip and shifted his weight around.

Y/n raised her eyebrows at him and made it obvious she was looking at the couples joint hands. "Yeah, we will talk later." Her sarcastic tone made him gulp but made Cho laugh.

They walked off together, joining some of their other mutual friends and leaving Y/n there.

Instead of walking to her own dorm room, she waited until the hallway was quiet from students leaving the hall and snuck into the dorm room of her favourite Slytherin.

Draco was waiting for her, as he had done for the past 2 months since they started dating. Unlike Cedric, she could keep a relationship secret.

"How did it go?" He asked her cautiously, pulling her into a hug in the doorway.

Y/n was surprised by his embrace but welcomed it as she finally let herself, for the first time since Dumbledore readout Cedric's name, relax in his arms. "Badly." She replied, finally pulling away from his warm body.

Draco pulled her over to his bed, sitting on it and patting the spot next to him for her to sit. "Tell me about it, love." He insisted.

She sat next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I don't want him to get hurt, he's always been so protective of me and now I feel like I need to be because he's doing something stupid that could get him killed." Draco was the one person she could really speak honestly to which surprised her when they first got close.

"I know you think that but a lot of people volunteered to compete, they wouldn't have if it wasn't safe. Even stupid Potter got accepted despite being too young." He tried to reassure her, as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her tighter. "They wouldn't even have the tournament if it wasn't safe."

Y/n let out a huffing sound, knowing Draco was completely correct. "Thank you. I just need him to be okay."

"I know, he will be. And you never have to thank me for being here." There was that sweet smile that she adored. It wasn't something a lot of people got to see and that made her more grateful.

The couple sat together for a minute, the fall and rise of Draco's chest syncing with hers.

Then she spoke. "Can I stay here?"

"Yeah, of course." He agreed, smiling down at her again. And maybe it was the widest grin she had seen on his face.

It wasn't how either of them pictured their first night together like, but as Y/n drifted off to sleep in his arms she was infinitely more relaxed. And Draco didn't want her to get up and leave as she did every night.

~

"What colour is your dress?" Draco asked Y/n, one particular evening they spent up at the astronomy tower. Keeping their relationship secret was difficult but they both knew hiding places and the astronomy tower was one of their favourites.

It was quiet at night, a nice peaceful quiet. As the weather got colder naturally the nights were too and being up there meant they were bundled up in coats and blankets to not catch a cold.

Y/n looked over at him, focusing on his dark features instead of the bright stars. "I'm not letting you see it before the big night." She grinned at him.

"No, I want to match my tie." There was a shy smile on his face, something she didn't see much. "So tell me."

She rolled her eyes, still smiling at him. "Silver." She had picked the dress out the day the Yule ball was announced. At first, she thought of going for his favourite, green, but she knew he would love the dress.

He nodded. "Shouldn't be too hard. Will you at least dance with me?"

There was a desperate, insecure look in his eyes. "Yeah, we'll sneak out." Thankfully, he didn't look disappointed.

~

Tonight was the big night. Y/n found it hard to recognise her classmates dressed in their best clothes. The whole castle was decorated beautifully.

She has been waiting for Draco on the top of the staircase but when he didn't turn up she made the walk down the stairs herself, being careful not to trip with her heels.

That was when she saw him, at the bottom of that stairs. He was dressed in a white and black suit with a shiny silver bowtie and his hair was done slicked back, just how you liked it.

"Merry Christmas, you look beautiful," Draco told her as she met him at the bottom of the stairs, trying to look as inconspicuous to their peers as possible.

She has already received her Christmas gift from Draco, a stunning pear-shaped emerald necklace set in expensive gold. On the back of the gold setting was his initials 'D.L.M'

"Thank you for my gift, it's gorgeous," Y/n said, toying with the pendant in her fingers.

"You're gorgeous." He returned the comment. He was trying and failing, not to make it look like he was staring at her.

"You can get your gift tonight." She smiled, thinking about the gold watch she had waiting in her dorm for him. It was more than ironic they brought each other such similar jewellery, they were soulmates. "And also, you look amazing." Gently she let herself touch the bowtie, straightening it.

Draco grinned down at her, consumed by the smell of her perfume when she was so close to him. He had to fight every urge not to kiss her. "Ready to go in?" He gestured to the ballroom door.

She nodded, grabbing his pinky finger discreetly so she could touch him without anyone else seeing them.

They stood close to each other in the crowd of other students while the competitors walked through with their dates. Cedric briefly locked eyes with his sister, not noticing whose hand she was holding as he paraded his own date through the entrance.

Y/n grinned at both him and Cho, impressed by her dress. Then they split to dance with their own friends, trying to ignore the urges they were both fighting to kiss each other.

"Follow me," Y/n whispered into his ear once the ball had died down. Most of the students were leaving off beds they didn't belong in.

Draco's heart started to race as he watched the silver figure walk out of the room. He waited just long enough to see her disappear before racing out himself, hoping but not really caring if anyone noticed.

Once he reached the corridor he seemed to have lost her, a few other students were mingling around but his face dropped at the thought of her leaving him hanging.

He took a left, walking through the corridor before he found a wooden door he wasn't sure he'd seen before. Twisting the doorknob open he revealed Y/n who was standing in a small room he hadn't seen before.

"Missed you tonight." She grinned, pulling him over to her. They could still hear the slow songs playing from the ballroom and with her hands wrapped around his neck and his around her waist they began to sway.

"Missed you too." He whispered in her ear, as they danced. It was peaceful and far more quiet than the ballroom was.

When she finally looked up at him, he was staring right back down at her. His pupils were enlarged, and not just from the dark. She knew he needed something.

They were so close she could taste the punch on his breath and a hint of the cologne he put on at the start of the night. She lent up an inch and he met her lips. Unlike their usual soft kisses, this one was filled with more need.

He didn't let up either, gently slipping his tongue into her mouth. She moved her hands through his hair, tugging slightly at the blonde ends and making him groan with an open mouth. He moved his hands up from her waist, gently tracing up and down the sides of her boobs.

"Can see right down your dress, making me crazy," Draco mumbled once he pulled away to breathe, leaving both their lips wet. He slurred his words whenever he was feeling needy for her.

She grinned at him, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him back in. He groaned again and pulled her body closer to him. They were so close as their lips and tounges continued to intertwine that she could feel his body pressed up against hers, pinning her to the wall.

Suddenly through closed eyes, they could feel the room getting lighter. Draco pulled away from her quickly, spinning around to the door.

There stood Cedric. With a frown on his face.

"Y/n Diggory, what is going on?" Cedric asked sternly. She had seen her brother made over Quidich games, or when their parents told him off but he was fuming. His eyes were angry as he glared between the pair.

She didn't want to talk to him. She just wanted to be with her secret boyfriend that nobody knew about until now. "Nothing." She mumbled her faced flushing red due to her annoyance with her brother disciplining her.

When she met Cedric's eyes he wasn't looking at her, he was looking at Draco. "We're together. We have been for a while." He quickly answered. Y/n wasn't expecting that, now looking at her brother he almost looked as shocked as angry.

"No, no way," Cedric said strictly. "There is no way this is happening." He put his hands over his eyes like it would stop the recurring image of his younger sister making out with her boyfriend.

"Stop being so dramatic." Y/n shot back at him, finally feeling less embarrassed and angrier herself. "You have no say over what I do."

"Can we go somewhere else and talk about this?" Cedric asked more calmly, refusing to look at Draco anymore.

"Why?!" Y/n spat back at him. Although they were both quick to tempers they didn't often fight. This was an anomaly for their relationship but due to their joint stubborn tempers, neither of them could stop it now.

He glared at Draco and then back at Y/n. "Because I need to talk to you!" He told her, grabbing her arm so he could pull her away from Draco.

Draco let her go, still in shock himself and Y/n let Cedric pull her away. "I'll be back." She told her boyfriend.

Cedric pulled Y/n back into the corridor, taking her to a secluded alcove. "What is wrong with you?" She quickly argued with him.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?!" He mocked her, still fuming.

She rolled her eyes and huffed. "Right, I'm going back to my boyfriend." She said, tugging her arm out of his grasp.

"No, wait." His tone turned desperate as he pleaded. "Y/n, come on." There was a softness in his voice she hadn't heard today. "I'm sorry for yelling. I'm just shocked." His face was softer now as well now.

"I just hate it when you talk to me like I'm a child." Clearly one of the siblings was more stubborn.

"I know." He was being much more reasonable. "You're really with Draco Malfoy or was that a lie?"He finally found the courage to ask.

Y/n looked at him with disgust. "What? He wouldn't like someone like me?" She defended quickly.

"No, I'm not saying that. There's a lot of things that people say about him." That made her even madder.

"Draco is not what people say he is." She quickly defended, it was true. There were a lot of lies people said about him.

Now it was Cedric's turn to huff. "Really? Have you not heard stories about him hooking up with girls? All the girls he danced with tonight?"

"Shut up." Y/n pushed his chest. "He's not like that. We've been dating for 3 months." Cedric didn't say anything else, he just stood there like he was judging her. "And also I treated Cho very nicely so I would appreciate it if you did that same thing to my boyfriend." She finished not wanting to listen to him anymore. She stomped off back to Draco who now stood with his hands in his pockets near the Diggory siblings but far enough he couldn't hear.

Once she reached him she felt calm as her features relaxed. "Hi, sorry." She smiled, reaching out to hold his hands.

With their hands together at the bottom of the staircase, she leant in and kissed him on the lips, not worried about who was seeing. "Getting bold, Diggory." Draco smiled at her once she pulled away.

"If my possessive, seriously annoying older brother can't do anything about it, why not flaunt it, Malfoy?" Y/n questioned with a wide grin on her face.

She noticed his eyes shift off her and to someone standing behind her. He took his hands off her and stuck one out. "It's nice to officially meet you." Y/n then noticed her older brother standing next to her.

"You too," Cedric replied, shaking his hand. Y/n could tell he wasn't completely genuine but let Draco assume he was.

Maybe, it would be alright.

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Osborn’s 5✩ Inspiration: Black VS Black [黑色对峙] Date Translation (END 6: Heart-throb)

“Do you really think that I think there’s no helping you?”

*Light and Night Master-list | Osborn’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *This 5✩ Inspiration has 6 Endings!! *Osborn’s tag will be #For Night, For Freedom *Requested by anon! You can check my on-going requests and more here!

✥ Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ★Night★

The cat caused an incident! What should I do?

⊹ Check the fallen model ⊹

I didn’t think too much about it, instead, hurrying over to where the car model had fallen. 

I picked it up and inspected the damages.

There was a long crack in the middle and several parts had broken off, scattering compartments all over the floor.

MC: Can this… still be saved…?

Just as I was thinking of how to break this bad news to Osborn, his low voice sounded from behind.

Osborn: What a big commotion.

Osborn: What? Did Mitt get into an accident?

I steeled myself and stopped covering the scene of the “car accident” that had occurred. I got up and handed him the car model that I held.

MC: The “culprit” knocked this car model down and fled.

Osborn frowned, reaching me in a couple of long strides.

He took the model and turned it around a couple of times, observing it with an indifferent look on his face.

MC: Is it too damaged to fix?

Osborn: I can just send it for repairs over the next few days. Let's go look for the cat first.

He calmly placed the broken car model back onto the shelf, taking a “let’s talk about this later” stance.

This model had been placed together with many other car models that looked new, pristine, and without a scratch. Not to mention, the glistening trophy that had been right next to it. A wild guess entered my mind.

MC: Do all the car models here hold some sort of commemorative meaning?

Osborn: Hm? Why do you ask?

MC: I mean, if they are some sort of special memento to you, then they should have been subjected to routine maintenance, right?

MC: If so, then you should also have the tools for it along with any part replacements, yes?

Thoughtfulness slipped into his eyes.

Osborn: You want to help me fix it?

MC: Yeah! That cat was just spooked real bad, and it wouldn’t do us any good if it got a bigger fright the next time and reacted even worse to it if we continued chasing after it.

MC: So, why don’t we leave the cat hunt for later and fix the car model back up first?

MC: Plus, I’m pretty dexterous with my hands. Wanna give me a chance to show you my prowess?

He raised an eyebrow, his pale green eyes glinting.

Osborn: Okay. Here's your time to shine.

Osborn stretched his arms over my head. For a while, all I could see was his broad chest. I felt my breath hitch.

Then, he suddenly lowered his head. His face was incredibly close to mine.

The scent of black cedar assaulted my nose. I blinked. My brain was lagging.

MC: Oh, okay.

Osborn: Take it.

My gaze slid to his hand. Turns out that he’d just been fetching the toolbox that had been in the cabinet above the display shelves.

Osborn: I'm waiting.

I took the toolbox from him and opened it.

I was greeted by a multitude of components in all shapes and sizes. Some of the tools in it were similar to the ones I used when making my designs, but there were also some that I’d never seen before.

I picked up a tool that looked like a cross between a pen and a knife, looking to Osborn for advice.

MC: What's this?

Osborn: An exacto knife. It’s used to cut off excess parts of the joints when required.

MC: Mmhm, okay. I've remembered it.

Osborn: This is a cutting plier, screw sanders, tweezers...

Osborn picked out a couple more tools from within the box and introduced them to me.

Osborn: Anything else you can't recognize?

MC: Not for now.

Osborn: Okay. Then let's remove the damaged compartments first.

MC: Okay.

First, we used a screwdriver to remove the damaged compartments. Then, we replaced them with brand-new spare parts.

This race car model was really different from those being sold out in the market. It was made with exquisite craftsmanship, and its internal makings were far more complicated than I'd initially thought.

When it was time to add colours to it, Osborn prepared the required paints and set them out in measured portions onto the palette with ease and finesse. He smoothly handed me a brush.

Osborn: Do you know how to touch up the paintwork?

I hesitated.

MC: I've painted outfit designs before for design needs, but I'm sure it's completely different from actually painting a model.

MC: I don't know if it works the same…

Osborn: See my demonstration first then.

He dipped his brush into the red paint, carefully painting it onto the model. It came out very uniform and smoothly layered.

I'd stared at him, watching him do it a couple more times. But, no matter how much I watched the same process, I couldn't quite grasp it. Even if I tried mimicking his actions, my paintwork always turned out patchy and uneven.

Osborn laughed, placing his hand over mine and directing the brush I held.

He directed my brush, guiding me on how I should be painting the compartment with a focused look on his face.

It was all serious and business, except… My focus was inevitably drawn towards his movements and breaths.

Osborn: Get it?

MC: Mmhm...

I tried my hardest to remember the way he did it and followed suit. The end result was much smoother than what I'd been accomplishing before.

After the finishing touches were in place, I raised the model and showed it to him.

MC: Like… this? This should be done now, right?

Osborn: Not bad. You've got standard.

My spirits soared at having received such direct praise from him.

MC: Since I'm such an apt learner, how about enlisting my help again the next time you make another model of a race car?

Osborn slightly raised a brow as he contemplated my paint-stained hands.

Osborn: I'll think about it.

MC: Does this even need to be considered?

MC: I'm pretty quick to pick up hands-on skills, not just fixing up models of racing cars! So I'm a fast learner no matter what it is!

MC: You can test me again if you don't believe me!

Just as I was boasting about my assets in an attempt to make myself appeal to him, Osborn's calloused fingers suddenly brushed against my cheek.

The rough texture of the pads of his fingers made my heart skip a beat.

MC: What's wrong?

Osborn: You got something on your face.

I doubtfully touched my face. Suddenly, I pulled my hand away to find my fingers stained with red paint.

Astonished, I look at Osborn's hands, only to find even more red paint on them…

MC: Don't tell me you drew something on it!!

Osborn: What gives?

MC: Hey! You're biting the hand that feeds!

Osborn: Whatever do you mean by that?

Osborn: I'm just adding some blush and colour to your face. Makes you prettier.

I was taken aback, nonetheless.

MC: Okay. Then, I'll add some colour to your cheeks for you!

Osborn: Whoa, hey! Easy!

MC: Nothing you say now is gonna stop me!

I swiftly picked up the brush and dipped it into the paint set out onto the palette, rushing straight for his face.

Osborn quickly reared back, but I subconsciously followed right after his retreat.

And this was how I toppled him down to the ground with him doing nothing to defend himself.

Osborn was astonished. He'd attempted to get back up, only for my other hand to immediately dart out to pin him down by the shoulder.

MC: No moving!

Surprise flashed through his eyes, as his usual impish smile crawled its way back up his face.

Osborn: Wow, what an aggressor.

MC: That's right. Now's my time to retaliate!

MC: No use trying to escape!

I circled the air with the brush, purposefully observing his face to make my mark.

MC: Hmm, what do you want me to draw on you?

Osborn seemingly accepted the fact that he was going to be an inevitable victim of mine since I already had him "pinned" down. He folded his arms behind his head, giving my question some serious thought.

Osborn: An air drawing?

MC: Dream on!

Osborn: Mercy, please. I beg you.

MC: It's too late to be begging me for mercy.

MC: Hmph. Just watch me improvise on the spot~

Just as I was rummaging through my brain for a glimmer of inspiration, a light bulb suddenly lit in my head. 

I had an image now: Mitt as it was fleeing.

❖☆———————————★❖

I leaned down, supporting myself on Osborn's shoulder. 

Following the curve of his jaw, I applied colour to his skin, drawing a colourful cat.

Osborn had his guard down, seemingly content to watch me work my "artistic talents" with him as the canvas.

The surroundings lapsed into silence.

I was drawing it on with such rapt concentration, yet I was still able to notice his long black lashes and hear his familiar steady breathing ever so clearly. I could somewhat feel the slight rise and fall of his chest.

I vaguely registered our close proximity to each other. My heart seemed unable to settle with the fact that we were so close to each other that our breaths intermingled, clamouring loudly within my chest.

I blinked twice, finishing off the last stroke before getting up and putting some distance between us.

❖☆———————————★❖

Osborn: Done?

I nodded.

Osborn: What do you think of your work of art?

Huh? Is he asking me to rate my own work?

I quickly gave him a once over, only to realize that I'd been distracted at the end, so it'd turned out a little funky. I nearly laughed at it right then and there.

MC: Ahem. I think it's not bad! You've got a big kitty on you now!

He waggled his brows, lazily raising his body halfway back up. His features were suddenly enlarged before my eyes once more as he leaned closer.

Osborn: Happy now?

MC: Mmhm… Pretty happy.

Osborn: Then let me tell you something that'll make you even happier.

He moved even closer, his words gently flowing with the air, wrapping themselves around my ears.

I shuddered as a scalding heat started creeping up my neck.

MC: ...What is it?

Osborn: The other kitty's right behind you.

Mitt: Meow~ Meow~

The last of his words were drowned out by the sudden meowing that sounded.

I snapped out of the trance of the moment, much to my embarrassment. Mitt had actually slinked behind me somehow without my knowing!

MC: Right, we should hurry and catch it before it gets up to no good again!

I quickly climbed off Osborn, flushing red as I fled.

A light chuckle sounded behind me in response.

❖☆———————————★❖

By the time we found Mitt, it was already sprawled out beside the TV cabinet with its paws stuck underneath, fiddling with something in the gap.

Recalling the layout of his living room, I quietly tip-toed and whispered my idea into Osborn’s ear.

