#also please excuse my bitterness but little under a half of the fics in the earth 57289 tag are stony and *scream*

[ironhusband]

rhodeslabs is such a good url i literally got so giddy when i saw it was you who had that name like wow go queen 🤧

Thank you I know <3 I was so happy to found out this url wasn’t taken! I am obsessed with earth 57289 so. 

[nctsworld]

meet me at the borderline

☆ jaehyun x reader | dance au | enemies to lovers | smut | 4k   

→ summary: although you and jaehyun are rival dance team captains, you two end up talking with your bodies in the dance studio one evening. → warnings: smut, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), table sex, mirror sex, some praise kink, swearing, some angst → rating: explicit → notes: part of a longer fic that i yearn to write one day, but until then… this is what y’all will receive 

→ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

It’s 8pm on a Friday night at the university’s main dance studio. Everyone on campus is either attending frat parties, at the clubs downtown, or at home, so you’re taken aback when you walk in and are greeted by the one and only Jung Jaehyun. 

He immediately stops dancing and hurries over to his phone on the floor to turn off the music playing. The panting dancer holds your gaze through the wall-sized mirror and takes off his cap for a moment to wipe his sweat away before putting it back on. 

“I was here first,” he states firmly with a squint of his eyes, anticipating for you to leave, but Jaehyun knows to expect less of you. With your backpack slung over your shoulder, you stride into the room, hearing the door click behind you, and cross your arms with a shrug. 

“Did you book the studio for tonight?” 

He tenses, “No, I didn’t, but—” 

“If you don’t have another excuse for me to go, don’t be such a baby and I’ll make sure to stay out of your way.” 

The dance captain eyes you sauntering towards the back corner of the room, setting your backpack down. As you sit on the floor and begin to change shoes, he appears in front of you.

“Look, I’m trying to practice the set for the competition. I hate to be a dick—”

“No, you don’t; you love being a dick.” With a bitter, wide smile, you look up at him, still putting on your sneakers.

Jaehyun glances up for a second, as if in deep thoughts, with pressed lips. He then raises an eyebrow and nods his head side to side. 

“Perhaps, but anyway, I didn’t bring my headphones today and we shouldn’t even be seeing each other’s choreo before the show—” 

“Well, good news,” you stand up and begin to tie up your hair. “Unlike you, I brought headphones, so you can practice in peace. Oh, and I hate the sight of you and your flat ass, so I won’t even look at you dancing. We good?” 

You fold your arms once more. From one captain to another, you hold his stare, not wanting to back down from this mere fight. All you want is to get in some practice before the weekend with a proper mirror, is that too much to ask for? 

It takes some time, but the opposition yields to you, tilting his head to the floor and grumbles under his breath. As he walks back to his side of the room, you’re surprised he backed down so easily without a snarky response. Maybe Friday nights were his off days too.   

“At least I have an ass,” Jaehyun’s holler echoes against the walls. 

Ah, you spoke too soon. Placing your headphones over your ears to drown out your surroundings, you start your usual warm-up. Shortly, both of you dive into your separate worlds of melodies and movement. 

About half an hour later, you’re sitting cross-legged on the floor for a water break and set your headphones aside. You take a sip from your bottle and go against your word from before, indulging in a glance at the other dancer in the room.

Even though Jaehyun is an ass (and lacks one),—and you’d never tell the following to his face—he’s still a pretty sight to see, especially when his shirt occasionally rides up to flash his abs. 

When he catches on that you’re taking a longer break than usual, he pauses his music.  

“Were you practicing your set too or were you freestyling?”

Caught off-guard by his conversational piece, you squint at him coming closer to you. You could answer honestly, but opt to hold your ground against his seemingly innocent question. 

“Why do you care?”

He scoffs, “Cause your footwork’s a mess, like always, and if you, as a captain, dance like that for your piece, I can’t imagine what your whole team looks like.” 

Your nose twitches prior to the clenching of your jaw. You’re fully aware of your weak points when dancing, as most dancers are, but to have the audacity to bring it up unprovoked? You slam your water bottle against the floor, the echo reaching all ends of the room, then stand to match his stance. 

“Well, you’re one to talk.” You stomp your way over, closing the empty space in between, and are now only a few steps away from him. “You’re tense with all your upper body movements. You’re like a hard stick from the hip up. It’s like you have no control over your core—”

“Whoa, hold on,” he holds a palm up and rushes to lift his shirt up. “Look at my abs and tell me I don’t have a good core.”

You’re definitely looking, a little longer than you should because you’re finally getting a close-up glimpse of his abs, and they’re the type that you could wash clothes off of. But it’s not like you haven’t seen abs in your life nor do you want to stroke his ego, so you maintain your demeanor and roll your eyes. 

“I didn’t say that. I said you have no control over your core.”

Jaehyun lets out a huff. You can’t detect it, but it’s laced with a tinge of disappointment over how unfazed you are. He frees his shirt and jogs over to his phone. A few scrolls later, he finally blasts music that you’re fairly certain isn’t part of his dance team’s set for the competition (you may have also gone against your other word and listened to what he was practicing to, but only for a little bit). 

“Fine, I’ll show you.” 

At this point, you’re amused because never in a million years you’d expect Jaehyun freestyling in a room alone with you. He starts off by feeling the sharp beats and flowing rhythm of the music and when he has a handle on it, he makes a deliberate effort to add body rolls, chest pops, and more in his freestyling to lay out his case. 

While taking mental notes, out of habit, you’re grooving along with him too with modest rolls, head nodding, and taps of your feet. He can tell you’re holding back, but Jaehyun smiles, basking in how you seem to be enjoying this from the smile reflected on your face as well. 

When he stops, he cocks an eyebrow at you, awaiting for your new verdict.

“Maybe you’re not as bad as you were before.”   

He grins, hard enough that his dimples show, and you dig a hole to hide away the underlying flutters of your heart. 

Still an asshole, but a cute asshole.  

“Now, show me what you got, Captain,” Jaehyun crosses his arms with a nod.  

You’re shaking your head, not wanting to be judged by Jaehyun any further.  

“Unless... you’re scared that I’m right about how shitty your footwork is?”  

If there’s anything stronger than the fear of judgement, it’s the power of spite. 

The song’s already onto the next, but the melody flows easily through you. Similar to Jaehyun, you place emphasis on your footwork, being conscious of switching your weight between the balls and heels of your feet and slowing your moves in order to be more sharp, more clean, but all the while purposefully hitting the beats and giving meaning to the moves. 

Your body’s out of control, owning all the floor space around you. When your body leads you to end up in front of Jaehyun, you snag the hat off his head and put it on. While you stick your tongue out in response, he’s laughing, thinking how you look better with it on than him, and he realizes how he’s never seen you in this element. 

“My footwork still shitty?” you ask, still dancing. 

“There’s room for improvement,” Jaehyun breaks his fixed stance, now beginning to dance along with you. “But you’re not that bad either.” 

Soon enough, you two are entangled in an unspoken dance battle, trying to one up the other with harder, stronger, better movements than the opponent. The moment Jaehyun drops his breakdancing skills, you bite back with your own strengths—fierce, sensual motions and dare to invade his personal space, in hopes he becomes flustered. 

And he does, because he freezes at the sight of your bent ass, which is practically against his hips, and how your fingertips ghost the floor, then you shoot straight up and roll into his body. You lean your head back onto his shoulder, glancing up at him with shallow breaths, restless from the ongoing battle. 

“Care to beat that?” you whisper, suddenly aware of your hands tugging the fabric of his track pants over his thighs. Your chest heaves, and Jaehyun’s drawn to the view in his proximity. 

Despite his crude ogles, he’s super conscious of ensuring that his hands are not touching you, fearing he’s reading the situation wrong, that perhaps this was only due to the adrenaline and anger you’ve both pented up over time. It’s not as if you’d ever want him, even if he was the last man on Earth.

Although you can’t read his mind, Jaehyun’s absolutely right. 

So why do you inch closer to his face?

Time slows as he begins to meet you halfway. Both of you are breathing in sync, hearts beating almost as one. You turn to grasp the crook of his neck, while he steadies you by your waist.  

However, when your lips crash into his, time speeds up and it feels like it’s slipping away. All your movements are rushed as if it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. The kissing—open-mouthed, hungry, and needy—doesn’t falter anytime soon. 

When you drop your touch from his neck, he runs his hands through your hair before caressing your cheek, deepening the kiss with more pressure. You’re sighing, humming into each kiss, and as Jaehyun pulls away to kiss your neck, you’re melting, knees feeling weak amidst your soft moans and eye rolls. 

Not wanting to actually melt in front of him, you tug at his shirt in between kisses, prompting him to follow you towards a small table on one side of the room. Once you’re there, you sit atop the table and continue kissing Jaehyun, who’s standing in between your spread legs. The handsome figure reverts back to kissing your neck, but this time feels adventurous, letting his hand snake under your t-shirt and grasp the side of your stomach. He embraces the smoothness of your bare skin, adores how you feel with every contact.   

There’s not much thinking happening, just lust coursing through each of your bodies. The lust distorts you so much, you don’t hesitate to take off your shirt and toss it to the floor. Jaehyun takes in your beauty for a brief second, before he follows suit and takes his shirt off too. His mouth captures yours again, while his hand kneads your ass and tugs you closer to his hips. 

Throughout his kisses that span all over your body, your hands roam and grip the entirety of his toned upper body. Almost instantly, you feel what you can only assume is his growing hard-on pressed against your core, causing you to moan.

“Can I finger you?” Jaehyun asks the filthy question with a certain air of courtesy, leaning his perspired forehead against yours. You nod fervently and squeak a simple, “Yes.” 

As you stand to get rid of your shoes and to wiggle your panties and leggings off, you notice Jaehyun laying the t-shirt he was wearing on the spot where you sat. He answers the confusion plastered on your face. 

“These tables are used for everything in this building; you never know what could be on them.” 

Today truly marks a day where you’ve never seen this many sides of Jaehyun before, but you don’t let yourself dissect the moment for too long. Since you still have your sports bra on, you opt to strip it off too, and jump back onto the table.  

Because you’re completely naked in front of him, Jaehyun takes more of his sweet time to bask in the sight in front of him, unsure if he’ll ever see you like this again. 

“Are you gonna keep staring,” you cusp his chin, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Or are you going to finger me?” 

“I’ll do what I want when I want to,” he seethes along with your name. Without warning, his fingers hover under your exposed warmth, making you gasp. 

Jaehyun chuckles deeply, “You’re dripping wet for me and I haven’t even put my fingers in yet.”

His fingers continue to painfully tease you, rubbing long, horizontal lines back and forth across your folds.

You bite your lip, fuming, “Jaehyun, stop teasing and put them in already,” 

“Tell me I’m a good dancer.”

You sigh a half-chuckle and roll your eyes prior to muttering, “Fuck you.” 

The tease dips his fingers just slightly into your sex, then pulls out right away. And again, and again. You’re getting more frustrated by the second, pouting with piercing eyes. Jaehyun always liked it when he had an upper hand on you during arguments, but he likes it even more like this.

“Tell me I’m a good dancer, and I’ll put them in.” 

“Fine,” you scowl. “You’re a good dancer, but you know that alre—fuck.” 

He plunges two digits deep into you, and your walls clench in gratification. 

“You’re right. I know I am, I just wanted to hear you say it.” 

You want to kiss the smirk off his face, but instead, you’re leaning your head back and gripping the edge of the table, reveling in the sensation of his fingers filling you. The music from his phone may be still playing, but all Jaehyun can focus on are your heaven sent moans and the way your body writhes, all due to him. 

With his free hand, he trails his nails lightly down the spine of your back, making your sex pulse around his fingers even more. He palms the middle of your back as he begins to plant kisses on your clavicle, down your chest, then on one of your nipples. The label of a tease sticks with him. He dabs his tongue lightly here and there, barely traces a circle around your tip. 

When he decides you’ve had enough, he puckers his lips tight and his cheeks become sunken. And when he’s not sucking, his tongue flicks as hard as the suctions, like strobing lights. You react in a frenzy, hands reaching towards his hair, to stuff and tug them between your fingers.  

“Oh, God, Jaehyun...”

When Jaehyun takes your other breast into his mouth, your moans tether further as he also increases his fingering pace, causing you to grip onto his hair harder. You fear that it might be too rough, but then again, he deserves a little pain for all the fights you’ve had.  

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growls, still with your nub surrounded by his teeth. He maintains his rhythm, enthralled with the obscene sounds of your pussy taking his fingers. 

Feeling a little conscious, reasoning that his hand must be drenched with your juices, you stutter, “S-sorry.” 

“No,” he pulls away from your mound, shakes his head, and pulls his hand from your back to caress your neck tenderly. “It’s fucking hot.” 

Jaehyun kisses you with intensity, the speed of his wrist never relenting. You can’t even properly kiss him back because the pleasure is overwhelming, so much that if moans were a shade of paint, yours would be splattered all over the studio’s walls. You reach your peak with cries of his name, your honey glistening over his fingers. 

After he pulls them out and you’re coming down from your high, he runs over to his backpack and rummages through it. Your eyes flicker, noticing the little silver package in hand. Jaehyun wastes no time in coming back to your side. He places the condom next to you on the table and strips off his clothes in record time. 

Before he has a chance to open the condom, you jump off the table to grasp onto his wrist, gesturing for him to lean his backside against the table. He’s in awe as you drop to your knees in front of him.  

You stroke his hardened length, admiring his size, but waste no time in tasting him to avoid Jaehyun’s potential banter about how big he is. However, he’s not even in the right mindset to do so; he’s in a trance, stuck on everything you’re doing. 

Subconsciously or not, everything’s a competition with you two, so you showcase what you’re capable of doing with your tongue. Like him, you begin to be a painful tease, only giving small kitten licks on his cock. Then the next laps of your tongue are broad, but gradual.  

Wanting to see everything you’re doing, he holds your messy hair in a makeshift ponytail since the hair tie you had on must have flown off during the former scenes. Jaehyun grunts sharply as you ease him into your mouth, the warmth welcoming and encircling him wholly. After you bob and swirl your tongue concurrently, giving him a sneak peek of what you’re able to do, you stroke him lackadaisically and meet his eyes.  

“Now, you tell me I’m a good dancer,” you command.  

A brief chuckle escapes from above, “I don’t think you’re in the same position to ask me of that.” 

You challenge his words by taking his possession within your mouth once more. Holding him by the base to cover the area your mouth can’t, you jerk your head fast. With each bob and each swipe, more and more of your saliva covers Jaehyun’s desire. The slurps are so loud, so lewd. His face trembles and his grip tightens on your hair, the pleasure rising within him sooner than expected. 

“Okay, okay. You’re a great dancer—fuck, fuck. Slow down. I don’t want to come just yet.”  

You pull away, an extended line of your spit mixed with his precome draws out from your lips. Perking an eyebrow with a smolder, you light up your wrist rapidly. “Do you mean it?” 

He’s breaking apart from your actions, baring his teeth and grimacing. “Yes, yes. I fucking mean it.” 

With a smirk, you immediately drop him from your hand. He drags you upward into a mad kiss, in retaliation for the edging. Breaking apart from one another, you hurry to your original spot on the table. Jaehyun eases the rubber onto his cock and tugs you by your hips, having your ass laid on the very end of the table. 

He raises your legs up, to be partially extended in the air and engulfed around his body. You have one elbow perched on the table and one hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder. Jaehyun stabilizes you by having a grip on the fold behind your knee and hustles to line his possession up with your sex. The moment it is, his hand meets your waist and he inserts himself fully into you. 

Your back arches from his girth hitting you. Both of your moans expel, mingling with each other. He thrusts experimentally, testing the waters to see how you like it. Determined, deep thrusts. Shallow, swift thrusts. A mix of both. 

It didn’t matter, because you cry in ecstasy either way.   

Being aware of the music still playing from his phone, he wonders if he can plunge into you to match the beat. The current song was electronic and bass-heavy, making it difficult for him to truly match it, but your broken whimpers and name-calling don’t object to the fast thrill. 

God, he can feel the way your pussy contracts against his inches. 

“You know,” he pants heavily. “If I didn’t have good core control, I wouldn’t be able to do this.” 

It takes a bit of effort to come up with a response. All you muster up is, “N-not necessarily,” before you lapse into your elation. 

As you emit your endless moans, you spot your reflection in the wall-sized mirror. The sides of your bodies are parallel to it, and your eyes can’t tear away from the spectacle of you getting fucked by Jaehyun from another angle. It’s unbelievable how fit he is, but you see every flexed muscle and tendon in the mirror—from his neck to his ankles. 

“Do you like watching me fuck you?” 

His gaze confronts yours in the mirror, and you whimper with barely a bounce of your head.  

Jaehyun’s thinking about how beautiful you are, but he holds his tongue back. Rather, he grasps the nape of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss, except the kisses are hardly materialized because your lips are constantly parted. Your hot breath fans against his face and he’s attentive to how close you are to him. Not just physically, but beyond that too. He can’t explain it, but it’s as if you’re under his skin. 

He knows this will inevitably end, it has to, but he also knows he’ll want you again.  

Jaehyun’s officially hooked—to your taste, to your scent, to your air, to your everything.  

And he’s not the only one who feels that way too.  

You inform Jaehyun that you’re nearing again, and he readies himself for his own little death too. Once you disintegrate, he kisses you for the last time, followed by spurts of his seed, releasing himself into the condom.  

The two of you are heaving, sticky messes. Regardless, both of you hold onto each other for a little bit longer. Eventually, you must withdraw and you do.   

The tension in the room seems to shift as you both begin to catch your breath, like everything that just happened was a dream. You don’t regret it, neither of you do, but reality blankets over. You’re the first to reach for your clothes and begin to put them back on. Jaehyun peels off the condom and follows your footsteps. 

“This stays between us,” you express from afar, averting his eyes.  

“And it’s only a one-time thing,” Jaehyun adds, but is immediately unsure if he should’ve said that.

“Exactly, it’s like you read my mind.” 

Your chest clenches for a beat as the words come out of your mouth. You shake your head, trying not to think about it.  

“Are you going to stay in the studio a bit longer?” 

Reading his question as a simple inquiry, you don’t pick up the hopefulness in his tone nor do you see the look in his eyes.  

“No, no. You can finally get the studio to yourself. I’ve had enough practice for the night.”

Already dressed, you hurry to grab all your gear and stuff it into your backpack, prepared to leave. You’re practically out the door in an instant as you mumble your good-bye.

“I’ll see you around, Jaehyun.” 

While you’re walking home, Jaehyun’s still sitting on the floor of the dance studio with his hat in his hand, remembering the way you looked with it on.

At the same moment, you’re both trying your best to stop thinking about the other. 

Keeping this a secret between the two of you, you could do. If your team knew what went down, the best case scenario would be that you lose captaincy. The worst case was that you wouldn’t be a part of your team anymore. However, in either case, your best friends, who were also on the team, would likely question your loyalty and dedication, wondering why you’d ever do such a thing in the first place. The same applied to Jaehyun. 

Seeing Jaehyun again was inevitable. Your teams often collided during practice hours and sometimes fought for the studio. Although it’d be awkward, it’d be manageable. At least, you hope it would be. 

But the only thing neither of you could truly promise, nor did you two desire, was keeping this as a one-time thing, especially now, when you’ve had a taste of each other and yearned for more. 

One more month until the competition. 

What more could possibly happen between you and Jaehyun until then? 

[obae-me]

Upside Down CH-1

Author’s Note: Hi, yes, hello, welcome to the fic series that no one asked for! Do I have other things I need to finish? Yes! But has this been the only thing on my mind for the past four days? Also yes! For some reason I was incapable of writing anything else! Thanks, brain, for this out of the blue obsession! 

Tags: Reverse AU

Word Count: 4587

                                                      Next Chapter

Hell Away From Hell

Wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was a mistake. It had to be. Although, with every clink of your restraints, your reality was becoming ever clearer. The chains rattled, echoing down the hall like a set of twisted wind chimes. Ones that sung of your dismal fortune. The demon ahead of you yanked the lead attached to your cuffs, sending you stumbling forward. You bit your lip to keep from cursing. Steading your body, you took their less-than-subtle message and picked up the pace. Keeping your eyes glued towards your destination, your stomach sank to your knees. Why? Why had you been brought to the castle? You hadn’t done anything wrong. Well, not anything to warrant being escorted by the palace guards in chains. And as they led you silently inside, past the polished halls and gaudy antiques, your fate pounded just fervently in your mind as your heart was in your chest. 

They were going to present you in front of the prince. 

It was torture in and of itself just making it to the throne room. The worst part about it all was your rampant imagination. You could only imagine what type of horrific techniques the prince was aware of. Halting in front of the large double doors, the demon behind you moved to open the entrance. Holding it open, the guard tugging you along guided you in. You managed to take only a few steps inside the room before you were practically thrown inside, your body tumbling over the ground. Both the guards smirked at you, flashing their pointed fangs in their conceited gestures before shutting the door, leaving you alone inside. 

“MC.” All the air inside your lungs had conveniently escaped. Lifting your chest off the ground, you tightened your lips as you met his gaze. Those glistening emerald eyes pierced right through you. Quickly, you lowered your eyes, attempting to show as much respect as you could to gain his favor. 

“M-my lord.” 

The melodic note that left his throat was a mix between a laugh and a coo. “Now, now, none of that groveling. I had you brought here to ask you a favor!” You could hear him stand to his feet, and you watched his shoes approach, clicking against the marbled tile. Then, you felt the smooth skin of his hand caress your right horn. The sudden sensitive feeling had your tail rapidly twitch and tuck under your leg. He pushed your horns back, raising your chin so you could look up at him. His dark hair drifted down across his forehead, curling around his horns that curved above his head like a broken halo, his face soft and inviting, and yet your gut wouldn’t let you believe it. “Please, from now on, just call me Simeon.” 

Simeon hummed as he lifted his tea cup to his lips. He had been hospitable enough, but you still couldn’t shake this feeling of unease. Plus...what he had brought you in to ask you was...well, something short of insanity. You continued to rub your wrists where your constraints had been. And as much as the prince of hell apologized for his guard’s brutish behavior, you had a feeling it was purposeful. A message of sorts. Even now, as he had his little servant bring in sweets and tea as sickly sweet as it could get, it all tasted bitter to your tongue. “So let me get this straight,” you started. “You want me to be a member of this…” 

The prince tilted his head, eyes practically shining. “Restoration program.” 

You cleared your throat after the little scone this blonde demon had given you made your throat run dry. “R-right. And I’m assuming I don’t have a choice in the matter?” 

His voice was soft, but the light reflecting off his horns and his fangs suggested another answer. “We all have choices, MC.” 

Swallowing your nervousness, you lowered your head again. “But, with all due respect, sir...why? Why a restoration program?” 

Another voice chuckled behind your figure. “Because, why not?” You strained your neck, getting a view at the newcomer behind you. White hair, a mischievous smile, and something unknown swimming at the back of those dark eyes. Not only that, but the figure was wearing clothes as pure as clouds, with a certain glow to him. 

Simeon stood, hand out to greet this person as if they were an old friend-and for all you knew, they might’ve been. “Solomon, how good to see you.” 

The new guest-now known to you as Solomon-beamed. “Likewise. You’re looking well.” He turned, giving you a once-over to take you in before nodding. “And you are MC, yes?” 

Glaring, already feeling your skin about to burn, you leaned away from him. “And you’re an angel.” Your distrustful attitude let him frown for just a moment, but whether it was just his angelic nature or his personality, that smile was right back on his face. 

“Yes, well, the plan requires an angel, so Simeon personally asked me for my hand in this matter.” 

The both of them could tell that you were unbelievably confused, so Simeon gestured for the angel to take a seat at the table. “Luke.” The prince gestured to his small servant, the one who had not only brought you sweets but had taken the liberty to be staring you down the entire time. Finally, he turned his attention away from you. “Please do me a favor and get our new guest some refreshments.” The lesser demon squinted at you, nearly growled at the angel, and then took his leave with rapid little steps. Simeon laughed quietly to himself. “Don’t worry about him, he’s not used to others quite yet. But, MC.” With your name mentioned, you straightened your posture. “I’ve been planning this for quite some time. It’s been a desire of mine to bring the three realms closer together.” You couldn’t help but wonder why, what purpose it served, but you kept your mouth shut. “And while I’ve started to make decent progress fixing the old wounds between the Devildom and Celestial Realm, most of my kingdom and Solomon’s people refuse to make connections with the humans.” 

Mortals...even just the mention managed to leave a heavy pit in your stomach. “If I may speak.” You waited for the prince’s go-ahead before speaking your mind. “What would be the point of connecting with the humans? They serve little purpose. They’re either so corrupt they destroy their own kind or they think they’re so pure they isolate themselves or get themselves killed in the name of their twisted justice.” Speaking so passionately against the idea, you didn’t realize your nails had grown into talons, leaving marks in the wooden table. You took a breath, reclaiming your typical form. “They can’t even do themselves any good, what makes you think they’d be good for our realms?” 

Solomon, an expression of understanding mixed with pity, bounced a little in his seat. “That’s the question, isn’t it?” He turned his head to Simeon, who was nodding at you with a bit of approval. 

“That’s what this plan is all about. Testing them, observing them. We’ll be watching these humans, and at the end of this project, we’ll be able to determine if they’re ready and worthy of being brought together with us.” The ruler crossed one leg over the other, his tone making it sound as it was as simple as eating pie. 