MC: I’ll take left, you take right. We’ll pincer it.

Osborn: It’s already here, so there’s no need to go through so much trouble.

MC: Huh?

Osborn: Just wait and see.

Osborn took a couple of long strides forwards in the direction of the cat.

I followed after him, quietly approaching the black cat. However, my attention was suddenly caught by the photo frame that the cat had just been playing with.

Picking up the frame, I carefully observed it…

In the picture were Osborn and a couple of familiar-looking teammates. They’d all had an arm around each other’s shoulder, beaming as they held the same trophy.

Their faces all look much younger… Is this a photo from years ago?

The race car in the background had a red and white body with an orange rear spoiler, similar to the car model that Mitt had batted off its perch earlier.

MC: Don’t tell me… Was that car model made based on this race car?

I was lost in thought when a sudden meow broke my train of thought.

Osborn: Still wanna run?

❖☆———————————★❖

I raised my head to see Osborn with both arms raised, gently holding up the cat in question.

The bright and warm sunlight shone in through the window, carefully outlining his chiselled side-profile and the contours of his muscles.

Although Mitt had already been caught, it still glared daggers at Osborn. It was as if a cat and a human were engaged in a silent battle with each other.

After a while, Mitt seemed to register the fact that it’d lost, meowing pitifully in that soft cry once more.

❖☆———————————★❖

Osborn: Oh? You know how to beg for mercy now, don’t you?

Osborn carried Mitt to the little corner we’d set up for it. Mitt seemingly gave up on the game of chase, lowering its head to eat the cat food that we’d prepared for it since the very beginning.

Watching it eat its food so obediently, I couldn’t help but kneel down and stroke its round head.

Mitt cast a doubtful glance at me, but turned its head, indulging nuzzling itself into my palm.

MC: !

MC: I touched it! How cute…

Osborn: You’re that excited from just being able to touch it?

MC: Yeah. It looked so naughty that I thought I wouldn’t be able to touch it today.

Osborn: It’ll come running up to you for a lick or two so long as you have food.

MC: Then I MUST let it try the wet cat food! Maybe it’ll get closer to me!

I sped towards the sofa and picked up the packet of wet cat food, purposely waving it before its nose.

It couldn’t resist the offered temptation after all. Its soft fluffy paws batted at my wrist as it opened its mouth and cried its pleas.

MC: Okay, okay. Any more and you’ll end up a piggy.

I recalled something after putting away the remaining food. I picked up the photo frame that I’d set down earlier and handed it to Osborn.

MC: Oh, yeah. By the way, this was the photo frame that Mitt was batting with under the TV cabinet earlier. I don’t know where you normally display it.

He took the photo frame from me and glanced at it.

MC: And on that note, I realized that the car in the background looks very similar to the model we just pieced back together. Are they the same?

Osborn: Oh. The model was made according to this race car.

Suddenly, I recalled having seen the highlights of all his races before.

The year and month in which he’d won his first racing championship seemingly coincided with the time that this photo was taken.

My guess had tumbled out of my lips before I could stop it.

MC: Is this the car you drove when you won your first championship?

He quirked a brow.

Osborn: Why, you know me so well.

MC: Then… Is that car model something of a memento from that race?

Osborn: You can say that.

MC: I heard somewhere before that that car’s engine had to be changed out every two races. It shouldn’t be in use anymore, right?

Osborn: The engine exploded on me during that race, so it was only my companion once.

Osborn spoke lightly of it, but thinking of how exciting and terrifying it must have been back then, I couldn’t help but feel my heart sink a little.

MC: I’m glad the car model’s alright. Otherwise, it’d be such a pity for such a meaningful memento to get damaged like that.

Osborn: So I should thank you properly. Is that it?

MC: Huh? Thank me?

He chuckled lightly, his eyes sliding from the photo to my face. He had a slightly flippant look on his face.

Osborn: Weren’t you the one who made that car model more meaningful?

MC: ……

I was taken aback for a bit. I looked at him in surprise, only to find his gaze calm and gentle. There was a smile glimmering within his eyes.

Osborn: You were pretty clever when fixing the model. Why so stupefied now?

As his words sank in, I felt my heart flutter as I realized what he’d meant by having made it more “meaningful”. Something seemed to have filled my heart. It was a little flustering, yet also a little sweet.

I worried my lip and gathered my courage together before looking up to meet his eyes.

MC: Then, that makes me happier now…

MC: Although I didn’t get the chance to sit in on the race of your first championship and cheer you on…

MC: I was still able to piece the model back together and play a part in that precious moment of memory.

Inexplicable emotions surfaced in Osborn’s eyes, and in the next second, his big hand ruffled my hair with a vengeance.

Osborn: There’s really no helping you, is there?

I shyly ducked my head, but I couldn’t stop the corners of my mouth from rising.

At this moment, the sun had enveloped us both within its warmth.

The cat quietly ate by our feet, letting out a purr of satisfaction every once in a while.

Slowly but surely, unspeakable feelings started to bloom and spread within the confines of my heart.

I hope, from the deepest points of my heart, that time would always be eternally frozen in this beautiful moment.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

✥ Choose your Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

END 2 +3 + 4 | Choice: Call Out [呼唤] ⊹Speak⊹

END 5 | Choice: Listen [倾听] ❖ASMR

END 6 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ★Night★

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Freedom⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Prologue)

[notaninterest]

Carnal *2* (Hisoka x Reader)

[A/N]: sorry for not updating on this passing Thursday! I had a major life event occur so i had to break away for a week. here's chapter 2!

also i know it says [Y/N]'s POV, but it doesn't tread all the way back to the first few scenes. It's a continuation from where you left back last time :)

enjoy!

Warnings: graphic smut, heavy sexual themes, Hisoka becoming tired.

‘Well at least he’s handsome.’ You had thought to yourself when you first spotted him in the corner of the bar, almost completely hidden by the shadows. You had to avert your eyes quickly so he didn’t notice that you noticed him, focusing back on your pole work. You have to attract him to you somehow. But how?

You can feel his gaze on you and you swallow, deciding to switch up your routine. You clench both hands on the pole, keeping your arms straight. You make sure your ass is in full view before you start gyrating your hips to imitate the act of doggy style. You could feel your nervousness bringing your nen out so you quickly use Zetsu and switch to In to keep any traces of aura away. It was only for a split second. No one could’ve noticed it. You stand back up, hands still on the pole as you walk up to it, beginning to try to climb up it. The atmosphere was the same, rambunctious one it’s always been, but a clean sense of tension easily struck your body. You stumble a bit as you attempt to further climb up the pole. Damn! He noticed. You stuck out like a sore thumb to him. You could tell by the way his gaze bore into your face rather than your body. He wasn’t interested in what you had to offer, like the rest of the people here. He was instead interested in figuring you out. Fuck. You desperately try to focus on your dance, but as you’re sliding down the pole, your crotch rubs against it and you gasp. Touches like these were a stranger to you. You never had the time to form any sexual relationships, so you never experienced something like this before. You let up, feeling embarrassed but quickly continuing on with your dance. The music ends soon and you walk as calmly as possible back into the dressing room before beginning to panic. Your cover was blown and there was a limited amount of time you had before Hisoka approached you. You decided you were done with dances for the night and you would refuse any lap dance requests. Sex was a service you didn’t provide so you didn’t have to worry about that.

Until the boss that had hired you waltzed into the dressing room a few minutes later, connecting his slimy eyes with your clearly panicked ones. You came to him four months ago asking for a job after you had set your sights on hunting the magician after passing the Hunter exam. You had found out he frequents this specific joint once a year to “blow off some steam” according to your informant. You planned to catch him off guard while he went to the back rooms with one of the dancers and, hopefully, end his reign of fear amongst the people. The owner of the strip club allowed you in and you worked your way up to becoming one of the better dancers there, despite not having any previous dancing or sexual experience. You were impressed with yourself. Plus you made bank, so it wasn’t a bad profession.

Your boss walks up to you, pulling you aside. “The man you’re looking for has requested a room with you.” You flinch. “What? I thought I told you--” “Cut the shit. I already tried to explain to him that it’s a service you don’t provide, but he was rather...persuasive.” You could immediately tell by the way the man’s eyes shined that there was money involved. Must be a hefty amount too judging by the way he was talking to you. “Anyway, go please him. I’m not giving you a choice. It’s either that or you lose your job.” The boss says before turning around. You swallow your pride. You couldn’t afford to lose this job. You kind of enjoyed it. “For how long?” You ask. “The rest of the night.” The man replies before slinking off into his office. “What?! You expect me to stay holed up in this room for twelve hours?!” You angrily spit, but the boss was already long gone. Your hands clenched into fists. This bastard! He requested you for twelve hours?! You were going to give this asshole a piece of your mind.

_______

You squeak as your weak body is flipped onto your stomach. He intended to use the rest of the time on you?! You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Wait just a damn minute! You’re crazy if you think for another second that I’ll- ah!” You expel a noise of surprise as Hisoka bites your left asscheek, a sultry look settling in those damned yellow eyes of his. He licks over the area to soothe it and you grit your teeth, looking at him with eyes full of anger. You flip back over to face him in all of his...naked glory. You blush at the sight before you. He’s certainly what those others call well-built. He’s bulky, but the perfect amount for his frame. The magician sits up on his knees, watching your dilemma. Your eyes trail down his body, following his ripped chest, the eight-pack that lays on his abdomen and then to his still hard cock, which makes your eyes bug out of your head. How did that thing fit inside of you?! Your face is a scarlet red as you stare at it, seeing it covered in your juices. “Do you like what you see, [Y/N]?~” Hisoka husks, smirking at your reaction. He knows he’s well-endowed, the cocky bastard. You clench your teeth, shooting a glare his way. “Listen here you son of a-” “Ah ah.” He silences you quickly, flipping you back onto your stomach. “While that little exchange was certainly entertaining, I’m not finished with you yet.” His voice grows more serious and you find yourself swallowing in nervousness. “Now, how long have you been here, scouting me out?” He asks, a claw trailing up your sensitive back. You can’t help but react, arching your back as the sharp finger rolls up your spine. “L-Like I’ll tell you anything more.” You huff, glaring at him over your shoulder. Hisoka stares back at you before smirking that trademark smug smirk, returning his hand back to his side. “Very well…” He seductively drawls, grabbing your ankle and dragging you towards him. You squeak at the sudden movement, feeling his heat behind you instantly. You let out yet another noise of surprise as your lower half is lifted into the air, stopping at a certain height. You look over your shoulder to see that your pussy is once again level with his mouth. You blush even more. “N-No. Not again.” You whimper, looking helplessly into his dominant yellow gaze. Hisoka chuckles. “Then tell me what I want to hear.” He deadpans, an unamused look on his face. You can’t reveal the statistics of your mission, so you lower your head in defeat. “I cannot tell you…” You whisper. “Then I will continue until you do.” He remarks lowly. You feel his talented tongue descend on your lower lips once again, and you can’t help the moan that spills from your mouth.

Damn. He’s really got the upper hand on you. There’s no escaping him as he has an iron grip on your hips. You cry out when he sucks on your sensitive clit, wiggling a little in his grasp. He chuckles, simply tightening his grip. You squirm fruitlessly, letting out obscene noises as he relentlessly snacks on your leaking pussy, leaving you no room to escape. You eventually hit your peak again and spill all over Hisoka’s mouth. He greedily laps up all you have to offer, moan slightly while doing so. After he’s finished, he drops you on your stomach, allowing you to recover from your orgasm. You flip into a sitting position, sighing and angling your head downwards a little. Hisoka suddenly shifts behind you, whispering, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Your expression hardens into one of anger. “You...You asshole!” You snap, swinging your fist into his smug face, which materializes into a cloud of dust that dissipates as soon as your punch is thrown. “Oh [Y/N].~ Your continued attempts to hurt me only serve to turn me on further.” He purrs into your left ear. In your anger, you’ve failed to notice that he’s broken a sweat. You sneer, throwing back your left elbow in another attempt to hit him. You’re met again with thin air. All of a sudden, you’re picked up by your shoulders and thrown face first into the bed. Before you can even lift yourself back up, a powerful hand pushes you down by the shoulder blades, pushing your front down and leaving your backside up. One of your flushed cheeks presses into the mattress and you get a peripheral view of Hisoka admiring the position he’s put you in, his yellow eyes dark with desire. “This one is my favorite.~” He rasps, placing his cock at your entrance. Your eyes widen. You squirm a bit, trying to maneuver away from him but he holds you there by your scratched up hips, not letting you escape. “Anything you have to tell me before I start again, [Y/N]?~” He murmurs. He runs his dick up your wet slit. You mull over your options, finding that there’s only one you can make. With your silence as his answer, he slowly enters you again with a shaky breath. You open your mouth in a silent scream as he splits you open yet again. “O-Oh fuuuck.” You wail into the bed sheets as he fully seats himself in, clenching within your fists tightly. Hisoka chuckles and begins thrusting, the pace hard and punishing. His hips smack against your ass, the sound of skin smacking into skin filling up the gaps between your moans and his. He digs his claws into your hips, cutting deeply into them. You yelp in pain, but it’s soon overshadowed by the pleasure of him thrusting into you. You faintly notice the blood running down your legs, but you pay no mind to it. “Ah!” You scream in a higher octave as he hits into you rather harshly, brushing a rather sensitive spot within your pussy. Hisoka pauses, stopping all motion. “Oh?” He murmurs to himself. You can feel the devilish smile radiating off of him. Your eyes are closed so you don’t start crying from how unbelievably good it feels. Your body is shaking from the immense pleasure and you can’t stop the desperate whimper that leaves your throat from the lack of friction. “Hmm…” Hisoka hums, a delighted chuckle leaving his mouth at an apparent discovery he’s made. Just what was this clown up to?

You let out an obscene cry as he resumes his thrusting, aiming for that sensitive spot deep within you...and he hits it every single time. “H-Holy- AAAA- !!!” You scream as loud as you possibly can as this man hits this point every single time with each well-timed stroke. Tears prick your eyes as the pleasure is immense. You can feel your orgasm coming, but it feels different from the others. “Wai- S-Stop! I don’t-” Your cries fall on deaf ears as he lifts you up by the hair, pressing your back against his chiseled chest as he fucks you upright against him. You can hear him panting heavily in your ear, an occasional sound coming up. He wraps his pale, brawny arms tightly around your midsection, fucking you as hard as he can. He continuously hits that point deep with you, making you scream an ungodly amount. “His-Hisoka! S-Stop! I won’t-” You shake your head from left to right, reduced to an incoherent, blubbering mess. Hisoka, however, seems to be riled up by the fact that you said his name, thrusting into you with more fervor. With one last thrust up into that sensitive spot, you cum. But as you cum this time, you squirt. Hisoka holds you upright as you make a mess of him, the pillows, front-end of the sheets and fluffy throw-over. You convulse around him as you spray the bed, your body jolting each time you squirt. Your mouth is agape the entire time in an airless wail, drool dripping down your chin. He lets go of you when you finish your spectacle and you fall limply onto your cum, unable to move. You listen as he takes a deep breath, shakily exhaling. “Oh wonderful.~” He moans, moving into your recovering vision. The black spots eventually fade from view and your face to face with the smiling, sweaty magician. He holds an expression of happiness, one that contrasts drastically to your defeated one. “What could you possibly be smiling about now?” You grumble, your extremities feeling numb. “I haven’t had one that can squirt in so long. You’re going to be so much more fun.~” He lustifully drawls, backing out of your view soon after. So that’s what that was? It sure is intense. You feel him petting your head, laying on the other side of you. He’s waiting for you to recover. How...nice? The silence that overtakes you two is comfortable. It prods a stem of information out of you. “Four…” You say, breaking the silence. “Four what?” “Four months. I’ve been stationed here to scout you out for four months now.” You whisper, shakily raising yourself up to a sitting position. Hisoka looks pleased. “That’s all I’m going to tell you.” You firmly say, refusing to spill anymore vital information.

“Mm...I don’t think it is.” The transmuter frowns, grabbing you by the neck. He gives your throat a light, warning squeeze. “Eh?! But you used me already! You’re done!” You exclaim, your two nimble hands wrapping around his wrist in an attempt to retch his hand off of your neck. Hisoka simply smiles, pointing downwards. “I haven’t even cum yet.” His point is emphasized by his still hard cock, which is absolutely drenched in your juices at this point. “And we’ve still got nine hours left.” He smiles, letting go of your throat. You swallow. Just what have you gotten yourself into? You lean into your hands, using the support to keep you upright. You look down at him as he rests against the semi-soaked pillows with his hands tucked beneath his shoulders, his eyes closed and that same signature, lazy smug smirk written all over his face. You decide to run your gaze over his bare body, taking it all in. This is the first and most likely last time you’ll ever be able to see it, so you take advantage of it.

So...this is what the body of a trained mass murderer looks like. There’s only muscle, not a single ounce of excess skin being apparent on him. You look up at his angular face. All points of his face were sharp. Not a plane untouched. It’s then you notice his hair sticking to his sweaty pale forehead. His makeup appears smudged as well, making it apparent that he’s wiped his face from the amount he sweat. He still holds a formidable amount of stamina, but he can sweat. At least he’s not invincible to normal human woes, unlike many others claim. He’s not nearly as sweaty as you though. You look over the muscled plane of his chest. His two pectorals jut out intimidatingly. He’s certainly ripped, judging by his eight-pack that follows suit. You wonder what intense training he had to undergo to obtain abdominals of that capacity. You shiver. Nothing good. You know that’s for sure. Then comes his erection, which is resting against his stomach, hard as ever. It twitches, surely unhappy that it hasn’t released yet. You swallow. You have no idea how you’re going to get him to achieve his peak after you’ve reached your own around a total of four times now, each more intense than the last. You shift your gaze, moving to his toned legs. He had some killer thighs. You can only dream that your plushy thighs will reach that amount of muscle and definition. His calves were just as strong. His feet were clawed just like his hands. You realize that the more you stare at him, the more you lust for him. Damn your carnal desires. Yet...you have him for another nine hours. You can take your fill...and surely you wouldn’t want to be near him again, right? Yeah. That has to be right. You decide that it’s your turn to become the predator, smoothing a hand over his abs. The hard muscle contracts at your touch and you see him open one yellow eye in the corner of your left eye. Perfect. Let him watch you enjoy his body. You trace the dips in between each muscle, watching intently as the abdominal muscle contracts under each of your touches. It’s kind of beautiful in its own sinister way. You continue this until you reach your face down, running your tongue over each one instead. You hear him grunt under his breath, a smile forming on your lips as you proceed, licking all the way down to his member. As soon as you reach it, you stare down at it as if you’re starving, craving the taste of it. And at the current moment, you were. You stand his dick up with your hand, gazing at the length and thickness of it. This monstrosity has been inside you twice and you didn’t have much time to explore it with your mouth earlier. You peek over at his face. Both of Hisoka’s yellow eyes are open, watching you closely. He remains in his restful position, seeming to encourage you to discover on your own. You smile to yourself.