Setting down the fork to your pastry, you felt a sense of dread wash over you. “And by we you mean?” 

“Why, you and Solomon of course! A demon and an angel, both working together to restore the bond between the human world and ours! The Demonic and Angelic Restoration program! Or D.A.R. -dare- for short.” If it weren’t for the horns, you’d almost think this demon was an angel with the way he eagerly talked about restoring bonds and bettering the nature of the realms. But, then you felt nauseous. 

“What...what exactly do you need me to do to help with this...program? And why me?” 

It was actually the angel that spoke up. “I’m sure you’re aware of the Morningstars?” 

It was such a silly question, you ended up scoffing. “Who doesn’t down here? Those brothers are filled with so much corruption and chaos they end up fueling about half the lesser demons down here...why?” 

They both straight up ignored your question and instead asked you some of their own. Simeon leaned forward, looking at you intently. “It took me quite a bit of time to find you MC. Most people don’t know you exist, and those that do hardly know your name. You simply are known to most as Isolation. Is it true that you’ve never made a pact with a human? Rumor is that you even refuse to subsist off their sins. And you’ve never taken a soul? That’s typically unheard of nowadays.”  

Shifting in your seat, you gave it to them straight. “It’s true. I do whatever I can to avoid contact. Haven’t even seen a human in the past millennia. Haven’t talked to one in about twice that time.” 

Clapping his hands together, Simeon let out an amazed sigh. “Perfect. You will be able to have a fresh eye! A clean slate. An unbiased--well, mostly unbiased opinion. You won’t be tempted to corrupt them, you’ll give me honest answers.” 

“Plus,” the angel agreed, “if you have the strength and willpower to live without human sustenance and influence for this long, you probably will have the patience to keep from killing them. If anyone could manage to live with the Morningstars, it would be you, from what I’ve heard.” 

You were grateful you had put down your drink a while ago. Your breath caught in your throat. “Wait, excuse me, what did you say? Live...with the…” 

“Mr. Morningstar!” A laugh, a handshake, even a pat on the shoulder, it nearly made you ill watching the upcoming king of the Devildom greet a human like this so casually. You couldn’t help but sneak glances at this mortal...one of the Morningstars, the eldest. The one who fueled the most demons without even knowing about it. People down in the Devildom called him by Pride. A human world CEO-whatever that meant. He was powerful, influential, not to mention ridiculously rich. And he’d do whatever it took to keep his status, even at the misfortune of plenty of other people. His suit and posture told you pretty much all you needed to know about him. A fancy well tailored pitch black suit, a striking red tie with a subtle but regal diamond design, diamond cufflinks, the works. It was as if dust and winkles knew to avoid him entirely. His hair was as dark as his suit, save for the ends which were greying. He didn’t seem that old, so you wondered if it was intentional or simply stress. You thought you heard someone say that once, that humans could get grey hair from stress. Did they all possess capabilities to change their hair based on their emotions? That human lady you saw outside the building with the blue hair must’ve been feeling something intense. 

“Mr-” The human you had come to see was cut off. 

“Please, you know to call me Simeon by now!” 

The mortal cleared his throat. “Simeon…” The human glanced at you, and raised his chin as he took Simeon by the shoulders and brought him away from you. If you had been a human, it would’ve been a decent tactic to keep you out of earshot. Unfortunately, you could still hear everything they were saying. “I know you have good standing with the company, and I’m pleased to know you respect and trust me with such a task, but...this is far from business.” You could feel his eyes on you. “I have to respectfully decline your request. I don’t think I can allow them to live with us for a year. You know my family.” 

“It would only be for a year, and I know you have plenty of room in that house of yours!” Simeon laughed a bit and then lowered his voice. You could feel the alluring pull of his influence flood the space. The human stiffened, his intuition picking up on a shift in the room. “Besides, Lucifer. You know I wouldn’t ask for a favor like this without some proper and well deserved remuneration. Listen...I happen to have something on the head of that business owner that’s been butting heads with your company. Wouldn’t it be nice to have them completely out of the picture? Not only is that increasing your profit, but if they happen to...I don’t know, completely go bankrupt, that little building of theirs on the corner of Main is some prime real estate.” Reaching into his pocket, Simeon pulled out a small...plastic...rectangle of sorts, with metal on one end. “I got everything right here.” Smiling, one hand firmly against Lucifer’s upper back, he looked him right in the eyes and whispered something you knew would have this human caught. “You can’t let them bother you like this. You need to show them and everyone else who you are, and that you’re not to be messed with.” 

It took the mortal a moment of internal struggle. Decline the offer and figure things out himself without assistance? Or swallow the smallest bit of ego for self satisfaction? Either way, this mortal was past helping. Already drowning in pride. Eventually, he gripped the object, tucking it into a pocket beneath his suit jacket. Despite being handed assistance, he still found a way to be demanding. “Alright, but no more than a year, and if I feel like anything is going awry, I’m sending them away. Is it really too unreasonable to just set them up on their own? Surely for you it’s no problem.” 

Backing up slightly after his incentive worked, Simeon shook his head. “I would feel endlessly guilty leaving alone, desolate, isolated, after what happened. Poor thing...they haven’t even said a word to me in days.” That last part wasn’t a lie. You’d nearly refused to say anything to him since being dragged to the human world. Prince or no prince. “My poor cousin, suddenly losing all their family like that. It’s tragic, isn’t it? Losing people you love?” 

Lucifer, with his arms folded, let his hand tightly grip the fabric of one of his sleeves. His eyes lowered the slightest touch, his jaw tightening. “It...is...I know it all too well.” You caught a hint of some emotion from the mortal. 

“Then you know that what would be best for them right now is company. Trust me, I wouldn’t have brought them to you if I didn’t think it would help. Besides, this is a win for all parties involved, right?” Simeon gestured to the gift Lucifer had tucked away, and the last string of resistance had been snipped. 

Sighing, the human looked at the luxurious watch on his wrist. “I’ll take them home. Let my brothers know what’s happening. Is it too much to assume they’ll be better behaved with a guest in the house?” 

Laughing once more, the prince shrugged. If only Lucifer knew who he was in the presence of. “You’ll all just have to find out!” Patting the other man on the shoulder, Simeon then came over to you with his arms outstretched. “It’s all settled, MC!” He pulled you into a hug, taking the time to speak quietly to you. “Remember to keep your identity a secret. I’ll be checking up on you and Solomon once a month for a report. Keep them safe. Play nice.” He pulled apart, coming around behind you and settling his hands on your shoulders. “And remember, what Mr. Morningstar is doing is unbelievably nice, so make sure to thank him and keep yourself out of trouble.” 

You broke your vow of silence out of irritation. “I’m not a child you’re sending away to school. I know how to keep my own head on my shoulders.” You attempted to brush his hands off but the grip was tightened. Swallowing your frustration, you kept yourself from grimacing, looking at the fabled Lucifer Morningstar. “Thank you...for letting me live with you.” 

For a human, he had a tenacity for picking up on things. He noticed your lie, giving you a stare down of his own before grabbing his phone. You only recently figured out what those devices were. Simeon had made sure he gifted you one of your own, since apparently it was the main source of communication in this realm. Too strange, but you picked it up fairly quickly. Lucifer just raised his head and pressed his cell against his ear. “Just make sure you refrain from being as irksome as my brothers.” The line he was dialing picked up. “Yes, have a driver prepare to come pick me up. And someone please contact my brothers for me so they know I’m bringing home a...guest.” 

It was going to be a long year…

The...metal contraption rumbled, making your head feel light. Without magic to get around, they had to use...these things. The movement slowed till it came to a stop. Looking out the pane of glass, you peered forward to see what the issue was. A big red circular light shone a bright crimson in front of the lane. Was it a threat? If so, why was the world seemingly filled with them? Then the eye turned green and the long carriage rumbled back to life. It was completely different than the last time you had been here. 

“Before you even step foot in my home, we need to set some ground rules.” Even just the sound of his voice almost physically rubbed you the wrong way. You bit the inside of your cheek. Play nice, the prince had said. How long could you keep your patience around these mortals? You looked up at him, feeling him stare you down to the corrupt depths of your soul. “Since you’re going to be living with us for so long, you’re going to have to follow the same rules I give my brothers? Understand?” 

Was this all worth it? Would having your soul be torn to shreds be that bad? “Yes.” 

He nodded, then decided his attention would be better focused towards whatever he had on that electronic device of his. He gave you orders without even looking at you. No wonder all the lesser demons who fawned after him were so pretentious. “No parties. No pets. You can stay up however long you want, but you must be back at the house no later than midnight. You can have your own room but you must keep it clean, don’t expect me to hire a maid for you. You’re responsible for looking after yourself. I might be providing a roof over your head, but anything you need is up to you. You break anything, you’re responsible for replacing it. Just use the basic level of common sense and we should have no trouble. Hopefully the year will be over before we—oh excuse me.” Without another word he picked another call, his third one since you’d been blackmailed into this ride. You just gave a gentle sigh and stared out the window. Just a few days ago you’d still existed in your botherless existence. A personal utopia of your own making. Now you were in this...hell away from hell, the scent of smog and exhaust still burning the inside of your nose. 

The rest of the ride was spent with you trying to think of ways to escape this fate, but finding none in sight. You didn’t need to fully see the building to get this overwhelming wave of impurity. The tempting allure of sin. Practically a demon buffet. These morons were just screaming to be killed or worse, eaten. Even just approaching the gate to the driveway, you could see remnants of spirits, demons without full forms clawing at the fence. Wisps of black sinking into their sidewalk. But not even those, you could smell the presence of other lesser demons...but more dangerous ones. Outside the gate were small crowds, not too many, but enough to safely conceal their presence. Photographers, journalists, fans, wherever they were, they were eager to get in. And amongst the rabble stood demons pretending to be mortals in an attempt to sink their fangs into one of the Morningstars. You slunk down in your seat, trying to conceal your presence, but you were sure they’d be able to feel you. The car slipped past all of them, approaching the first set of gates. Whoever was patrolling the vehicle pressed their fingers against a small pad attached to a pillar by the gate. It waited for a moment, then made an affirming noise before the gate swung open. The cries of mortal and hidden demons alike pleading for the smallest sliver of attention from this human made you feel sick. 

Despite having nearly ignored you the whole time, Lucifer scoffed. “You’ll get used to it.” The curved metal fence shut behind you, and the sound of the crowd slowly faded as you pulled up in front of the massive house. If anything, it reminded you a little of home. It was an old fashioned looking house, but fanciful nonetheless. With dark stone, piercing towers, arched windows, and an overall gothic aesthetic. You managed to take a moment to breathe. At least there was one silver lining. Lucifer stepped out of the idle vehicle first, paying you no mind as he approached the steps to the door. Slightly panicking, you tried simply pushing the door before noticing the small handle. Pulling it unlocked it, and you rapidly exited, feeling the motion sickness fade with your feet on the ground. You followed the mortal to the door, and was slightly pleased when he put his phone away to open the door, leaving it open for you. Lucifer shut the door, a small high pitched noise ringing through your ears. You turned and watched him mess with a little panel near the door. “Our security is top of the market. I make sure the code is changed every day, so if you’re not inside by midnight, I hope you enjoy camping.” 

You were about to speak up about that, but both of you were bombarded with noise. A noise you would later learn to get used to. “Oi! Lucifer!” A bundle of energy came racing down the stairs. Wild hair, dark skin, rings on nearly every finger, you recognized this individual without having to ask his name. You could feel the influence. Greed. Demons almost loved this brother more than Pride, because from what you’d heard, he’d make deals impulsively with demons without knowing their true intentions. As long as money or something expensive was in front of him, he’d jump for anything. It had gotten him in more than enough trouble, and it made him too much of a prime target. At least Lucifer knew how to look over his shoulder. The second brother confronted the eldest. He didn’t even glance at you. “Hey, I need some cash! For some reason my card keeps declining...you can spot me right?” 

Lucifer didn’t even hesitate. “No.” 

“Eh? Why not?! I did that thing the other day for you, remember?” 

“Hm?” Lucifer tilted his head, taking the time to recall-or pretending to. “Which thing would that be? Would it have been before or after you stole and immediately maxed out my card?” Lowering his eyes, the older one gave off a menacing smile. 

Mammon took a step back, muttering. “O-oh you found about that, huh?” 

The smile turned into a full on yell. “Of course I found out! I got a call from the bank as soon as they saw the purchase! What exactly do you need a golden tiger statue for, Mammon? Seriously, you’re absolutely ridiculous! I returned it by the way, and in the meantime I cancelled all your cards.” Mammon went to open his mouth in anger but didn’t have the chance to say anything. “You can try to find some extra work to pay off all the bills you’ve left me with. And if I think you’re ready, I’ll reopen your accounts in two months.” The effort of shouting sent Pride’s eye twitching. He lifted a hand to press against his forehead, the blood draining from his face. You shifted ever so slightly in your spot and he groaned. “Right, you’re here. Mammon, this is MC.” 

Eyebrows raised, he jumped a little when he finally spotted you were in the room. “Wait, wait, wait, that whole thing with someone staying with us for a year wasn’t a joke?” 

“No.” Although the slight warble to his voice seemed that that fact was just now settling in. “It wasn’t. And since you’ve so kindly volunteered yourself, you can take their bags and show them to their room.” He simply turned. No welcome, no tour, no warmth in those cold eyes of his. 

“Hey! Come back here!” Yet the younger sibling showed no signs of chasing after him. “Lucifer!” His older brother just quickly headed up the stairs and disappeared into the house. Was it really going to require a full year of observation? Just from what you were seeing right now, you wanted nothing to do with humans. Nothing. Mammon ran a hand through his hair, one of his strands getting stuck in one of his rings, but he tugged it out without noticing, like it was a daily occurrence. “I can’t believe this.” You could watch as the anger started to swell within him. “Screw this, I’m out of here!” You were ready for him to leave, to give into his emotions. He had wrapped his hand around the door handle before he stopped. Pausing, he just tutted to himself before shoving his hands in his jacket-pockets, looking in your direction but not fully at you. “You want the guest room we have upstairs or down?” Loud, brash, rude in some ways, but there was a weird sort of innocence about him. You simply shrugged. He nodded, grasping one of your bags suddenly, gesturing you to follow. “I’ll give you the downstairs one. Most of our rooms are on the second floor, so it’s a bit quieter down here, plus it stays cooler.” He led you past the entrance hall and back into the rest of the house. “Plus, it’s easier to sneak out from here, but you didn’t hear that from me. I’m guessing Lucifer gave you the whole rule spiel?” 

You restrained the urge to roll your eyes. “Yeah.” 

He hissed in air through his teeth. “Sucks, man, are you sure you want to stay here?” 

The pain around your wrists was still too prominent. Etched into your skin was a mark, a line of runes and symbols around your wrists. Who knew demons could give temporary pacts to other demons? Simeon ensured you a small fraction of his power, just in case you ran into trouble. But in exchange he had a hold on you, able to summon you to him whenever he needed you. It was your chain keeping you imprisoned here. There was no running. There was no hiding. “I didn’t have a choice.”

[dovechim]

blessed be the fruit 01 (m)

➾ 3.6k, taehyung x reader, future OT7

➾ loosely based off The Handmaid’s Tale. In the New World Order that is Gilead, your life depends on your ability to bring a new one into existence. 

➾ warnings: unprotected sex, mentions of infertility, pregnancy, mentions of dubcon

➾ a/n: I had serious hesitation and doubts about this. but after a three month break and looking at it from a distance, I still want to go ahead with this AU because I want to draw attention to the themes of reclaiming agency & identity whilst under oppression. So I hope that you could get the message I’m trying to convey rather than focus on the noncon indubitably present in this AU. 

I'm saying this to clearly outline my intentions, for I do not condone rape or non-consensual sex whatsoever. 

that being said, I have plans to turn this into an ot7 series fic, but here is a little starter just to kind of test the waters a little :-) if you’re here, I've already warned you about what you’re signing up for, so please skip this if uncomfortable and refrain from sharing any malicious thoughts with me.

Crimson is the colour that denotes life. But these days, only the rare few have the privilege to don that colour; the deep red hue of the cloak that is meant to simultaneously draw attention to, and also hide your figure.

Handmaids are to be seen and not heard. They are to speak only when spoken to. The white wings that adorn either side of your head keep your gaze lowered reverently at all times. Meek and subdued, but always watching, waiting.

The supermarket is quiet and orderly as you stroll through the aisles with your partner close by your side. You have never seen more than a glimpse of her face, neither have you heard more than a few words of her voice other than the greetings you exchange when you meet every morning.

Even the task of grocery shopping, which you used to enjoy before the rise of Gilead, has become nothing but a sham. There is no decision to be made. Your purchases are entirely dependent on the coupons given to you by the Wife of your Household. Today, it’s the usual rice and vegetables, with one or two oranges thrown in as a request from the Cook.

“Under His Eye,” you murmur as you pass the other Handmaids and their partners, all doing their shopping with their partners.

You can’t see it with your head lowered, but there are armed guards stationed throughout the grocery store with guns cocked and menacing stares. The Eyes are always watching and listening, and you begin to feel suffocated.

“I believe I have everything I need,” you speak in a lowered voice, turning slightly to your partner, thinking of how to best hurry her along without making it too obvious. “Is there anything else you lack?”

“I too, am done, OfJeon,” your partner replies back, and you have to physically stop yourself from flinching.

Even though it is the proper way to address another Handmaid, you avoid using the names bestowed upon you by their Household’s Commanders. You try your best to not associate yourself with that name, for fear that you might come to forget your own in due time, but it gets more and more difficult as the days go by.

‘Of’ denoting possession, and ‘Jeon’ for your Commander’s last name. Put together, they form your identity, the identity that Gilead has carved out for you as an object.

The moment you forget your real name is the moment you lose yourself.

“Let us depart, OfPark,” you say with tightly clenched lips, grateful for the white wings that hide your bitter expression as you turn toward the exit of the grocery store.

Your basket is heavy with groceries, and the wind whips up your red cloak the moment you step outside. You glance up for a moment to see the gray skies, feel the wind on your cheeks before you dip your head down again, cautious of exposing your face for more than a second.

Here, to blend in is to survive.

“Have you made all the necessary preparation, OfJeon?” Your partner asks as she links her arm through yours, and you begin the slow march home.

You drag your feet slightly, hoping to prolong the walk. Aside from the brief half hour of grocery shopping every day, you hardly get a chance to be outside. To remember what the real world feels like, even though it is changing so quickly every day. You’re too busy trying to memorise the way the wind feels against your cloak that you are caught slightly offguard by OfPark’s question.

“Preparation?” Your voice comes out slightly unsure.

“For the Ceremony, of course,” comes her reply, and you can’t stop yourself from inhaling sharply.

Is it already that time of the month? How could you have lost track?

A lump forms in your throat as you attempt to calm yourself. “Yes, OfPark. Everything is ready.”

You are lying through your teeth, but the thing is, interactions are kept to such a bare minimum that no one knows you well enough to know that you are lying. If today is the day of the Ceremony, it means a visit to the doctor’s this afternoon. Your breath speeds up at the thought of it, palms becoming sweaty.

OfPark comes to a stop outside of your house, and unlinks her arm from yours.

“Blessed be the fruit,” she says by way of farewell.

“May the Lord open,” the automatic response falls from your lips without much thinking.

Then the gates open, and you enter the house quietly, setting your basket on the kitchen counter. You can hear footsteps coming from the main hallway as soon as you take your white bonnet off.

“You’re back, I was just about to send a guard to fetch you.” In her royal blue dress that tapers at her waist and falls nearly to her ankles, the Wife of the Household is always neatly pressed and well put together. Kim Yeri fixes you with an annoyed glare as she brushes her silky blonde hair behind her ear. You haven’t known her by that name in a long while, because like any other woman, she is only to be addressed by her title in society.

“Did you forget your appointment?” She demands, crossing her arms. She has never been outrightly mean to you, yet her manner is far from friendly. But its totally understandable, of course. Which woman would be content knowing her husband was required by law to fuck a baby into someone else?

“No, Madam. The line at the supermarket was-“

“Get in the car. We’re already late.” Yeri is not interested in your excuse as she cuts you off, turning to grab her purse, and her dress flows gracefully behind her slim figure as she walks to the door.

You barely have time to put your bonnet back on, fixing it so that it is presentable once more before following her outside. Yeri is already in the back seat of the black SUV car, and you climb in beside her. You catch a glimpse of Driver Jung’s eyes in the mirror, but quickly glance away before Yeri can catch you.

Drivers aren’t allowed to have Handmaids of their own. Instead, they live to serve the Household of their Commanders. As the car pulls smoothly out of the front gate, you begin to wonder who Driver Jung was before Gilead. If he had loved ones that he lost. If he too, was slowly starting to forget the person he was back then.

The blacked-out windows of the car don’t allow you to see anything outside. It is a tense journey made in complete silence as you can feel Yeri’s annoyance slowly mounting into a barely withheld fury. It is the same every month. You try to sympathise with her, to put yourself in her shoes as someone who has to accompany the woman her beloved husband is to have sex with to a fertility check-up.

When the car stops, Driver Jung rushes out of his seat to open the door for Yeri first, then he crosses to your side and opens your door. You thank him with a shy nod, careful to keep your eyes fixed on the ground as you follow Yeri into the clinic.

The waiting room has about one or two other Wife-Handmaid pairs.  As you walk in, you catch the eye of one of the Handmaids who is heavily pregnant. Her swollen belly protrudes from her red cloak, and her hands look so small in comparison as she strokes her bump reverently. The Wife sits beside her, a look of pride on her face as if she were the one pregnant.

It is such a rare sight to see a pregnant Handmaid these days. Even though the Handmaids were specially selected because of their fertility, your lack of a baby bump is bearing down on you. Each Handmaid is given three chances at each assignment. Three chances to conceive before they are moved to the next Commander. Three assignments in total before she is sent to the Wastelands.

Lining the walls are portraits of Commanders dressed in black, and their Wives dressed in blue, holding little bundles wrapped in white. The couples are all smiling with joy and pride in their eyes.

The Handmaids are nowhere to be seen in the happy families of three.

You don’t know if you should envy or pity the heavily pregnant Handmaid.

Thankfully, due to Yeri’s- or should you say your Commander’s- high status, you are bumped to the front of the line. The receptionist tells you to enter the doctor’s room, but Yeri waves you on with disinterest.

“I can wait outside here, can’t I? She won’t dare try anything,” she says this last part with cold frown, settling herself down on one of the waiting chairs.

“Of course, Mrs Jeon,” the receptionist says with a pleasant smile, then turns to show you into the doctor’s office.

You read the name on the door before you are shuffled into the white, sterile room.

Dr Kim Taehyung.

Two female assistants help you to take off your red cloak and dress you in the standard white gown. You sit on the chair, legs spread wide into the stirrups. The assistants lower a privacy curtain that conceals your face, leaving your lower half anonymous as you hear the door open, then the doctor’s footsteps.

You don’t even get to see his face before you feel his touch on your knees. Dr Kim Taehyung clears his throat before he moves to the side, dipping his gloved hands into a small dish of what you can only assume to be lubrication. The white privacy curtain is nothing but a thin sheet, so you can still make out his figure as he bustles about. You can even see the slope of his nose as he turns his side profile to you for a second.

It’s not until he speaks that you are jolted out of your thoughts by how deep his voice is. “How are you today?”

“I’m good,” you answer hesitantly, unconsciously crinkling your medical gown in your fist. No one has ever asked how you’re doing.

“That’s great, now let’s have a look, shall we?” You can hear the smile in his voice, and you feel your body relax a little.

He seems to be kind enough, this Dr Kim Taehyung. Much different from the doctor you had on your first visit. Dr Kim Taehyung has his bedside manner down pat, and even though you can’t see his face, he makes you feel a little bit less tense. His voice soothes you as he talks, saying random things about the weather as he spreads your legs.

Dr Kim Taehyung positions himself in between your thighs, and you feel his gloved hands dangerously close to the apex of them. “So, it says here on your chart that tonight is Ceremony night for you.”

“Yes,” you swallow hard at the reminder. “It is.”

“And how are the Jeons treating you? Everything okay at home?” You can feel him spread your lips with his fingers, starting to poke and prod around as you close your eyes.

“Yes. They treat me very well,” you answer.

He must have caught the monotony of your voice, because his fingers pause.

“You know, you can talk to me. If there’s anything you need.” His concerned voice is like a beacon of light, but your eyes dart around the room cautiously.

You think about the millions of things that you could tell him. How unfair it is to be reduced to a walking womb, and yet, how desperate you are, knowing that this is your third month at the Jeon’s household, and if it doesn’t work…

You swallow all of these thoughts with your fists clenched. You can never let your guard down. He might be one of the Eyes, pretending to be kind so that you might let slip a blasphemous comment about your Commander. There’s no way you’ll incriminate yourself like that, so you just keep your mouth shut. After a while, he goes back to examining you.

“… Alright then,” Dr Kim Taehyung says in a resigned tone. “Let me just check you over and make sure everything is good for tonight. This might feel a little uncomfortable, but just relax for me alright?”

You can’t help but tense up, ironically, at his instruction. But then you feel the warmth of one of his ungloved hands on your thigh, and as he bids you to relax again, he slides his fingers into you, and you can feel his fingers, thick and solid. Your thighs twitch, coming into contact with his hips that are in between them, and he lets out a gentle laugh.

“It’s okay… just a little more.”