You move your hand up and down his dick softly, watching and feeling as it twitches in your hand, excited to have some attention. You smirk, moving so you’re in between Hisoka’s legs this time. He moves to accommodate you and you get yourself comfortable between them, staring up into his dark gaze as you hold his hard cock. He’s not smiling. You keep eye contact with him as you kiss the tip of his dick, kitten licking it. His upper lip twitches, but he remains impassive otherwise. You smile, accepting the unspoken challenge. Keeping your eyes trained on his, you suck his tip into your mouth, running your tongue around it. It appears to be sensitive, telling by the way he hisses and the way his body shivers. His eyes narrow a bit and yours remain open, wanting to see his raw reaction. He doesn’t break eye contact with you. You suck him further into your mouth, slowly of course. He grits his teeth, sucking in a breath. You run your tongue on his sensitive underside, drawing a shaky exhale from him. You keep going down, relaxing your throat when he reaches that point. His yellow eyes alight in surprise as you keep slurping him down all the way to the bottom. As he cock fills up your narrow throat, he throws his head back, strain apparent in the muscles of his neck. A choked moan leaves his lips and you cheer victoriously in your head. Your lips eventually touch the base of his dick. You’ve successfully swallowed him whole. You pause for a moment. Then, you swallow around the mass in your throat, listening as a laboured breath exhales into a deep, breathy moan. With your newfound skill, you lurch back all the way, sucking yourself back to the bottom quicker now. A heated hiss reaches your ears and you watch as his head raises back up, his eyes reconnecting with yours, alight with a fiery desire. You smile in your head, looking at him with an innocence that drives him utterly crazy. You continue your ministrations, drinking in all the noises the magician makes. “S-Such a - uhhn! - ggggood girl!” He pants, a strained smirk reaching his face. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the sound of his praise. This must’ve turned him on more than anything because you hear a loud, “Ohhh fuuuck!” You smile to yourself, continuing to suck him off before he eventually spills into your mouth, which you swallow. You pull back and look down at Hisoka, who’s panting heavily. Sweat adheres to his whole body. His usual slicked back hair is now all over the place and his usual calm demeanor is replaced with that of a mess. You look down at him in shock. You caused...this? You smile. You’re proud of yourself. It must be one of the rarest things to see Hisoka Morrow looking like this. And damn if you didn’t deserve it!

“Tch.” Hisoka tuts, looking away in...shame?! “Eh?! What?!” You exclaim in confusion. One of the most feared people in the world? Shame?

“Not very many people get to see me like this…much less a sex worker like you…” He sighs, an aura of utter shame surrounding him. Your left eye twitches. “Excuse me! I’ll have you know I’m more than just a sex worker!” You yell at him, smacking his shoulder for added effect. You grit your teeth, crossing your arms before you get too rough with it. “It’s just…,” He continues, piquing your interest. “None of them have made me do this before.” And he scoots up, tucking his legs into his body and sitting up in them, turning so his back is facing you. You gasp as you see deep scratch marks lining up both of his shoulder blades. They lined up perfectly with Hisoka’s own hands. “You...did this to yourself?” You ask softly, reaching out to prod around the wound. He covers it with his hand though, turning around to face you once more. Your hand then lands on his pale cheek instead. Hisoka pauses for just a brief moment, stunned. He enraptures your right hand in his left one, moving your hand closer to his mouth. You yelp in surprise when he bites your palm, throwing your hand away from his face. He smirks. You shake your hand in an attempt to will away the pain, glaring at him. You shove him with a Nen-powered blow. It clearly doesn’t do anything and he slowly falls backwards, dramatically plopping on his back. You roll your eyes. A lazy smile makes way to his face. “Say [Y/N]...Would you be willing to do more work this time? I’m feeling a bit tired.~'' It's only then you notice he’s erect again.

You bristle. “What?! Hisoka, you horndog!”

Hisoka chuckles deeply. “Sorry, I can’t help it staring at you.”

You blush heavily from that comment, crossing your arms again and turning away. You hear him move too late before you can evade and he grabs you, pulling you atop of him. You have to place your hands on his chest to stop yourself from falling forward. You first look down at him in some sort of surprise, then one of anger. “I’m not just a sex worker, Hisoka.” You snidely comment, sitting up straight and crossing your arms. He frowns. “I know you’re not, [Y/N].” He replies honestly, nothing giving way to any form of deception whatsoever. You look at him again and sigh. “I can’t.” You mumble. Hisoka pauses. “Come again?” “I can’t.” You say louder, looking away bashfully. Hisoka tilts his head. “Why not?” “Because I’m not turned on.” You say flatly, looking him dead in the eye. His yellow eyes grow dark with lust. “I can change that.” He rasps. “Yeah but you don’t want to do any-“

“Come sit on my face.”

You blink.

“What.”

“Come sit on my face.” He repeats in that same seductive voice of his, the same mischievous grin on his face, the same sultry look in his yellow eyes.

Your face shines a brilliant shade of red. “What’s wrong, [Y/N]? You’re looking a bit...flustered.” Hisoka chuckles. You swallow your pride. Hisoka knows what he’s doing. “Okay. I will.” He smiles deviously at your consent, watching your crawl up and over his face. He places his hands at the tops on your thighs, willing you to sit on his face. As soon as his mouth connects with your pussy, he sets straight to work, claiming every inch with his mouth. Your body convulses in surprise and you let out a choked moan. His eyes haven’t disconnected from yours, watching you intently. His tongue manages to slip inside you and you gasp, letting out a wail of pleasure. His grips tightens on your thighs and his hips raise slightly. He quickly settles back down, continuing to feast on you. You grab the top of the headboard for balance, subconsciously beginning to grind against his face. Hisoka’s breathing changes instantly and he’s quick to move out from beneath you. You pant, sitting on his navel. He wipes his mouth, licking his lips. He still wears his signature smirk, albeit lazily. “You can’t do that, [Y/N].~ You almost made me skip the main course.” Hisoka murmurs huskily, getting comfortable. You position yourself over his dick, looking down at him nervously. He smiles up at you, easing your anxiety. You slowly begin to sit down on his hard cock, gasping as he fills you up yet again. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the feeling. You struggle to get the rest of him inside of you, but you manage at your own pace, fully sitting down on him now. You whine at the feeling of being so full. Hisoka shakily exhales, gripping the sheets below him. “Don’t be afraid to move, [Y/N].” He growls and you get the point, pushing yourself up and back down. You whimper as Hisoka grunts. You place your hands on his toned chest for leverage, pressing down as you push yourself up again, pulling yourself up to his tip before sinking back down. You set a steady rhythm, moaning up a storm. Hisoka lets his own pleasure be known through deep groans and shudders. It felt different in this position. His cock seems to be going deeper within you. Your moans end on a higher octave because of this. Hisoka seems to be enjoying this just as much, thrusting up to meet you in the middle. His hand creeps up your body, starting by rubbing your clit a few times, making you squeal. He then rubs his hand over your stomach, enjoying the beauty of it. You grow flustered at his actions, feeling shy. He eventually slides up your body to reach his goal: your boob. You squeak at his light squeeze on your right breast, slightly messing up the rhythm of your bouncing. Hisoka smirks with gritted teeth and flips you on your back, effectively taking over. He speeds up the pace, causing you to raise your voice. “Ahn- fuck! Hi-Hisoka!” You moan loudly, your toes curling as your orgasm approaches fast. “Are you -pant- gonna cum again, [Y/N]?” Hisoka groans, fucking you as fast as he can. You nod your head vigorously, too caught up in the feeling of your body almost breaking with the pressure building up. Hisoka smiles at your response, moving his hand down your beautiful stomach and reaching your clit. With just a few more circular motions on it, you snap, arching your back with a cry. Just like that, he sends you flying into the realm of ecstasy once again. You’re blinded by a white light before you finally come crashing down, back landing flat on the bed.

You were breathing hard, your arm laying over your eyes as you calm down. You hear Hisoka lay beside you, panting as well. When you feel calm enough, you lower your arm from your face, looking over at Hisoka, who’s resting peacefully beside you. His hair was disheveled from his usual slicked back style. It now rests over his sweaty forehead and the pieces that aren’t resting on his forehead are slicked back behind his ears and the back of his neck. He looks like quite the specimen right about now. He glances over to you as well, feeling you examining his face. It boosts his ego. He smiles lazily, running his eyes over your face. He really appreciates your features. They were so gorgeous to him, especially those [e/c] eyes. He’s too worn out to do anything more, so he rests his eyes, falling asleep.

You decide to take a nap as well, tired from all the activity.

You soon pass out for an undetermined amount of time.

*******

Word count: 4700+

Next chapter should be expected next Saturday, May 15th. I will hold to it this time!

[hotwings0203]

as ur irl bestie i am cashing in my favor and am asking- no begging for a dilf damon fic pls <3

😑fine fineee I guess I can take a quick break from writing BNHA stuff for you🙄

CW: NSFW, Damon Albarn being an a-hole, manipulation, gaslighting, language minor stuff like that

The studio itself was pretty spacious, you couldn't lie. As much as you loathed to give this cursed group any more credit, you were hard-pressed to remember the last time you´d been called into such a professional recording booth. You were used to dingy atmospheres, crumbling walls, stained carpet, and even cramped garages at times. It felt like your years of meticulously swaying your hand back and forth on the rosin and tuning your strings until they damn near popped were slowly going down the drain, lost in spaces of screaming adolescent boys and shady market agents. The streets of London were unforgiving for a young musician like you, no room to turn to since others were exactly in the same position as you.

 It was by pure coincidence that the day you had played for a local cafe for a small commission, Graham fucking Coxon was sitting in the back of the run-down joint, sipping a murky glass of Bourbon.

 You didn't notice him at first, of course. You had simply let the music in your mind travel from your head down to your arms, and allowed it to move through your fingertips to your bow. The serene melody that sang through the air had turned his head to face you, the shitty drink in his hand stopped halfway to his mouth. 

 Your solo was only a couple of minutes, but the second you were done and packing your bags to head out, the brunette made a beeline for you, blocking your exit.

 ¨Uh, can I help you?¨ You cock your head and shift your violin case.

 ¨Yes, you can actually. Listen, I know this is gonna sound a bit straightforward, but I really liked your piece. Did you compose it yourself?¨ He sounds quiet and sounds nervous, with him barely looking you in the eyes.

 ¨Yeah, I did!¨ You can´t help but beam-it took you several days just to perfect a few meager lines, but in the end you were content with the piece.

 ¨Wow...that's serious talent right there,¨ He opens the door for you, and you nod before you head out, him trailing behind you as he leaves with you.

 ¨You make a good amount of money doing small jobs like this?¨ His voice is nasally and low, but with a slightly higher pitch than your typical London accent.

 At this, you squint your eyes a bit and turn your head at him. It was nice of him to be interested in your work, but for someone you don't personally know, the idea of talking about your small gigs that merited little to no money was not something you were fond of.

 He senses your hesitancy and immediately withdraws. ¨I´m sorry, that was probably rude of me to be so blunt about it. Actually, I don´t think I´ve properly introduced myself.¨ He stops to face you, and you do the same.

 ¨I´m Graham Coxon. You may or may not have heard of me, but I can assure you that I too enjoy music, as an understatement.¨ He extends a calloused hand and smiles a little bit, adjusting the blocky glasses on his face.

 Graham...Coxon? Graham as in....oh, holy shit.

 ¨No way.¨

 ¨Er...unfortunately, yes way.¨ His soft voice lilts as he holds back a laugh, and you gape at him.

 ¨Oh my god!¨ You drop your violin case in the excitement of eagerly returning his handshake. ¨You-you're from Blur! I know you!¨

 ¨Was from Blur, and ´careful now, don´t wanna ruin your instrument. But listen, I´m kind of in a bind here so I´ll get to the chase. We´re working on a few chords here and there back at the studio, and I´ve been on the lookout for a while for someone who fits our tune. ´Thing is, the deadline for submitting our song is comin´ up fast, so we only have a couple weeks left.¨

 You raise your eyebrows, heart pounding in your chest as you listen to his proposition.

 ¨So I´m thinking, you sound pretty good, it's exactly what we need to fill in our bridge. I´d love it if you came in and played a tune for us. If we like you and you´re cool with it, you could feature on our song.¨

 It feels surreal. Were you hearing right? Graham Coxon from Blur asking you to play on his song? This had to be a prank.

 ¨Ẅait, but you've only heard me once, what if my sound doesn't match what you're actually looking for?¨ You stammer, palms clammy as you wipe them off on your trousers.

 ¨Well, that's what a rehearsal session is for, lovely,¨ He chuckles nervously and slides his slightly foggy glasses up his nose. ¨So, you wanna give it a go?¨

 You think for a moment, biting your lower lip. There wasn't exactly anything stopping you now, was there? I mean, sure, the prospect of playing in front of one of UK's most famous bands was daunting, but this was your chance to finally be recognized!

 Taking a deep breath, you pick up your fallen case and nod. ¨Alright, I´m in. When you do wanna meet up?¨

 Graham visibility deflates in relief, letting out a shaky exhale. ¨Great. I'll text you the time and place, yeah? The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up, so we´ll be in contact soon.¨

You both exchange numbers, your phone tingling in your hand long after you bid farewell and drive home in a buzz.

 When you finally get home to your apartment, you throw your keys onto the counter and flop down onto the mattress. What a fucking day.

 So many thoughts bounce around in your addled head. You want to do well, but obviously you don't have their kind of experience in the industry. Should you play more in tune with their song, or continue with your own sound? An idea pops into your head amidst your lunch, a few hours later. Why not just do some more research on the band themselves? Then you'd know exactly what kind of music they're looking for.

 The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up.

 Oh yeah, who else was in the band? It's not like you didn't know who Blur was at their peak, but you paid more attention to their music rather than their faces. Truthfully, you never really basked in tabloids and newspapers purring about the next big scandal, or the top dogs of Britain´s industry when that stuff was relevant.

 You abandon your pathetic sandwich and make your way to your laptop, sliding into a chair and getting down to business. After a few quick searches, you pull up a couple tabs around the name Blur.

 Graham Coxon- Recovering alcoholic. Big fight with Damon Albarn.

 Alex James- Cute boy turned conservative. Classic case.

 Dave Rowntree- Mainly untouched. Became a successful lawyer. Good for him.

 Damon Albarn- A fucking mess.

 Puffing up your cheeks and putting your hands behind your head, you lean back in your chair. Good god, this man is a wreck. Headlines from decades ago swim in and out of your eyes, loud, obnoxious neon prints of Justine and Damon broken up again? Suede claps back!, or Will the Blur Brothers ever come back to each other? Find out first-hand from Coxon himself!, and worst of all, Albarn relapses again, Damon Albarn from Blur goes head-to-head with Liam and Noel-news flash, the brothers win!

 You think you see something about him and a potential wife and child, and that's when you decide it's time to sleep.

 After all, there's no point in getting caught up in any of their backstories.You were just there to play a solo and get out. Nosing around in their lives was more trouble than what it was worth, anyways.

 Which is exactly what you kept trying to tell yourself as you walked into the modern studio two weeks later, its grey soundproof walls and white floor screaming fancy and rich to you. And fancy and rich didn't come without grit and experience, which you had none of. As if to emphasize your inexperience, you went into the wrong halls twice before you exasperatedly checked your messages with Graham and saw that no, it wasn´t room 311, it was room 113.

 Finally, finally, you came across your designated room. The mahogany door was closed, and you placed a hand on the silver knob. You could faintly hear the sounds of a guitar being played from the inside, and it was curiosity above everything else that compelled you to push it open.

 From behind the clear window that separated the booth from the recording area, you see them. Graham, Damon, and other men you don't recognize are all in the midst of the song, the same song Graham had texted you the PDF of for the violin notes. You sheepishly take a few steps forward and clear your throat to catch the attention of a bald man leaning back against his chair right in front of the glass. He turns around and you give a weak little wave, clutching your case in the other hand. 

 ¨Hey, I´m here for-¨

 ¨-Yeah, yeah, Graham told me all about you. Go on ahead and join in, they just started.¨ He pulls a toothpick out from between his lips and gestures to the door of the divider.

 You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you make your way through the second door, and the second you step inside meekly, Damon and Graham´s eyes are on you.

 Graham continues to play the guitar, only lighting up his eyes and giving you an encouraging nod when you step in, and the other two men on bass and saxophone also give a quick smile in greeting. And Damon…well.

 Damon barely acknowledges you.

 He continues to sing and stare straight ahead at the wall in front of him as if there's an interesting scene being played out on the grey paint.

 You´re unsure of whether to catch his attention and give a proper greeting, but you decide not to as it would interfere with the song. So instead, you quickly grab a nearby chair and stand and set up your rosin and papers.

 Your timing is perfect; the bridge is about to come up. Just to be certain, you look up from your poised position and catch the eyes of most everyone except for Damon´s. They all give you a quick thumbs up or an expectant look for your confirmation of playing.

 And then, it comes. Damon stops singing, and your cue to sweep your bow across the horse hairs of your strings comes.

 Melodious, whole, fulfilling, it was. Graham´s guitar chords harmonized with the tones of your violin, and music that you´ve never dreamed of creating was made by your hands exceptionally. 

 Everyone was in awe of your raw talent, from the way their gazes were rapt onto your bow, moving back and forth,staying still in some highs and whittling away at the lows. You even thought you saw the producer from inside the booth turn his head towards you from the corner of your eye, but you couldn´ be sure.

 Everyone except Damon Albarn.

 The song ended a minute later with the signal of a fading out bass, and then there was silence.

 ¨Right on with that tune.. ´Thought we'd be fucked ova´ if we didn't find someone to take that melody.¨ The bassist with long shaggy hair grinned and you returned one back.

 ¨Yeah, I was kind of hesitant when Graham ´ere told us he found one to take this position on, but I'm pleased.¨ The saxophone player scratched his chin and hummed his agreement. You felt relief.

 Until he spoke.

 ¨Is this your first time playing?¨

 You look incredulously over at him, looking straight on at his face. Sandy hair, lines on his cheeks, slight scruff around his chin, he looked older than his online pictures. 

 ¨Uhh, no?¨ You laugh a little, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice. ¨If I was, I doubt Graham would think I´m good enough to play with you guys.¨

 ¨I don't think Graham is the only one who needs to think that.¨ Everyone shifts uncomfortably, looking nervously from Damon to you, and Graham tugs his collar as if the temperature had gone up.

 But nonetheless, you don't back down.

 ¨Oh yeah? How so?¨

¨You played the G-string too high,¨ He deadpans, looking utterly bored amidst oceanic hues.

 ¨What?¨ You flip your music pages a couple of times until you find the page where you played that part. ¨No I didn´t, I was right on tune-do you even know how to play the violin?¨

 ¨No,¨ he smirks, and with your blood boiling steadily you open your mouth to argue, but thankfully Graham butts in.

 ¨Damon, don´t be a prick, she played fine. Unlike you, who fucked up on the 5th verse.¨

 The man in question lazily stretches his arms above his head, causing his white tee to rise a few inches over his belly button. You can´t help but glance at the skin-it's smooth, cleanly chiseled with part of his v-line showing, a happy trail rising from the juncture.

 ¨Oi, sweetheart, eyes up here.¨

 You snap your gaze back to his smug face, cheeks burning.