Then, he withdraws his fingers slowly, and you let out a breath of relief. It didn’t feel bad, definitely not like the first visit where you felt violated. Dr Kim Taehyung’s gentle and respectful manner is… almost pleasant. You’ve long forgotten what it’s like to be treated like a human being, and not just an object.

“Looks like everything’s in shape, you’re due to ovulate these few days,” he declares, taking off his rubber gloves and tossing them in the bin. “Not that it matters, anyway. Jeon’s probably sterile. Hell, all of the Commanders are sterile.”

You freeze at the sound of that blasphemous curse word. But more importantly, you have to make sure you heard correctly.

“Wh-what do you mean?” You watch his shadow behind the sheet as he ticks a few things on your chart.

In this society, ‘sterile’ is a forbidden word. There is no such thing as a sterile man. There are only women who are fruitful, and women who are barren. But you know better than to subscribe to such damning ideology.

“Darling. I’ve seen so many top Commanders’ Handmaids in this room. In and out, month after month they come back and their Wives ask me why they aren’t pregnant yet.” He places a hand on your knee again, and that human contact makes you realise how much you crave the warmth of another person.

At the same time, his words awaken the hollow desperation in your chest. If… if Jeon is really sterile, that means no matter how many times you try, you won’t get pregnant. If all the Commanders are really sterile, then no matter how many assignments you get…

“It’s your third month here, isn’t it?” His kind voice accompanies the gentle stroke of his thumb on your knee.

Before you can answer, he steps away from you, walking to the door and double checking that it’s locked. Then, he’s between your legs again, and this time, his ungloved hands are caressing the top of your thighs. You can feel his hips pressing against you insistently.

“I can help you,” he says in a low whisper. “It’s your last chance.”

Your mind is in a fog. It’s hard to think clearly when you are craving his touch on your body, and the way in which he wraps your legs around his waist so delicately has you wanting to give in. Let this be a form of rebellion. An act of reclaiming your body and your agency, giving it to a man who treats you like a human being, and more importantly, deciding who you give it to. So that when Jeon performs the Ceremony with you tonight, no one but you will have the secret pleasure of knowing that someone else was here before him.

And if you do get pregnant, you will have the last laugh as you watch Jeon raise a baby that isn’t even his to begin with.

How’s that for rebelling? It’s no longer just about getting pregnant.

“I’ve helped many other Handmaids before,” Dr Kim Taehyung continues furtively. “They were all on their third Assignments. I saved them from the Wastelands.”

You don’t need any more convincing. You reach out and pull the thin privacy sheet aside, finally revealing Dr Kim Taehyung’s face. He looks taken aback at your bold actions.

“Do it, Doctor,” you fix your eyes on him with determination. “Get me pregnant.”

Dr Kim Taehyung looks as if he wasn’t expecting you to say yes to him, and delight slowly spreads across his face. But he can’t help himself from bringing one of his hands to your face, brushing your cheek and admiring your silent, resilient beauty.

“U-um, okay. He-here goes,” he fumbles with his dress pants, and the confidence from minutes ago is nowhere to be found. It occurs to you that he might have been fibbing about helping the other Handmaids before you, but it doesn’t matter. It’s no longer just about getting pregnant, anyway.

Thanks to the lubrication, he slides in easily. You catch a glimpse of him before he does, and a second later you feel his girth acutely. During the Ceremony, the lights are always turned off, so you never have a chance to see what Jeon’s dick looks like. If you were to compare, it feels around the same as Dr Kim’s. Except this time, you are doing this of your own accord.

The squeaking of the chair against the floor is deafeningly loud as he begins to thrust earnestly, and the thrill that you could be caught at any moment makes you feel more alive than you’ve ever been since the rise of Gilead. You can feel him at your cervix as he grips your thighs, and you make sure to wrap them around him tightly.

In an unprecedented move, Dr Kim reaches down to brush his thumb against your clit, and your walls clench around him in response. He swears under his breath as he shifts his position to rest his elbows on either side of you so that he can increase the strength behind his thrusts.

“Sh-shit, you feel so good,” he groans as he sneaks his hand in between your bodies once more to pinch your clit. No one has cared about your pleasure like this in a long while, and you feel your body responding to his ministrations, your orgasm rapidly approaching.

“Ha-harder, Doctor,” you feel his cheek press against your breast. “Cum inside me.”

You swear you can feel him twitch inside you, as he bites his lip hard. You have a hard time holding back your derisive laughter as Dr Kim Taehyung gets more turned on than ever. So this is his kink? This is the perfect job for him. Seeing Handmaids who are more often than not desperate to get pregnant, no matter by whom.

You feel a modicum of power back in the palm of your hand, which is more than you’ve felt in ages. The feeling of having power over someone else as you watch the pleasure take over Dr Kim Taehyung’s expression is addictive. The man is losing himself in between your legs, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. Meanwhile you are the one watching him rut pathetically, straining to reach his end.

“Cum inside me, Doctor,” you say again, squeezing your walls around him and relishing his groan. “I’ll make you cum inside me.”

“Pl-please, call me Taehyung,” he pleads, raising himself up on his elbows to beg for a kiss.

You oblige, watching his desperation slowly take over his entire being. His lips are soft as he kisses you like a man starved, and you wonder who was the last person he kissed like this. Does he kiss all of the Handmaids he impregnates?

The next words you say are perfectly calculated. “Taehyung, I want your baby.”

There’s no reaction other than his hands clenching into tight fists, and his breathing getting harsher and harsher as his cock slams deep into you, and you clench around him one more time, only to feel him fill you up with his cum. The seed that you need to get pregnant and save your own life.

He doesn’t stop thrusting. His cock is still twitching inside you, and you can still feel the cum threaten to leak out. Dr Kim Taehyung lets out a long sigh of contentment as he expertly tilts the chair so that your hips are slightly raised.

When he’s satisfied, he slowly pulls out, eyes glued to the mess in between your legs. Only a little bit of cum is dripping out, and he reaches for a tissue to clean it up. The way he’s looking at you, a little bit too fondly, makes you realise that this is getting a bit too personal for your liking.

“Blessed be the fruit,” you remind him, and the phrase is like magic. You are all reminded of your roles in this society, and the forbidden act which you have both committed.

Dr Kim Taehyung seems to sober up when he hears this, as he tucks himself back into his pants and attempts to straighten his doctor’s coat.

“May the Lord open. You should… um. Stay here for the next ten to fifteen minutes. The nurses will be in to help you get dressed shortly,” he clears his throat as he lets the privacy curtain fall back into place. “And um… good luck.”

He leaves the room hurriedly, and you close your eyes, squeezing your thighs together and feeling the warmth that his cum leaves behind, feeling like your body is finally yours again.

You don’t know how much time has passed before the nurses come in and help you get dressed, and when you walk out of the room, Yeri makes a pointed remark about how long she had to wait. You follow her without a word to the car, waiting as Driver Jung opens the door for her, then you.

All the while, a secret smile upon your lips as you feel the cum from earlier drip down your inner thigh.

[grayintogreen]

Critical Role Fic Masterlist [August 1st-August 31st]

WOOF. What a month. Not an exceptionally great one for Ye Olde Depression, but I guess I went the Hemmingway in dealing with it. I found a neat word tracking app, but I only started it midway through the month, but just from HALF the month, I racked up 50k+ words. ...Yeah.

Anyway! For the record, I’m separating out the flashfic featured in paper moon and tinsel stars here on my masterlist for ease of access for people who might only want to read specific ships/characters, since the anthology is, uh, poorly organized. I like titles. It’s a thing.

This was also the month of the Tombtaker Hostage Situation and 90% of my bad things happen bingo prompts. I’m doing Whumptober next month so maybe I’ll cool it on the dark stuff in September (probably not).

LET’S GET TO IT, SHALL WE?

SHIPPY FICS

Creecien (Cree/Lucien)

and the heat only goes where you tell it to go. (E, MIND THE TAGS, 4955 words). The Mighty Nein fail to beat the Tombtakers to Cognouza. It still doesn’t really go well for them. Also monsterfucking. But seriously, mind the tags. It’s dark.

he’ll never know how much you’ve done. (T, 2896 words). Cree and Lucien, pre-canon. Getting your wounds tended because you used Life Transference on your stupid asshole crush and he is an oblivious dick.

this story’s yours and this story’s mine. (G, 2679 words). Tinytakers!! Baby Cree has some deep-rooted psychological issues. Lucien is Lucien even at thirteen. 

and i shall give you sparks that blaze as hot as any fire. (E, 3686 words) ‘Tis the month of Creecien smut. (No really). Cree’s wavering in the wake of the other Tombtakers’ deaths so Lucien bangs her in front of the Immensus Gate. WITH RELIGIOUS SYMBOLISM.

i need to touch a holy place. (E, 3546 words). I TOLD YOU. This is the missing sex scene from this church takes no conversions. I don’t know who the target audience for this is. I guess it’s me.

Widomauk (Mollymauk/Caleb)

i have been the source of all the troubles we have known. (T, 3508 words). Molly comes back after the fight with Lucien and he’s not okay. At all. 

and he’ll laugh when your troubles are gone. (G, 2613 words). Caleb and Molly go to a flea market. IT’S JUST SHAMELESS FLUFF. I CAN WRITE THAT SOMETIMES.

Lucigast (Lucien/Caleb)

guard your eggshell heart. (T, 1910 words). Part of the Earthquake Weather series. Scourgers get the jump on the Tombtakers and Lucien is none too pleased about it.

in the dreaming trees. (T, 2469 words) Part of the Earthquake Weather series. Caleb accidentally dreamshares in the Tombtaker Discord Chat and things escalate. You may see this one again, because I promised the porn continuation at some point. And I keep my promises.

the scourge of cabin boys and kings. (T, 2856 words) Part of the Earthquake Weather series. Caleb and Lucien discuss scars. And Lucien cannot get this damn wizard under his thumb.

Other Ships

spread your wings and show me quick. (G, 744 words) Astrid/Jester. Jester teaches Astrid how to ice skate.

mad science love song. (G, 808 words ) Yeza/Essek. Yeza asks for Essek’s help tinkering. Trust ensues.

GEN FICS

wounded in an accidental war. (T, 1348 words). Beau gets injured by Molly due to a wayward Charm Person. Bonding, guilt, and wound care ensues.

and the choir sings hallelujah to a god i will not observe. (T, 1999 words). Yasha gets left behind on Cognouza to deal with Lucien alone until the Mighty Nein can save her. Turns out she’s more than capable of ruining his day alone. (CW: Self-harm, ritual bloodletting)

by the flicker of their fire. (T, 1737 words) Another part of my TOTALLY ACCIDENTAL “Tombtaker Hostage Situation” series I ended up writing this month. Caleb gets left behind in 123. He’s a very disagreeable hostage.

what the promised land would promise me. (T, 3169 words). The Intuit Charge massacre from the Tombtakers’ perspective.

too rough for the soft way. (T, 2656 words). Beau and Lucien get snowed in and “bond.” Kinda.

but we’re so much more than that old, bitter law. (T, 1721 words). The Empire Siblings deal with the consequences of fighting power and oppression, but at least they have each other.

even the sky bleeds twilight. (T, 1927 words). In which Lucien murders Vess DeRogna. That’s it. That’s the fic.

against the devil’s own roulette. (T, 2860 words). Brand of Castigation is a bitch and now it’s Fjord’s turn for a Tombtaker Hostage Situation(TM). Good thing he’s good at honeypots. Kinda.

a generation sacrificed in self-defense. (T, 3230 words). Astrid asks Caleb and Beau to facilitate her taking back the night on Trent Ikithon without murdering him. Cue the torturerer getting a little bit of torture right back. And Astrid invents a new spell! Yay! (Yay?)

every moment changes lifetimes (even moments we regret). (T, 789 words). That moment at the T-Dock was not the first time Caleb had to make the same difficult choice.

this is a song of fingers pointing, casting shame. (T, 2827 words) Beau makes friends with Astrid and Eadwulf. They have a lot in common, after all.

the coyotes know her name. (T, 2561 words). Jester gets a successful divine intervention. Artagan uses it as an excuse to cause problems on purpose.

bind me, break me, can you take me (T, 2456 words). Beau gets left behind with the Tombtakers and discovers an unexpected ally. 

you’re my canvas (better yet, dear, you’re my muse) (T, 1616 words) Beau and Molly get high in the Blooming Grove and Molly finds out about her tattoo.

trickster’s silken ribbon. (G, 901 words). Fearne meets Artagan as she enters the Material Plane for the first time.

we keep our tribal secrets and we recognize our own. (G, 922 words) Threeleaf AU. Caduceus observes a sibling brawl between the Threeleafs.

close your eyes and let me in. (G, 1194 words) Set in the Doppelganger’s Song universe. Molly convinces Lucien to let him braid his hair.

if you would curry my favor. (G, 735 words) Threeleaf AU. Molly and Kingsley attempt to get their brother a date because he is the worst.

so this is what i’ve known of love (G, 707 words) Caduceus embraces the chaos of his two families meeting... within reason.

[celestial-fucking-weeb]

Anonymity be Damned

Hi, everyone! This is my first ever fic, and it’s a part of the Citrus Server collab! I’m so excited about it, and I know it’s super self indulgent, but I worked really hard on it and I hope you like it. Please give me feedback and tell me what you like and what I can improve on; also, please be nice to me, I’m a baby.

MASTER LIST IS  HERE  Go check out everyone’s hard work!

Warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, AGED UP (mid twenties), fluff, brief angst, insecurities, smut, body worship, chubby kink, marking (hickies), Papi kink

Pairing: Sero Hanta x chubby!female reader

Taglist: @reinawritesbnha

Prompt: "Masquerade balls were something you’d only ever heard about in movies. You couldn’t deny the prospect was intriguing; donning your most elegant attire, confidence boosted by your anonymity and the intoxication brought on by such a magical atmosphere. You and your fellow partygoers were almost doomed to desire, inhibitions washed away long before the wine and spirits started to flow.

The mystery, majesty, and potential for mischief were far too enticing to resist.

So, when you received an invitation to Midnight’s Masquerade, you didn’t think twice about accepting…"

—————————

Of course, not thinking twice about accepting came back to bite you as soon as the realization set in that you would, in fact, have to go. Suddenly hyper-aware of your need to buy a dress, and knowing how little you enjoy shopping, you call your best girls for the job. A quick text to the groupchat had Mina and Yaomomo screaming with excitement that you were actually asking to go shopping. Jirou and Ochako sharing your apprehension, and Hagakure and Froppy bowing out due to their schedules, but wishing you luck with sweet emojis.

Yaomomo chose the dress shop, under the enthusiastic offer that she’d pay to ensure everyone would receive something from her favorite designers. You knew this was a place only Yaomomo could frequent- beautiful gowns lined every wall, display mannequins donning the most gorgeous dresses, made of the best fabrics with jewels perfectly beaded in, none of which had price tags so as to not “ruin the material” as she had told all of you. Whisking you all into dressing rooms bigger than your entire apartment, the staff practically fawned over each of you, offering assistance, refreshments, recommendations, and- oh fuck- measurements. Nerves shot through your entire body and made you nauseous, ready to make a stupid excuse to leave before your insecurities were announced to your girlfriends. You’ve always been...bigger.

The word tasted bitter on your tongue. The consultant made barely a sound as she pulled out her tape, but you heard it. That little “hm” noise, indicating judgement, knowing that most of their stock isn’t going to fit you properly, what with your plump thighs, soft tummy, squishy arms, the rolls that seemed to stay no matter how many workouts you do..

“We don’t carry plus size gowns, but I’m sure I can find something for you.”

All is confirmed when she says those stupid fucking words with that Joker-esqe smile and that hint of disgust in her tone. ‘I shouldn’t be here, I never should’ve accepted that invitation, why did I even think this was a good idea, the whole thing is for beautiful skinny girls like your friends, this is all a mistake,’ you think to yourself, insecurities and anxiety flooding your brain. Mina’s voice snaps you out of your spiral.

“Excuse me, I don’t believe we asked for your personal opinion on her body. In fact, I believe we only asked for you to do your job, but if you can’t complete such a daunting task, I’m sure there are 20 other people who’d love to take your place.” she grinned, in a tone too perky for her threatening choice of words.

“Also, as I happen to frequent this shop, I know your entire inventory. As such, I know that you do, in fact, carry gowns for each of our sizes. If you can find one to fit my chest, I know you have a variety of gowns to fit my beautiful friend, y/n. I suggest you begin pulling them, as I’m sure you’ve gotten the measurements you need. Now.” This time it’s Yaomomo, handling the situation with dignitary-level finality, before gracefully walking to you with a comforting smile. Ochako wipes a tear you weren’t aware had fallen, attempting to comfort you with false empathy, saying how you two are “practically the same size”, but you know you’re not. It’s comforting nonetheless, having the support of your friend group. Jirou cracks self deprecating jokes to lighten the mood, complaining, “If I have to wear a frilly gown to this bullshit, so do you, y/n. You’re not getting out of this that easy,” and you absolutely know she means it.  

With your spirit slightly renewed and the consultants carrying in a multitude of dresses, you all end up having a blast laughing about how the pink ballgown does not fit Jirou’s aesthetic and the skintight green satin number Ochako tried on would quite literally have Deku passed out on the floor. You giggled with Yaomomo about how certain dresses looked risqué and nearly pornographic on your respective figures. Mina whined about how each dress didn’t have enough glitter, her complaints falling on deaf ears. Over the course of two and a half hours, each of the girls had secured a dress. Mina, in a teal mermaid-style dress with enough sparkle woven into the tulle to blind. Jirou, in a simple deep purple velvet gown that gracefully fell off her shoulders. Ochako, deciding, after much peer pressure, to opt for the green satin to make Deku drool. Yaomomo, in a red gown with beautiful beading, and a deep V neckline. You, on the other hand, were struggling to find something that doesn’t have you hyperfixating on one aspect of your body or another, limiting your breathing and movement so as to not further sink into the mean thoughts swirling around inside your head. The girls have gone into full support staff-mode, bringing you dresses of every cut known to man, offering more champagne to dull the anxieties, Yaomomo even offering to make you a custom dress with her quirk. Jirou sheepishly comes into the room, head down, hoping no one brings attention to the fact that she just sifted through dresses for a good 15 minutes and didn’t hate it, before nudging your soft side. You turn to her, defeated, and ready to give up, when you realize what she’s holding. She’s picked a dress for you, even though she hates shopping anywhere that isn’t blaring music through the speakers and dimly lit. You smile sweetly at her shy offering, reaching out to take it before she pulls back.

“No, I have an idea… I know it’s easy to look at your insecurities before the dress is all the way on, and I think you should let us help you into it with your eyes closed… Then, when you turn around to the mirror, you can see all the beautiful parts, like we do!” She looks down at the floor as she mutters the words, as though she’s embarrassed to be so soft and sweet.

“THAT’S A GREAT IDEA, JIROU! OH MY GOD, Y/N, YOU HAVE TO LET US DRESS YOU, IT’LL BE JUST LIKE CINDERELLA WITH THE BIRDS AND THE MICE, COME ONNN…” Mina bounces up and down, grabbing your hands and pleading, knowing you never say no when she gives you such excited eyes.

“Uh… fine… Yeah, I guess it couldn’t hurt. It’s not like I have anything to lose.” You shyly whisper, looking away.

If it were anyone else, you’d never want them to see you getting dressed, soft tummy and extra squish uncovered, leaving you vulnerable to their judgement. But these are your best friends, you’d known them for years. They’d held your hair on your 21st birthday, and cuddled into bed with you when you were crying over unrequited love. They’ve had your back, they’d never make fun of you, and Jirou chose this dress all special for you, you couldn’t say no. With that, you turned around and closed your eyes, arms out and waiting for them to help you into whatever Jirou had deemed right for you.

“Okay, y/n, almost done, just have to zip this last part up and… DONE!” Mina and Yaomomo stepped back from their positions holding the sides and pulling the zipper, respectively. Finally admiring the you in the dress, there was a moment of absolute silence. You started shifting uncomfortably, wondering just how horrible you looked if they didn’t even have words to describe it. Ochako was the first to break the quiet and a teary-sounding “You’re so beautiful, y/n.”, followed by Mina’s signature squeals of excitement. Yaomomo clasped her hands together and began ranting about “how gorgeous you looked” and “how perfect the dress was” and “how she didn’t even know they had this one yet”. Jirou, sensing your anxious shifting, finally told you to open your eyes and turn around with a hand on your shoulder, the satisfied smirk on her face audible in her now assured voice.

“Oh… wow…” was all you could manage to say, eyes wide as you saw yourself in the full length mirror. This was, in all honesty, the first time you felt beautiful in years. The dress did nothing to hide your body- no- it somehow managed to accentuate every single curve in the most beautiful way possible. The gown was black, made from silk and taffeta, with some built in structure, and oh so soft. Simultaneously comfortable, secure, and elegant, the strapless gown mimicked a one shoulder, right side jutting up in an asymmetrical style and the left dipping just low enough to show your cleavage before cascading down your curves, hugging each roll of your body gently, showing off your figure and flowing down to the floor with a slit up your thigh, only visible when you walked and showing the ample flesh of your hip and thigh. God, it was perfect. You felt strong and classy and sexy and beautiful. Turning to Jirou, you pull her into your chest and hug her, thanking her a thousand times for finding it.

“Whoa, hey, okay… I’m glad you like it, you look absolutely beautiful. But- um- hey, can you let go? I’m suffocating in titties here.” Jirou laughed, genuinely struggling to breathe in your embrace.

“Oh shit, sorry, Jirou! I’m just so happy, I love it so much! I kinda forgot you can’t breathe when I do that…” You chuckle nervously, releasing her from your embrace.

“Yay! Okay, now that everyone has a dress, let’s go purchase them and get some food. I’m starving!” Yaomomo pitches the idea, and everyone agrees, excited to hurry out of the shop for a meal.

_____________________________________________________________

The day had finally come, and your nerves felt fried. The other girls all had dates; Momo and Jirou deciding to go together, Ochako with Deku, even Mina was going with Kaminari. But here you were, riding in the car service alone, makeup absolutely flawless, complete with falsies and red lipstick that was the perfect shade to stand out against your skin. Such a shame no one was going to be benefiting from your efforts tonight, although the thought that your longtime crush, Sero Hanta, would be in attendance was enough to urge you to adjust your carefully placed mask, ensuring your anonymity and polishing your confidence. Sero had been in your friend group since high school, and was the first person you truly warmed up to upon your acceptance into the group. You quickly became the “shy little sister” to the loud ones in the group: Bakugou, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Mina. Jirou and Sero were more your speed; quieter, more laid back and chill, with great senses of humor that not everyone was privy to. With Jirou as your designated best friend, Sero was proclaimed the unrequited love interest. You friendzoned yourself almost immediately, assuming Sero wouldn’t go for a girl like you, not when he was tall, dark, handsome, and muscular. A budding pro hero wouldn’t want you, not with your shy insecurities and soft body…

Little did you know, Sero had been pining after you since the beginning, flirting with you subtly in hopes that you’d express your interest. Eyes wandering down your curves during movie nights, taking in your too-small shorts and how your oversized shirt would raise just enough to see your little tummy pouch, wishing his face was buried between your plump thighs, praying he would be able to leave hickeys on every delicious roll, pleading he could see those cute chubby cheeks covered with tears while your plush lips wrapped around his cock… No- he couldn’t think of you like that. After all, you never returned his flirting, and there’s no way you’d like him when you could crush on manlier guys like Kirishima and Bakugou. ‘He was just a “dollar store Spiderman”, as Bakugou liked to call him, just a guy… Nothing special…’ he thought to himself as he adjusted his own mask in the bathroom mirror at the gala. His friends had all confirmed that you were coming, and that you were coming alone (said by Kaminari while wiggling his eyebrows). Every other person in the group had a date, including Bakugou and Kirishima, who had to practically drag the former to the event in the first place. He was the only one “stagging it”, aside from you, who would no doubt attract attention and end up going home with some flashy hero higher ranked than he was. He sighed, adjusting his tux jacket and cufflinks, and exited into the main ballroom to get a drink.

You walked into the venue, checked in, and stood frozen outside the ballroom entrance. You adjusted your mask, steeled your nerves, and squared your shoulders, reminding yourself how absolutely gorgeous you looked and donning your best “bad bitch” aura. You strut into the place like you own it, suddenly very aware of how many people there are, scanning for familiar faces as you sway your luscious hips to maintain your balance in your heels.

“Holy fuck... “  Sero utters, jaw slack and eyes locked on you. You’re so perfect, breasts bouncing with every step, thighs and tummy jiggling, soft smile gracing your face. He’s staring, and Kaminari has to elbow him to wipe the drool from the side of his mouth before you get there. You’re equally as enchanted, seeing Sero in his black fitted tuxedo, crushed velvet lapels, tapered pants making his quads look positively biteable, crisp white shirt tailored over his pecs, black bowtie (slightly crooked, very fitting of his personality) and mask obscuring his face, leaving him as nothing more than a handsome stranger. A  yellow pocket square catches your attention, reminding you of your favorite hero in his costume. You smirk to yourself, knowing you chose yellow gold heels specifically because they reminded you of him.

“See something you like, Sero-buddy? You’re staring so hard, you’d think she was God.” Kaminari punches Sero in the ribs, trying to break the spell. “Maybe you should talk to her, finally get over your crush on y/n by getting under someone else.” he winks, completely unaware that he’s talking about you in both respects.