 ¨I didn´t-¨

 ¨Sure you didn´t. Just like how I didn't mess up on the 5th verse, and how you didn't ruin the song with your shitty violin, yeah?¨ He simpers, and you almost rise out of your seat to snarl at him before Graham jumps in between you two, scolding a very inappropriately-grinning Damon.

 You get up out of your chair and huff, shoving your belongings back into your bag as everyone else packs up, the men bickering and playfully throwing shit at each other.

 The producer even congratulates you on your successful first day, and everyone cheers and pounds you on your back, your hair falling in your face and gracefully hiding your 120k watt smile.

 Damon shoulders right past you, knocking your case right out of your hands. You grapple with it for a second before it hits the ground, and when it does you whip around and shoot him an icy glare.

 He's not even looking at you, he's already out the door.

 It's quiet for a moment.

 ¨Well, there he goes again being a dickhead. Classic Damon, you got.¨ The saxophone player points to the leaving blond and grins sheepishly at you.

 ¨What's his problem?¨ You ask in disgust, shaking your head as you join the rest of the boys leaving.

¨Uh, well...¨ Graham scratches the back of his head and avoids looking at you. ¨He's always been kind of like that, y´know, so don't take it too personally, but between just us four, his wife´s been on his arse for a bit about um...some...domestic affairs.¨ He finishes lamely, and the other two men guffaw at your raised eyebrow.

 You don't have a chance to press further as to ask what domestic affairs, exactly because a loud clap of thunder shakes you all to your cores as you step outside.

 ¨Aw, come on!¨ You stamp your foot and hold out your hand for confirmation of the raindrops about to drop on you all. ¨I didn't know it was gonna rain today,¨ you grumble.

 Graham squints up at the sky and wipes some droplets off his blurred glasses, covering his head with his jacket hood as he begins walking to the parking garage. ¨I´ll see you lot in about a week, yeah? Just keep practicing, good rehearsal we had today!¨ He waves his hand and dashes off.

 ¨Good job on your first day, Y/N. Fancy the weather on your walk back for us!¨ The sax and bass player bid farewell and also do a sprint to their respective cars, splashing through the puddles and sending muddy water on your pants.

 ¨Urgh!¨ You raise your hands to try and protect your bottoms but to no avail- London's sewage strikes again.

 Sighing in defeat, you walk through the rain towards your car, succumbing to the grimy walk. Unfortunately you didn't think to use the parking garage due to high nerves when you first came in.

 You walk for about 5 minutes, the rain drenching your hair and clothes and chilling you to your bones.

 Could this day get any more annoying?

Oh, but you should´ve known that it could.

 Because right at that moment, a black limo swerves right next to you on the sidewalk, sending a massive wave of gutter water right your way.

 You swear loudly and jump back, barely managing to avoid the remnants of the sewage tsunami crossing your feet.

 Looking up wildly at the offensive vehicle, you make a fist and flip the window off, your lip curled up into a snarl.

 The obsidian glass rolls down.

 ¨Well that's not very nice, is it? Nasty weather we got going on right now, careful it doesn't get on your clothes.¨

 Oh.

 ¨It's you,¨ you monotone, less than pleased to see his salacious grin at your predicament-which was being soaked to your undergarments in brown muddy water, your hair clinging to your face and your violin case lugging down towards the ground, its weight proving mutiny against you today of all days.

 ¨In the flesh,¨ Damon beams, and you scowl at his cheery attitude.

 ¨You almost drowned me, asshole,¨ You turn your nose up in scorn, and he chuckles in his baritone voice.

 ¨Nah, cant´ve love, I can't drive,¨ he clicks his tongue and jerks his thumb to the seat in front of him, where you assume his chauffeur is.

 ¨Oh, so it was under your orders that your poor driver practically waterboarded me?¨ ¨Well, yeah, I mean what else do you expect me to do when I see a pretty lady walking so harmlessly in the rain?¨ Your voice catches in your throat for a second from his words and the way his glacial eyes twinkle for a moment, but then he erupts in dry chuckles at your demeanor and you throttle your hesitancy at speaking.

 ¨Shut up, you're absolutely vile, y´know that?¨ ¨So I´ve been told, but to be honest sweetheart, I´d rather hear that in bed, where I´m used to hearing it. Now are you going to get in or shall I talk about my sexual prowess with you the rest of the afternoon?¨ He opens his door from the inside and mockingly winks at you.

 You feign a gag, but still decide to jump in the spacious limo when a flash of lightning lights up the sky. 

 He scoots back to give you space to sit and adjust your violin case on the seats in front of you, but just as you´re about to close the door, he leans in right next to you and reaches behind you to pull it shut himself.

 You´re caught still as he draws close, you´re extended hand frozen in midair as his arm against your back flexes and stiffens with it pulling the door. You can feel his breath against your neck as he exhales, can feel some of his hair tickling against your ear and cheek. You hold your breath, not daring to move lest you accidentally brush up against his proximity.

 The loud slam of the door causes you to jump, and he laughs a little at that, signaling his driver to go.

 You don't quite face him, your gaze down in your lap as his entire body is facing you, still stuck in its position when he was closing the car door.

 ¨Not nervous, are you?¨ He murmurs in your ear, and you can´t help it when your whole body shivers at feeling the rumble in his gravelly voice.

 ¨N-no, I´m not. Do you have to be so close?¨ You stammer, barely giving him a sideways glance which eggs him on, much to your displeasure.

 ¨Not really. But if you´re not nervous, then it shouldn't be a problem, right?¨ He says quietly and leans around to catch your eye.

 Before you can lose your nerve and jump out of the car, you snap at him. ¨You just don´t quit, do you?¨ 

 He finally relents and the side of his pink lips lift lazily as he stretches his knees out and practically manspreads across the expanse of three seats. ¨Nope. Not that you really were against it though, ´could feel your heart pounding a mile a minute sweetheart. Trust me, I´m used to making girls nervous, I would know.¨

 You sneer at him. ¨Don´t call me sweetheart, and yeah, I was nervous about getting some disease-ridden prick like you getting close to me. God knows how many STD´s you've contracted from bedding some poor groupies.¨

¨Only one way to find out, right love?¨ He leans his head up to the car ceiling and lets his tousled golden hair flop back, his jawline accentuated by the cream-colored seats contrasting with his tan skin.

 You catch yourself staring, and shake your head quickly.

 ¨You must´ve been more hopped up on heroine than I thought if you think I´d ever fuck a self-absorbed, narcissitic bastard like you.¨

 The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, but once they do your eyes widen and you clap a hand over your mouth in horror.

 Damon lifts his head and slowly turns to face you, his mouth set in a thin line.

 ¨A self-absorbed, narcissistic bastard whose limo you're riding in, need I remind you, so I can´t be all that bad. ´Can't say I haven't heard any of that before love, but most girls who say that end up in my bed anyways.¨

 You open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off.

 ¨Although, ´hopped up on heroin´ is a new one. Just exactly how much research have you done about me so far?¨

 Your rebuttal dies in your throat. You were caught.

 Your ears burn and your face flushes as you bite your lip in embarrassment. Maybe you went too far, and on top of that you let it slip that you knew about him beforehand.

 But you refuse to kowtow in humiliation to this idiot, so you think quickly.

 ¨I doubt you´ve got your head that far up your ass to disregard how half the world was tuning into your personal life when Blur was big, Damon.¨

He looks unimpressed with your excuse, but before he can open his mouth to question you further, you hurry up with another save.

 ¨Also, where are we going? You never asked me where my car was.¨

Bingo His eyes brighten and he shouts at the driver, harping on about him being a brain-dead idiot for driving in circles the past 10 minutes.

 What a save.

 *******************

The moment you step into the booth next week, a drumstick is lobbed at you from seemingly nowhere. You yelp and hold your case up, blocking the weapon as it bounces off your makeshift shield. You bring the case down and shoot a glare towards the only man you know capable of acting so childishly at his grown age.

 But he´s already scrolling through his phone, looking for a measure to start from.

 ¨You´re late.¨

 ¨Hardly,¨ you mutter, glancing at the clock on the wall. Two minutes past shouldn´t be an excuse for having a drumstick pick out your eye.

 ¨Good to see you again, Y/N,¨ Graham pipes up softly, sending you an apologetic glance from Damon to you and you stick out your tongue in faux annoyance. 

 The other two members of your group greet you as well, and you all begin practice. Notes begin harmonizing together, voice and sound coinciding to make music you´ve swayed your hips and nodded your head to on blue nights.

 It´s a hot day, humidity clinging to your skin akin to the perspiration hanging off your forehead, and halfway through the song you decide to take off your sweater. You´re wearing a white tank top underneath, nothing too revealing save for the slight dip in the V-neck, but you couldn't care less about modesty at the moment when your fingers were literally slipping in their grasp on your sweat-slicked bow.

 During a quick break in your part of the song, you slip off your sweater and fan yourself out. It feels good, but you feel a pair of eyes staring at you. Following the laser gaze, you turn your head to face Damon, but he´s nose-deep in the lyrics sheet, warbling about a broken love or friendship. 

 Huh, must´ve been imagining it.

 Your solo comes up, and you prepare yourself for tackling the notes to your best ability, keeping up with Graham´s rapid guitar pace. Sweat continues to build on everyone´s vicinity when the rapid movement of arms waving around their own instrument causes more body heat to suffocate you all.

 Miraculously, the song finishes, and you collapse in your seat like the rest of the men, panting and wiping slick off your foreheads. You reach for a bottle of water on the floor and unscrew the lid, grimacing at its lukewarm temperature but drinking it nonetheless.

 For the second time, you have an unnerving feeling of being watched. This time, you whip your head to the side and catch him staring straight at you. 

 Damon´s face is flushed, his hair tousled, his rose colored glasses steamed up from the muggy aura in the room. His denim jacket is hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his torso covered with a sheer wife beater that accentuates his chiseled dad-body.

But he just stares you down, saying nothing. You frown at him a little bit and shift your body away from him, feeling vulnerable to his laser-gaze. His eyes darken, but Graham speaks, cutting him off from whatever he was about to say.

 ¨That was pretty good, you lot. Greg, Taz, hold off on the third beat of the fourth measure. We´ve gotta crescendo slightly-¨

 ¨Y/N, do you have a job?¨

 Damon's voice cuts off Graham, and everyone falters as they look at him and then you in surprise.

 ¨I don´t know what you mean,¨ you respond coolly, knowing that whatever he was about to say wasn't good.

 ¨I mean, do you have a job? Because as far as I know, most people who work don't dress like whores at their job.¨

 His eyes travel from your face down to your slight cleavage, and you sputter in rage as the rest of the boys shift uncomfortably.

 ¨Damon, for god's sake what´re you on about?¨ Graham asks wearily, taking his glasses off and rubbing his shiny neck.

 ¨I could ask you the same thing, actually. Because as far as I know, you've fucked enough women in your lifetime that one would think you could keep it in your pants for five minutes without acting like a twelve-year-old. Oh, but unless that´s too professional for you? I guess you´re not as serious about your work environment as you claim.¨ you laugh, and the sax player, Greg, snorts into his water bottle.

 Damon sneers, ¨How could I forget, you actually have done your research about my life and sexual endeavors, what a cute little fangirl you are. If you wanted an autograph, you could've just asked, sweetheart.¨

 ¨Go fuck yourself,¨ you snap. ¨You´re all wearing wife-beaters anyways, what's the difference?¨

 Damon starts again but Graham claps his hands loudly, startling you all.

 ¨Enough, both of you! What's gotten into you? Need I remind you that our song is due in less than two weeks? We need to finish this shit and get on with it. Stop acting like children.¨

 You mumble under your breath and Damon shoots a dark look to his childhood friend, but the brunette doesn't back down, and continues to give advice on how to improve their song. You don´t look at Damon the rest of the session out of pure spite, but that doesn't stop him from shamelessly staring straight at you, right until it's time to leave.

 The second Graham checks his watch and exclaims that it's a quarter past twelve already, you´re already bolting out of your seat and shoving your violin in its case, eager to get out of the disgustingly hot room.

 Fortunately, this time you had the right idea to park in the garage like everyone else to avoid any other unwanted encounters, but unfortunately while it was nice to not be waterboarded on your walk, it wasn´t enough to stop said unwanted encounters from occurring.

 Take right now, for instance.

 As you stumble to your car in the blistering weather, your energy depletes faster and faster, causing you to be light headed. Practice was already tough enough in the sweltering heat, but after Damon's little scene you don't have any energy to even walk.

 You crash blindly into your car, the metal of the doors burning your skin as you make contact with the handle. You hiss and jerk back, swaying slightly as your head fogs up. You can barely see, you feel like your clothes weigh a ton on you, so you slide down the vehicle and sit up against the tires, throwing your head back against the car and groaning. The idea of unlocking your doors and sitting in the seat where no doubt several temperatures higher will be settling on the dashboard and in the front row is nauseating.

 Weather-2

You-0

 You don't know the building well enough to know where a vending machine is, and even if you shot Graham a text, you don't have enough energy to wander around and scout for it.

 And lo and behold, from a distance, a figure approaches. You squint as it draws nearer, and let out a laugh as the features come into familiarity.

 The heat must be getting to you worse than you thought, because you´re certain you´re hallucinating Damon Albarn of all fucking people swaggering towards you, one hand holding his denim jacket over his shoulder, and a shit-eating grin on his face as he comes to stand in front of you.

 All you can do is pant like a dog, looking up at him with unimpressed eyes.

 ¨Oi, G-String. ´Brought you some water.¨ he holds out a hand, and you choose to ignore the offensive nickname, insead noticing the large bottle in it, cold condensation covering its expanse.

 Your eyes widen and you lick your lips unconsciously, holding your hands out for it.

 Damon watches your tongue poke out and loses focus before snapping back to reality and moving his arm above your head. You pout and try to reach for it again, but he laughs and holds it even higher.

 You glare and turn your head away from him, suddenly remembering how he embarrassed you earlier. 

 ¨Go away. I don't want it anymore. You´re an asshole.¨ you mumble, perspiration hanging off your lip as you lick the salty beads away once again.

 Damon´s eyes never leave your mouth as he listens to you and watches the pink appendage make its appearance again, and his mouth hangs open slightly unbeknownst to you for a second. You cross your arms and glare at the empty parking lot, silently willing him to go away.

 He snaps back into focus yet again and shakes his head at you. ¨Oh come on love, I´m just teasing. You look like you´re about to die anyways, might as well make this your last meal-er, drink I mean.¨

 ¨I´m not taking anything from a complete dickhead who enjoys harassing women about their clothes. You know, for such a womanizer, you act pretty clueless about how comments like that would make a girl feel. No one else but you had an issue with it, or rather, had the audacity to point it out.¨ You cough at the last word, your dry throat and heavy head making it harder to talk.

 He sighs and crouches down, balancing on the balls of his feet. He pops open the cap and gently turns your chin towards his face, much to your surprise. You´re genuinely too weak to protest, but when you look at his concerned face, eyebrows scrunched up and accentuating the lines on his forehead, you don't think you'd want to turn away even if you could.

 He coaxes your agap mouth even more open by dragging a rough thumb down over your lips, and you obediently open your mouth, mesmerized by his eyes. His movements are soft and slow, as if you were a fidgety rabbit about to run off at the slightest touch. He scoots closer, right over in front of you as you simply gaze up at him, allowing him to pour cool water down your throat, quenching your bone-dry palate.

 For a couple of seconds, water floods your mouth but all you can do is stare up at him. The light rays are reflecting off his back, casting a yellow glow around his silhouette and he almost looks like an angel. His hair is mussed as if he'd spent the day running his hands through the golden locks, and the scruff on his face peeks through soft-looking skin.

 ¨Swallow, or I'll really waterboard you this time,¨ he says lowly, chuckling a bit as he catches you staring so adamantly right in his face. You jerk back to consciousness and swallow hastily, accidentally choking on the gulp in your rush.

 He laughs even more and lets go of your chin much to your disappointment as he adjusts himself to sit next to you, not seeming to mind the scorching car metal. The absence of his hand on your face leaves a cold, empty feeling in your heart despite the heated blush on your cheeks

 ¨You´ll burn yourself,¨ you mumble, lolling your head over to look at him.

 But he looks straight ahead and shrugs casually. ¨Not any more than you.¨ You both sit in silence for a few minutes, occasionally sipping from the bottle he passes towards you and watching cars go by.

 ¨You didn't answer my question. Why do you harp on me in the studio? You act like a normal human being here.¨

 Damon looks thoughtfully at a white sedan passing by, then speaks.

 ¨As I´m sure Graham has blabbed to you already, I´ve been having some...trouble with the missus, let's say.¨

 You say nothing and raise a questioning eyebrow.

 ¨For the shitty attitude,¨ he mutters and swipes the bottle from your hand, taking a large swig himself.

 ¨And, like you said earlier, I am an asshole. Of course I´ll enjoy harassing pretty women over their revealing clothes,¨ he smirks and gives you a once over.

 There it was again, pretty woman.

 You scowl and get up to leave, but what he says stops you in your tracks.

 ¨Taz was lookin´ at you,¨ he says quietly, suddenly very interested in the now-empty bottle. ¨´Didn't like it, but I couldn't say anything to him. Graham likes him too much.¨

 Huh. Maybe the pair of eyes you felt back in the room didn't only belong to Damon.

 He cracks a small smile and looks up at you, his face adorably innocent and wide as he sheepishly admits, ¨I´m used to butting heads with blokes like him for women.¨

 You jerk back up to your feet, brushing off any insinuation he was giving and pat his knee awkwardly, ignoring the fire now igniting once again in your chest.

 ¨Thanks for the water, I needed it. You might wanna move if you don't want to get run over by my car.¨ You reach down and pick up your case as Damon clambers to his feet.

 He looks amused as you fumble for your keys, nervously turning the lock and sitting in the hot car, obviously eager to get away from his intimidating gaze.

 ¨I´ll see you next week, yeah?¨ You laugh breathlessly and roll your window down to call out to him.

 He says nothing, but merely cocks his head at you, his eyes now obscured by the rose-colored glasses he puts over his eyes. He waves a little and watches as you drive away a little too fast.

 But as it turns out, you don't see him next week.

 ******

It was just your luck that one of the cutest guys from your work asked you out on the very same week you had practice with the boys. You contemplated moving the date to another time, but...you deserved to have some fun time off too, right? It's not like it would make too much of a difference in your skill, anyways, you´ve gotten all the strings down and such.

 So, you decide to go on this date. It goes well, the dude was cute, dorky, lacked a little pizzazz but nothing a bottle of fancy red wine and a night of movies couldn´t coax out of him. It honestly wasn't anything too big, you exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up again soon. After parting ways, you threw yourself back into the regular regime of practicing your violin and meticulously listening to the booth recording every night, just so you could perfect your part to a T.

 The day came where you had to go back to practice, and you were ready, veins pumping with determination to make these last few sessions the best you´ve played yet. You texted Graham that you´d be there soon, and he gave you a thumbs up in return. When you finally arrived in front of the room, you were 10 minutes late. The boys were already playing, by the sound of the percussion booming outside the door. You grimace and take a deep breath, turning the handle in and hurrying inside the booth.