“Uh… I don’t know, man. I think I’ll give it a minute, maybe grab another drink and enjoy the party for a while. I’m not trying to start hitting on some random chick just yet, though hot she may be.” Sero laughs, rubbing the back of his neck like he always does when he’s nervous. He diverts his eyes down to his drink, downs the rest of the liquid, then focuses back on you. You wait at the bar for your drink of choice, aware of that beautiful stranger still staring and leaning against the counter just enough to push your ass out. You hear him nearly choke on his drink, and move around the party satisfied with yourself.

A few drinks later, you find yourself on the dance floor, watching from the edge and lightly swaying to the music. A masked man with shaggy black hair, who you can only assume to be pro hero Grand, given his mask barely covered a fourth of his face probably only worn to fit the theme, approached you for a dance, hand extended and bowing at the waist.

“A lady as beautiful as yourself shouldn’t be a wallflower. Care to dance?” he asks, voice low and alluring, looking down at you with a mischievous glint in his deep brown eyes.

“I might…” you smile shyly, taking his hand and letting him lead you.

Once out on the dance floor, he pulls you into his chest with a hand on your lower back. It’s nice to be wanted, to dance so close to a man who finds you beautiful, especially one as chiseled as Grand. ‘Wait- is he…? Are you fucking kidding?’ Your fight or flight response kicks in as soon as you feel his hand drift lower and lower onto your ass. You pull away, ready to ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but before you can get a word out, he puts a hand over your jaw, fingers tightly snapping your mouth closed. Unable to speak and too shocked to move, you feel helpless as he whispers in your ear.

“God, I love fat girls. Your self esteem is so low, I can do whatever I want and you’ll fall for it. So stupid, so fun.” His laugh is so dark, and you start to panic before a large, strong hand reaches between the two of you and wraps around Grand’s throat, yanking him back and off of you.

“Listen, this is a classy place, so I’ll give you a choice. Either you apologize to this absolutely gorgeous woman and get the fuck out of here, or I beat you to a bloody pulp right here and ruin both your suit and your face.” The handsome stranger who had originally caught your eye growls, voice so low and intimidating you didn’t doubt for a second he meant every word. ‘His voice sounds so familiar, but I can’t quite place it. He’s so angry, and he’s speaking so low, I can’t figure out where I’ve heard that before.’  Thankful for his saving assistance, and trying to calm yourself from hyperventilating, you watch Grand’s retreating form before turning to the man who is quite literally your Prince Charming of the evening.

Voice still low and angry, “Listen, I need you to distract me. Calm me down so I don’t turn around and kill that guy.” he seethes. “You are stunning, absolutely gorgeous. He was so wrong. He’s an asshole, absolutely vile, and he never should’ve even had the nerve to approach you, much less touch you. God fucking damn it, I should-”

You cut him off by pulling him close, placing your hands on his chest and letting them roam up to fix his still crooked bowtie.

“Thank you…” you whisper, tearing up as you put your head on his chest. His cologne is so calming, his scent enveloping you as his arms instinctively wrap around you and his hand finds the back of your head, holding you to his chest.

The two of you slow dance in silence, his head resting on top of yours, the scent of your shampoo and hairspray comforting him and taking him to a dream where he was dancing with the y/n he knew, feeling your soft body pressed against him, imagining how you’d look in the dress on the girl he was actually dancing with. ‘Oh fuck, y/n would look so fucking perfect in this. Her curves- fuck, this dress is soft- I would absolutely love to run my hands along her body in this dress, press her up against me like this, fuck her thighs- wait… SHIT-FUCK-NO’  Snapped out of his thoughts by the increasing tightness of his tux pants, he prays to god the sexy girl pressed against him doesn’t notice.

You notice something nudging against your thigh, breaking you out of your daydreams about the mystery man being Sero Hanta, opening your eyes before you realize exactly what you’re feeling. ‘Oh… OH. Holy fuck, did I make him hard just dancing? He- uh- feels… big… Maybe if I just-’  you subtly shift your hips, thigh brushing up against him and slotting between his legs just enough. A deep groan rises from his chest, and he leans down to your ear.

“Babygirl, if you keep doing what I think you’re doing, I’m going to have to return the favor~” His voice sounds so familiar, but the lust clouding the low rumble has it taking on an entirely new timbre. You lean in, feeling emboldened by his words, swiping your tongue along the shell of his ear with a simple “Oh really?~ And what if that’s the goal?”

With that, he crooks his finger under your chin and presses his lips to yours. What starts as a sweet and simple kiss quickly evolves into a deep, passionate kiss that left you breathless. His fingers gently resting on your neck, just above your collarbone, and tongue swiping at your bottom lip. You sigh into him, granting him access and letting his tongue explore your mouth, relishing in his deep rumbles and pressing impossibly closer, hoping he’d get the message and take you somewhere more private. Luckily, it seems he seems to read your body language and leads you to a side hallway by pressing his hand on the small of your back, possessively guiding you. Pushing you up against the wall, he leans back in to resume kissing you, with an arm steadying himself above your head. In a simply embarrassing display of clumsiness, your hand reaching for his cheek goes slightly off course, accidentally knocking off his mask and causing you to fumble to the floor to retrieve it. Upon looking up, you see Sero standing with a flushed face and his hand reaching up to the back of his neck, the endearing nervous tic you’d learned from him over the years. Oh God, if your heart wasn’t beating fast enough before, it sure as fuck was now… The man you had yearned after for years not only swooping in to save you from some low-life creep, but also having you in a kabedon against the wall of the fanciest place you’ve ever been in. He laughs, nervous now without his anonymity, and reaches down to help you up.

“I- uh- sorry, I might’ve gotten carried away. I hope you’re okay, I know I’m probably not the hero you wanted. I really do think you’re beautiful, you actually remind me of someone I know and- wow- I’m rambling…” He goes on like this, panicking that he’s somehow ruined your fantasy and disappointed you by existing. He only shuts up when you stand back upright and kiss him softly.

“You’re exactly the hero I want… The hero I’ve always wanted.” You blush, staring up at him with the most loving doe eyes you can manage.

‘Wait… Her voice… Is that- ?’ Sero came to quite possibly the best and utterly terrifying realization; that the girl he’d been lusting after all night and the girl he’d been wanting for years could be the same girl. He hesitantly brought a hand to your face, lightly grazing your mask as though asking for permission. You nod, never breaking your gaze on his concentrated expression, and parted your lips. He gingerly lifts the mask from your features, damning your anonymity, and each of you hold your breath in anticipation. The way he looks at you is like something out of a movie, or one of those shōjo manga you love to obsess over: pure relief, adoration, lust, love. Oh, you want him to look at you like that forever.

“Y/n, I-... You have no idea how happy I am that it’s you. I have been wanting to kiss you for years, and to finally do it, and with you looking… Wow- you are so fucking stunning, I have never seen anything as beautiful in my life. Fuck, I just- I wish I could tell you how perfect you are, express in words how flawless I’ve always thought you were- still do… “ Sero breathed all of this as though he had to get every word out before you disappeared. He held your face in both hands, lightly squishing your cheeks and stroking his thumb over your lips, taking in your hopelessly enthralled expression. “You know what? Fuck this. No- I mean- not ‘fuck this’, I just… I want to do this right. I want you, I need you. I want to express how important you are, I need to show you that you’re everything to me. I want to worship you, kiss every inch of your body and make you feel so incredibly complete and full and whole and appreciated. Do you understand?”

“Hanta… I- Yes. Yes. Please take me home, I need you. I want you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.” You lean into his touch, wanting to be ever closer to his warmth.

You yelp as he suddenly picks you up, bridal style, as though you don’t even provide a struggle.

“HANTA, you can’t be carrying me, I weigh more than you, no no no, I’m too heavy, you can’t-”

“Y/n. I’m a pro hero, are you seriously telling me I can’t carry you? I can carry 3 people at once while hanging from a strip of tape in midair. I’ll hold you up forever if you’d let me.” He squeezes you in his hold, emphasizing his point.

His cocky attitude was majorly driven by how good you felt, soft tummy and jiggling tits against his torso, the perfect squish of your thighs in his powerful arms, chubby hands and cheeks tucked into his chest and the crook of his neck. He swore he could die happy right there. In the elevator, he took a moment to take in your entire figure, but upon reaching your feet, something turned him absolutely feral. Your shoes. You were wearing his colors. Every single piece of clothing matched his hero costume. ‘Holy shit… You knew. You wanted him before this even happened. You were his.’ The possessive growl that tore from his chest startled you as he adjusted you in his hold. He had your legs wrapped around his waist, hands unapologetically on the ample crux of your thighs and ass, lips on yours in a desperate kiss that was all tongue and teeth, grinding his hard cock against you. You whimpered against his lips, shocked by his sudden change of demeanor.

“Fuck, you’re wearing my colors, aren’t you? You want me to claim you? You want to be mine? I’ll give you anything you want, babygirl. I just need you to ask for it.~” He growled against your neck, nose tracing the column of your throat.

“Hanta, please, yes- ah~. I want to be yours. I only want to be yours. I need you. Please, please, please.” Normally, you’d be way too shy to beg this much, embarrassed about how desperate you sound, but fuck he’s making you so needy. The gasp that escapes you when Sero licks a stripe up your neck turns into a moan when he starts sucking a hickey over your pulsepoint. He feels so good, the heat between your thighs steadily building with every nip of his teeth and roll of his hips. You thread your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck and pull gently, earning a groan and a buck of his hips. He works his way up to your jaw, leaving pretty little marks in his wake, and returns to your lips like a safe haven. He strokes your tongue with his own, committing your taste to memory. He never wants to forget this moment, especially not when you lightly suck his tongue and pull him in further with those perfect fucking thighs. You’re so soft, being wrapped in your plushness with his fingers digging into the pliable flesh of your ass is too much. Sero’s sinful thoughts are interrupted by your fucked-out voice, so small and innocent, as though you’re afraid of his answer.

“Um… Can I- can I touch you? I mean- I- can I mark you, too?” You sound so unsure, not used to someone wanting to show you off.  You’re so breathless, and he’d be lying if the pleading in your voice didn’t make his dick twitch in his pants.

“Awwww~ is my babygirl shy now? You want to mark me, too? Go ahead, mi amor, sí se puede. I’m all yours, just like you’re mine.” Sero cranes his head to the side, baring his neck to you, waiting for you to bless him with those full lips, waiting for you to make a show of him finally having the most perfect girl he’s ever known.

If he could’ve taken a picture of your face in that moment, he’d look at it every day. Squishy cheeks blushing, eyes wide with surprise and excitement, gaze clouded with lust. You were so pretty, he couldn’t wait to ruin you. Sero moaned as you sucked a small dark mark onto his skin and happily carried you from the elevator to his room. You tighten your arms around him when he reaches for his key card, involuntarily pushing your chest together and pressing up into him.

“Oh, mi corazón, if you keep pressing into me like that, voy a tener que lamer cada parte de ti y puede que no te deje ir…” His threats sound more like promises when he’s carrying you through the threshold and placing you down gently, though his hands never leave your body.  Tracing your sides, memorizing your curves, squeezing any part he can get his hands on.  His right hand inches down your torso, resting on the pouch of your tummy and making you flinch. Sero notices and worries he’s hurt you, or that you don’t want him to touch you. The hurt in his eyes is obvious when he takes in your tense muscles and eyes squeezed shut, realizing it’s your own insecurities holding you back. He wishes you could see how beautiful you are, see yourself through his eyes. He was going to make you feel so fucking loved, he just had to show you what he couldn’t express in words. You stripped him of his jacket as he unknotted his tie. With nervous hands, you unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it past his broad shoulders, fingers trailing down his sculpted chest and lean abs, admiring the enticing adonis belt and pretty trail of coarse black hair disappearing into his pants. Sero, with his ego now boosted by the lustful look in your eyes as you took him in, returned your gaze to his face with an intensity that made you shiver. He kept eye contact while sweeping your hair to one side, and slowly unzipping your gown. Your breath hitches in your throat as he leans down to place open mouthed kisses along your shoulders as he pushes your dress down your body, kissing down your arms as it falls, and places a sweet kiss to your hands. Pushing you onto the bed with a soft thud and climbing over top of you, he moves the hands that raise to cover yourself , grasping your wrists in one hand and cupping your cheek with the other, as he softly reassures you.

“Princesa, please don’t hide from me. I’ve waited for you for so long, and I want to worship every inch of you. I’m going to make you cry out my name, and show you just how perfect you are while you cum on my tongue. You will not say a single bad thing about mi amor, you understand?” he says lowly, so loving yet commanding.

“Yes, Hanta… I- I’ll be good for you, I promise.” you whine, praying your submission would please him.

The sound of his given name in that pleading tone has him painfully hard, but he’s too focused on hearing his name from your sweet lips again to care. You pull him down into a passionate kiss and roll your hips against his clothed cock when he laves down your neck and leaves love bites across your chest. He sucks your nipple into his warm mouth and rolls the other between his forefinger and thumb, earning a high pitched keen from you. He switches to give the same attention to the other side, tongue swirling around the peaked bud and relishing the way your chest heaves just from his mouth on your tits. ‘So needy… Fuck, how did I ever wait this long to see y/n like this and hear her sounds?’ Sero thinks to himself, so ready to watch your eyes roll back in your skull the minute you feel his cock fill you. The thought of you bouncing on his dick, watching you jiggle with his thrusts, letting him grip the fat on your hips and help you fuck yourself on him, feeling your lovely thighs straddle him, has him impatiently rutting into the mattress. He needs to taste you, leave marks all over your delicious tummy and thighs, and feel you coming undone beneath him. His large hands slide down your sides, rubbing back up under your breasts, gripping the extra flesh over your ribcage, the soft love handles on your sides, caressing the perfect pouch of your belly and settling on your hips. His mouth follows the path of his hands, kissing and licking every place you had deemed undesirable like they were the sexiest pieces of you, leaving dark hickeys on the front of your hips to remind you that all of these parts were now his to love.

“Lo siento, babygirl, pero no puedo esperar más, necesito mi lengua en ese bonita coño jodidamente ahora. Estas necesitan estar en el suelo ahora.” If his panting growl of Spanish didn’t already have your pussy gushing, his strong fingers ripping your panties and hoes off your body had you dripping onto the bed. Your shocked squeak turning into a moan when he parted your legs and nipped at the soft skin of your inner thigh, Sero is beyond delighted by feeling your beautiful thighs squishing against his face. If he could choose his end, it would undoubtedly be suffocating between this plush heaven. He snaked his arms under your parted thighs to hold your hips, squeezing and marveling at the feeling of your warm body protruding between his spread fingers, trying to fit as much of you in his grasp as he could and never getting enough. You’re just about to plead for him to touch you where you need him most when you lock eyes and hear the teasing lilt in his voice when he groans “Itadakimasu~” and flattens his tongue, licking a long, slow stripe up your slit.

“So wet for me, princesa, is this all for me? You’re so thoughtful to give me a meal so sweet.”

“Hantaaa, please. I want you, please don’t tease me, please touch me. I need- ah~”  

Your begging is interrupted by his tongue diving into your sex, lapping at your slick like a man starved. The moans coming from the man between your thighs were sinful; in this moment, Sero Hanta was no longer the friend you’d watched superhero movies with and silently crushed on for years- he was a man, a lover, all you’d ever wanted. Wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking the sensitive pearl into his mouth, he pulled one hand from your hip and slowly slipped two long fingers into your sopping heat. The callused pads from years of hero training now rubbing perfectly against your walls have you crying out for him and grasping his hair, begging him to go faster. He suddenly props himself up, bringing his palm up to grind against your clit and slowing his thrusts, wanting to hear you beg for him and watch your desperate facial expression.

“What is it you want, babygirl? C’mon, you’re going to have to use that pretty little mouth of yours. Tell me what you want, baby, use your words. I wanna hear you beg for me.” That normally dopey smile was replaced with a lewd smirk, hungry and covered in your juices.

“H-Hanta, please please please. I need you, need your mouth. Please I wanna cum, please let me cum, I want you to fuck me! Please please pleaseeeee~” Hips bucking forward, sweat lightly covering your skin, hair splayed out, body covered in his marks, begging for him… Shit, he’d give you anything you asked for. Oh, he’ll give you what you need- don’t you worry.

“Good girl, such a good girl for me. I’ll make this pretty pussy cum. Hold onto me and just relax, princess.”

His lips returned to your clit, flicking his tongue and sucking lightly, and increased his pace. He curled his fingers just right, finding the spongy underside of your clit and he chuckles darkly to himself when your back arches, head falling back onto the pillows.

“There it is~, there we go, babygirl. Cum for me, just like this. I’ve got you, let go, cum on my fingers.”

It doesn’t take long after his mouth goes back to nursing on your clit and his fingers continuously hitting your g-spot for the coil in your belly to finally snap. You climax hard, eyes screwed shut and screaming out his name as his tongue works you through your high. Once you’ve come down, you open your eyes and see Sero sucking his fingers clean of your release and unbuckling his belt with the other hand. You sit up to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue, and unbuttoning his pants. He grows impatient with your pace, shoving his pants and tight boxers down at once. ‘Fuck, his dick is pretty’ you think to yourself, marveling at the masterpiece before you. He’s long, maybe 8.5-9 inches, thick enough to stretch your walls so deliciously but not too thick to fit in your mouth, prominent vein running along the underside and leading from the neat crop of black hair to the leaking tip, begging for your tongue. You start to rise to your knees before being pushed back into the duvet, looking up at him in confusion.

“No, no, mi amor. As much as I want to see your beautiful lips wrapped around my cock, that’s gonna have to wait. I want to be inside you, I need to fuck you until all you can think about is me and how fucking beautiful I think you are.” His eyes are so sincere. He looks down at you with the most loving stare you’ve ever felt, so calm and safe in his presence. You’re lulled into submission, every doubtful argument you had died on your tongue, and a soft moan escaped your lips. He leans over you, bracing himself on an elbow with his hand on your jaw to keep your eyes fixated on him. The other hand wraps around the base of his cock and teases the head along your slit, pressing on your clit just enough to have you squirming, trying to impale yourself.

“So needy for me, so wet. You’re so perfect, babygirl, I wouldn’t want to go too fast now. I want to savor every inch, feel you stretch around me while I watch those e/c eyes roll back in pleasure.” He holds back from thrusting into you when you whine in response, breathing heavy and struggling to get him inside. “Damn, baby, if you’re that desperate, why don’t you tell me exactly what you want? Beg for my cock, mi amor.”

“PLEASE, I need you inside me, please! I need your cock. Please fuck me, Papi~” You gasp out in succession, trying out the name you had once heard Kaminari teasing him about. It was a desperate attempt to get him to move, one your fucked-out brain decided was your best shot at getting him feral. And holy shit were you right. Sero fills you in an instant, hard length thrust to the hilt in your tight hole, causing you to cry out, eyes rolling back just as he promised.

“FUCK!” He’s losing restraint, driven mad by the filthy name coming from your angelic lips. The squeezing and fluttering of your walls is the only thing grounding him to Earth as he smirks down at you, baring his teeth while his other hand comes to wrap around your throat and apply light pressure to the sides. “Oh you know what you’re doing, don’t you? You have no idea how many times I imagined you calling me like that with these soft thighs wrapped around me; trust me, it’s nothing close to how sexy the real thing is. If you want to play dirty, princesa, don’t blame me when you can’t walk tomorrow.”

He backed up his statement with a few deep strokes that had your mouth falling open and eyes unfocusing, still unable to look away from the man about to wreck you. In a weak attempt to ground yourself, you reach up and place your hands on his back to feel the flexing of his muscles as he gave you slow, deep thrusts. Running your hands along his shoulders had your pussy clenching, and the groan pulled from his chest accompanying a harsh increase in his pace had your nails clawing at the corded muscles, causing him to put more force into fucking you into the mattress. A cycle of reactions, spurring the other on to continue and escalate.

“You feel so good, babygirl. S-So tight, you feel like you’re fucking made for me. I love you so much. I love everything about you. God, I fucking love your body- I love your curves, I love your legs wrapped around me, I love your sexy fucking thighs, I love your cute tummy- love how you feel pressed against me, I love running my fingers up your arms and kissing back down, I love gripping your hips when I hold you, I love watching you jiggle when you walk and bounce when I fuck you like this. You’re so fucking beautiful, so perfect for me.” Sero babbles out praises like he’ll die if he doesn’t get them out. You’re a blushing mess, knowing these words are completely true, tumbling out of his mouth unconsciously as he thinks them. “I love that expression, angel. Still so shy at my praises, even though I can feel you trying to milk my cock at every word. Such a good girl for me. Why don’t you tell me who makes this pretty pussy feel so good, huh? Say it, angel.”

“Hantaaa~ you feel so good. Please don’t stop!! I’m so close, please. I wanna cum, I wanna cum on your cock, please Papiiii~. You make me feel so good. I love you, I love you, I’m all yours. Please, I’m yours-ah~, I wanna be yours. I need you, I love you so much. Only you could make me feel like this-fuck- it’s only you. Please make me cum, Papi~” Your moans and pleas are getting louder and louder, chasing your impending climax. Every emotion flowing out of you, combined with the wonderful overstimulation, had tears rolling down your pudgy cheeks. You hadn’t yet realized you were crying when Sero leaned down to kiss and lick away the salty streams.

“Okay, princesa, I’ll give you what you need. How can I say no when you're being so good for me? Such a beautiful mess, all for me. So perfect. My good girl~” His right hand smoothes down your torso and settles between your thighs, rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Come on, babygirl. Papi’s got you, I’ll take good care of you. Cum for Papi. Cum on my cock.”

Your final orgasm has your back arched off the bed, eyes crossed, tongue lolling out, screaming out a string of “Hanta”, “Papi”, and “I love you”. Sero keeps his pace steady, fucking you through your climax and trying to prolong it as long as he can. The feeling of your doughy pussy clamping down around his cock like a vice, the gloriously wrecked ahegao face, and the sound of your cries as you creamed on his dick had him right on the edge of his own high. He started to pull out, not wanting to cross any boundaries, when he felt your legs pull him in even further. He looks back to your face; hazy, loving eyes drawing him in with that innocent look.

“Please cum inside me Papi, I want it! I’m yours, I want you. I want you to fill me up.” The permission to claim his longtime love and the aftershocks of your orgasm having you still pulsing around him finally push him over the edge. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, sucking and biting in a feeble attempt to muffle his moans of your name as his hips stuttered, thick ropes of cum warming your insides and painting your walls white. You feel so full and so content. Staying inside you, Sero rolls the two of you over to lay on his back, still holding your sweaty bodies together as he kisses your forehead and strokes your hair, telling you how good you did, how happy he was, how proud he was of you.

No one has ever made you feel so good, so wanted. Normally, your post-sex thoughts are plagued with insecurities, but instead all yoou can think about is Sero and how perfect this was. How beautiful he made you feel… and how you didn’t want it to end.

“H-Hey… Um… Sero?” you timidly get his attention.

“Y/n, I’m gonna need you to start calling me Hanta if we’re gonna be together. It’s a little weird to call your boyfriend by their family name, isn’t it?… Unless you wanna call me Papi, of course~” He says, his normal goofy grin and teasing tone returned.

“Wait… You- you really want to be with me? You don’t want me to keep it a secret? I will if you tell me to… I don’t want to embarrass you, I know I’m not exactly the ‘trophy wife’ the other heroes go for… I just really like you- um- actually, I’ve been in love with you for years now, and I just got really excited that you wanted me and-” Your nervous muttering is cut off with his lips softly pressed against yours, his hand moving to intertwine your fingers with his.

“Mi amor, I’ve been in love with you for just as long. You are my trophy, the greatest part of me. Every single thing I said is true, and I’ve thought those things for our entire friendship. If you think for a second that I won’t be walking around shirtless, showing off all of these marks to Kirishima and Kaminari, you don’t know me at all.” He winks at you and brings your hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss there. “Princesa, babygirl, mi corazón… Nunca te dejaré, yo nunca te dejaré salir, yo prometo. I am yours, and you are mine.”

“I love you, Hanta.”

“I love you, too, y/n.”

You fall asleep on his chest to the calming rhythm of his heartbeat and steady breathing. Upon waking up, you assume you had just dreamed the entire affair, chalking it up to your vivid imagination and drinks at the ball. That is, until you realize you’re trapped in a tangle of limbs with Hanta, leg hiked over his body and arms encompassing each other. You try to shift slightly to see his sleeping face, but he stirs and rolls over on top of you with a groan. The jolt of his muscles jerking awake told you he also thought he had dreamed the entire thing, believing that the prospect of your mutual pining actually coming to fruition was too good to be true.

“Good morning, angel. I’m so glad you’re real… And that you’re all mine.” Sero softly sighs, voice rough from sleep, nuzzling his face into your chest and squeezing your soft midsection to hold you closer.

“Good morning, love. I’m so so happy, but there’s one thing…” You say, trying to hold back your giggles.

“What is it, baby? Is something wrong? What did I do?” Sero starts thinking of every possible scenario as you soothe his thoughts with a cheeky smile.

“I- um… I think I need you to carry me to the shower, you weren’t lying when you said I wouldn’t be able to walk in the morning.” Both of you erupt in a fit of laughter. He scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the shower, so content in finally having his girl.