 No one really spared a glance at you, so you assumed you were okay in terms of punctuality. You opened your case and started strumming your strings, counting the measures and beats until it was your turn. Damon´s voice rang out, melodious and airy as ever, dropping octaves and floating on soprano tones. Your bow moved across his words, accenting his tones and adding emphasis to his sorrowful song. And then, after a couple of minutes, it was done.

 ¨Alright you lot, pretty good for today. ´Specially you, Y/N, you caught up pretty quick, I expected you to slack behind but I'm actually impressed.¨ Graham flashed you a nervous grin and you beamed back at him in return.

 ¨Yeah, speaking of, why were you gone last week? I expected someone who makes below the poverty line would actually want to work for their money,¨ Damon chuckles a little meanly.

 You feel your smile drop a smidge.

 ¨Well actually Damon, not that it's any of your business, but I went on a date.¨ You smirk at him, enjoying the way his mouth opens slightly and moves silently.

 But he regroups quickly and glares at you. ¨None of my business? The deadline is only a few days away, and you´re whoring yourself out and going on dates? I guess you´re not as professional as Graham thought.¨

 Everyone shifts uncomfortably, and blood rushes to your face, anger clouding your mind. Why was he being like this? He was fine the last time you saw him, you actually thought maybe he was going to change the way he addressed you.

  Graham speaks up. ¨Damon. You´re overreacting man, I gave her the okay, and she played fine today. No harm done, seriously, there's no need for that kind of language towards her.¨

 ¨Actually, there absolutely is a need. If I knew you were going to invite a prostitute as our sub-in then I would´ve never agreed to have her here. Didn´t know you were so low on money Y/N, I would´ve spared you a couple pounds.¨ He sneers.

 ¨Damon!¨

 You laugh bitterly and rise to your feet. ¨Oh that's rich, coming from the man who fucked half the continent just because he couldn't get over one girl. No wonder every real woman in your life including your wife wants to leave, nothing is ever good enough for you. Except heroin maybe.¨

 The words leave your mouth before you can take them back, and there's a pin drop silence as if a bomb had been dropped. In a way, it kind of did.

 Damo glares at you. Everyone is holding your breath, including you.

 ¨Get out.¨

 ¨Hey,-¨ Taz tries to gently interject but Damon throws the mic at him. 

 ¨I said get the fuck out. You´re not practicing with us anymore, you can pack your shit and leave.¨

 Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, and you choke out a small ¨Fine.¨

 You hear Graham berating him behind you as you fly through the door, telling him that they need you, it's too late to change people, but the words jumble in your ears as the door slams shut. You don't hear what Damon says, if he even says anything, and you aren't interested in his comebacks right now.

 It's only when you leave the car, tears streaming down your face in rage and embarrassment that you groan to yourself, your hands reaching an empty seat with one foot out the door-

You forgot your violin case.

 ************

 It's nighttime.

 The crickets chirp as you creep silently through the parking garage, the soft thud of your shoes echoing a lot louder than you wanted in the empty lot. The studio itself wasn't closed, but you were sure Damon must have informed the manager there not to let an ex-musician like you back in there.

 Wearing a black hoodie and black pants was a smart move- you blended in with the shadows well. The doors weren't locked, and you hiss out a small ¨yesss¨ as you slip inside the mostly dark building. Needless to say, you were proud of yourself for navigating through the windings pitch-black hallways to your old booth.

 Testing the handle lightly, you sigh out in relief when that too gives way. Unfortunately though, the second the door shuts behind you, you immediately stumble forward and fall. 

 The room is dark, darker than the other hallways so you can barely see your hands. The only source of light you´re granted is the dim red bulb on top of the booth door. And speaking of, that's exactly where you need to go...which proves to be harder when you keep bumping into random shit and cursing when you feel potential bruises forming on your shins.

 Miraculously you stagger through the next door towards where you last sat, and blindly feel around the floor and chairs for your violin case. You feel nothing there, but panic starts settling in your heart when you can't find it.

 ¨Looking for something?¨

 You scream and lurch backwards, knocking your head into some kind of stand. Groaning, you rub your head and hold a hand on your racing heart as you squint into the dim red room, placing the voice to the person.

 ¨D-Damon?¨ 

 ¨In the flesh sweetheart. ´Knew you'd come back for this, s´just my luck I came back to get it tonight so I could give it to you personally in case you wanted to be stubborn. But this is even better than I could´ve hoped.¨

 You make out his silhouette in the obsidian abyss in front of you. He's sitting with knees spread on a chair, a few feet in front of you as he leans his head back on the wall. Your precious violin case is being held hostage in his arms, and it's the absolute love you have for the brittle instrument that propels you to your feet and moves you to get the hell out instead of interrogating him.

 ¨What, so you were just here the whole time listening to me falling around like an idiot?” You laugh incredulously, and you see the area of his shoulders move up and down.

 ¨Was pretty funny to watch, honestly. You sound cute when you curse.¨ He stands up to his fullest height now, the red light bouncing off his back, giving him a sort of demonic halo.

 You knew it was actually time to leave when you felt those stupid butterflies in your stomach rise up again.

¨Right, well, I´ll be on my way then. Good luck with your song and whatever, I´ll just take the case...¨ You trail off as your extended hand is left in midair, no violin case reaching it.

 He cocks his head at you. ¨Why are you in such a rush to leave?¨

 You can´t help the scoff that escapes you. 

 ¨Are you serious? You were such an absolute dickhead to me this afternoon, you said all sorts of horrible things to me, and you even fired me for Christ's sake! I want nothing to do with you, so could you please give me my case back so I can go?¨

 He's silent for a moment before answering. ¨Are you done yet?¨

 It isn´t just the light that's making you see red now.

 ¨Fuck you, honestly.¨ You whirl around and stomp towards where you guess the  door is, ignoring the clatter behind you and bingo you locate the handle, but as soon as you turn it-

 A hand reaches from behind you and pulls the ajar door shut.

 ¨Don´t go. I´m sorry.¨

 You´re absolutely still as you feel him towering over you, his arm dangerously close to your midriff as his hand remains on the knob.

 His voice is low, and you can feel him breathe against your neck, mere inches away. You can´t help the involuntary shiver that passes through you, and he feels it too, inhaling deeply when he gets close to your ear.

 ¨You smell so good.¨

 ¨Leave me alone, Damon,¨ you whisper, your voice catching in your throat from the overwhelming onslaught of emotions passing through you.

 He breaths in and slowly lets his hand rest on your side.

 ¨I can't do that. You know why. You have to have known by now.¨

 You tremble in his touch, yet allow his hands to wander down to your hip, the other coming around in a sort of hug to pull you closer to him.

 ¨We can´t.¨

 ¨Sure we can.¨

 You can feel his erection bumping against your ass.

 ¨You´re not worth this.¨

 ¨I´ll make myself worth it.¨

 And as soon as he latches onto the back of your neck, you´re like putty in his hands, a moaning mess as he sucks galaxy-colored hickies on your skin. You can feel yourself grow wetter as he shoves his hands up your shirt and teasingly pulls down the bridge of your bra, letting the weight of your tits fill up his hands appreciatively. He starts rolling your hardened buds in between his skilled calloused fingers, and you whine and throw your head back when you feel him rut against your ass, panting raggedly in your ear.

 You rub your thighs together, desperate for some form of friction as he squeezes your tits, and then letting one hand ghost across the expanse of your stomach, down to brush against the rim of your panties. Damon chuckles meanly in your ear when you buck against the stilled hand over your mound.

 ¨You want this?¨ He lightly nips your ear. He smells like old spice and sandalwood.

 You nod desperately, frustrated with him not giving you his thick fingers already.

 But it's not enough for him. ¨No no, pretty girl, use your words now. I´ve barely touched you yet and you´re already moaning like a wanton little slut for me? And here I was thinking you weren't that easy.¨

 You stop jerking your hips and blood rushes to your face at his insulting words. You try to move out of his grip, huffing and regretting the whole thing but he outright laughs now and spins you around, tugging you forward until your chest is slotted against his. You pout at him and look away, but he's quick to grasp your chin and pull you in for a rough yet sensual kiss.

Pushing you backwards against the wall, he deepens the lip-lock, tracing his tongue over your lips, nipping at the soft flesh and darkening his eyes when you whimper and look up at him.

 He knows what he´s fucking doing when he again drops his hand under your pants and over your panties, his other palm wound up firmly through your hair. He pulls your head back and lets you breathe for a second from his kiss of death before he speaks again.

 ¨I didn't hear an answer, slut. Do you want this?¨ He leans forward until his nose brushes against your neck, flicking his tongue out to taste your saccharine flesh.

 You tremble against his firm body when he pushes his pelvis against you, letting you feel how hard he is for you.

 It doesn't matter anymore. Maybe he was right, maybe you were just an easy slut putting up a facade for him, but when his clothes erection grinds up against your pussy you can't care less.

 ¨Y-yes, yes, ´want you, please,¨ you pant, frantically gripping the back of his cropped hair as his head descends to mark your neck again.

 ¨What a good girl,¨ he whispers, finally allowing his digits to oh-so-slowly trace over your mound, pressing down harder when you jerk against him. He finds your wet clit and flicks it a few times, snickering when you gasp and moan. Your body writhes in place but he holds you literally between a rock-or, wall- and a hard place, preventing you from scampering off.

 He drums his fingers against your folds, paying no attention to the way you grip his head tighter against you, silently begging him to go further.

 But he relents eventually and retires from just pushing and prodding your folds, allowing his slicked fingers to slowly dive into your drooling hole. You whimper and bite back a string of curses when you feel him fill you completely, scraping against your walls for that one special spot.

 His mouth moves off your neck and he rises to face you, a stupid smug grin on his wet lips, his eyelids lowered and trained on you. You flush at his lustful expression and gently push his head away, not wanting to accept his victory yet.

 ¨My fingers are literally fucking you right now, and you still won´t let me look at you? What, too embarrassed you couldn't continue being a stone-cold bitch for long?¨

 You open your mouth to snap back but right at that moment he curls his fingers and grazes your G-spot, simultaneously grounding his wet palm against your clit.

 With a loud gasp and the sluttiest moan you´ve ever made, you cum hard, your mouth open in a silent scream and your tongue hanging out like a bitch in heat as you do so. You fall forward against him.

 You don't even need to look up to know that he has a shit-eating grin on his face.

 ¨What was that sweetheart? Sorry, ´couldn't hear you over those slutty moans. I think even the pornstars I´ve been with would give you a standing ovation if they heard what you just sounded like.¨

 Your words are slurred as you curse nonsense at him, yet you´re still gripping his forearms to keep a hold on yourself. Your ears are ringing and you see spots as you come down from your climax, and surprisingly enough, Damon holds you close and doesn't let you slip down to the ground as you expected to when your knees start to give out.

 Instead, he lifts you up quite easily and carries you over to a table in the corner of the room. You don´t know how he even navigates his way through the dimly lit room, but you suppose after almost half a lifetime in studios he knows his way around.

 You offer no resistance as he sets you down gently and begins to lift your shirt off of your body. You manage to lift your arms weakly up in the air for easier access to stripping, but when he starts to kneel down to take your pants off you stop his hands at your knees and look at him with scrunched eyebrows.

 He stops and looks up at you. His eyes aren't so darkened anymore, they´re wide and imploring, probably noticing your hesitation.

 ¨Damon, I...¨ You trail off as he maintains eye contact with you and slowly lowers his pursed lips to your calf, lightly pecking his way up to your knees and ensuring that you´re watching his every move.

 Your breathing increases again as his pink appendage darts out, his saliva cooling on your exposed thighs. He sucks on the plush skin and turns his head upwards to face you.

 You want to run your hands through his hair.

 ¨You have a wife,¨ You breathe.

 ¨Not for tonight I don´t.¨

 Your voice gets caught in your throat at that. He positions his hands at the side of your knees, fingers curling around the hem of your pants in a second attempt.

 ¨Let me make you feel good, love.¨

His answer is in the form of your hand reaching for his collar and pulling him up into a standing position until he towers over your seated form, once again breath stolen in a heated kiss.

 Damon fumbles with his zipper as you shove your pants off, fully ready for him now, your dampened panties solid evidence of your need for him.

 He pulls his cock out and it bounces out, slapping up against his stomach.

 You do a double take. The tabloids were right. He was absolutely huge.

 It was disgusting almost, it was insulting really. How the fuck could he be that big? You lose count of how many inches he is when you start to get light headed, realizing with a jolt that he plans to put that monster inside you.

 And fuck, why did it have to be so pretty too? Normally you wouldn´t use the word pretty to describe a dick, but fuck, that´s the only appropriate word that came to mind as you admired the white flesh as it mixed in with a dull pink flush turning into an angry shade of red as your eyes progressed up to his tip...which was soaked with precum, mind you.

 He was neatly shaven everywhere, including his plush balls. No wonder he got to fuck half the continent.

 Damon notices your gawking and smiles lazily, taking a fist around his prick and stroking lethargically up and down.

 ¨You gonna just stare at it all day or are you going to spread those cute legs for me?¨

 Spoken like a true middle aged fuck-boyman.

 You look up at him beseechingly, thoroughly intimidated by his length. He merely scoffs, winking at you when he wrenches your tightly closed knees apart.

 It's almost like he falls into a trance when he presses his now-naked torso against your chest, when he slots himself between your legs and drags his tip through your sloppy folds and up onto your clit. His mouth falls open slightly and he moans when your juices coat his dick, making it slippery and easy to push the first few inches ever so slightly into your spasming cavern.

 He can't help but want more, need more as he practically smothers his weight onto you, forcing you to lie back on the table and letting your legs dangle off the edge. He hunches over you and thrusts minutely into your pulsing folds, groaning when you whine and lace your fingers around his neck and tangle your legs around his back, dragging him impossibly close into you.

 For a moment it´s just the sound of you two panting and moaning like inexperienced teenagers, and a zing of pride zips up your spine at the realization that Damon Albarn, one of the world's most renowned playboy is whining and humping against your pussy, reduced to nothing at your hands.

 He takes your hands from around his neck and grips your wrists, forcing them above your head on the table. He leans down and kisses you, hard. You give him back the same energy when your hips move up and down along his length, pushing your inviting hole towards his eager and jumping dick.

 ¨Pretty little girl,¨ he murmurs against your lips, and you nip his bottom lip playfully in retaliation. He slowly starts to sink himself into you, and you practically purr at the feeling of his veiny member dragging against your sensitive walls until he stops. 

 You look at him questioningly, and blanch when you see the mischievous glint in his cobalt eyes.

 ¨I want you to count for me.¨

¨Count…?¨ You shake your head in confusion and he pulls out, making you groan in annoyance.

 ¨I want you to count every inch I put inside you. Unless your slutty mouth can't even do that? I'd be surprised if you couldn´t, you usually have so much shit to say.¨ His voice is low yet teasing, and a shiver passes through you when the rumble of his chest vibrates against your nipples.

 ¨F-fine, I´ll count.¨

 He hums in approval and regroups, guiding his length into your awaiting pussy once again.

 It´s almsot torture how slow he goes, and your toes curl at how vivid the sensation is at this pace.

 You almost forget to do what he asks until he ducks his head down and teeths your bud.

 ¨Ah, fuck! One!¨ You yelp, writhing to get away from his lecherous gaze and hold on your poor tit.

 He tuts and licks the swollen area until the pain subsides a bit, and then he continues to push.

 ¨T-two,¨ you moan and let your head fall back. It's unfair how tightly he´s holding your reins-you want him to plow you down, not take his sweet time in this punishment.

 ¨Damon, can´t you go any faster? Please, I want y-¨

¨-I didn't take you for a masochist, Y/N, but I´m happy to play around with these cute tits if you want to bitch more.¨

Your scowl is cut off when he suddenly shoves two more inches into you, and you mewl loudly at being filled so much.

 ¨Three! Four! Fuck, oh god, please,¨ you babble nonsense as he curses above you, his form shaking in an effort not to push all the way in.

 ¨Doing so good sweetheart, you´re almost halfway,¨ he smirks and you gape at him in disbelief.

 Halfway?

 Five, six, seven, eight, and nine go painfully slow, and by the time he´s fully sheathed inside you, plush balls pressed against your ass, you´re an incoherent, drooling mess.

 Your hair is in your face, your cheeks are flushed, and your body bounces up and down as he begins to rock inside you, finally giving you what you want.

 His name is chanted like an obscene prayer from your mouth as he grunts and shakes the table. Your legs are wobbly and unable to do anything except press him tighter against you to the point where he can barely move back. The skin of his stomach slaps against yours, his balls slap against the crevice of your ass, and your pussy practically sloshes with every stroke in and out.

 He fists your hair with one hand and pulls your neck up to meet his searching lips, his other hand holds your wrists fast against the table. You want to touch him, you want to explore your body as he has conquered yours but he doesn't let you feel anything else apart from the rapid thrusts inside your battered body.

 Damon switches positions and lifts the back of your knees up and pushes them forwards until they meet your chest. He lets his body weight rest on the back of your thighs as he pulls out and pushes back impossibly close inside you, closer than he did in missionary. 

 You sob with need as he plunges into you and reaches a higher spot than before, his tip grazing your cervix. He pounds into you, and you thrust your hips up to fuck back into him, calling out his name as if he were your god.

 It´s a good thing the rooms are soundproof.

 You feel your second climax comes when he paves way through your tight walls and batters your uterus. It doesn´t hurt so much as feel intense, and your choked moans become panting gasps when he brings a hand down to swirl his thumb over your aching clit.

 ¨You´re not going to meet with that prick from your work again, yeah? Say it. Say it if you want me to let you cum.¨ He could have been speaking an alien language for all you knew. Your poor addled brain didn't pick up anything except for the word ¨cum¨, and you were a goner.

 ¨Yes, yes, anything you say, anything you want, just please let me-¨

And oh he does.

 It comes over you like a tidal wave, your mind going blank, your eyes seeing white as your legs shake from your earth-shattering orgasm. You feel like you´re going down a rollercoaster, and you never want to stop dropping.

 Distantly, you hear him groan and say your name. You can feel pulsing in your filled walls, with what you assume is his ropes of cum. It feels like when you came, it practically squeezed all his cum out with your clenching.

 He lets out a shaky breath and falls forward, his nose inches from yours, his breath puffing in your face.

 Your eyes are glazed over, but you´ve never seen anything more clearly before.

 Maybe Damon Albarn really was worth it.

[jaehyunhour]

teenage dream | mark lee

genre + idol → fluff, smut, tiniest bit of angst if you squint, high school au, virgin!mark (x virgin fem!reader) [they’re both 18]

word count → 4.7k

warnings → alcohol consumption, unprotected sex (always wear a condom pls guys), tiniest bit of cursing

summary → mark lee moves to your hometown halfway through your sophomore year of high school, and once he arrives you quickly fall in love with both him and the town you grew to hate. after you graduate, mark has a surprise for you that may or may not include going across state lines, losing your virginity, and asking for your hand in marriage.

“Mark, you can’t leave me. You’re my soulmate.”

“If I could marry you tonight, I would.”