___________________________________________________________

A/N: WHEW okay… I’m actually really proud of this, and I hope you guys like it. The Latin Sero headcanon hits me so hard and I just absolutely simp for this sweet tape boy. Huge thank you to @reinawritesbnha for inspiring me to write this matchup, @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten for encouraging me and giving me the courage to post, and my dear, sweet Sage for reading it to make sure I don’t embarrass myself and inspiring me to write in the first place. <3

[alexandenigtscreations]

Chapters: ½ Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Rating: Teen and up Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Additional Tags: Poisoning, Poison, Heist gone wrong, Peter Nureyev has ADHD, Rita defiantly has ADHD, Nonbinary Juno Steel, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, TPP, Junoverse | Juno Steel Universe Summary:

After Nureyev get’s poisoned on a mission, he’s determined to see it to it’s completion. He and Juno make quite the team after all. Had many thoughts after reading @kaiserkorresponds​ 's fic ---> [The Celestial's Kiss https://archiveofourown.org/works/31409258 ]. Which apparently has been spinning round and round my head. I do love a good poisioning <3</p>

Chapter 1:

It should have been obvious from the moment the drink hit his lips.  The sour bitterness that the burn of poor quality alcohol failed to mask.  It should have been obvious.  But focused as he was on keeping a straight face; Nureyev found himself swallowing the vial fluid before he could begin to think better of it.  He paused, eyes flicking down to the odd shimmer he’d mistaken for ice melt.  

That- wasn’t ideal-

He filed deeper thoughts on the subject away in favor of assessing for further threats.  The facility crawled with them, from the myriad of security cameras to their flamboyantly garbed host.  They were watching a little too closely, a little too carefully.  A smile playing across their garish lips.

Nureyev sat back, glancing over at his goddess.  A vision in the scarlet A-cut dress.  There was a slit running up his thigh, revealing quite a bit of leg and a hint of a holster.  

Juno’s own drink, served neat, bore the same tell-tale signs of tampering.  The Detective swirled it about his glass, clearly about to throw it back in his usual no nonsense fashion.  

That would not due.

With all the coolness Nureyev could muster, he placed a gentle hand over Juno’s cup.  His Detective tensed, sending a soft, questioning gaze his way.  

“Not very hospitable, spiking a Lady’s drink.”

“What?” Juno pulled back, guard up.  

Nureyev’s fingers curled around the glass, taking a moment to weigh his options.  He had half a mind to fling it’s contents into the eyes of Jody, the large thuggish man directly across the table.  He might even have time to incapacitate Mx. Balsa and get Juno to cover him before reinforcements came.  They might even make it out in one piece-  

It was tempting, but ultimately would get them nowhere.

They were on a job, after all.  If there was any chance of salvaging the situation, that should be their first option.  One little computer virus, how hard could it be to plant?

He took the glasses and poured their contents on the floor, the ice shattered on impact.  

Mx. Balsa smiled.  “Very good Mr. Tillerson.  It seems you passed our test.”

“A test.  We came to have a civilized discussion, Mx. Balsa.” Nureyev said pointedly, he could still feel the burn of the alcohol in his throat “Not play childish games.”

Mx. Balsa shrugged their narrow shoulders “Childish or no, it’s effective.  We don’t let just anyone play with us.  I’m sure you understand.”

“Understand?” Juno bristled, “Understand my boot! You try to pull something like that-”

Juno came up short when Nureyev squeezed his thigh; nodding his head graciously, “Naturally.  Now are there any other- tests- we should be made aware of or are we free to get down to business.”  

Was he imagining it?  Or was his stomach already souring?  

File it away-

“Down to business!” Juno blurted, “They offered us a spiked cocktail and you want to get back to business?” he sat back, crossing arms over his chest “I say no way.  The only people that I know of who spike drinks are scoundrels and cheats.  How are we supposed to take them at their word?” At some point the moral outrage in his voice changed into a conversational tone.

Nureyev could have kissed him, if it weren’t for their cover- “My colleague has a point.  You’ve tested us, it seems only fair that we should test you.” he gave his best smile, “Perhaps a sample of your information for our technicians to verify.”

“I hardly believe that to be necessary-” said Mx. Balsa.  Nureyev knew that they were the sort of person that relied heavily on their reputation.  But deals weren’t made on reputation alone.  

“Oh?  But I do.  Unless you are unable to deliver what we discussed?” Nureyev stared into their pale eyes.  They didn’t flinch.  He waited a beat, then two and still nothing.  He stood with a heavy sigh “I believe our business here has concluded then.  Mr. Micah.” He offered a hand to Juno, who accepted it.  

“Sure Tillerson.”

The pair made to leave. Jody, Mx. Balsa’s companion moved to intercept.  Which was effective both for the fact he was so broad of shoulder as to eclipse the door behind him and so tall that even Nureyev felt as though he had to peer up into his face.  

Instinctively, Nureyev moved in front of Juno.  It was ridiculous, a man that large simply should not be allowed.  

“Like I said, there is no need to leave.” Mx. Balsa’s tone did not change, but there was a weight to it now, a tension.  

“And why should we stay?” Juno crossed his arms defiantly over his chest.

They surveyed him for a moment. “If it’s information you want, it’s information you will have.”  They slid a chip into their comms and made a fuss of downloading a sample.  It chirped upon completion and they offered it up with a flourish. “Please, a sample, if you will.”  

Nureyev’s eyes flicked from the chip to their host and back.  He smiled, accepting it in a cocky, gracious manor that was felt exclusively by his alias.

“Very well, I’ll have our team verify this information.  If you would excuse me.”  Jody made an intercept but this time Mx. Balsa intervened.  A small shake of their head, jewels shimmering in the light.  That was a relief.  With a nod to Juno, Nureyev slipped out the doors and made a beeline towards the restroom even as he sent the data to Rita.  

As much as he wanted to run, he didn’t.  He kept his gate easy and posture confident.  That changed as soon as he was in the privacy of the privy.  

Nureyev bolted to a stall, shoving two fingers down his throat.  He gagged and wretched till his eyes watered, jaw cramped and his skull pounded.  Bowing lower with each convulsion, clinging to the hope he’d retch up the vial cocktail.  

It wasn’t working.  

He reached deeper, spayed his fingers further, feeling the bite of his sharp teeth in his hand, nails scraping on the inside of his throat-  

Historically, he’d viewed being ill at will as a necessary evil of his trade.  A skill, as it were.  

One he’d never mastered.  

It had landed him in the hospital on an occasion or two.  

Try as he might, the only thing he succeeded in doing was ruining his makeup.  He gave up, of course he did, there wasn’t a point in driving himself into exhaustion.  Yet alone displaying that weakness for the world to see.  

There was nothing for it.  He would just have to bide his time until they returned to the Carte Blanche.  

In all probability, he had time.  Brahmese people were particularly resilient to a variety of toxins.  Not by some evolutionary fluke, but by design.  The planet had always been hostile to its human inhabitants.  In all its infinite wisdom, the government, rather than deal with the expensive venture of cleaning the pollutants from living zones, had instead chosen to subsidize gene editing.  That was before the war though.  

Mag had been so relieved to find Nureyev had inherited the genetic coding.  ‘First rule of thieving Pete’ he’d laughed ‘take any advantage you can get!’

Advantage- Nureyev snorted, more like a double edged sword.   While it afforded him some protection, it also marked him as distinctly Brahmese.

File it away-

The thought of the Carte Blanche again, of Vespa Ilkay.  She was the last person he wanted alerted to the genetic quirk.  

File that away too while you’re at it-

Nureyev turned his attention to the vanity.  He’d made quite the mess of himself.  Lipstick and eyeliner smeared, ropes of various… secretions clinging to his nose and mouth, eyes red and puffy.  He frowned at the fine dusting of red circling the tender flesh behind the spectacles.  Petechiae- apparently he’d burst a few blood vessels.  

Great, just great.  All the work he’d put into Tillerson’s visage for naught- file it away.  

All the same, he allowed himself a moment of discontent as he began the process of cooling the swelling, washing away the evidence and rework his appearance.  

The door swung open, and scarlet filled his periphery.  

“God Damnit , there you are- Tillerson-” bless him, they’d practiced using their aliases for a week before the job and Juno was still uncomfortable with them.  

“Mr. Micah.” Nureyev returned, blending the concealer under his eyes.  

“You were gone for a while-” Juno didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to.  Nureyev could tell when his Detective was worried.  He was fidgeting head to toe, poor thing.

“I decided to visit the powder room while waiting on our team to analyze the data.” he glanced at his comms “The information appeared to check out- And- oh my they seemed to have attempted to sneak in a trojan horse.  Rita assures it isn’t a problem but-”

Juno plainly wasn’t listening.  He was looking him over with that sharp eye, stepping into his space.  “You okay babe?” he breathed, reaching out to smooth a hair back into place and cupping his cheek “your eyes are red.”

Nureyev jumped in surprise.  Had Juno even bothered to check for surveillance devices or-  People slept with their co-workers all the time, he and Juno were no exception to that rule, but what if they were seen?  Found out?  Their cover blown!  What if-

But no- he trusted the Detective.  

He cleared his head gently kissing the lady’s palm.  He considered for a moment telling Juno about the poison, but what came out of his mouth instead was “Just some minor irritation, love.” He stepped away, Mr. Tillerson sliding back into place.  “I suppose we should return to our hosts.”

“Yeah-"he flashed an uncertain smile.  Just don’t go disappearing on me again.  Thought they were going to eat me alive or something-”

“We can not have that now, can we?” He returned the smile, trying to exude his usual confidence despite the weakness in his legs.  They would have to wrap this up quickly, if the dizziness was anything to go by.  Plant the virus and leave.

“You were gone for quite a while Mr. Tillerson.” greeted their host.

“Merely conversing with my associate.” he shrugged, “And you’re in luck, Mx. Balsa.  Your information appears to be- genuine.” Nureyev planted a firm hand on the table, as much for balance as it was to return the chip.  

“Of course it is, we went through great pains to ensure it to be so.”

“Indeed. I’m sure the origin story would be most interesting but we have a matter to settle.  The price.”

They had discussed this before.  Mx. Balsa wouldn’t deal with those who didn’t have something interesting to offer.  It had taken Buddy and Rita time to figure out their tastes, and even more to fabricate a program.  A hacking bot.  It wasn’t real of course, the only thing that made it halfway convincing at all was Rita piloting the thing remotely.  

“Yes, the price-” they drawled.  Nureyev did not take kindly to that tone.  “The price just went up.”

Nureyev’s eyebrows crept upwards while Juno bolted upright “Hey now!  We agreed to the terms before this even-”

“Micah, please”

“No!  So far they’ve tried to poison us and hid a goodie in their sample intel.  Now they want more .  Hell, they should be paying us for this-”

“Mr. Micah, please.  I merely desire to know what it is you hope to accomplish with the information.  And to get a taste for your program’s capabilities as you have of my intel.”

Nureyev pretended to consider it, placing a hand on Juno’s knee and tapping out a message, before saying “These appear to be fair terms, however, what I’m wondering is if there are any more hidden fees.”  

To say Mx. Balsa was slippery, was an understatement.  Nureyev had seen people like them before, knowledge brokers, able to root out and twist any grain of truth to their heart’s desire.  This was not someone he wanted to be investigated by.  Juno would be a veritable beacon.  Public employees were so easy to track-

Mx. Balsa took their time in testing the program.  Rita informed them when she’d gotten the virus set up in their system, it didn’t take her long at all.  Now they just had to play the wait game.  They fained interest in the intel, made up a story to satiate their curiosity and asked enough questions to avoid suspicion.  All the while Nureyev could feel his health take a steady trend downwards.  

Once or twice he thought they shot him a knowing look as his attention began to wonder, or that Jody was leaning in a little too closely.  He tugged at his collar absently, the sweat plastering his shirt to him under the corset.  It was hard to gauge if the pressure of the boning was having a positive or negative effect on the nausea.  If they knew he’d been poisoned, what would they do?  Would they try to revoke their deal?  Detain them?  Hurt them?  Hurt Juno?  

He could not let that happen, would not.  

Juno squeezed his thigh, startling him out of his thoughts.  Mx. Balsa was pushing a new chip towards them, the one with the information they’d spent the better part of a day mulling over.  It was encased in a silver embossed box, flashy and probably manufactured to ensure no one could scan its contents.

Nureyev took out his comms once more and clicked it into place.  It was all there, Rita checked for them.  Thank the stars it wasn’t another test.  After all, it would be suspicious if they left with only half the intel.  

“I believe that concludes our business.” he smiled, rising gratefully to his feet.  

“We’ve kept you so long, won’t you stay for dinner?”

“Dinner my ass.” Juno grumbled for only Nureyev’s ears.

“Didn’t quite catch that-” Mx. Balsa frowned.

“Ohh Sorry, we’ll pass, don’t feel like dying today.” Juno smiled, voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Ahh, Pity.”

Nureyev’s laugh was cut short from a stabbing pain in his abdomen.  He started again, swaying, hand pressed to his stomach.  Certain he’d find blood.

“Everything okay there Mr. Tillerson?”

Glancing down revealed only the pristine pearl embroidery of the corset.  No blade, no blood, he was…. fine-  

He released his death grip on the chair, quickly filing away that sensation best he could.  Their mission was nearly done after all, no need for theatrics now.

“Perfectly.” He smiled wider, displaying sharp teeth.  “We’ll show ourselves out.”

Jody made a big show of opening the doors for them so that the muscled chords of his biceps were on full display.  They’d just managed to step before slamming it shut at their backs.  

The smile Nureyev had been wearing, dissolved into a grimace. He set a brisk, if uneven, pace to the exit.  

“Hey- Ran-” Juno groaned “Tillerson!  Wait up!” Juno clacked to his side.  

“Apologies Micah, I merely-ah!” he stumbled over his feet, Juno caught him in his strong arms.

“Hey- are-are you alright?”

His head was still spinning and there was that question again.  He had no desire to deal with it at present. “I-”

“The truth this time.” Juno pressed, ever the persistent Lady.

“Just a tad under the weather-” he admitted.  

“Babe, why didn’t you say something-”

“Something I drank.  It’s fine love.”

Bone deep tiredness pulled him down.  He wanted nothing more than to surrender himself to the arms of his goddess.  It would be safe there, warm.

Juno looked like he was going to ask more questions but was interrupted.

A shrill cry tore through the hall.  It sounded like Mx. Balsa.

“What the hell?” Juno craned his neck to look.  "You don’t think they found it yet?“

"Let’s- not check.”  Nureyev entwined his arm with Juno’s, setting up a brisk pace towards the doors.  Relying on the Detective as one might a crutch.

There was a wash of hurried footsteps, people shouting, blasters charging- the only thing that made sense was security-

“I believe we’ve overstayed our welcome Detective!” Nureyev said.

“Ya Think!” Juno yelled back, voice cracking from the force of it.  Even so- he withdrew a fist full of blaster from the dress slit.

But Nureyev wasn’t focusing on Juno, wasn’t focusing on the escape.  Jody was barreling on through the guards, weapon raised and charging and trained on-

“Micah!”  He slammed into Juno just as the bolt whizzed past striking another employee.  They rotated so that he could serve as Juno’s shield while giving him time to line up a shot.  It might have worked too if he’d been a little quicker-  

The next thing he knew he was violently ripped from the Detective.  A strong, bulky arm wrapped about his throat, crushing it.

Jody-

It had to be, few could make Nureyev’s toes leave the ground.  His chest quaked with strain of forcing air in and out of his constricted windpipe.  He kicked for purchase, skiving off the panic by attempting to worm his forearm up through the choke hold; the other diving into a pocket for a blade.

“Tillerson!” Juno shouted.

“Important to you isn’t he.” Their voice was surprisingly soft and high for their bulk.

Juno fired two shots beyond them, he must have hit his mark because there was the sound of something hitting the floor.  

Jody jerked back, causing stars to burst in front of Nureyev’s vision.  Fear clouded his mind, making him claw at the bodyguard.  Even so he blindly groped for the familiar curvature of a handle-

“No more of that-” they warned “Or I will be forced to-” but what they’d be forced to do was lost.  

Nureyev found a knife amongst the stashed trinkets and baubles, he had just enough wherewithal to mouth ‘ ready- ’ before manically plunging the blade into the brute’s thigh.

They howled, dropping Nureyev.  Juno sent a stunner straight to their chest as soon as his partner was clear.  The lady darted forwards, catching the thief under arm and hauling farther along the passage.  Nureyev, for his part, gulped down air and forced his sluggish legs to take his weight.  

They had no choice but to run.  Nureyev readied fresh blades, easier to locate now his brain had a proper supply of oxygen.  Pressed for time as they were, he couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t recovering like he ought to.

They rounded a corner and “Damn it” Juno hissed, taking in the thick ring of guards round a door “There’s too many-”

Manny there were.  But they also appeared green, scared.  Nureyev didn’t need three decades of experience reading people to know they could be intimidated.  

“Perhaps-” he puffed, flashing a wiry smile.  "Let’s see what they are made of.“  It was all the warning he gave before sprinting towards the group.  

It was a foolish plan, a desperate one.  There were screams and shouts as Nureyev’s blades flashed.  He had to give them a little credit, they held ranks far longer than he’d imagined them capable.  That all changed with the first spray of blood.  Typically he’d aim to wound in Juno’s presence; but with the way his hands shook he was taking any opening that presented itself.

Distantly he could hear the bite of Juno’s words as he called out and could feel his presence joining at his side.  The two of them versus the small army of guards.  He allowed himself to get caught up in the simple rhythm of the moment.  

For the first time since the mission started, Nureyev’s mind cleared.  All there was was the ache of his breath, the burn in his limbs and the death defying dance with Juno Steel.  

They shot and sliced their way to an opening; clawed a path to the hall, the entrance way and the street beyond and-

Sweet escape-

This - this moment right here, was what Nureyev lived for.

The dizzying rush of the night air spurred the pair on until all sounds of pursuit faded.  Despite his long legs and penchant for running, Juno easily kept pace.  He could feel it now, the sickness worrying away at him from the inside.  He didn’t know how much more he could take before his legs would give out or lungs burst.  Still he pushed harder, dug deeper, counting his steps to drown out the complaints of the body.  

At long last they stumbled into an ally way; a narrow thing that reeked of misuse.  

"Okay- What the Hell!” Juno rounded on Nureyev, eye flashing in the dim light of the dome.

Nureyev swallowed, hardly able to keep his focus on the Detective.  The light cardio had left him feeling queasy and weak.  Wrong.  He supposed poison on an empty stomach would do that to you.  Not to mention how tender his throat was after Jody’s mistreatment.  

He put a hand to his clammy forehead, swaying a little.

“I thought I was the reckless one,” he lectured “the one that went off half co- babe?  Nureyev?!!!”

He’d doubled over, retching earnestly this time.  Just as before, there was nothing to bring up-  The cruel dry heaves cramped his core and set his eyes watering, legs folding under the crushing weight of it.  

“Babe, heyheyhey, hey~ I got you-” strong arms wrapped around him, propping him up, “I’ve got you.” Small circles worked into his back as they waited for it to end.

“S-sorry-” he gasped between convulsions.  They didn’t have time for this, they didn’t have time for any of this.  Yet here he was endangering Juno with his own ineptitude.  “I’m- ss-”

“Ugh-uh, no, you’re not doing that.” Juno cut him off.  “Hell, when you said you weren’t feeling good-”  Nureyev made to apologize again, but Juno gave a warning “hun”

He slumped against the brickwork, trembling and breathing heavily.  

“Done?”

Nureyev gave a non committal hum.  It was all he trusted himself to manage.  

All the same, a moment was afforded to him to clean up with a moist towelette.  Again his makeup was ruined, but he was far from caring.  The important thing at present was to leave this city behind.  

Juno seemed to be thinking along the same vein.  “Think you can stand?  Or should I contact Jet?”

“No need for that love.” Nureyev smiled weakly, nausea churning within “Just give me a hand.”  

The Detective obliged, neatly entangled their fingers and pulled him along using his comms to navigate.  He was mighty grateful for the assistance, between the stomach ache and the weight in his limbs, he was having difficulty remaining upright.  

Nureyev eyed the nooks and crannies of the back streets.  Had he been alone he’d likely of spent the night curled up in one of those charming locations.  Cold and cramped, but out of sight.  He sighed, surrendering himself to the guidance of his goddess.  

“Hello Ruby.” Nureyev greeted wirily.  It chirped in response alerting Jet to their presence.  The door swung open of the Ruby’s own volition and the pair slid in.  “Jet-”

“Ransom.”  Jet acknowledged.

“Hey big guy.”

“Are either of you injured?” he asked, glancing back in the rearview mirror.  “I ask because of the blood.”

“Don’t think so.  Had to get a little rough on the getaway.” Juno explained glancing down at his gore streaked dress and coat.  “Honestly, if we could move out, that would be great.  I don’t really fancy meeting up with those nut jobs again.”

Nureyev hummed in agreement.  Doing his level best to keep his expression neutral and his breathing measured.  He must look a mess judging by the way Jet kept eyeing him.  

Turbulence made him gasp as pain blossomed in his abdomen.  His composure slipping and rearranging like water.  He slouched lower, trying to get some relief-

Juno was talking with Jet, or talking at him more like.  Nureyev stopped listening after the first few moments, lulled instead by his Lady’s warm voice and the way it crackled at the edges when he became impassioned.  He was just so tired-

Before he knew it, the thief was leaning on the Detective’s shoulder, sinking into his side, bloodshot eyes fluttering shut.  Normally he’d be loathed to sleep at the end of a job like some worn out child.  But he couldn’t fight anymore.

[lupinlongbottom]

Practically a Weasley pt. 2

Charlie Weasley x Reader

Summary: Home for the holidays! Finally, after the end of a bitter war, the Weasleys have some much needed family time to catch up on. The holidays are the perfect time to celebrate family, no? Charlie and (Y/N) seem to agree. 

Word Count: 3.8k+

Warnings: None

A/N: A much anticipated part 2 to my Practically a Weasley fic! I love writing for Charlie. Dragon boy just doesn’t get much love, does he? Also Fred ain’t dead. My heart couldn’t handle that if it were true. 

Part 1 ... Part 1.5  ... Part 3 ... Epilogue

__

The Burrow was fluttering with delight, the holidays had been finally sworn in with the arrival of the entire Weasley clan. How long had it been since most of the redheaded family sat under one roof, let alone one table? With everyone’s various lines of work and hectic schedules, it was a surprise and a holiday miracle even half of them had shown up.

Bill was enchanting the younger children with vast stories of his work as a curse-breaker (with a little exaggeration, of course). Molly and Arthur were bickering about him bringing yet another Muggle artifact home for the holidays. And Charlie? He sat quietly at the end of the table, humming along to Celestina Warbeck’s newest album, gingerly holding (Y/N)’s hand with delight.

Nothing had changed, not really, not ever.

“How do you know all of the words already? She just released these songs like, two days ago?” (Y/N) chuckled, taking a small sip of the hot beverage in front of her.

“I have a perfect memory,” Charlie mused, rubbing his thumb in circles on the back of her hand. “Or, did you forget?”

“I suppose I did, Mr. Weasley.” (Y/N) grinned, eyes flitting across the various freckles under his brown eyes.

“Such a shame, you really ought to know better, Mrs. Weasley.” A soft peck danced across their lips.

Ah. So something had changed.

“Ew.” Fred spat, eyeing his older brother down from across the table.

“Double ew,” George retorted. “Get a room.”

“They’re married, you gits,” said Ginny, bumping Fred in the arm. “Let them be.”

“She’s my best friend!” groaned Fred.

“Wow,” muttered George, a hand rising to his chest. “After all we’ve been through, Freddie? I’m gutted.”

(Y/N) chuckled quietly at the twins, now not-so-playfully fighting each other across the table. “They’ll never grow up, will they?” Whilst the twins began their fight to the death via dull forks, the newlywed couple pulled away from one another for the first time in hours.

“No, I reckon not,” Charlie hummed, rising from his seat. “If they’re going to continue on like this, I might as well pour myself a glass of firewhisky. Did you want one, love?”

Silently, (Y/N) shook her head, allowing Charlie to flee the scene for a few moments. The album had finally reached the end of the track, resulting in Molly starting it right back up. Ron and Ginny groaned gaudily, as this had been the fifth time she had done so this evening. The two shut right up after Bill had sent them both a quick and sharp glance.

“I must say,” Molly began. “I never imagined the lot of us sitting around one table again,” The war had reached its climatic end only a few months prior, wounds starting to finally heal. “I’m truly blessed to have almost my entire family together for the holidays—”

“—minus Perce, Fleur and Harry, of course!” George piped up.

“Right,” Molly cleared her throat. “As I said, almost the entire family.”

“Fleur sends her regards, truly. But with the condition her mother is in right now, she needed to be home,” Bill responded, again apologizing for his wife’s lack of attendance. “And Percy and Harry will be joining us in the coming days, no?”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded, leaving the absence of his brother and best friend at that. “Harry’s got some errands to run, or whatever. I reckon he’s out buying gifts even when we asked him not to.” Ron chuckled.

“Well, regardless of who isn’t here, we still have a large family. A growing family at that!” Arthur rejoiced, causing (Y/N)’s face to drop slightly. “It’s (Y/N)’s first holidays as an official Weasley!”

(Y/N) felt her face flush. A sigh of relief. “Oh Arthur, that’s hardly anything to celebrate…”

“Hogwash,” Charlie retorted, returning with his promised firewhisky, and a glass of water for (Y/N). “You can’t escape now, you’re sorta in it for life, yeah?”

“I feel like it’s already been a lifetime, love.” She chuckled. “Besides, just because we signed some stupid paper and wear these rings—”

“—wonderfully selected by your adoring husband.” Charlie mused, wriggling his left hand. The cool silver shone off his hand, a matching band with (Y/N)’s delicate ring.  

“You know what I mean, Charles.” snickered (Y/N). “I mean, I’ve practically been a Weasley since second year!”

“It’s true,” George paused, setting his fork down. “I mean, we would’ve married her first but—”

“—we were too busy being repulsed by the thought!” Fred finished, poking his tongue out slightly.

(Y/N) returned the gesture.

“You lot will never grow up,” said Molly, shaking her head. “Whatever the case, I’m truly blessed to have another daughter.” 

“Mum, just remember to think about the daughter you’ve always had, yeah?” Ginny laughed, causing the entire table to join in.

__

Hours passed, with it, a final read through of (Y/N)’s latest project. The sequel to The Distracted Dragon. While she had intended to finish the novel earlier, something larger than herself had erupted in their little world that needed attending to. The various fans of the first story were surely gutted, but to be completely fair to all involved, a war seemed like a pretty eminent reason to move the newest addition on the back burner.

“So you’re telling me… Bancroft gets a girlfriend?” Ron asks, looking to (Y/N) for an answer. She hesitantly gave a nod. “That’s the moral of the story? Get yourself a girlfriend and all your problems will be solved?”

“No,” Fred sniffed, moved by the book. “Ronnie, the moral is that sometimes we need help from another person to grow and accept our past!” With a loud honk into a tissue, he continued to weep.

“Nah, I still think that Harriet solved his problems.” Ron shrugged, popping a crisp into his mouth.

As Fred began to argue with Ron louder, chiming in about Hermione, Charlie gave (Y/N) a simple nod, aiming upwards towards the stairs. She got the hint quickly and excused herself.

“Tired of it yet?” asked Charlie, grabbing (Y/N)’s hand gingerly as they walked up the stairs towards his room. Bill had offered to stay in the twins room while (Y/N) was here, letting the newlyweds to have a space to themselves.

“No, not yet,” replied (Y/N). “Though,” She opened the door. “I’m rather pleased at how keenly Fred took to the book.”

“Ah,” He sat on the bed, waving his wand to shut the door once more. “He’s a bit of a romantic, no?”

“Fred? A romantic?” She laughed, pulling on her pajamas. A simple purple nightie, just touching the tops of her knees. “As if. He’s just… more in tune with the details I reckon.”

“Details… sure. Whatever you say, flower.” Charlie began to pull his socks off, eyeing his wife up and down. “You know… I bet the entire lot downstairs is going to be busy for a while.”

“Oh?” (Y/N) mused, flicking the lights off. “Busy, you say?”

Charlie nodded. “With Ron and Fred’s arguing, they sure drown out the sound, no?” He wriggled his eyebrows, climbing under the quilt next to his wife. A gentle hand caressed her thigh lightly.

“Charlie,” (Y/N) sighed, almost annoyed. “As lovely as the thought is,” He began peppering kisses to her neck, slowly down to her collarbone. “We shouldn’t.”

“Love,” more kisses. “It’s not like we’ve never fooled around up here before,” said Charlie, leaving a suckling mark below (Y/N)’s ear. “You love the risk.”

(Y/N) gently pushes Charlie away. “You’ve had too much firewhisky,” said (Y/N), pecking her husband once on the lips. “And I’m not feeling up for it.”

“Flower, I barely had any firewhisky,” he laughed. “Not nearly as much as you drink, well, normally anyhow,” a puzzled look adorned his freckled face. “Why didn’t you drink tonight? It’s Christmas Eve!”

“Are you saying I need to drink to have a good time?” (Y/N) accused, only half offended.

“Of course not! But you do find any and all reasons to have a nice drink at gatherings like these, it's odd, s’all,” He shrugged. “I mean, it’s a holiday! With the family. Our family. What better time to drink?”

“I didn’t feel like it.” (Y/N) mumbled, flopping down under the covers, turning away from her husband.

“I sense that you’re lying, love.” Charlie said, rubbing her arm gently. “You’re my wife…” mewled Charlie, hanging onto the last word longer than usual. “I’m keen to noticing these things.”  

“Oh yeah?”

“Indeed,” he quipped. “You have a rather easy tell, too.” Charlie gave a quick side glance in (Y/N)’s direction, smirking. “You tend to push your hair behind your ears, bite your lip and flick your eyes ever so slightly.”

“I do that all the time.” mumbled (Y/N).

“Does that mean? No…” Charlie gasped. “Could you’ve been lying to me the whole time I’ve known you?”

“Charlie…” (Y/N) groaned.  

“Okay, fine,” He laughed. “But you’ve been acting off these last couple of weeks. Not drinking, barely getting any sleep—”  

“—which I’m trying to do right now, thank you!” (Y/N) quipped, pulling the covers higher.

“Your mood has been real shit lately too. One moment you’re all smiles, the next you want to send me to the dog house just for looking at you.” Charlie sighed. “And I know it’s not,” his voice lowered to a whisper. “‘that time of the month’ yet, because it was last week, right?”

“No, and stop talking about my period like you’re afraid to say it.”

“Huh… It’s normally around the third week of the month, no?” He mumbled. With a gentle shake of his head, he continued. “Flower, all I’m trying to say is that even when you went to the doctor, they didn’t diagnose you with anything, right? I’m just worried something is wrong with you, (Y/N)”

“Nothing is wrong with me, Charlie.”

“Nothing? You run to the loo to empty your lunch like it’s your job,” He laughed. “I’ve never seen you like this. It’s almost as if—”

He stopped.

“Charlie?” (Y/N) turned around to check on her husband. Charlie just sat, staring forward. “Honey?” 

“(Y/N),” He continued to stare forward. “Are you…?”

“Darling,” She sat up, gingerly grabbing his hands. “Look at me.” 

Charlie’s eyes were brimming with tears, begging to be let go.

“I wanted to tell you tomorrow, a Christmas present,” (Y/N)’s eyes were swimming with matching tears. “But I guess one present early couldn’t hurt, no?” 

His eyes flicked back and forth from his wife’s, waiting for any sign of an answer. (Y/N) nodded her head slightly, fighting back the tears. Charlie wrapped his arms around his wife, hugging her tightly, afraid to let her go. “You’re kidding!” A flurry of kisses brimmed (Y/N)’s head, forming a crown upon her temple. “Love! This is a great—no—the best gift you could’ve given me”

“You’re excited?” asked (Y/N), giggling in her husband’s embrace.

“Of course I’m excited,” Charlie pulled away slightly, meeting his brown eyes with (Y/N)’s, darting between the two rapidly. “A baby. Our baby.”

In an instant, their lips met. Softly at first, crescendoing slowly into an intensity as bright as the stars above, burning hot at the sight. The moment was broken only by the parting for air, quickly returning to the fire before. Was it the thrill of their family below? Or the joy of the family growing between the two? Perhaps it was a bit of both.

“How long?” asked Charlie, rubbing (Y/N)’s upper arm gently. “I mean, how far along are you?”

“Remember that Quidditch match your friend Andre invited us to?” (Y/N) giggled.

“I don’t remember much of the match,” Charlie said, scratching his head. “Come to think of it, you pulled me into an empty stall and we—” His cheeks flushed, burning up to the tips of his ears. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) laughed, brushing Charlie’s hair out of his eyes. “Andre’s team won in the end, by the way.” Another laugh.

“Well, I suppose we both scored,” Charlie joined in the laughter. “But that was about two months ago, no?”

“Something like that. I found out last week at the doctor’s office,” said (Y/N). “It was the hardest thing to keep from you! I was so scared that—”    

“—that I’d be upset?”

“Something of that sort, yeah,” (Y/N) mumbled. “Of course I was being a real idiot about the whole thing, I realized that the second you figured it out.” 

“Love, I come from a family of nine,” Charlie held his breath. “Now, that’s not to say I want to rival my parents in the baby-making contest, but I’ve always wanted a little piece of that happiness. Especially with you.” 

“Charlie if you keep saying shit like that I’m going to cry,” (Y/N) warned, choking back tears, a common theme in the past few minutes. “I can’t believe I was even remotely worried.”

“What was there to be worried about?” Charlie asked, stroking (Y/N)’s hair, fingers twisting the ends lightly.  

“I’m not sure. We just got married a little over a year ago, after a bloody war had started no less—”

“—to be fair, we got married during the war.”

“I suppose we technically eloped before the war was over.” (Y/N) mumbled, tracing her hand up Charlie’s chest, resting gently.

“We also got married before Bill,” Charlie laughed. “Not an important detail, but one that I like to rub in his face.”

“Besides your points,” (Y/N) rolled her eyes. “We’re newlyweds! We’re young! I mean, we never even really had the whole ‘baby’ talk before. I was worried we weren’t ready, hardly after a war,” (Y/N) gulped. “I was worried you’d be scared.”

“Love, of course I’m scared. Babies are terrifying,” said Charlie. “With their little hands and tiny feet.” He feigned a grimace, clearly joking. “But you’re right. We are young, but that just means more years of being a family, no?” 

“I guess…”

“Now, you’re also right about the ‘baby’ talk. We haven’t really talked about it,” Charlie looked down at (Y/N). “Let’s have it now.”

“I think it’s a little late for that.” (Y/N) giggled.

“Do you ever want to have kids?” Charlie asked, ignoring his wife’s growing laughter.

“Yes.” 

“Do you ever want to have a child together?”

“Of course.”

“Then that’s all that matters, right?” Charlie said, his brown eyes meeting (Y/N)’s. “Who cares if it’s a little before we might have planned? I know that we’re going to love the shit out of our child.”

“I know you’re right,” (Y/N) mumbled. “But you don’t have any worries about all of this?”  

“Only one,” said Charlie. “I mean, if it’s not a boy to take on the Weasley name, I may consider a divorce.” Charlie hummed, smirking lightly. 

“Charlie!” (Y/N) slapped his chest rather firmly, eliciting a slight groan from the redhead. “If you keep joking like that, I may consider divorce first.”

“Flower, you know I could never divorce you,” Charlie laughed, placing a kiss to his wife’s temple. “Besides, with the amount of brothers I have, the Weasley name is rather safe I reckon,” Another kiss to her temple. “Come on, let's get some sleep.” It took only a few fleeting kisses, happy murmurs and mumblings before the couple finally retired for the night.  

—

“Well, look at the lovebirds!” George sang from the kitchen table, setting his coffee mug down, eyeing up (Y/N) and Charlie descending from the stairs. “Unusually well rested. Obviously not taking advantage of their own room I see.”

“George,” said Molly, sternly shooting a glance at her son. “Happy Christmas you two.”

“Happy Christmas, mum,” said Charlie, placing a peck to his mother’s cheek. “Happy Christmas George.”

“Yeah, yeah. Christmas or whatever,” George sipped from his mug. “You lot slept in a bit, the rest of the family is outside. You know, completing a family tradition and whatnot. So disgraceful.”

“Ah, but the real disgrace, George, is the fact you also are missing out on the snow angels,” (Y/N) chirped, grabbing a plate of hot breakfast from Molly. “Besides, everyone’s coming in for breakfast soon anyway. No one can resist Molly’s cooking.”

“Oh (Y/N), you humor me,” Molly laughed, opening the window. “Breakfast!” She called out to the rest of her family. One by one, the clan filed into the kitchen, sitting in their respective seats.

“Mum, you outdid yourself again! This food looks delicious.” Bill said, piling a load of eggs onto his plate. He handed the skillet over in Ginny’s direction, eliciting a scowl to the yellow mush beneath her nose.

“Kiss-up.” Ginny mumbled, immediately passing the cooked eggs over to Ron.

The rest of the family began eating, enjoying a rare moment of silence in the Burrow. Only sounds of scraping forks and the occasional burp echoed through the walls. Fred and George were the first to finish their plate, diving into another round of home cooking immediately after. Charlie and (Y/N) sat together, gently hold each other’s hands while they ate, Charlie sitting at the end.

“While you’re all sitting down, I suppose now’s the best time for your gifts!” said Molly, cleaning up the table. She quickly exited the kitchen only to reappear with a rather large bag. “Careful not to get any muck on them, I don’t want to do any washing today.” With a flick of her wand, the colorful stack of wool dispersed evenly among the family, a jumper settling in everyone’s lap.

“Jumpers? Oh boy, what a surprise!” George laughed.

“Really shocked our socks off, mum!” Fred added, unfurling his pile of purple.

“Oh hush,” Molly smirked. “Just go put them on and humor your mother, would you? You seem to find every other opportunity to do so.”

The twins groaned and pulled the fabric over their heads, both of the violet jumpers were adorned with their store’s logo on the front. Bill’s had a niffler, Ron’s had a Chudley Cannons print, Ginny’s had two crossing brooms and Charlie’s had (not surprising anyone) a large white dragon.

“What about yours, love?” said Charlie, elbowing (Y/N) slightly, the light blue wool rubbing against her arm. She turned to face him, the green jumper was decorated with a book and quill, the cover oddly resembling her first book. “Wow! That looks amazing!” He exclaimed. “Mum, how do you keep making these year after year?”

“With patience and a whole lot of love.” Molly smiled.

“Her enchanted knitting needles help too,” Arthur added, brushing biscuit crumbs off his new maroon sweater, ignoring the icy glare from his wife. “Besides, it’s a tradition.”

“A tradition getting harder every year,” Molly sighed. “Thankfully none of you are getting married any time soon, no need to worry about adding any other jumpers to my long list!” She laughed.

“Besides for next year, of course.” said Charlie offhandedly. (Y/N) froze.

“Next year? What’s next year?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, I don’t reckon Fred or George are going to meet anyone by next Christmas.” said Ron.

“Hey!” The twins exclaimed.

“Well…” Charlie looked up, all eyes were on him. A quick glance was given to (Y/N), who shared an equally pale face as him. He shrugged, raising his eyebrows. “You never know when people can meet each other, no? I mean, (Y/N) and I met in a coffee shop of all places!”

“Charlie…” (Y/N) began.

“Hell, we even eloped! Do you know how easy it is to do that?” Charlie continued, nervously bumbling longer sentences. “We got married in like, an hour once we set our sights on it!” He chuckled loudly, trying to drown the attention away from his sweat.  

(Y/N) stood up, placing a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Before Charlie continues to blabber like a right idiot,” she said, shutting her husband up successfully. He sighed loudly. “I’m pregnant.” The entire table sat in stunned silence.

“That’s amazing!” Fred shouted, breaking the silence, jumping from his seat. “My best friend is having a baby!” He wrapped (Y/N) in a large hug, gripping her tightly.  

“Again, am I chopped liver?” George laughed, running over to join the hug. “A baby! Promise that you’ll name him George! Or Fred. Not terribly picky on that.”

“Boys! You shouldn’t hug (Y/N) that hard,” said Arthur. The twins loosened their grip slightly. “Congratulations you two,” He glanced between the happy couple. “Children are a blessing.”

“Is that why you had seven of them?” Ron asked, getting slapped on the shoulder by his mother.

“Oh (Y/N),” Molly cooed, fighting back her tears. "My first grandchild! We couldn’t be more thrilled for you!” She ran over to Charlie, embracing him in the warmest bearhug she could’ve mustered. “I can’t wait to start knitting their jumper! It’ll be so tiny I won’t mind the extra on the list.”        

“How long have you been keeping that secret, Charlie?” Bill asked, smiling at his brother, amused at the kisses their mother was placing on Charlie’s cheek.

“He’s barely known a day,” (Y/N) frowned in Charlie’s direction. He smiled sheepishly. “I’ve only known for a week. It’s still early, but we’re excited.”

“I hope it’s a girl,” Ginny added. “That way we’d finally be on our way to have a boys versus girls Weasley quidditch match!” 

“With my quidditch skills and (Y/N)'s creative mind? I’m sure they’d be an amazing quidditch player!” Charlie bubbled in delight. “Though, how young would be too young to get them on a broom?” 

“Charlie! We’re not putting our baby on a broom!” (Y/N) scolded. “Besides, they could easily get my quidditch skills.” 

“But you don’t have any quidditch skills?” Fred said, cocking his head.

“You can hardly keep yourself up on a broom!” George added.

“Exactly,” (Y/N) hummed, sitting down, a hand resting on her barely existing bump. “I say we stop hypothesizing and projecting onto the baby. Whatever they choose to be and do will be great…” (Y/N) sighed. “Because Charlie and I are the best, so our baby is going to be the best baby ever.”

“Nailed it, darling.” said Charlie, high-fiving his wife.

“You two really deserve each other.” Ron groaned.

“We do,” Charlie hummed, beaming down to his wife. “We really do.”

With the big news out of the way, the Weasley’s enjoyed the rest of their holiday morning, welcoming Percy and Harry home later in the afternoon. Once the two were caught up on gifts and laughter, the family had finally found peace in their holiday. No more big secrets, no more stressing about keeping said secrets. Just a relaxing and calming holiday before the whirlwind of parenthood whisked Charlie and (Y/N) up into a tizzy. But they were ready.

They’re Weasleys, after all.  

__

General Tag List: @maralisa124 , @leighxlover , @hey-its-me-rai , @missihart23 , @biatheintrovert , @luna-xxxxx , @chocolaterumble, @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy

Charlie Weasley Tag List: @sungoddessra , @crescent-ia , @phantom-pheonix , @dccomicnerd-world , @marveltrash99 , @graymountaingal, @storiesbycaroline, @mytinybaguette , @garbdump

want to be added to a tag list? hmu in the replies or ask box with what characters you’d like to be tagged with!

[beauregard-s]

Decision (Bill Denbrough x Reader)

Pairing: Adult!Bill Denbrough x Uris!Reader (18+)

Word Count: 6k (I am  s o r r y)

Warnings: Age gap (Bill is in his late thirties), inappropriate relationship, a lot of angst, language, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving) and some fluff

@avengxrs423 said: hi!! i absolutely loved your stans daughter(reader) x bill!! i would like to request a follow up where stan catches them!! it was one of my fav fics ever 💞

A/n: First things first, thank you so much! For your support and also for requesting this one because I really wanted to write it. The request is pretty self-explanatory, this fic comes as a part two for this headcanon. Hope you like it 🖤

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Your voice barely came out. It was more of a fragile whisper.

He was right there. Leaning against the doorframe, a dismayed half-smile on his lips and God knew how weak your knees already were to that view alone.

“Missed me?”

Also only God knew how much guilt you saw in Bill Denbrough’s ice-blue eyes.

“What are you doing here?” You muttered. He gnawed on his lower lip for a second.

“Came back for you.”

-

“Taking me so good, princess. So damn good…” his voice was hoarse under the sound of rain pouring against the metal of his car and under the way you rolled your hips against his.

Little, weak moans left your lips and that was all. You were unable to talk since he first guided himself into you in that backseat, stretching you out, filling you up just perfectly. His stubble scratched the sensitive skin of your neck while he kept his face nuzzled in there, grunting against you. You held tightly onto his arms while his hands grabbed your hips, teaching you how he liked it.

“You’re gonna cum, won’t you? I can feel you clenching all around me.” He pulled back to look at your fucked-out face, smirking and panting. He looked down right at where you’re joint to him, hand dropping, middle finger tracing slow circles over your clit and making you whine.

“Just like that. Cum for me, y/n...”

-

“Bill…”

“No, please. Give me the f-fucking benefit of the doubt, y/n.”

You felt the urge to smile at the transient appearance of his stutter at the same time you wanted to throw something in his face. He was clearly nervous, knocking on your door past midnight, out of nowhere, when you were already in your sweats and ready to head to bed.

“My parents-”

“I know they aren’t home.” He cut you off. Cornered you, avoiding any excuses you had.

You breathed out, a battle in your mind because you truly didn’t know what to do with him standing there. He had dark circles that didn’t match his eyes’ color very well, in your opinion. He looked tired, bummed maybe, but still handsome like hell. Just like he looked when you last saw him, but more fidgety now.

“Let me guess, do you want to explain yourself?”

“Of course-”

“Yeah, but you don’t owe me any explanations, Bill.” You were the one cutting words off now.

His only immediate response was to sigh. “Could you at least let me in?”

You did. Stepped back and let him inside, practically slamming the door right after. You didn’t intend on putting a show, but that came along with the slow-burning anger that built up inside you. You turned on your heels to face him and couldn’t tell who looked more defensive. You and your tightly crossed arms or Bill and his hands stuffed in his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them, standing right there in your living room.

He didn’t say anything at first, maybe waiting for you to yell at him or something, but you didn’t. You couldn’t because it still hurt where he left you although you hated to admit it.

You were doing good until Bill came into your house smiling kindly at you, telling you about how little you were when he last saw you. How your father would carry you around on his shoulders by that time. He was supposed to stay for a month, something about going through a very troubled divorce. In the meantime, he’d meet you late at night in the kitchen when you woke up for late snacks, talk to you in a soft voice, pay attention to you whenever you were in the same room. Too much attention. To the point where his eyes discreetly leered at you so much you’d swear you could combust anytime.

He did that until you fell apart. You, who claimed to be a very steady, hard-to-get and hard-to-trust being. Bill Denbrough hunted you down, his best friend’s only daughter, in your own house until you broke. He feasted on you in the backseat of his car, in your own room, in the shower before your parents came back home…

And you let him because you couldn’t help your heart from racing since the first time you saw him. Couldn’t help smiling whenever he talked to you. Couldn’t help leering him just like he did to you. You fell for the man faster than it’d be decent to do.

“I didn’t do it. Didn’t accept asking for the divorce dismission.” Bill said, lowly.

It’d be an outright lie if you told your heart didn’t skip a beat to his words, the frown between your brows relaxing.

“Really?” He finally smiled at the subtle soft tone of your voice.

“Of course I didn’t.”

“Then why did you leave?” You were still sharp but it didn’t keep him from maintaining that gentle smile on.

“Because your dad told me so. Stan told me it’d be better if I tried to solve the problem face-to-face.”

You shook your head slowly, remembering how your core ached the day he told you about it. How his goddamn wife called and begged for him to give up on the divorce process that she had started in the first place. Your eyes had filled up just like they did again because you had fallen for a man that, legally, still belonged to another woman.

-

“So are you flying to meet her?” You sounded proudly tough, but your sight was a blurry mess and you couldn’t sniff the tears away without denouncing yourself.

“I have to, y/n.” Bill, on the other hand, sounded heartbroken but you couldn’t catch it under your own silly broken heart. You typed wrong words for an assignment you had to return in a couple days just so you could pretend you were barely paying attention to him. If you had at least turned to him, you’d be able to see the distress in his whole body language.

“Great. Those are good news, then.” You hit the space key too hard for someone who sounded so cool. “It was great to see you anyway, Mr. Denbrough.”

It was his warning shot. Bill gave up because he knew you were hiding your cards. He knew exactly what he had done to you but he chose to leave. He didn’t want to hurt you even more. He left silently and you crumbled down as soon as you heard the door softly being closed. You let yourself fall back on the chair, cried silently, shutting your laptop because you knew nothing would come out of your blank mind.

-

“I never intended on giving up the divorce, y/n,” Bill stepped towards you and for each inch he walked closer, you walked another one away from him.

“Then why didn’t you tell me that, you big asshole?”

“Because you didn’t let me!” He stressed his words, hands running nervously through the gray strands mixed in between his brown hair. “You couldn’t even look at me when I tried to talk to you, y/n! I understand I hurt you, but I didn’t want to, princess…”

How cliche it was that your escape route ended and your back hit the door behind you when he scooted dangerously closer, arms around you trapping you right there. “Please, believe me when I tell you I never wanted to leave like that. I tried, but you just didn’t let me put things in their place.”

You truly didn’t. You kept avoiding him, skipped meals so you didn’t have to face him until the next day, when he hopped in the first flight. That was two weeks before and now he was there, eyes so intensely on yours that made you want to look away, but you didn’t do that too. You kept your chin up, looking at Bill. Trying hard to not let yourself get carried by his lips that close.

“I was a brat, wasn’t I?” His hands cupped your face gently at your bitter words, thumbs softly running along your cheekbone.

“No...” He soothed you down. “Who could blame you?”

He was making you dizzy, enough so he could sneak under your skin again, press you against the door. He leaned in, but left for you the choice of going ahead or giving up. You closed the gap in between your lips without thinking twice. Your fingers grabbed his dark shirt tightly like you were afraid that he left you again.The scent of aftershave that was unmistakably ‘Bill’ hit you and he tasted like mint as ever, like those candies he always had whenever you found him writing somewhere in the apartment.

His hands left your face and grabbed your thighs fiercely, lifting you so you could wrap them around him while he carried you away from there, into the dark hallway.

“How I’ve missed you, babe...” Bill whispered, lips still pressed on yours, a blissful smile on. “Did you miss me?”

You nodded frenetically, kissing him again. He stepped into your room, kneeling onto your mattress before laying you down your back. You were sure that too much wetness was already pooled in your underwear when Bill towered over you, pulling his shirt off immediately.

His hands went for your waistline, assuring you he wasn’t messing around when he pulled down everything that covered your bottom half at once, harshly. His fingertips traced a line from your knees to your upper inner thigh, making you expose yourself to him. The way he smirked to the view still kneeled in between your legs like that made your cheeks heat up immediately.