“You know... it’s only about a 5 hour drive to Vegas from here.”

a/n → i’ve been writing this fic for well over a month and it’s finally done!! this fic is purely self-indulgent because 1) i’m in love with mark lee and 2) i think of him every time i listen to teenage dream by katy perry... as always please let me know what you guys think of this one! i think this is one of my favorite fics i’ve written

Before you met Mark, life was bleak. That was the only way to describe it. Your life was monotone, shades of light blue and gray; your daily routine was the same, you walked through life as a zombie and hated everything about your hometown. But when Mark showed up halfway through your sophomore year of high school, when his family moved from Canada, everything changed. You got to show him the ins and outs of the city, turn him into a real native, and fall in love — both with your hometown, and with him.

You can still recall the first time you got to show Mark what it’s like to be a local. You went downtown, taking the light rail and getting off at each stop, enjoying what the city has to offer, before getting back on and staring out the window at the scenery. Mark’s hand rested in-between both of your thighs in an attempt to warm himself, while the other pressed onto the glass window of the light rail and tapped lightly. You pointed out the window at different buildings, telling Mark the story of your life in this little town, and he sat quietly and listened. His gaze lingered on the moving buildings as you spoke, and he immediately felt his entire body warm. This is when Mark knew you were special.

Your high school graduation was bittersweet. You were choosing to go to a college only thirty minutes away from your home because of your family, and Mark was on the waitlist for his dream college in Korea. After all the names were called, and all the caps thrown in the air, Mark wove his way through all of the graduates and straight to you. He picked you up in his arms, spun you around quickly, and set you down.

“We did it,” he said, eyes wide and smile bright. He placed his hands on your face and squished your cheeks before pulling you into another hug. “I have something to tell you.”

“I can’t believe we graduated. Tell me,” you responded.

“I got off the waitlist.”

You let out a scream, pulling back from Mark and hitting him on the chest. “Oh my god, Mark! Holy shit, that’s incredible. So you’re going to Korea? W-when do you leave?” Your stomach drops at the realization that Mark will be going to an entirely different country soon, meanwhile you have to stay in a town that you love only because he’s in it. It’s not the same without him.

“I don’t leave until the beginning of September.”

“So you’ll get to move me into my dorm before you leave?”

“You think I would leave without seeing where you’re going to be living? I need to make sure that you’re being well taken care of in my absence. You know I’m kidnapping you and taking you with me to Korea if I don’t like the dorm, right?”

“I expect absolutely nothing less,” you said, both you and Mark’s families rushing up to you on the football field to congratulate you. Your families forced you to pose for photos, talked amongst themselves about your college plans, and made plans to throw you two a joint graduation party.

Two weeks after graduation, you’re laying down on the trampoline in your backyard as the sun is setting. It’s a Thursday night, your parents are out of town for the weekend and have left you home alone. You could throw a huge party, celebrate the end of senior year, but instead you choose to enjoy the alone time in your childhood home before you move out. You stare at the moving clouds, your chest sitting on your phone as you talk to Mark who’s currently driving.

“You know, I’m kinda mad that your parents still won’t let you come spend the night at my house. We’re 18! We’re adults,” you say.

Mark lets out a laugh. “My parents are scared that if they let me spend the night at your house that I’ll do drugs, join a gang, and get you pregnant all in one night.”

“Do I really give that vibe off? I thought your parents liked me! We’ve been inseparable for well over 2 years now.”

“They love you, you know that. You’re home, right?”

“Yuuuup,” you say, standing up quickly and jumping a few times on the trampoline. He can hear the creaking of the trampoline and whines.

“No fairrrrr, you’re jumping without me!” Mark says. You hear Mark close the door to his car and lock it. Before you can ask him where he’s headed, he walks through the front door of your house, through the living room, and out into the backyard. Mark hangs up the call, before jumping onto the trampoline with you. 

You get back down onto your back on the trampoline, grabbing at Mark’s leg and trying to pull him down with you. He lays next to you, rolling over so half of his body is on top of yours. He nuzzles his head into your chest and lets out a content sigh.

“You should really keep the doors locked when you’re home alone. What are your plans for tonight?” He asks.

“Mmm, probably watch a movie and eat something. I might raid my mom’s wine cabinet and finish a whole bottle by myself.”

“Woooow, look at you breaking the rules. Who are you and what have you done to my best friend?”

“I’m just trying to enjoy myself before college!”

“Look at what I got today,” Mark says, flopping onto his back and pulling an ID out of his pocket. He hands it to you and you inspect it carefully.

“This is a Korean ID,” you start. “Aaaand, it doesn’t even have your name.”

“Yeah! It’s a fake ID. Says I’m 21.”

“Why’d you pick Kim Soohyun for your name? And why do you need a fake ID? You’re legal in Korea, you can drink.”

“My mom says Kim Soohyun is my long lost brother, I thought it would be funny. I got it for tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Yep,” Mark says, plucking the ID out of your hands and shoving it back into his pocket. “Go pack a bag, we’re going on a road trip.”

“Where to?”

“It’s a secret, but it’s somewhere you’ve always wanted to go.” Mark lays on his side, and you can feel him staring at you. You turn onto your side to look at him. “Can you close your eyes for a second?”

You nod and close your eyes. Your heart begins beating faster and your breathing is labored. Before you can ask Mark what game he’s playing at, you feel Mark’s lips on yours. You gasp, returning his kiss, and he slips his tongue into your mouth. It’s not your first time kissing someone like this, but it’s definitely his and you can tell. His tongue peruses the inside of your mouth, and his lips are pressed firmly against yours. You try to push your tongue into his mouth in an attempt to control the kiss, but to no avail. Mark pulls back to catch his breath, and his eyes meet yours.

“You’re bad at that,” you whisper, letting out a giggle.

“Yeah, I thought I might be,” Mark says with a sigh.

“You’ll get better at it. W-we can practice,” you say, pecking his lips. “I’ll go pack a bag.”

Thirty minutes later, you’re sitting in the passenger’s seat of Mark’s car, watching him as he drives. His hands rest perfectly at 10 and 2, his lips pouting, and he watches the road ahead intensely. 

“You should probably sleep, it’s going to be a while before we get there.”

“How long?” you ask. You recline the seat and lay back, extending your hand out to rest on Mark’s thigh. “Hold my hand.”

One of his hands leaves the steering wheel and he intertwines your fingers with his. “About 16 hours? Just sleep, I’ll wake you up in like 8 hours so you can switch with me.” You nod, closing your eyes and willing yourself to go to sleep. 

You’re not sure how long you sleep, but when you wake up, Mark’s hand is still holding yours. The sun is shining through the windshield and you look over at Mark, who is also sleeping. You’re parked next to a gas station in what feels like the middle of nowhere. You check your phone: 8:35 a.m.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan, causing Mark to stir. You tear your hand away from his, shifting the seat up and pushing Mark to wake up. “Mark, get up.”

He groans too before sitting back up. “I just fell asleep.”

“Why did you let me sleep for so long? You drove for 12 straight hours! I’m going to go inside the gas station and buy some coffee, then I’ll drive the rest of the way. You can sleep until we get to wherever the hell you’re taking me.”

Mark tries to sleep for the remaining four hours of your drive, but he’s too excited to be able to sleep. Instead, he watches you drive and smiles proudly. Mark has always thought you are so beautiful, even in your current state — no makeup, hair messy from sleeping in the car, and bags underneath your eyes. He leans over and presses a rough kiss to your cheek before laying back down. 

“What’s gotten into you?”

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t like you. Yesterday before we left you practically shoved your tongue down my throat, and now you’re forcing me on a road trip. You’re not normally like this.”

“I just… I realized that I wasted so much time not doing the things I want to do with you, and I would’ve hated myself forever if I didn’t do it before I left to Korea.”

“You would’ve hated yourself forever if you didn’t make out with your best friend and force her to drive around before leaving to Korea?” You pause. “Where are we going?”

“Something like that. Uh… well, we’re in California,” Mark says, causing you to swerve.

“You brought me across state lines?! Maaaark, your parents are going to kill you!”

“They think I’m with Johnny-hyung for the weekend. Don’t worry, he’ll cover for me. I think we’re only like half an hour away from LA.”

“You’re insane, Mark. So so insane.”

“So this is Santa Monica, huh?” Mark says, looking out at the crashing waves in front of him and inhaling deeply, letting his lungs fill with the cool ocean air, sand getting stuck between his toes.

“This is so beautiful,” you whisper. “Thank you for bringing me, Mark.”

“I would do anything for you, I hope you know that,” Mark responds. He takes out a brown paper bag from his backpack, twisting off the cap of the bottle inside and taking a swig of it and gagging. You laugh, taking the bottle out of his hand and sniffing it before taking a drink yourself. 

“Why would you buy vodka? You know you can’t drink alcohol very well.”

“I wanted to see if my ID would work! It was pretty easy, I just handed it to the guy and spoke in Korean and he didn’t question it.” He takes the bottle out of your hand and takes another drink, this time more prepared and able to suppress the gag that bubbles in his throat. You turn to look at Mark, and he quickly shifts his head to stare back at you. Some people say they feel their heart skip a beat when the person they love looks at them, but when Mark looks at you, your heart stops completely. Your heart stops, your breath gets caught in your chest, and you stop blinking. You have to make a conscious effort to breathe in and out, and open and close your eyelids as Mark looks at you and overtakes your thoughts.

As you’re staring at Mark, memorizing every inch of his face as the Santa Monica sun sets, you feel your cheeks begin to heat up and your face begin to numb as the vodka hits you. He reaches out to pinch your cheek, smiling wide at your flushed face, and when you feel his fingers on your skin, you just know — this is real, this is love.

“You’re so cute,” Mark says.

“Says you.” You grab the bottle from Mark’s other hand, taking another deep chug before pressing the bottle to his lips. You tilt it and he drinks from it until he can’t handle the taste anymore, pushing it away slightly and letting you drop it between your bodies.

“Y/N, I—”

“Kiss me.”

Mark doesn’t need to be told twice; instantly pressing you down into the sand, body hovering above yours and attaching his lips to yours. He lets you lead the kiss this time, opening his mouth when he feels your tongue poking at his lips and allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth. Your tongue traces over his teeth, before meeting his tongue and playing with it. Your hands come up to hold onto his face, and he softens into your touch. Mark feels dizzy — both from the feeling of your tongue in his mouth and the vodka hitting him all at once. He pulls away, panting as he tries to catch his breath.

“I feel like I’m living a dream,” Mark says, staring at your face with something you can only describe as love in his eyes.

“I want to go swimming,” you respond, quickly sitting up without thinking and hitting your head against his. “Owie, I’m sorry, honey. Don’t know why I got up so quickly.”

Mark giggles and sits up, peeling his shirt off and dropping it on the sand. “Let’s go swimming.” He stands up, trying to kick his skinny jeans off as you stand up and start walking to the water. “Y/N! Take your jeans off at least.”

“Nuh-uh, I wanna go swimming,” you say, stumbling as you walk through the hot sand as quickly as you can and into the water. You don’t even register how cold the water is, quickly walking deep into the ocean and letting the waves go over your head. Mark rushes to catch up with you, walking into the ocean in only his underwear. He pulls you into his arms and you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, and rest your forehead up against his.

“I miss you already, Mark.”

“I don’t even leave for another 3 months.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to go,” you say quietly. Unwillingly, tears fall down your cheeks and mix with the salt water on your face.

“I’m so glad I finally found you,” Mark responds. “My missing puzzle piece. I’m complete.” He wipes the tears and water from your face and presses a kiss to your lips. 

“I can’t believe we’ve known each other for over 2 years and you waited for us to graduate before making a move on me,” you say, angrily pressing another kiss to his lips. “I’ve been in love with you since the day I took you downtown for the first time, Mark.”

“And I’ve been in love with you since the day you asked me to go downtown with you.”

“You’re so lame,” you say to Mark, just as a huge wave goes over your heads and crashes. You both burst into laughter and you untangle yourself from him, pushing the hair out of your face and trying to regain your breathe. You place your hands on Mark’s shoulders, letting them travel down his chest to the waistband of his underwear. You slip your fingers underneath, pulling the band back before letting it snap back on his skin. “Mark, have you ever… you know…”

He shakes his head no. “M-my mom told me I should s-save myself for someone special,” he says, nervously. “Have you, ever… you know…”

You shake your head no. “Let’s go all the way tonight. No regrets, just love. Just you and me.”

“Okay.”

You and Mark stumble into the Santa Monica Motel, only a 20 minute walk from the Santa Monica Pier, coming up to the front desk with your clothes still dripping and asking for whatever vacant room they have. The desk attendant rolls his eyes, handing you two a pair of room keys and sending you on your way. You walk into the room, one hand holding Mark’s hand, as the other held onto the mostly gone bottle of vodka.

As you walk into the room, Mark throws your things onto the floor and locks the door behind him. You drink half of what’s left in the bottle, giving the rest to Mark which he finishes quickly before stepping into the bathroom. As Mark is in the bathroom freshening up, you pull the sheets off the bed and throw them onto the floor. You then pull the cushions off the couch in the corner, attempting to make a fort in the tiny motel room. You set the cushions up, then use the pillows to try and complete the walls of your fort, before throwing a thin white sheet over everything and crawling underneath. Mark comes out of the bathroom and raises an eyebrow when he sees the mess you’ve created on the floor.

“Y/N?”

“Come meet me in the fort, honey.”

Mark crawls underneath the sheet carefully, trying not to destroy the fort he’s sure you worked hard on. Once he’s underneath and he sees your shirt sticking to your chest, and your skin-tight jeans seemingly sticking tighter to your skin, his heart begins to race.

“I don’t mean to sound like a broken record, but I feel like I’m living a dream,” Mark says, letting his hand rest on your stomach. You reach for his arm, pinching him slightly and he lets out a soft moan. “What was that for?”

“Just to remind you that this isn’t a dream. This is real, and I love you.”

“I love you,” Mark responds. You pull your wet shirt up and off your head, letting it fall to the floor before you unbutton your wet jeans and try to push them off.

“Mark, I need help,” you whine. He laughs before helping you pull your jeans down and setting them on the floor with your shirt. He looks at your entire body up and down, taking in the sight of your matching bra and underwear.

He groans. “Fuck, I really love you.” Mark lets his body hover over yours, quickly enveloping your lips in a quick, passionate kiss. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you and bucking your hips up to meet his. Mark feels himself harden in his underwear and he whines into your mouth at the feeling of you grinding up into him. Your hands grip onto his cheeks softly just as they did when you kissed on the beach, and one of his hands reaches up to pull your bra down and let your breasts free. His hands grab at your chest as if he’s done this before, fingers tugging and tweaking your nipples and you can’t help the moan that escapes your mouth and is caught by his. 

You rip his hand away from your chest, bringing it down into your underwear and pressing his fingers onto your clit. His fingers reach down to your entrance, teasing it softly before collecting your slick and returning to your clit. He pushes down roughly, rubbing in circles and your hips buck up again. This is the first time anyone else has ever touched you, and you quickly feel the knot forming in your stomach. 

“Mark, I’m gonna—” you say, pulling back from his lips for a second and grinding harder into his fingers in an attempt to reach your high quicker.

“Really?” Mark asks in disbelief, eyes wide as he presses his fingers harder into you and takes in the sight of your body. Your chest is going up and down quickly, hips moving and grinding into his fingers, one hand gripping onto his wrist as the other grips on his hair. 

“Fuck, just a few more seconds, I swear, Mark,” you whine, and he speeds his fingers up. And surely enough, within a few seconds, you’re gripping onto his wrist tightly to stop his movements as you cum, clenching around nothing as you chant his name repeatedly. Mark lets you come down from your high on your own time, afraid of overstimulating you before he can even get inside of you. As soon as you’ve come down from your orgasm, you’re pulling Mark into another kiss and pushing his underwear down. 

“Y/N, I-I should p-probably get a c-c-condom,” Mark stutters as your hand grips onto his hard dick and pumps lightly. 

“Nuh-uh,” you say, letting go of him and bucking your hips, feeling the tip of his dick rub against your clit and letting out a content sigh. “I want to feel all of you.”

Mark nods, gripping onto the base of his dick and pushing himself into you slowly, letting you adjust to him. Once he’s all the way in, he lets out a shaky breath as you clench around him a few times, getting used to the feeling of being full of something more than your fingers. “You can move now, honey.” He nods again and slowly begins moving his hips, pulling all the way out before slamming back in.

Mark lowers himself more, making sure you’re chest to chest as he moves slowly inside of you. Your legs wrap around his waist again, arms around his neck, pulling him close to you as you close your eyes and focus on the feeling of Mark’s length moving in and out of you swiftly. Mark lowers his head, resting it on your shoulder and pressing a kiss as you let your mouth fall open in a moan.

“I love you,” Mark’s hips pick up speed at your confession and you let out another loud moan. “I love you, I love you, fuck, baby, I really love you.”

He balances his weight on his hands, pushing himself up to look into your eyes as he fucks into you like his life depends on it. You want to close your eyes so bad, want to focus on the feeling of Mark fucking you, but you’re mesmerized as his eyes look into yours. You’re afraid to even blink, not wanting to miss a moment of this, not wanting to miss a second of the way Mark’s eyebrows furrow as he looks into your eyes, then down at your chest, then down at where your hips meet, then back up into your eyes. He shifts his weight onto one hand, moving the other to your clit and your eyes instantly roll into the back of your head.

“Look at me, baby,” Mark says quietly, angling his hips to meet that spot inside of you, and you struggle to keep your eyes open and looking at him, but you try. 

“A-are you sure you’ve n-never done this before?” You ask, clenching tightly around Mark as he fucks you and rubs your clit. 

“N-never ever. Been saving myself for you.”

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you whine.

“Cum for me, baby, please.” Mark says, and you nod as he presses his fingers just a little harder, pushing you over the edge quickly. The feeling of you clenching around his length sporadically, and your fingernails digging into his back, is enough to push him over the edge, and he’s cumming in you in thick white ropes. He lets out a deep groan as he cuts inside of you, giving you everything he’s got. He falls on top of you, not even bothering to pull out, and you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close. You wipe the sweat off from his forehead and let out a laugh that he returns.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you say.

“Are you on birth control?” Mark asks.

You flick his forehead and giggle. “Yes, I’m on birth control. I have been for like a year.”

“Oh thank God,” he lets out a sigh of relief.

You bask in the silence of the motel room for a second, realizing you’re still on the carpeted floor in the fort you’ve built. “Lets get into bed.”

Mark fixes the sheets and pillows onto the bed as you use the bathroom, and when you emerge from the bathroom naked and crawl into bed next to him, he feels his chest swell with love for you. As soon as you’re in bed with him, you snuggle into his body, resting your head on his chest and closing your eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

“Your heart is beating really fast,” you whisper.

“Because of you,” he responds. He pushes you off him slightly, pushing you onto your back and resting his head on your chest. “I wanna be held.”

“You’re such a baby.” You play with Mark’s hair, enjoying the silence before it hits you that Mark is going to leave you. You’ve finally gotten the boy you love, given everything to him, and within a few months he’s going to leave you and start a new life while you’re stuck in your tiny town. Your chest begins to warm in anxiety at the thought of having to be away from him, and tears well in your eyes. “Mark, you can’t leave me. You’re my soulmate.”

“Come with me, then.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.” The tears drip down your face slowly and Mark can tell you’re crying by the way your chest contracts underneath him.

He sits up quickly and looks down at you, eyes flickering to your bare chest for a split second before looking back up into your eyes. He wipes the tears from your face. “Y/N, I’m serious. Just take a year off and come with me to Korea, and then you can start school there. I’ll take care of you, I promise.” He leans down and presses a kiss between your breasts before coming back up. “I can’t live my life without you.  Please come with me.”

“Mark, my parents would kill me. Moving to a new country for a boy I’m not even married to? You’re insane.”

“If I could marry you tonight, I would.” Mark thinks for a second and grabs his phone from the table next to the bed, unlocking it and shielding it from your view as he looks something up.

“What time is it?”

“It’s midnight,” he responds.

“You know… it’s only about a 5 hour drive to Vegas from here.”

“And?”

“If we start driving now, we can make it by the time the sun rises.”

“Aaaaand?”

“Aaaand, wecouldbeimpulsiveandgogetmarriedmaybeifyoureallymeantit,” you say quietly.

Mark lets out a hearty laugh before rolling over onto you and pressing a flurry of kisses all over your face, before pulling you into a long kiss.

“What was all that for?” you ask.

He unlocks his phone and hands it over to you, showing that he was looking up 24 hour pawn shops nearby.

“I had the same thought. I thought maybe we go out and get some food, hit one of these pawn shops and get some rings, then drive over to Vegas.”

You let out a laugh and peck his lips. “Let’s go then, baby.”

“I can’t wait to see the look on your parents’ face when you tell them I convinced you to drive across state lines, get married to me, and drop out of state university to move to another country with me.”

“They’ll just have to deal,” you say, getting up out of bed and cringing as you put your wet clothes back on. “I have dry clothes in the car. It’s still parked by the beach, isn’t it?” Mark nods in response, slipping his wet clothes back on and leaving the room keys with the front desk attendant. Your hand slips into his as you walk in the dark streets of the city, walking towards the beach where Mark’s car is parked. “Can we stop in San Francisco on our way back home? I want to see the Golden Gate Bridge.”

“We can do whatever you want, baby.”

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“I know. I love you, too. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you sigh contently. “I can’t wait to spend my life with you.”

[introvert--weeb]

Hey Laura! Congratulations on 300!💕. You really deserve it for all the hard work you put in for us ❤❤.

Thank you so so much!I'm so excited to take part 😁. So for the event I'd like one with Mikey with the prompt 18. Preferred gender is female. I'd like it to be a hurt with comfort.

For the scenario I was thinking of after Valhalla. Mikey has known the girl since he was a kid. He found her unconscious outside the dojo anf later discovered that she was an orphan. She ran away from there because she was accused of beating up a boy (which she did) because he attacked another one of her friends. She didn't like him at first but once challenged him to a fight but Mikey said that he won't fight girls and that's when her feelings started ti grow for him.

She's watched him fo so long that after the incident with Valhalla,seeing Mikey act all strong annoyed her. When she confronted him about it he told her to stick her nose elsewhere and she only slapped him in response. Later he finds that she got into a fight with Mucho ( XD) because he made fun of Mikey for not having any emotions. He then proceeds to beat up Mucho and open up to her about how he feels and they share a very sweet moment and confession if possible 😂.

300 FOLLOWER EVENT

Thank you so much, doll!! 💕 I do hope you enjoy the finished product ❤️

I have decided to write for the aftermath of the event, and instead of it being Mucho, it's the Haitani Brothers because I feel they would make more sense ☺️ Plus, I don't even know if this is hurt to comfort or angst to fluff (I think they are the same but y'know, just in case) 💕

--

Prompt: "Surrender... all the pain we've endured until now, Surrender... all the hope that I lost you have found, Surrender yourself to me" - Billy Talent ~ Surrender

Characters: Manjiro 'Mikey' Sano, mentions of Haitani Brothers

Genre: Hurt to Comfort/Angst to Fluff

TW: mentions of injuries, hospital setting, misdirected anger, hurt feelings, Valhalla/Bloody Halloween arc spoilers!

--

The blond stood outside the door to your hospital room, an uneasy feeling swirling around in his chest. Mikey hated hospitals, especially when the ones he cared about were the ones admitted. That situation never usually ends well. With a deep breath in an attempt to calm both his nerves and his building anger, he pushed open the door.

You were staring out the window when the door had opened. You didn't need to look to know who it was. After all, you had provided the nurses with his number to contact since you had no known living relatives. The Sano's were the closest thing you had and even then, you could never bring yourself to look at Manjiro as a brother. Not when your heart yearned for him.

That day, you had done something reckless that had got you where you are now. It started when you had confronted Mikey about taking on the burdens alone. Pleading with him to let you in so you could help, his words had caused something to break. Tears in your eyes, you had slapped the boy and went out for a ride. No other words were exchanged between you.

If you hadn't have been so frustrated and upset over what had just transpired, you may have paid more attention to where you were. You hadn't realised you were in Roppongi. Sighing, you pulled over to use your phone to figure out where you were. Smack dab in the middle of Haitani territory.

Ran and Rindo were walking the streets when they noticed you. They had instantly recognised you as the girl that would be seen with the Invincible Mikey. After having witnessed the Valhalla vs. Toman brawl, they knew what had happened. There were very few gangs who didn't though.

The brothers had made comments about Mikey that had started to get you angry. How Mikey was too weak to save his friend, how it was all Mikey's fault to begin with that Keisuke Baji ended up dying. You were seeing red as you got off your bike and decided to confront them. Their reputation must have slipped your mind in that moment, only the thoughts of defending Mikey evident.

And that is how you ended up with your injuries. Your leg was in a cast as the bone had been snapped by Rindo; your shoulder had also been dislocated during one of the joint locking holds as you had struggled to get free; you had a bandage around your head after Ran's baton had broke the skin from how many hits he used; and your face was bruised with cuts littering the skin, nose broken and your eyes black. If it hadn't been for a passerby calling for an ambulance, you would have probably still been on the streets of Roppongi, beaten and bleeding out.

Upon hearing what had happened, Mikey had started to ramble on and on. About how you were stupid for entering Roppongi, how he had warned you already about how merciless the Haitani Brothers were, and how stupid you were to think you could do anything against them. His words were coated with anger. But what you didn't know was that his anger wasn't directed at you. Mikey was angry at the Haitani Brothers for daring to lay hands on a girl, angry at himself for indirectly causing you to be in the hospital, angry that he couldn't protect the girl he had come to love.

His words broke your heart. Sure, you shouldn't have rose to their comments but you only did that because you loved the boy! And you'd happily do it all over again if it meant you could keep Mikey from himself! You understood how difficult losing Baji was on him and you knew that hearing comments like that would break him more. Tears filled your eyes. Maybe you needed to finally let the blond know.

"I wish you would let me in, Mikey..." Your voice was quiet, contrasting against his previous tone. There was no way you could bring yourself to shout and scream back at him. You were tired. Tired from the injuries, tired from trying to show the boy you were there, and tired of carrying around these unsaid feelings. So you came right out with it, expressing the feelings you have been hiding for years.

Mikey froze to the spot upon hearing your confession. He didn't know whether to laugh at your timing or whether to run over and hug you. Neither seemed appropriate though. Instead, he moved his obsidian gaze to your teary eyes. The sight had his heart hurting. He had caused you to get upset.

Time had passed and you were finally able to leave the hospital, stumbling along on crutches. While you were stuck there, you had been visited by everyone from Toman at one point or another. Each scolding you for being reckless before moving the topic onto whatever was happening outside the four white walls you were stuck in.

As you hobbled out the front entrance (with some help from one of the nurses), you beamed happily at the sight that greeted you. Mikey was waiting for you, a plushie of your favourite animal in his arms. It may have taken a little longer for you to get to him than usual but you didn't mind.

Mikey grinned at you, his eyes filled with happiness over the sight of you up and about. Once you were in front of him, he handed you the stuffed toy and placed a kiss on your cheek.

"You ready for our first date?" With a blush, you nodded and the two of you were off. Where did you end up going? Well, that's up to you.

[enmy-writes]

Just Let Me Help You

Summary: Zuko, trying to keep is girlfriend safe, unintentionally gains the trust of the Gaang after a showdown with Combustion Man.

Word Count: 2728

Fandom: ATLA (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Pairing: Zuko x Fem!Reader

Genre: Mostly fluff, is fluff-angst a thing? Idk guys I’m soft, you tell me.

Rated: 18+

Content Warnings: Profanity, some gore graphics (brief mentions of blood, killing, murder), uhhhh that’s it I think I’m sorry if I forget anything else.

****Huge shout-out to my friends Kenz and Jenna for editing this and hyping me up. Hopefully, since this semester from Hell will be over soon, I’ll be able to write more. Please request things! Thank-you all for supporting this and let me know more of what you want to see in the future :) Also, feedback is always welcome. Enjoy!****

_____________________________________________________________________

They had landed the war balloon days ago, stalking the tired and defeated Team Avatar and trying to figure out how the complicated Fire Prince would convince the people he chased for months that he wants to help them now.

(Y/N) was stoking the hot flame provided by the fire bender, making sure the coals were burning a cherry red before she added leaves and herbs into a pot to make a stew for the two to enjoy. Her eyes followed Zuko as he paced back and forth, practicing what he was going to say when he finally decided to confront the rebel group, lips turned upward in an amused smirk.

“Hey, Zuko here…” she heard him say before he started rambling a bunch of nonsense about his past; from his discovery, to Azula, to his father-- all the tragic topics. It took him about three minutes, but he finished with a hopeful look in his direction.

“Well?!” He clenched his fists at his side in a nervous gesture, only wanting to get this right.

The girl on the log cleared her throat before speaking, obviously hiding her laughter from the sensitive boy. “Well… it’s perfect. I especially liked the ‘Hey, Zuko here’ part. I’m sure that Aang and his friends with be very pleased to finally learn your name instead of thinking you’re called ‘Angry Ponytail Hotman’.’’

He groaned loudly, rubbing his eyes with clenched fists. The melodic laughter from his companion tempted him to give up his quest and just run away with her and live a happy life free of his father and his destiny… whatever that may be.

Still laughing, (Y/N) stood from her log by the fire and made her way to Zuko, coming up behind him. Her arms slid right around his slim body, holding on tight as she tried to pull his mind from the depths of his insecurities.

“Zuko, love.” Her voice is soft, but intense. “Just go down there. I won’t lie, they might not take you right away. You have done a lot of damage to them and their goals.”

His warm hands slide down the tops of her forearms and slide between her chilled fingers, entwining them together as Zuko grips her like she’s holding him down on the land they’re on.

“I… I just…” He struggles to get his feelings out, finding it hard to convey how he feels even to the girl wrapped around him.

She shushes him. “I know.” Is all she says, as they stand there in a momentary comfortable silence before she detaches from him to continue dinner.

____________________________

Zuko had told her to stay behind, that he’d be back to either get her or because he failed to convince the group that he came to support them, instead of harm them.

“Zuko! I could easily be an alibi for you. A reason for them to trust you!”

“No. End of story. They could attack me and you’re in Fire Nation clothes. You’re staying here.”

A staring match between the two only lasted a few seconds, but (Y/N) let it go; remembering Iroh’s advice that sometimes the boy has to do what eases his mind to grow.

The empty pot gleamed an orange glow from the flames, a light in the dark woods that surrounded the two as they lounged by the fire.

(Y/N) was carding her fingers through the upset prince’s hair while he stared at the sky; confused. His emotions spilling onto (Y/N). He didn’t talk much about the encounter, only enough to tell her that they wouldn’t be helping the Avatar defeat his father anytime soon. Rather than pressure him, she offered her solace with calming actions rather than words.

The two had met in their early childhood, (Y/N)’s father being the leader of the Yuyan Archers and of course the Fire Lord wanted the talented girl to meet his… troubled son. In hope that she could help bend his son into the ruthless leader the nations needed to proceed him. Though they didn’t see each other as much as they should have due to (Y/N)’s schooling, the two quickly became close friends and were often found with Lady Ursa quietly running around the palace grounds.

His banishment led to (Y/N) perfecting her skills, and becoming the master she was destined to be, given there was no more distraction. No one could understand her in the way that Zuko did— they fit together like they were made for one another. Where he was hotheaded, she was cool; Where he was nimble and direct, she was resourceful and hidden. The two were the perfect set of opposites who ultimately balanced each other. And one without the other was a heartbreak everyone could see.

When she heard the news of his return, she rushed to the palace; radiant as ever. In an instant, the two fell back into where they left off;  barely any words needed between the two. Her fingers and lips had trailed over his scar often in those few days, brushing away the tears and insecurities that came with it.

Leaving the Fire Nation with Zuko wasn’t even a debate in her mind. She was tired of the life of lies and torment that her nation inflicted upon the world. She had spent the last two years relocating and rebranding people who were targets to the Fire Nation. In total, about one hundred innocent lives were saved from her dangerous missions. Her skill level was better than even her father’s, and she prided herself in her abilities. (Y/N) was truly a professional in her art with the eye of an eagle.

When she caught Zuko writing a letter to her with packed bags on his bed, she instantly went into the shadows and caught up with the boy easily, hiding in the balloon behind the engine for a while until it was too late for him to turn back. It was hot and the most uncomfortable thing she has ever done, but she regrets none of it. She joked with the boy; how did he not question a pile of fabric behind the piece of equipment that holds fire? She let it go after he hugged her close and cried for a while.

“Don’t do that shit again, Zuko.” Her voice was stern, though her voice stern, she held him close. She ghosted her fingers over his tense shoulders; the shoulder that carried such burdens. She pressed her fingers into his shoulders; trying her best to rub the tension from his body. 

“I won’t. Never again. Don’t leave me, I need you.”

A rustle of leaves and broken trees in the forest near the edge of their little camp put the two into defense, instantly gripping her perfectly crafted bow and quiver. Her ears pricked at a slight movement and she aimed her bows in the direction of the noise without even looking. Suddenly, green clothes fill the area as a younger girl makes her way into the clearing. Startled, Zuko sends a wave of fire towards the intruder, burning the girl.

Everything happened fast.

(Y/N)’s left foot—her plant foot—sunk into the ground and twisted inward, releasing a loud crack into the air. The Earth girl was long gone now; Zuko had been screaming at himself when he heard the cry of pain and the sickening noise that left the lips of his girlfriend.

The earth has released its hold on her, but the damage was done. She kneeled, trying to hold back tears but failing as they kept streaming down her face in a pain response. Zuko’s own eyes filled with tears as he ran over to her, helping her sit down and take the tension off of it.

The joint was already beginning to swell, black and blue and purple and yellow starting to show up in swirls around the area. Zuko carefully tried to feel the injury, barely touching the girl in fear of hurting her more. (Y/N) sighed, pushing his fingers away and ignoring his protest. She rotated her foot outward, cringing at the pain, but crying out when she turned it the other way. Zuko cupped his hands around her ankle, hands heated slightly to hopefully alleviate the pain.

“Baby… it’s okay—”

“No, you’re hurt! I knew this would happen!” He cuts her off with a panicked yell. (Y/N) places her hands on the sides of his face, forcing his eyes upon hers with a slight wince of discomfort.

“It’s most definitely, at worst, a fracture. I can still move it outwards without a lot of pain. It’s, like, a week off my foot at most and then another week with a splint and a crutch. I am okay, Zuko.” They stared at each other for a solid minute, saying nothing.

"Promise?" Zuko whispered.

"You think I would lie to you, Zuko?" She says as she wraps her pinky his for good measure

They turn in not too long after, (Y/N)’s ankle wrapped up in some extra clothes for stability. Zuko’s arms hold her to his chest as they slip off into the world of dreams.

_________________________

Oh shit. She thought from her perch on top of the cliff edge. The assassin that they have also been trying to find has been blowing up the place, really testing the stability of the edge of the cliff in shakes after shakes like an earthquake. Zuko had told her to stay at camp, but unfortunately for Zuko; (Y/N) was never that good at listening to commands.

She was sitting down, watching the Avatar, his friends, and her boyfriend try to figure out how to win this fight against the combustion bender, feet dangling over the edge. She didn’t want any pressure on her foot from standing on it; settling for the dull throbs of pain coming from the force of gravity alone.

Some third eye. (Y/N) thought to herself as she watched her boyfriend get too close to being blown off the edge of the cliff, wincing. She quickly strung her bow, aiming it at the man. She smirked, a devious smirk, and aimed it in a precise location.

Zuko was still trying to talk the man out of it when suddenly, his eyes went blank and the grossest sound he has ever heard reached his ears. Everyone watched the man, confused as to why he just stopped. It’s not until red trails down his forehead and around his nose in a slow trickle that they look at his eye.

In the middle of the red eye, that at one point seemed indestructible; an arrow sat; a perfect shot — his perfect shot. "Bullseye!" (Y/N) howled, her voice resonating in his ears.

In the midst of Zuko's panic, he failed to recognize the cliff he was standing on becoming increasingly unsturdy; turning he locked eyes with the archer. A ghost of a smile graced her lips, pride radiating off of her. Though he was angry, he couldn't help but share her pride. He locked eyes with his girlfriend who was sitting nonchalantly on the cliff edge above them all, waving nonetheless, when he told her to stay back. It’s then that the earth beneath him rumbles and falls, taking him with it.

“Zuko!” She screams, jumping to her feet; a loud crack coming from her ankle, buckling under the pressure and bringing her to her knees.

With a hobble in her step, (Y/N) climbed down the cliffside. The tears ran down her face at a ferocious pace, making her way over to the cliffside, a loud sob relented from her mouth as she saw Aang helping Zuko up over the edge of the cliff. 

"Spirits, Zuko!" She breathed, limping her way over to him and hugging him tight. "I should kill you, you fucking idiot!" She sobbed, pulling him into her chest. 

Zuko huffed out a laugh, wrapping his arms around her. He took deep breaths, calming his nerves from his near death experience; he focused on the feeling of her hand carding through his hair to grip it tight, and the hold on his shoulders. As he calms down, he remembers that he told her to stay put; and he sharply pulls away.

"I told you to stay at camp!" He huffed, "I told you I was coming back for you!”

She scoffs pushing on his forehead with two fingers. “In case you have forgotten, Zuko, I have authority issues. If I weren’t here, who would be saving your stupid royal ass? No one! You’re welcome, by the way. He wasn’t going to negotiate, Prince Pouty, and you and everyone else here is no good to the world dead.”

“You—You---You could’ve been hurt! (Y/N)! Or worse!” His protest was a whisper, trying to make the scene more private as he’s aware of the crowd around them.

“Zuko, love, I can handle myself. I’m a master at my craft--.”

"—your craft of carelessness, you could've been killed—"

"—but I wasn't Zuko!"

"That's not the point." His voice stern, making it clear that the conversation was done for now. (Y/N) simply nodded, pulling away from him and fixing her clothes.

Aang, Toph, Katara and Sokka watched the two as they argued; watching as they continuously tried to out-care the other. They watched as the two eventually stopped arguing, instead remained staring, as if daring each other to speak

“That was a ... nice shot? I guess?" Aang spoke, clearing his throat and drawing the couples attention to him. "He's definitely you know, dead."