Bill crawled on top of you and for every kiss he’d plant on your shivered skin, you’d let out a quiet whimper. He slid up your body slowly, lifting your shirt to find every part on your flesh he was aiming at. From your hip bones and stomach, all the way through the valley in between your breasts, gently licking your hardening nipples and delivering rough, hungry bites all along your collarbones as soon as he took the garment off you, softer ones up your neck to tease you until he finally reached your mouth. And when he did, he swallowed a weak moan that slipped out of you.

You loved everything about him. How ruling his weight felt on you, how he pinned your wrists to the mattress and still kissed you so softly. He was in between your legs, hips shoving against yours here and there making you feel how hard for you he already was under his pants, making you clench around nothing for him every time your needy heat brushed against the roughness of his jeans. The feeling made you buckle underneath him, greedy for more and he noticed. One of Bill’s hands alone was strong enough to keep yours pinned together above your head, the other dropping to push your hips down and still.

“What are you doing? Do you need me that bad?”

You purred to that husky tone of his, no needs to look at him to know how darkened in lust his eyes were. You also knew how helpless you looked by now, all putty under his will and touch like you were since he very first time.

“Please, Bill…”

Your pleads always made him act up. “One more time, princess. What do you want me to do to you?”

Bill knew what you wanted and how you were aching for him to touch you somehow, but he wouldn’t do it unless you begged.

“I want you to touch me,” you mewled. “Please.”

His hand went from your hips to where your thighs met, fingers slowly caressing your folds and earning himself a deep moan.

“Dripping,” he groaned, thumb circling around your clit before two fingers entered you carefully. You arched to his touch, feeling the known shockwaves hit you when he curled his fingers up, moving them at an agonizing lazy pace.

Bill watched every single reaction of yours closely, how your lips parted and your breath hitched. You were about to close your eyes in pleasure after he started drawing figure eights on your clit, but you remembered how many times he had demanded you to keep them open before. So you did. Kept your eyes on his while he increased his pace, feeling you clench more and more around his fingers. Bill got so carried away by your whimpers he let his cuffing hand loose, so you were free again to held onto his shoulders, digging your nails in his skin, while your body tensed more and more… Until he stopped.

You had no time to complain once soon enough he was laying n between your thighs, eagerly mouthing your inner thighs before feasting on your heat.

“Fuck-“ Was the last coherent word that left your lips.

His large hands held your thighs apart as your fingers messed his hair. It drove you insane how easily and fast he could have your legs trembling and body contorting in pleasure while he sucked your clit and tasted your slit on his skilled tongue. You were biting on your knuckles because you were used to keep things low, but Bill pulled your arm away, remembering you didn’t have anyone to be worried about that night. So you moaned for him, loud and obscene, feeling like you’d reach your peak anytime soon. And you did, pulling his hair lightly as he held you still so he could lick you senseless through your high.

As soon as your spams soothed down, you eyed him not even remembering at what point your eyes had sewed shut. He was there, kissing all over your wetness and grinning before he stood up from the bed.

“Where are you going?” You whined, propping yourself on your elbows. He chuckled at your pout, hands undoing his belt.

“Not going anywhere,” Bill said softly. “Just taking these off so I can bury myself inside you.”

You bit down your lip at his words as he unbuckled his pants and pushed everything he had on to the floor after kicking his shoes away. Then you were at a lost of words to the sight of him, and he took advantage of that. Pulled your legs near to the edge of the bed and your thighs up so they were apart and squeezed in between your chest and his as he laid fully on top of you again.

The passionate way of his kiss couldn’t have warned you to what was about to happen. Bill slid his tip down once, from your clit to your slit, and pushed in. He let you moan into his mouth as he filled you up slowly, inch by inch, letting you take your time to adjust to him like he always did. He was groaning very quietly, one hand steading himself over you as the other gripped one your thighs. You cursed under your breath at how he stretched you out, coming apart underneath him when he started to move his hips against yours.

It was heaven and hell put together. Heaven because every time he pulled out and pushed back in, you arched your back more and more, the knot in your lower stomach growing tighter with every thrust. Hell because the way Bill kept you in a tight mating press like that, grunting against your lips was completely unholy.

Didn’t take much until he placed his arms by your head and his paced sensual thrusts turned into rough pounding. Bill fucked you into the mattress while you couldn’t do anything but digging your nails all over his back, moaning in pleasure. The only word that fell from your lips was his name, moaned over and over as he kissed and marked your neck. Still so sensitive from your first orgasm, you easily drove into the second one, clenching so hard around him that had him cursing into the shell of your ear.

You were a complete mess, but he didn’t stop. Bill kept his pace through your climax and after that, kissing your temple while his fingers softly caressed your hair or ran down your sides and cupped your breast.

“You feel so fucking good around me,” he whispered, “you’re gonna make me cum this way, princess.”

His hand sneaked down in between his hard thrusts and when he touched your sore clit it was more than enough. Bill wanted you to give him one more, and you did. You came undone for him and a couple of thrusts later he followed you. He buried himself into you just like he told he’d do, both of you fucked-out in between exhausted whimpers, growls, and sweaty skins.

Both you and Bill remained still until your heavy breath calmed down enough, until he stopped spilling inside you. He kissed you lazily while that, on your lips, your cheeks and forehead, while you were still wrapped around him, arms and legs holding him close.

He didn’t ask if you were okay when your eyes met because he knew the answer through your tired out smile. And he smiled too, kissing you once more before pulling out. But instead of rolling over to lay next to you as he did, he got up and started to gather his clothes from the floor because your parents were at a dinner with some of Patty’s friends and he hadn’t forgotten that.

Still, you were too done to do anything other than lay there and watch him. How his hair was sex-messed and falling down to his eyes, chest still quickly wavering and, the best part, the reddish trails he had on his well-built back when he turned around to grab his belt. You smiled at those a bit devilish, but knowing you already had his marks on you as a payback. And probably you’d have a lot of trouble hiding them the next day.

You wanted to call his attention, ask what would happen from that moment on, but instead, you forced yourself to get up and walk all the way across the room so you could get new panties. As soon as you started moving, the familiar soreness washed over you. You felt Bill’s eyes following you all the time you strolled around naked, picking up your shirt from the floor. There wasn’t a thing you had or wanted to keep from him from now on, so the words slipped off your lips when you were in your way to the en suite bathroom.

“I fell for you,” you said, quietly, but loud enough to gain his immediate attention as he finished buckling his pants on again. “I fell in love with you and I know I shouldn’t, but I did.”

Bill’s lips parted like he was about so say something, but his brows furrowed and nothing came out so you left before it got too embarrassing. As you cleaned yourself up and got partially dressed again you were pretty aware of how much you had exposed now. A risky step because out of all the stuff Bill had told you, he never mentioned feelings even if sometimes he sneaked into your bedroom while you were studying so he could only steal a kiss, or got lost in his thoughts while looking at you when you had a late meal together at the dinner table, when your parents weren’t around.

You knew he once had a college girlfriend that turned into a wife and that when she begged for him to go back to her, he said no. Bill denied his lifelong ‘lover’ so he could come back to your door in the middle of the night. But still, you didn’t want to overthink it.

And didn’t have to.

Bill himself let everything as clear as water when you opened the bathroom door and he was there, enlacing your waist in his arms and kissing you breathless. You even stubbled back on your weak legs, but he held you tightly, smiling wide when you parted away.

“I did too, y/n.” He said it like he was explaining something too obvious and you were adorably silly to understand it. “I f-fell in love with you.”

It was the second time he stuttered that night and you were speechless, reactionless. You never fell in love before, just had had momentary, casual hookups through college years. You never heard someone tell you they fell in love with you either. So telling it for the first time and getting told the same right away was overwhelming. Surprisingly good.

Bill brushed a hair strand off your face, ready to lean in for another kiss but the sound of the door closing a a distance stopped him.

“Holy shit...” You hissed.

A meltdown was unavoidable and you could see it happening practically in slow motion in front of you. Both you and Bill reacted fast. You ran into the room and got your sweatpants on as fast as a lightning while Bill put his shoes on, but he couldn’t get to his shirt fast enough. And if he could, there was no way to hide what happened there when the sheets were that messed.

And that was the first thing that Stan Uris laid his eyes on when he reached his daughter’s bedroom.

“Y/n, I brought you some-”

There was a door but no time to close it and try to find a plan. Stan got cut off by his own astonishment. His eyes trailed quickly from the messed bed, to you standing by its side, and to Bill shirtless in the middle of the room.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Bill?!”

You never heard your dad shouting like he did and that warned Patty at the kitchen and soon enough she appeared at the door too, eyes scanning around just like Stan did. Putting the pieces together. What happened next was barely a blur and loud arguing in your head. Bill tried to calm Stan down, you tried to calm him down but nothing worked.

“What the fuck are you doing with my daughter, Bill?! Did you-”

“Stan, for God’s sake!”

Not even your mother could stop him. He was screaming*,you and Bill were screaming explanations over him and even Patty had to raise her voice. It was a whole pandemonium.

“What did he do to you, y/n?!”

“Nothing I didn’t let him do!”

“Can you cuh-calm the fuck down, Stan?!”

Stan didn’t punched Bill, not in front of you at least, because as soon as Bill was fully dressed again he was told to to ‘get the fuck outta there’. And he did. Bill took a quick glance at you from the door before disappearing through it and your heart sank under how worried he looked. Stan followed him and so did you tried to do.

“No! Stay here, y/n!” And your mother followed them too.

You could hear them shouting at each other wall the way through the apartment and the door slamming shut.

And then there was silence. A disturbing silence as your head stung and your stomach felt like it had been twisted.

You let yourself fall down onto the mattress, tears starting to fill your eyes. All the bliss you felt a minute ago gone, its place filled with what the hell you felt. Fear, anger and whatever came along.

“Y/n!”

You heard your mother slightly upset calling before she came through your door again. Patty never ever raised her voice at you, neither did Stan. Not like that. They had their ways to show you they were disappointed when you did something bad, but they were never so harsh.

Of course they find out about you and Bill in the worst way possible, before you had a chance to explain yourself and warm them up to it, so when you looked up at your mom, you expected her to yell at you too.

But it didn’t happen.

As soon as she put her eyes on your pitiful self, her shoulders dropped and she sighed.

“What happened here, y/n?”

You could barely keep looking at her, so you just shook your head.

“Exactly what you’re thinking that happened, mom.”

You kept your eyes on your bare feet all the time while she walked closer. The mattress wavered when she sat by your side and took a while before she talked again.

“What exactly happened between you and Bill?” Patty asked once more.

Of course that your hurt expression made her heart shrink. Patty didn’t look angry anymore, just… Confused. Not that disappointed. Your full eyes flooded as soon as you tried to talk, so you cried instead. You cried into your hands because you’ve messed up things, again. First you pushed Bill away and when he came back you couldn’t make him stay. Because you were sure it was an end line. Bill and you dad were friends since they were kids and you didn’t think Bill was up to break it. Stan clearly wouldn’t accept his daughter and childhood friend to end up together, either.

You cried while thinking about what was happening somewhere right now. Maybe Stan had punched Bill, yes, although it’d be extremely out of character for him. But there was a chance. One thing was for sure, he was demanding Bill to stay away from you.

“Dove…” Patty scooted closer. “If you don’t talk to me, I can’t understand what happened.”

You understood she was asking for the “how”, so breathed in a lot of air at once and when you finally spoke, it was barely a mumble.

“Me and Bill, we… We were together.” You confessed. “Some times…”

Patty nodded, taking in the information, trying to remain impassive.

“Since when?”

“Since he came here.”

You rubbed the tears away, tring to put yourself together but sure it wouldn’t happen. You were for sure all red swollen eyes and nose, while your mother looked at you seriously, but also tenderly.

“So, let me get this straight,” she started. “When Bill came to escape from Audra until ther divorce process was done, you slept with him? ‘Some times’?”

“Yes.”

“And you did it tonight, too?”

You chuckled, bitter as gall. “Yes…”

“So he didn’t give up on divorcing Audra?”

Her question made you frown. “No…”

Patty sighed in relief. “Well, then Bill is on his way to be a divorced and free man to date another woman. That maybe makes things less… Messy.”

You just looked at her in utter confusion and she cracked a half-smile.

“Listen,” she sat sideway to face you. “I can’t tell you this is an… Appropriate thing to do, you and Bill, for several reasons that I know you’re aware of and understand. But I also can tell you’re already an adult, even if your father doesn’t see it sometimes.”

You snorted quietly and saw her smile widen.

“We tried too hard, waited a lot for you to happen, y/n, you know that. You know how overprotective your dad can be sometimes because of that, and how you’ll always be a little girl to his eyes. To mine too, of course, but I can see the reality better than he can. I can see you grew up and that you’re now a woman.”

“A woman who apparently makes bad decisions...”

“No, a woman who makes HER decisions. Decisions are never bad. They’re good or ‘for learning purposes’ ones, but never bad.”

You shook your head, helpless.

“So are you telling me that having sex with my dad’s best friend was a ‘for learning purposes’ decision?”

“No,” she also shook her head. “Only you can tell that.”

Now the sting in your head had turned into a full headache.

“What I’m telling you, dove, is that you make your own decisions. Your dad can’t deal with it sometimes and that’s one of the reasons he’s probably arguing with Bill somewhere right now, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a full grown woman now.” Patty stood up.

“I can help you to soothe your dad, but nothing beyond that. You know everything has consequences, and you must be ready to deal with them. Bill is a good man, y/n, but he’s a decision.”

Yeah, Bill was a hell of decision. Your mother didn’t get into the matter of how inappropriate that actually was. She didn’t called you out for the twenty-year difference and all the obvious rest and you were utterly grateful for that. She went deeper than the moral aspects and later you knew that she was trying to prepare you for what was about to happen.

When Stan came back you could barely see him. Your father walked fast past your door, took a quick glance inside but that was all and you heard when he went to his bedroom with your mother. For the whole sleepless night you hoped she was tried to calm him down like she told you she would. The next morning you could tell it somehow worked.

Your father didn’t yell at you either, but he also didn’t look at you.

Stan didn’t look, nor talked nor interacted with you in any way for a whole week and that made you wonder if you’d prefer him to yell at you. He had never gave you the cold treatment before and you would never expect it to hurt like it did. He didn’t give you a single chance to talk and solve things and under his dead looks you couldn’t even try to do it yourself.

That almost made you physically sick. That and being apart from Bill. Your thoughts insisted in drifting towards him and you waited for him to call or text you, but nothing happened. You felt too pathetic both to try to talk to your dad and to try to talk to Bill again. You considered numerous possibilities for his vanishing, from your dad breaking bounds with him, to he being mad at you for ruining their friendship and choosing to step away himself. That only made you sank more into your disgrace.

You mother was of course stepping in eggshells in between you two, but it was clear that, past the shock, she had chose to stood for you in her own passive way. And you could tell it was hurting her to see you and your dad shattered apart like that. She tried to initiate small talks at the dinner table but nothing made you and Stan warm up again. He acted like you weren’t even there until a week later, when the doorbell rang.

You heard it lowly through your earphones in your room but the noise became louder and you pulled them off. Hearing Bill’s voice made you rush into the living room just to find him still by the door clearly defensive while your dad argued with him, and your mom tried to reason. Argued, pointed a finger and everything, but not shouting.

Bill’s eyes ran from Stan to you as soon as you reached the room, but he didn’t smile at all. Not under you dad’s hostility, whose eyes followed Bill’s to see you standing there, knees weak for a reason you couldn’t understand very well. Something between fear and awe.

“Y/n, go to your room.” Your dad demanded, strictly.

“No,” Patty, intervened surprisingly firmly. “She’s staying here. I called Bill and told him to come and you’re all gonna talk like mature people, Stanley!”

“I won’t-”

“You’re being unreasonable, Stanley Uris!” She cut him off for your and Bill’s astonishment. “You’re gonna hear them, both of them. Right now.”

Your father snorted in anger, starting to walk in circles like you knew he did when something pissed him off.

“Okay!” He taunted. “Then explain to me, Bill, why did you sleep with my daughter! Why, when I offered you a place to stay, you went for my daughter behind my back!”

“I already told you but you’re pretending not to listen or understand, Stan!” went Bill. “I fell for her Stan!”

“Bullshit!”

You already felt dizzy in the middle of such chaos, so dizzy you leaned against a wall and squeezed your eyes shut.

“I love him!”

You didn’t perceived you were the one shouting now until you did and the silence came in. You opened your eyes to see all the other on you. They fluctuated from your dad’s disbelief, to your mother’s tenderness, and to Bill’s infatuation. And you looked straight at him when while you built courage enough to say it again.

“I’m in love with Bill, dad. And I’m putting my foot down.” You turned for him. “I love him, and I staying with him.”

Stan’s frown relaxed and you couldn’t read it as a good or bad signal, but he didn’t yelled again, nor even when Bill spoke up.

“I love her too, Stan.” He reasoned. “I know I’m not what you thought for her, but I love y/n.”

Your mother glance on you tried to remain neutral, but you could see her proudness hidden there. Bill was your decision and she seemed proud you stood for it.

“And, if you let me and please let me, I’m staying with her.”

Your dad seemed to be about to pass out or something like that, but he didn’t. He breathed deeply, taking his glasses off so he could squeeze the bridge of nose and relieve some tension.

“I-” he looked from you to Bill. “What do you expect me to think about this whole fucked up situation, Bill?”

Bill shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not asking for you give me p-pats on the back, Stan. I’m just asking you for a chance. I love your daughter, yes, and I promise you I’ll take care of her if you let me.”

“Mom’s parents didn’t like you, you told me once.” You said, standing straight again. “They didn’t accept you dating her for ages and I know you felt like… Like shit for that. Don’t you realize you’re acting exactly like them?”

Now you seemed to catch him off guard. His shoulders dropped when Patty agreed with a quiet hum.

“I’m not a child, dad. I can decide for my life alone if you let me. If you trust me enough to do that.”

You dad thought to himself for a while, remained silent and looking at you, but you didn’t dare to look away until he sighed.

“Yeah, fine.” He still sounded bitter, but a lot of weight seemed to be taken off your back instantly. “You can… Do whatever you both want with your lives, but please don’t ask me to act like I totally agree with it for now. And you,” he pointed at Bill. “Don’t you dare messing things up.”

“I won’t.” Bill said right away.

Your dad didn’t say any final words to you, but he looked at you at least before withdrawing himself to his room. You knew he wasn’t cool with everything at all, but it was progress. You wanted to think like that.

“I’m gonna.. Give you two some time.” Your mother said, before following him, and you couldn’t show her more gratitude through a smile than you did.

And then there was you and Bill, standing across from each other. He now seemed less stressed, but you noticed how the dark circles became darker.

“That-That was…”

“Don’t even try naming it.” You chuckled. “Seriously, did my mom call you?”

You approached each other and he had a smug smile on his lips that gave you those cheesy butterflies inside.

“Yes, she did. I always adored Patty.”

“Yeah, she’s the best.”

Bill leaned back so he could check the hallway before having his arms around you again. “So do you love me?”

You shoved his shoulder lightly and he laughed at your fluster while on your tiptoes, passing your arms around his neck.

“Shut up and don’t make me regret throwing a whole damn tantrum for you.”

“It’s okay, bratty. I love you too, y/n Uris.”

That made your heart skip a beat, for sure, but when Bill leaned in for a kiss you placed a finger between his lips and yours.

“No. You better don’t. Not here.”

He pulled back, nodding and mocking disappoint.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

I Need You

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader

Summary: The relationship through the years

Requested: No

Warnings: Swearing, just a lot of fluff, mentions of anxiety

A/N: This is probably the longest fic I’ve ever written I got a bit carried away so I apologise - sorry if any of the times/ages are wrong! Just go with it! I’m kinda exhausted writing this so I was trying to do the kinda basic maths in my head and it just gave me a headache but please excuse any issues with age that there may be! Also I’m actually really happy with this one and it made me hella soft writing it so I hope you enjoy! Please remember to like, comment, reblog, send asks and just let me know what you thought of it!

~~ 2008, Age 12 ~~

Y/N’s face was scrunched up with nerves as she waited for the bus to arrive. The previous two days her mother had driven her to school, Y/N too nervous to get the bus in. But then the boy who lived down the street had asked her during school why she didn’t get the bus to school like he did.

Y/N had shyly admitted to the boy - Michael, that was his name - that she was nervous about it.

“You came!” Michael’s grin was wide when he arrived at the bus stop. Y/N’s lips up into a nervous smile and she nodded mutely. “Here!” He thrust a bottle at her. “My mum gave me two orange juices and told me to give the other to Cal but you can have it instead,” Michael gave her an innocent smile and Y/N took the bottle.

“Thank you,” she said nervously but she clammed up again the moment the bus pulled into the stop. 

Michael bounded onto the bus before her, leaving Y/N behind.

“You coming, love?” The bus driver asked, a kind smile on her face. Y/N looked around her, noticing that she was the only child who had yet to get on the bus at her stop and gave an embarrassed, awkward nod of her head.

Her steps were shaky when she stepped onto the bus. She flinched as the door shut behind her. 

It was the typical kind of school bus, the exact same formation as it had been like at her old school at her old home town - the youngest pupils at the front and the eldest at the back.

Y/N was just going into year 7, as was Michael, so she knew that she ought to sit at the front but she didn’t know where.

It was the start of spring term, Y/N having moved house late in the year meaning that she didn’t know anyone other than Michael.

There were some empty seats next to other year 7s but Y/N wasn’t sure whether they’d allow her to sit next to them or not.

“Y/N! Come sit here!” She was relieved to hear Michael’s voice calling to her from one of the three seaters, where he was sat in the middle seat with a friend next to him at the window, an empty seat on the aisle. 

Y/N practically fell into the seat next to Michael, giving him a thankful, exhausted smile.

“This is Calum! We’ve known each other since primary school!” Michael introduced.

“Mike said he gave you my orange juice,” Calum said, looking to Y/N with a hurt expression and her eyes widened, her jaw slackening and she was quick to hold out the juice to him, not wanting to make any enemies in her first week. Calum looked at the bottle before his face broke into a wide grin, shaking his head. “I was just joking.”

“Y/N just moved here,” Michael informed Calum who nodded.

“You’re in my History class, right?” He asked and Y/N’s eyes flashed with recognition and she nodded.

“Yeah,” she confirmed timidly.

“You should sit with me!” He told her and Michael frowned.

“Why aren’t you ever that excited to sit next to me?” He accused his best friend and Y/N couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her.

~~ 2009, Age 13 ~~

“Everything sucks and I want to die,” Y/N looked at Michael for a moment in silence before nodding.

“This is why we don’t talk too much,” she informed him and Michael scoffed.

“So not the reason,” he grumbled.

“No the reason is that Y/N has other friends,” Y/N couldn’t stop herself from smiling when she heard Calum’s voice and she turned around, watching him take the final few steps towards them in the lunch hall.

“I still sit with you guys on the bus every day,” she pointed out and Michael pointed at her with his fork

“Good - don’t you fucking dare forget your roots,” he said through a mouthful of food, making Y/N wrinkle her nose in disgust and she looked over at Calum to see a similar expression on his face. “I’m the only reason you have friends here,” he insisted, shovelling more food into his mouth,

“I forget why I sat with you today,” Y/N said to him.

“Because you knew I’d be here?” Calum offered with a cheesy grin.

“Because we were your best choice since Sandy’s being a bitch?” Michael offered instead and Y/N stuck her tongue out at her friend. “How mature.”

“Fuck you, Mikey.”

“You were nicer when you were anxious all the time.”

Y/N was friends with Calum and Michael - for the first half of term that Y/N was at the school the boys essentially took her under their wing, showing her around the school and introducing her to new people. But after that Y/N made her own friends, a group that ran in similar circles to Calum and Michael but they weren’t one group. 

Despite that, though, they still sat together on the bus every morning and evening and her and Michael still walked to and from the bus stop together. Michael’s mum still provided Y/N and Calum with a bottle of something to drink on the bus in the morning and the three of them did still hang out together, just not as often as they had when Y/N was still a new student.

“Heard you’re planning on trying out for the football team?” Y/N mentioned, looking over at Calum, who had just taken a bite from his sandwich and he nodded, his eyes bright.

“Yeah! Next week!” 

“That’s amazing, Cal!” 

The fluttering in their chests was inevitable, really. 

~~ 2010, Age 14 ~~

Calum looked up, surprised when Y/N slid into the seat next to him on the bus. 

“Mike’s ill,” she said awkwardly. “It’s... I’m still okay to sit here, right?” 

“Of course it’s okay,” Calum laughed and Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at how adorable he looked when he smiled. “Has he just never been sick since you started here?” He questioned and Y/N shrugged.

“I guess so.” 

Silence fell between the two friends for a moment and then Y/N nodded towards Calum’s headphones.

“What’re you listening to?”

“All Time Low,” there was a pause before Calum asked: “want to listen?” 

“Is that okay?”

“You’ve not been this nervous around me since we first met,” Calum informed her and Y/N smiled, moving over into Michael’s usual seat, close enough to Calum so that they could listen to the music together.

“I like this album,” she admitted quietly.

“If you didn’t we’d have serious issues.”

Y/N smiled, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

“Thanks for letting me listen,” Y/N said when they pulled into school and Calum shrugged.

“I saw you haven’t have yours for a while.”

“Yeah - the dog chewed them up,” she saw Calum’s eyes light up at the mention of her dog.

“How is Alan?” He asked as the two of them got off the bus.

“Misses you, Cal,” she assured, giggling.

“I miss him,” Calum sighed longingly.

“You can come over any time and see him,” Y/N pointed out. Calum smiled at her and nodded.