(Y/N) smiles at the boy. “Thank you, Avatar, for helping save this dumb ass from falling off a cliff.” She gets up and bows to him. Zuko suddenly picks her up, the world turning sideways as he put her bridal style in his arms.

“Stop putting weight on your ankle!”

“I’m literally showing respect to the person who just helped you, is that a crime?”

“What if you break your ankle so much that you have to cut it off.”

“Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“Okay well you were first when deciding to sit on the edge of a cliff with a broken ankle.”

“You’re right! Sitting is dangerous. Next time, I’ll make sure to stand so at least I’ll have a better chance of reacting if the cliff side starts falling from under me. Oh wait, you were standing, and you still fell.”

Zuko sets her down on a broken rock that’s suitable enough for her to sit on. “Will you just shut up already and let me help you.” He reaches for her ankle, but she moves it from his grasp. Their eyes meet again and narrow in competition.

A mess of limbs as the (Y/N) evades the grip of Zuko, occasionally slapping his hands away if they get too close.

Sokka tilts his head in confusion and opens his mouth. “Is he—is he actually caring for someone?”

Aang nods. “I think? I don’t know, they’re kind of fighting a lot.”

Toph cringes, “Guys, I think it was me who hurt her in the first place. Last night at their camp. Zuko instantly stopped trying to help me when I heard her scream.”

“Guys… I think I’m supposed to let him be my master. I mean, he did just risk everything to save us.” Aang says, eyes locked on the one member who he cares more about than anyone.

Katara, still holding off on agreeing, looks to the two Fire Nation kids again.

“Ow! You bit me! Are you crazy?!” Zuko yells, shaking his left hand out.

The stranger girl laughs cheerfully. “Only crazy for you, stupid.”

And a phenomenon occurs. Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation blushes and looks down at the ground, a huge smile on his face.

“I hate you.” Is all he says.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

Katara, seeing the humane side of the prince, finally lets her guard down and walks over to them. Zuko’s eyes widen at her proximity, but the water tribe girl holds his gaze.

“I’ll heal the girl if it gets you two to shut up. And you have to find dinner for tonight.”

Katara’s eyes widen again at the sight of the crying prince who suddenly bows to her feet, thanking her with his whole heart. He then turns to his smiling girl beside him and pulls her into a hug.

“Thank you, (Y/N). For everything.”

“I’ll always help you… stupid.”

[swan-of-sunrise]

Civil War (Chapter Six)

Summary: Bucky’s suspicious escape from the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre and the fallout surrounding it makes (Y/N) reevaluate her opinion of the Accords.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Last week’s chapter was really angsty and it kinda took a toll on me so here’s a sort of short filler chapter with slightly less angst! Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Six (Previous Chapter)

While she couldn’t claim to be a spy or secret agent, (Y/N) had picked up a thing or two from hanging around so many of them over the past couple of years; she knew that Bucky would eventually need an exit once he was finished tearing through everyone in the building, and it was a safe bet to assume that the skilled assassin would choose to fly himself out of there instead of travel on foot at the risk of being apprehended. She was quick to locate the building’s stairwell, hurrying up the steps as the emergency lights and alarms continued to blare; when she reached the top floor, she flung open the door and stepped out into the dark and deserted hallway.

“God, I hope this thing works…” Mumbling under her breath, (Y/N) fiddled with the dials of the walkie talkie until she could hear the indistinct chatter of voices, only letting out a sigh of relief when she finally heard the one she needed to speak to. “Agent Ross, this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I need backup on the-”

“(Y/L/N), what the hell are you doing?!”

“Your job, it would seem! I’m on the top floor and have reason to believe that-!”

Just then, a metallic hand came out of nowhere and ripped the walkie talkie from her hands, crushing it to pieces before tossing it aside. (Y/N) acted on instinct, rolling underneath Bucky’s outstretched arm and pulling a stun disc out of her pocket; landing upright, she chucked the stun disc at his metallic arm and took advantage of the assassin’s distraction to sweep his legs out from underneath him with one of her own.

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, and you were a Sergeant in the U.S. Army during World War II!” She shouted, keenly aware that the distraction would only last a few more seconds. “You were Steve Rogers’ best friend and a Howling Commando!” Hastily backing out of the way, she watched with widened eyes as he ripped the electrified stun disc off his arm and leapt to his feet. “Bucky, I don’t believe that you bombed the U.N. but you need to stop and remember who you are!”

Bucky’s face was blank and devoid of any emotion, a far cry from the frightened man in the containment cell. He stalked towards her and while she had just enough time to duck the first punch he threw her way, she couldn’t dodge the second; the force of his fist’s impact on her jaw sent her flying back and crashing to the ground, her wrist screaming in protest as she tried and failed to break her fall. While he strode down the hallway to where she was sprawled on the floor, she hurriedly ripped all the stun discs out of her pocket and began throwing them as she crawled backwards. He avoided each and every stun disc she threw, but it bought her enough time to pick herself up off the ground and side-step his next attack; before she could land a kick or punch, though, his metal hand shot out and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her easily into the air and slamming her hard against the wall.

(Y/N)’s hands came up to uselessly clutch at the metal fingers that were digging into her skin and her legs kicked out in desperation as she struggled for air; just as her vision was beginning to darken her eyes focused on the small tear in the sleeve of his shirt and the corner of a red star it barely revealed, and in desperation she cried out, “Sol…Soldat!”

The assassin froze, and (Y/N) watched as his hardened expression shifted into confusion. His metallic hand quickly loosened and she instantly crumpled to the floor, coughing and gasping for air, unable to move or even defend herself. Bucky’s heavy footsteps faded away and with a wheezing breath, she lifted her head in time to see Steve burst through the same stairwell door she’d come through moments before.

“(Y/N)!?” He hurried to her side and dropped down, his grease-smudged face filled with pure panic as he tugged her into his arms. “Oh God, you’re bleeding…!”

Steve’s free hand came up to touch her scratched jaw but she grabbed his wrist to halt his movement, ignoring how his brow furrowed in confusion as she whispered, “G-go, Steve…Bucky’s heading for…for the helipad…”

He firmly shook his head, blue eyes already set in determination. “No, baby, I’m not leaving you.”

“Bucky needs you!” (Y/N) insisted, suppressing her wince of pain as she stared up at him with a fiery resolve; sensing the conflict within the super-soldier, she released his wrist and gently rested her hand against his cheek with a sad smile. “Go.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Steve nodded and carefully eased her back onto the ground, giving her one final look before running down the hallway after the assassin; right before he turned the corner, she closed her eyes, unwilling to watch as the love of her life chased after the deadly assassin by himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the second time in two days, (Y/N) quietly sat and allowed herself to be patched up by a kindly paramedic. Not only did she still have a ruptured eardrum, she also had a large laceration along her jaw that required five stitches, a sprained wrist that was secured in a sturdy brace and a smattering of darkening finger-shaped bruises around her neck. Others weren’t as lucky as you were, she reminded herself, sadness washing over her as she thought of all the critically injured and dead CIA agents who’d also encountered the dangerous Winter Soldier during his rampage.

Once the paramedics finished treating her wounds, she made her way back to the control room and was immediately met by a sympathetic Natasha. “Here, I got you some tea with honey; it’ll help your throat feel better.” The spy handed her a warm to-go cup before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her into the glass-walled conference room, where Tony was already seated and resting his bruised head in his hand. “Secretary Ross’s gonna be here in a few minutes, hot-shot, so please try to be on your best behavior no matter what he says to rile you up.”

(Y/N) merely nodded and took a sip of her tea, wincing in pain as she swallowed. The injuries to her throat didn’t stop her from speaking but her own conscious did; she was beginning to realize that no matter what she could say or do to convince them that Bucky was innocent, they’d never listen and even if they did, there was nothing they could do about it under the Sokovia Accords. So, she made the decision to bide her time and wait until the right moment to bring up her theory.

The three of them sat together in weary silence, the turmoil of the past two days seeming to catch up to them, until Secretary Ross barged into the conference room with his trademark sneer on his face. “You two wanna fill me in on what happened and why a civilian’s still sitting in the middle of a covert CIA control room?”

As if sensing (Y/N)’s simmering irritation, Natasha stood and moved to lean against the back of her chair, placing a calming hand on her shoulder as she replied, “Barnes escaped custody with the aid of the U.N. psychiatrist sent to evaluate him; they knocked out the power grid to the city and used it as a distraction, and (Y/N) here was already in the building for questioning. She’s one of the many who tried and failed to stop Barnes from leaving the building.”

“After taking (Y/L/N) out of commission, Barnes tried leaving in a chopper but ended up crashing it on the helipad; he, Rogers and Wilson are all missing in action.” Tony glanced over at (Y/N) before returning his gaze to the Secretary of State. “That’s all we’ve got.”

“I don’t suppose you have any idea where they are?”

“We will, GSG-9’s got the borders covered, and Recon’s flying 24/7. They’ll get a hit; we’ll handle it.”

Secretary Ross scoffed at the billionaire. “You don’t get it, Stark, it’s not yours to handle. It’s clear you can’t be objective, so I’m putting Special Ops on this.”

The spy’s hand on her shoulder flexed. “What happens when the shooting starts? What, do you kill Steve Rogers?”

“If we’re provoked,” (Y/N)’s eyes widened in horror and in her shock, she almost missed what Ross said next. “Barnes would’ve been eliminated in Romania if it wasn’t for Rogers; there are dead people who would be alive now. Feel free to check my math.”

Tony’s eyes flicked over to meet theirs, an uncomfortable look filling his gaze as he turned back to Ross. “All due respect, you’re not going to solve this with boys and bullets, Ross. You gotta let us bring them in.”

“How would that end any differently from the last time?” The Secretary of State demanded.

The billionaire’s expression hardened at Ross’ silent implications. “Because this time, I won’t be wearing loafers and a silk shirt. Seventy-two hours, guaranteed.”

“Thirty-six hours,” Ross corrected, giving them all a pointed look before turning and walking out of the conference room, calling out over his shoulder, “Barnes…Rogers…Wilson…”

“Thank you, sir!” The glass door closed and Tony slumped in his seat with an exhausted sigh as he clutched his left arm. “My left arm is numb, is that normal?”

Moving around the table, Natasha patted the billionaire on his shoulder. “You all right?”

The two Avengers continued to talk in low tones but (Y/N) couldn’t focus on what they were saying; all she could think of were Secretary Ross’ cold-blooded words and the way he’d said them without so much as a hint of remorse. What horrified her more, though, was the fact that Tony and Natasha didn’t appear to be bothered by the threat against the lives of their former teammates. This is all wrong, she thought as her vision began to blur with unshed tears, her heart sinking into her stomach while she realized that Steve’s worst fears about the Accords were materializing right before her very eyes; blinking away her tears, she looked down at her now-bare ring finger and the longer she stared, the more her anger with the two Avengers grew.

“…head downstairs to talk to T’Challa. I’ll bring (Y/N) with me, since he seems to tolerate her more than the rest of us.”

“Before you do, though, she’s gonna need to sign the Accords; I don’t want Ross looking for any excuses to arrest her so we need to do this by the books.” She looked back up as Tony and Natasha turned to her, the billionaire’s brow raised in expectation while he continued. “That okay with you, Austen?”

(Y/N) was silent for a long moment and when she finally spoke, it was with a forced calmness and a clenched jaw. “Did I ever tell you two what my new novel Bring A Folding Chair is about? It chronicles the rise and fall of second-wave feminism in America as told through the eyes of a young investigative journalist.” Getting up from her seat, she crossed her arms over her chest and began pacing. “I focus on the successes of the movement while also highlighting its failures and shortcomings, because even the most well-intended things can inadvertently end up hurting others.” (Y/N) shook her head in agitation and glanced over at the two confused Avengers. “When it came to the Accords, I knew from the moment Secretary Ross told us about them that they were wrong, but I turned a willful blind eye to the truth because I was selfish and only cared about saving my relationship with Steve. But now…now my eyes are wide open.”

“(Y/N), take it easy-”

“Do not tell me to take it easy when you just sat there and listened to Ross practically order a hit on three people – two of which are your friends – who haven’t been legally convicted of any wrongdoing!” She yelled as her sore throat ached in protest but she ignored it, all the frustration and pain that had been building up inside of her finally boiling over. “Steve was right when he said I was too idealistic; I thought the world was made up of enough good people who would keep the Accords from becoming too authoritative but unfortunately, it’s made up of cowards like us who are only looking out for our own self-interests.” Her gaze shifted from Tony’s stunned expression to Natasha, whose face remained neutral but whose eyes conveyed the pain her words had caused; she swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded before continuing. “Well, I don’t know about you two but I can’t do it anymore.”

Without another word, (Y/N) stormed out into the control room and down one of the hallways to Agent Ross’ office, her uninjured hand curled into a fist at her side as she walked; the door of the agent’s office was open and he was in deep conversation with Sharon Carter, who was tapping away on a tablet while they talked. They both looked over at her as she entered the office, and Agent Ross’ brow furrowed in concern while he took in her injuries and stony expression. “Miss (Y/L/N). Agent 13 told me that you got roughed up pretty badly earlier; are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Agent Ross. Am I free to go?” The agent raised his brow, looking more amused that surprised by her demanding question, and she gritted her teeth before continuing. “In the past forty-eight hours I’ve attended a friend’s funeral, was nearly blown up in a suspected terrorist attack, was unjustly interrogated for several continuous hours, broke off my engagement to the love of my life and was nearly killed again by a brainwashed assassin. I’m filthy, I’m injured, I’m exhausted, and I’m just one more incident away from completely losing my shit so can I please leave now?”

Sharon cast her a fleeting glance and took a step forward. “Sir, she’s already given multiple statements to our agents and…well, to be frank, the Joint Terrorism Task Force is already facing scrutiny for not stopping Barnes’ escape. The criticism will only intensify when the news outlets catch wind that we’re holding an injured, world-famous author without probable cause.” Agent Ross considered her words, and Sharon shot her a warning glance before continuing. “I’ll drive her to a nearby hotel and keep an eye on her in case Rogers tries getting into contact; based on the events of the last few hours, though, I’m not so sure that he will.”

“All right,” He finally answered, his expression softening a little as he looked back at her. “But for the time being, Miss (Y/L/N), consider yourself on the no-fly list.”

Nodding in thanks, (Y/N) glanced back at Sharon and the agent gave her a brief smile. “I’ve got a few things to wrap up here so I’ll meet you down in the parking garage in ten.” She reached into her pockets and withdrew her car keys, pressing them into her open palm with another fleeting smile. “My car’s the grey Audi parked by the stairwell.”

(Y/N) walked out of the office and down the hallway but since the mechanics were still working on fixing the elevators after the power-outage, she was forced to take the stairs all the way down to the underground parking garage. She quickly located the agent’s car and unlocked it, climbing into the passenger seat and buckling her seat-belt; now that she was finally alone, she couldn’t stop herself as she lowered her head into her hands and cried, allowing all the pent-up emotions inside of her to finally be set free. In that moment, all she wanted to do was go back to when everything was normal, back before Lagos and her constant fighting with Steve and the goddamn Accords; it wasn’t perfect, of course, but it was a hundred times better than what they were all currently going through. “I’m so sorry, Steve…”

As her sobs finally began to subside, the stairwell door opened and Sharon walked through the doorway; she took a steadying breath and wiped the last of her tears away just as the agent opened the driver-side door and got it. Sharon reached over and opened the glove-box to reveal a package of tissues, flashing her a brief and sympathetic smile as she pulled one out and blew her nose. “I tend to start feeling better after I’ve had a good cry. How ‘bout you?”

“Not really, I still feel like shit except now my eyes itch and my nose is running,” (Y/N) half-heartedly quipped, dabbing at the corners of her eyes and sighing. “So, you know any good hotels around here?”

“The Kurhotel Strӧszek’s nice and it’s not too far from here, so that’ll make Agent Ross happy. On our way, we’ll stop at a pharmacy and pick you up some first aid sup-” The ringing of Sharon’s cell phone interrupted her words and she was quick to answer it. “Agent 13 here…Steve?” (Y/N) instantly perked up and with a brief gesture for her to stay quiet, the agent switched to speakerphone. “Okay, I’m alone. What’s up?”

“We’ve figured out what’s going on,” Steve’s voice answered through the phone’s speaker and (Y/N) bit her lip to keep from making a sound at the comforting timbre. “The doctor framed Bucky for the U.N. bombing in order to find out where Hydra kept him. They created five other Winter Soldiers back in the 90’s and had them cryogenically frozen; he’s planning on waking them, says he’s doing it to see an empire fall.”

“So, you three need your gear before you can go after him.”

The super-soldier sighed. “I know that it’s a lot to ask, Sharon-”

“You’re trying to stop a squad of murderous super-soldiers from taking over the world, Rogers; if this is how I can help stop that from happening, then I’m in. I’ll send you a message when I’ve got the gear and we’ll arrange a meeting.”

“Thank you, Sharon, I owe you one. How…how’s (Y/N) doing?”

“She’s okay; lacerated jaw, sprained wrist and a whole lot of bruising, but she’s fine.” Steve breathed a deep sigh of relief that made (Y/N)’s heart warm and the agent gave her a sideways glance before continuing. “You should know that she’s refused to sign the Accords. I’ve been assigned to escort her to a hotel, where she’ll stay until she’s taken off the CIA’s no-fly list and can go back home…”

There was silence over the line and just as she began wondering if they’d somehow been disconnected, Steve quietly spoke, “I’ve already asked you for one favor but can I bother you for another?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“If I write a letter, can you make sure that it gets to (Y/N)? There’s a lot that I need to tell her and since I don’t know what’ll happen where we’re going…well, she deserves answers one way or another.”

Sharon’s eyes flicked between (Y/N)’s saddened expression and the cell phone in her hand as she nodded. “Of course, I’ll pick it up when I hand over your gear. Talk to you later, Rogers.”

Hanging up, the agent tucked the phone into her pocket and quickly started the engine, buckling up and driving at a steady speed through the parking garage and out onto the street; (Y/N) fiddled with the hem of her wrinkled shirt for a thought-filled moment before stating, “You’ve already got a plan.”

“Let’s just say that I’ve been prepared to follow through on a favor like this one for a while now,” Sharon spared her a sideways glance and focused back on the road. “But I won’t say anything else about it on the off-chance the CIA decides to question you somewhere down the line; the last thing I want is for you to be charged with aiding and abetting in the theft of government property.”

(Y/N) glanced down at her bare ring finger and thought back on Steve’s words during his phone call; she was desperate to find out what was in the letter but at the same time, she knew in her heart that she needed to hear whatever it was directly from him. The thought reminded her of their conversation about the problems within their relationship in the London hotel’s bar, the last truly calm moment they’d shared before everything went sideways…

“Whatever it is, we can work through it together. We make a damn good team, after all.”

“Of course we do, sunshine.”

There’s something I have to do before Steve and the others go after those super-soldiers, (Y/N) thought to herself, her shoulders squared in determination as she turned to glance at Sharon beside her and pondered the best way to ask the spy for a third and final favor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Russian Translation: Soldat-Soldier

A/N: Next chapter will have even less angst so yay! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist:  https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4TsJ2TY1F2HDXhEYOfzCjY?si=b1abdaeccc4c4d21

Chapter Seven

Civil War Masterlist

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