“I might take you up on that,” silence fell between them as they walked together towards the school.

Normally by this point in the morning Y/N would have left Calum and Michael to seek out her other friends and the two boys would go to the music room or Calum would have an early morning team meeting for football.

But this morning was different - this morning, neither of them wanted to leave the other.

Without Michael there, it was easier to get wrapped up in one another’s presence.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Calum’s hands were playing nervously with the straps of his bag, refusing to look over at his friend.

“Yeah?”

“Would you maybe wanna see a movie together, or something?” 

“We’re going to see one with Mike this weekend,” Y/N pointed out, laughing a little. “You already asked me, Cal.”

“No! No, i mean... one without him?” Calum offered awkwardly, clearly feeling he had gone too far now to go back on his question. “Like... just the two of us?” Y/N stopped in her tracks, staring wide-eyed at Calum.

“Are you... Cal, are you asking me on a date?” He looked up at last to meet her eyes, anxiety dancing in his. Y/N began to feel her own anxiety building up in her stomach, which was strange, she hadn’t felt nervous around Calum since the day that they first met. “Because... Because if you were,” she spoke again when she realised that Calum wasn’t going to clarify what he meant. “I’d... um I’d like that.”

~~ 2011 Age 15 ~~

“So you’ve found a drummer now?” Y/N asked from her seat in the music room, where she was watching Calum, Michael and their friend Luke tuning their instruments.

“Yeah - Michael found him,” Luke confirmed, giving a shy smile to Calum’s girlfriend.

Luke had been introduced to Y/N a few months ago by Michael and Calum as the guitarist in the band they were forming and yet the two of them were still painfully awkward around one another.

Not for Luke’s lack of trying, he was putting a lot of effort into befriending Y/N but she was constantly nervous when it came to talking to new people, even those who had been so highly talked of by her boyfriend and Michael.

“He’s called Ashton,” Michael supplied before looking to Calum with an unimpressed look on his face. “Don’t you tell your girlfriend anything?”

“No,” Calum shrugged, a smirk growing on his face. “All we talk about is how fucking annoying you are,” Calum looked over at his girlfriend when she snorted with laughter, her hands flying to her mouth in shock from the noise she had just made.

Calum bit his lip to stop himself from laughing and shook his head, affection evident in his actions.

“Well when we hang out we just talk about how much she regrets saying yes to your date,” Michael countered, challenging Calum.

Luke looked over at Y/N.

“Are they...?”

“Yeah,” Y/N filled in nodding with a sigh. “They’re always like this.” 

“Only because Mike’s bitter that I asked out Y/N before he could,” Calum gloated arrogantly and Luke and Y/N burst out into laughter at the look of disgust on Michael’s face.

“Should I be offended that you’re that against dating me, Mike?” The young boy rolled his eyes.

“Whatever - girls have cooties anyway.”

~~ 2012, Age 16 ~~

Y/N was sat on Calum’s bed, watching him pack.

He was chatting away happily to her, eager to tell her all of his plans for exploring London while he was away. Telling her all about the plans that the band had for their debut album that they were planning on recording since their first single and EP had been such a hit.

His eyes were bright and sparkling with excitement as he continued to go on about all of his plans.

Y/N just watched and listened, nodding her head and making noises of agreement whenever it seemed appropriate.

Calum paused for breath, his cheeks flushed with excitement and he turned to face her, his smile so heartbreakingly wide.

“Isn’t it insane?” 

Y/N nodded her head, trying to muster up excitement. Because she was excited. Of course she was excited both for Calum and the rest of the guys.

She had known Calum and Michael since they were all eleven and being in a band, recording albums, touring was all that they had ever dreamed of and now two thirds of that was already coming true and they were only fourteen, fifteen and sixteen.

“I’m really happy for you, Cal,” Y/N confirmed, her voice gentle and a little sad. Calum’s face dropped into a frown and he sat next to her on his bed, his arm resting around her shoulder.

“Everything okay?” 

“Yeah I just... I’m going to miss you,” she admitted, resting her own head on his shoulder.

“We’re not going to be gone for long,” he promised her.

“Come on, Cal, you have to realise by now that you guys are gonna be big, right?” Calum snorted a laugh at that.

“Yeah, well, we’re never going to forget our number one fan.”

“You can’t, Liz is going with you,” Y/N deadpanned, pride filling her chest when Calum started to laugh.

“It’s going to be weird not having you there,” Calum mused. “Who’s going to tell Michael that he sucks on the daily?”

“It’s okay, Cal, an ocean isn’t going to stop me from ensuring Mike’s head doesn’t get too big.”

“Well there’s a relief.”

~~ 2013, Age 17 ~~

“That’s amazing!” Y/N congratulated, amazement and pride filling her chest.

The previous two months had been interesting for them to say the least, with Calum in London with the band song writing and collaborating with other, UK-based artists. 

Y/N missed him - of course she missed the band as well, the three boys who she had become close with since the band had formed and she had met Luke and Ashton, and Michael who she had seen every day since she was twelve - but she wasn’t ashamed to admit she had missed Calum the most.

It was strange. They were so young and yet, they had spent nearing three years of their lives calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend. Too young to know about love and yet... that was what this was. Love in its purest, most innocent form.

“I can’t quite believe it,” Calum admitted and even with an ocean between them on a crappy phone connection Y/N could hear his smile. See his expression.

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Want a confession?” Calum asked, just a hint of guilt in his voice but amusement being the overlying tone.

“What?”

“I haven’t told my parents yet,” silence fell over the line for a moment before Y/N burst out laughing.

“Cal!” 

“I’m sorry!” 

“Don’t tell them that you told me first or they’ll be so offended!” 

“I promise,” Calum chuckled.

“You’re still coming home next week, right?” Y/N asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two teenagers.

“Yeah,” Calum confirmed. “And on the tour we’ll be playing in Sydney and the One Direction guys promised that they could get you a good ticket.”

“Man... I can’t believe you’re touring with One Direction,” Y/N reiterated and she heard her boyfriend release a long breath on the other side of the line.

“Neither can I,” his voice was a whisper.

“Hate to be that bitch but... I told you you were going to be big.”

“Mum did always say that I should listen to you,” Calum teased, causing Y/N to let out a gentle laugh.

“You can repay me by getting Louis’ autograph.”

Y/N had been joking at the time, but she wasn’t particularly surprised when Calum returned a week later and brought out a prototype shirt for the ‘Take Me Home’ tour which had been signed by all five members of One Direction.

~~ 2014, Age 18 ~~

Y/N’s arms were around Calum the moment he stepped out of the airport gate. Her boyfriend laughed, dropping his bags to the ground and wrapping his arms around her waist, nestling his face into her neck.

“Shit, you’re really here,” she mumbled and Calum’s arms tightened a little. If Y/N didn’t know any better she would have thought he was crying.

“I’m really here,” he confirmed. Y/N went to pull away but Calum wouldn’t let her. “Just give me a second,” he pleaded.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want the fans to see I’m crying,” he admitted bashfully and Y/N laughed.

“Calum Hood? Crying?” She teased and Calum laughed, pulling back but only so that he could kiss her for the first time in months.

“Fuck off,” he mumbled, resting their foreheads heavily together.

“I like the hair by the way,” Y/N added. “Very punk rock.”

“You know what I didn’t miss you,” Calum said decisively, pulling away from her, but the smile on his lips contrasted his words entirely.

“I wasn’t joking! I do like it!” She promised, her hands reaching up to gently comb through the curls. Calum’s face softened and he ducked down to kiss her again.

“I’m so glad I’m home,” he confessed and Y/N laughed a little into his mouth.

“I am too - but I’m sure your family is as well,” she pointed out.

When Calum went to go greet his parents, Joy pulling him into a bone crushing hug, Michael’s arms slipped around Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her into his chest.

“Miss me?” He asked and Y/N laughed, turning around to hug her friend. 

“It’s so good to see you all again!”

“Is that us included?” Ashton piped up, looking over to Michael and Y/N with raised eyebrows.

“Not you.” Ashton giggled and walked over, wrapping his arms around Y/N and Michael, who were still hugging. Luke was swift to join in. “You guys stink!” Y/N groaned, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

“Bloody rude,” Ashton commented as the three bandmates released her.

Calum reached over and interlaced their fingers, pulling Y/N back to his side.

“You two ready to go for food?” Joy asked, a knowing look sent to the couple. Calum pressed his lips to Y/N’s forehead and nodded.

~~ 2015, Age 19 ~~

“I’ve missed this,” Calum admitted, the two of them walking down the road, their hands linked together, swinging slightly where they hung between them. Y/N’s dog, Alan, was bounding down the road in front of them, knowing the path to the park well, able to quite contentedly lead the way, the couple following him.

“Yeah? You over your rockstar life already?” Y/N teased, squeezing Calum’s hand and he let out a soft laugh at her question, shaking his head.

“You’re really annoying sometimes, you know? Like, honestly, every time I even try and be cute you have to go and ruin it.”

“You trying to be cheesy and cute makes me uncomfortable because you’ve always been a bit of a shit to me,” Y/N told him, a serious expression on her face, which cracked the moment Calum shot her an offended look.

“It’s one hundred percent the other way around,” Calum grumbled.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Y/N scoffed.

“You and Ash have been taking the piss out of me ever since you first got introduced,” Calum claimed.

“Yeah - thanks for introducing us, by the way. I love Ash,” Calum burst out laughing at her tone, tugging on her hand to bring her closer so that he could kiss her temple.

“I’d say ‘you’re welcome’ but I do think that it’s the dumbest move I’ve ever made.”

Silence fell between them again as they followed Alan into the park. The outing made both Y/N and Calum feel somewhat nostalgic - walking Alan together around the park was something that they had done as dates since they got together and before they were together Michael would also join them after school.

Of course, all the band had tagged along at some point or another when Y/N went to walk her family dog but it was Calum’s favourite thing for them to do as a casual date - Y/N was insistent that it was because he preferred Alan to her, to which Calum never responded to other than to laugh.

“I’ve missed this too,” she finally confirmed, gently squeezing his hand again. “Walking Alan’s just not the same without you.”

~~ 2016, Age 20 ~~

“I’m so in love with you,” Calum’s words were whispered into Y/N’s hair. Calum’s arms were wrapped tightly around her, keeping her safe and secure, as close to him as he could physically manage to keep her.

A secret between the two of them. So much of his life now was public, had been since he was sixteen. Y/N and their relationship was the one thing now that felt private, that made him feel safe.

Even his friendship with Michael, the one he had had for as long as he could remember, was in the public eye, no longer with the privacy of inside jokes to hide behind. 

He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he lost Y/N.

And he almost had.

Or at least, he thought he had.

Y/N had flown out to stay with him and the other guys on tour, having just finished university for the year and having the whole summer to do whatever she wanted, until she had to go back for the start of term in late September.

It was the first time she had been with him for anything other than the Australian leg of the tour and the two of them had been looking forward to it, planning it for months.

But it had all come crashing down so quickly.

Y/N wasn’t used to the same lifestyle as Calum anymore. She was used to the paparazzi following them around home occasionally, fans coming up and asking for pictures when they were together but nothing could have prepared her for tour.

Everything was publicised, all the time. Nothing felt private anymore. Y/N had never felt so exposed in her whole life and she despised it.

Y/N had panicked. They had gotten separated in a crowd of fans and Y/N had had a full blown panic attack, which Calum hadn’t seen happen because he was the other side of the crowd, taking photos. Ashton had found her and brought her safely back to the bus, where she had sat shaking with nervous energy, waiting for the boys to return.

Calum was the first through the door to the tour bus, rushing over to his girlfriend, eyes wide with worry as he tried to get a grasp on her mental state.

Y/N had assured him she was fine and Calum hated himself for dragging her into this kind of life, which she had never asked for.

“I love you too, Cal,” Y/N promised, nuzzling closer to him. They had taken themselves off to their bunk early, wanting to recover from the stress of the day. Normally they would at least pretend for a little while that they would be sleeping in separate bunks to avoid the teasing of their friends but they were both unwilling to leave the others side after the previous events.

“But... are you sure this is what you want?” Y/N rolled over so that she was hovering on top of him and if Calum hadn’t been caught up in his own thoughts and fears about their relationship he would be astounded by how gorgeous he thought she looked.

“Cal, I’ve loved you since we were thirteen... I’m not... of course this is what I want,” she settled on, leaning down to kiss him gently. “You’re what I want.”

“But this... this isn’t what you agreed to when we first started going out,” he pointed out, gesturing with his free hand around them at the tour bus and he watched as Y/N just shrugged.

“No - but it’s what I signed up for now, Cal... you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

~~ 2017, Age 21 ~~

“It’s nice that you’re finally taking a break,” Y/N mentioned, watching Calum bustle around his kitchen from her place sat on top of the breakfast bar.

Y/N normally did most of the cooking when they were together - she would joke about the only reason Calum inviting her down to spend her holidays with him was because she would cook for him.

But this morning, Calum had insisted on cooking her breakfast. Y/N had put up little fight and allowed Calum to do as he pleased, deciding on cooking pancakes for the two of them.

“Yeah - it gives us the time to actually properly think about this album, you know?” Y/N nodded in understanding. She knew how hectic the past few years for Calum and the band had been and she knew that they weren’t necessarily with all the songs they released as they could be had they just had a little more time.

It was also nice for them to be taking some extra time off and to themselves because it meant that she got to see Calum more with him flying himself to her university, her being able to get to LA and it was nice being able to see him so much.

“Okay, so I know it’s early to be asking this,” Calum stated, turning around with two plates of pancakes in hand. He stopped short though when he saw where Y/N was sat. “Can’t you just sit at a chair like a normal person for once in your life?” He sighed and Y/N laughed, moving off of the counter and taking a plate from Calum, pecking his lips.

“Thank you for breakfast,” she responded, sitting at the table. Calum rolled his eyes and sat opposite her.

“As I was saying,” he went back to his previous train of thought, shaking his head a little at his girlfriend’s antics, adoration swimming in his eyes. “I was thinking about us,” Y/N froze. She knew those words were almost never good. Calum picked up on her sudden nerves and reached over the table to grab her hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it as he knew always soothed her. “Nothing bad, baby, I promise. Nothing bad,” he prefaced and Y/N nodded, letting out the breath she had been holding.

“If you say it’s nothing bad and now break up with me I’m going to kick your ass, Hood.” She mumbled, listening to Calum start to laugh.

“What I was going to ask is if you want to move in together when you’re done with uni?” Silence fell between them for a moment and Y/N nodded hesitantly.

“I do...”

“Is there a but?” Calum asked, his heart sinking at her expression. Y/N grimaced a little.

“I’m... where would we live? I... I’m not sure I want to live in LA, Cal.” 

Calum moved his hand in hers so that they were holding hands more properly and he squeezed it gently.

“Hey, that’s okay - we’ll figure it out, yeah? Reach a compromise?” Y/N nodded again, a nervous smile forming on her face.

“Then yeah - lets do it.” Calum beamed, leaning right across the table so that he could kiss her.

The couple were broken out of their bubble by the sound of Calum’s apartment door opening and gasps of delight coming from his band members, who just regularly invited themselves around.

“Nice! You made pancakes!”

~~ 2018 Age 22 ~~

Y/N shifted from foot to foot in front of Ashton’s house, waiting for him to answer the door. 

She had gotten a call from Calum about an hour ago during work, imploring her to come over the moment she was finished because he missed her.

Luke had taken the phone from him pretty quickly and insisted she bring alcohol with her as they were running out at Ashton’s house.

As Luke spoke to her, Y/N could hear Calum complaining in the background, which had made her laugh. 

Calum always was a clingy drunk.

“Oh thank fuck you’re here!” Michael exclaimed, reaching out of the door and pulling Y/N inside.

“You good, Mike?”

“Cal’s being complaining about you not being here for hours,” Michael groaned, dragging Y/N behind him into the kitchen.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the scene in front of her. It had turned into a small party in Ashton’s kitchen. Calum, Luke, Ashton and Michael all had dazed looks in their eyes, their smiles slightly dopy and their laughs just a little too hysterical.

Sierra and Crystal were also in the kitchen, sat at Ashton’s bar with drinks in front of them, watching the band members in amusement.

“It’s literally half past five and they’re hammered,” Y/N stated, joining the two girls, who laughed, nodding their heads in agreement.

“They were smashed after the first video,” Sierra contributed.

“Well... Mike and Luke definitely were,” Crystal mused. “I think Cal and Ash hung on until the second.”

“Y/N!” Calum’s voice broke through the room and Y/N turned around, raising her eyebrows at her boyfriend, who had raised his arms, eyes bright in delight as they fixed on her.

“Cal you’re in the middle of filming!” Y/N pointed out.

“I don’t care! Come here!” He pleaded but Y/N shook her head.

“Not drunk enough for that, babe,” she told her and Calum’s eyes slipped over to Sierra and Crystal, pointing at them seriously.

“Get her drunk so she’ll come on camera - need to show her off,” Calum took another drink and Y/N turned back to the girls.

“Okay at what point do we need to cut them off?”

~~ 2019 Age 23 ~~

“You okay?” Y/N asked when Calum flopped onto the sofa next to her on the tour bus, resting her free hand in his hair as she continued to scroll through her phone.

“Yeah,” Calum sighed, nuzzling closer to her. “Glad you’re here.”

“I promised, didn’t I?” Y/N pointed out, gently running her fingers down his cheek. “Couldn’t let you spend our anniversary alone,” she teased.

“I’m sorry we’re stuck on the bus for it,” he sighed but Y/N just shrugged.

“I don’t mind, Cal - plus, lets be honest, even if we weren’t stuck on the tour bus, the guys would find a way to crash our plans. They always do.”

It was true. Calum and Y/N had never managed to have an anniversary where it was just the two of them. Every year at least one of them would crash it and invite themselves along to whatever it was that the couple were doing. When they moved in together they had been hopeful of spending a quiet anniversary together at their home with just Duke for company.

It had been a vain hope and both Luke and Ashton had invited themselves along to their movie night.

By this stage, Y/N and Calum were pretty much certain that they just did it to annoy them.

This year, Y/N had booked off two weeks from work months in advance so that she could join Calum on tour and Calum when he was looking at the dates for the tour had done his best to ensure that they could spend their anniversary in a hotel rather than on the move so that they could go on a real celebration to a fancy restaurant.

Unfortunately, at the last minute there had been a change in the tour and more dates had been added, meaning that they were spending the night of their anniversary on the tour bus, Calum having spent the day doing promo with the band and the Chainsmokers.

“Yeah I know,” Calum sighed. “Guess I just wished this year had been different,” he admitted. Y/N’s smile softened and she put her phone to the side, ducking down to kiss him.

“Nine years, Cal - that’s quite a while,” she mused and Calum nodded in agreement. “Having any doubts?” She teased and Calum reached his hand up to curl around her neck, ensuring that she remained close enough for him to kiss her again.

“With you? Never.”

~~ 2020 Age 24 (almost) ~~

Calum’s arms wrapped around her from behind, his face nestling into the crook of her neck.

“What’re you doing up?” He mumbled.

“Jet lag,” Y/N sighed, relaxing back into his arms a little bit.

They had only recently flown back home to their LA apartment (Y/N had given in to his pleads for them to move to LA, understanding that it was where Calum needed to be) from spending the time with their families in Australia.

“Could’ve woken me,” he told her and Y/N chuckled lightly.

“I know - but you need sleep, Cal,” she turned around in his arms, wrapping her arms back around him. 

“I need good sleep - I only sleep well with you,” he told her, not a hint of untruth in his voice, just telling her what he honestly felt. “Been an issue since we first shared a bed when we were sixteen.” 

“Sorry to ruin your sleep like that,” she giggled when she heard Calum’s breath against her neck, laughing.

“What were you doing anyway?”

“Just on Instagram,” Y/N shrugged. “Looking through my tagged.”

“Anything interesting?” Calum asked, practically dragging Y/N over to the chair situated on their balcony, sitting down first and pulling Y/N on top of him in an attempt to keep himself warm.

“Everyone wishing us happy anniversary,” Y/N told him.

“Our anniversary was months ago,” Calum pointed out, blinking his bleary eyes to focus them on her screen.

“I haven’t been on in a while,” she admitted. “Stalked you for a bit as well.” She mused. “Liked the post you put up for our anniversary,” Y/N added and Calum chuckled.

“You really haven’t been on in a while.”

“It was cute,” she told him, turning around and cuddling closer to his chest.

“Thought you were gonna hate me from putting up photos from when we were fourteen.”

“As Mike would say,” Y/N cleared her throat. “I would never forget my fucking roots,” she said, a poor imitation of Michael’s accent sending Calum into fits of laughter.

“That was awful,” he told her as he tried to catch his breath aain.

“It made you laugh,” Y/N shrugged, looking up at him, a softness in her eyes that was reserved purely for him.

Calum felt privileged in the knowledge that it had been for him and only him to see ever since they were fourteen. To know that no one else had ever seen that look directed towards them.

“That’s all I ever really want to do,” she promised.

“I love you so much,” Calum whispered. He took her hand and placed it over his chest. “This beats for you,” he brought the hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to each finger and went back to kiss her ring finger again. “We’ve been together almost ten years and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“Cal...”

“This isn’t an official proposal,” Calum prefaced, shaking his head. “Not yet - the ring isn’t ready yet,” Y/N’s eyes widened and Calum’s lips perked up at the reaction. “Didn’t you think I was going to propose?”

“I mean, I guess,” Y/N shrugged and Calum kissed her, their lips moving together in a way that was so comforting and normal for them.

“So it’s not an official proposal until I get the ring,” their foreheads were pressed heavily together, breathing into one another’s mouths. “But I just needed - need - you to know that I want to marry you. And...” Calum trailed off, seeming to loose some confidence.

“Whenever you’re ready, Cal,” Y/N vowed, kissing him again. “Whenever you’re ready to ask, I’m ready to say yes.”

Before you go: If you enjoyed this fic and want some more of it, check my blurb masterlist under 5sos blurbs and there you can find any spinoff blurbs I have done for this fic :)

[jisungffs]

coffee breath - felix.

words: 5.1k

reader: gender-neutral

genre: fluff

tags: best friend!felix x aromantic!reader, coffeeshop au, non idol! au, implied lgbtq!felix, minho is a minor character, minsung is mentioned. this whole thing is strictly platonic, none of this is meant to be romantic. just a cute fluffy fic honestly. the end has a little tension but not a lot.

warnings: THIS WHOLE THING IS PLATONIC, DON’T READ IF YOU WANT ROMANCE, swearing, multiple descriptions of food.

requested by @aritodla​, check her out, she’s an amazing artist and a really sweet person overall. 

Lee Felix was a sweet boy. He had kind eyes, freckled cheeks, and an air of infectious happiness around him. He always tipped generously, he never got angry at the staff, and he always cleaned up after himself. Lee Felix was a sweet boy. And it was a shame all you knew about him was his first name and his coffee order.

 Even though Felix only started visiting your coffee shop a few weeks ago, you could tell he was a genuinely nice person. Everything about him was lovable.

Like the way he always said thank you after you took his order. 

Or like the way he gripped his coffee cup with both his hands when the weather was cold.

Or the way he had a billion stickers on his laptop, adding a new one every week.

Or the way his eyebrows furrowed when he wrote something down..

Or the way he nodded along when he heard music he liked.

Lee Felix was a sweet boy. And even though you didn’t know much about him, you really wanted to. Because Lee Felix was sunshine. And you were in need of warmth. 

It was a sunny day — one where it was warm enough to find solace in cafes and under the awnings of fashion stores, but not warm enough to make you want to curse out everything around you. The perfect weather, really. It was on this day that Lee Felix decided to wear his Twice t-shirt. It was barely noticeable — just a little white logo on the breast. It looked like a regular black tee from a distance. But you noticed. Because not only did you want to get to know Felix, you were also a huge fan of Twice. 

Felix gave you his usual order of a cappuccino and a chocolate scone and went back to his seat.  Felix liked Twice! You wondered who his bias was. Or what his favourite song was. It was really cool that Felix liked Twice right? You finally had something in common. 

You drew a little Twice logo on the coffee foam. You didn’t even realize it. It was pretty usual for you to draw about what’s on your mind, and your cafe didn’t exactly have strict rules about foam art. 

Felix was once again on his laptop today. You could recognize the colourful sticker-covered laptop from a mile away. His brows furrowed as he typed away, only getting up to collect his order. He was back in his seat and was about to continue whatever he was doing when he noticed the logo on his coffee, drawn on foam. His eyes widened slightly, his mouth broke into a grin. You noticed him getting his phone out and taking a picture before you had to attend to other customers.

-

It was a windy night. Felix was already in the cafe by the time your shift started, and was peacefully nibbling on a muffin while doing something on his laptop. His eyes never left the laptop screen. He checked his phone from time to time, but never spent more than a few seconds on it. From the looks of it, he was unaware of everything outside his screen and his table. 

The closing shift never had a lot of customers. It was just Felix, you, and a couple of regulars in the little cafe. 

And the regulars had already left by the time you were done cleaning up. It was five minutes until closing time, and Felix was still there, probably not knowing he was the last one there. You knew you had to tell him he had to leave soon, but you didn’t know exactly what to say. You weren’t the best at the closing shift.

You approached his seat awkwardly. “Excuse me…? Sir…?”, you said tentatively before gently tapping on the table.

Felix jumped slightly at the interruption. He quickly looked around the cafe. “Oh”, he said smally, “Am I the last one here?”

“Yes, and the cafe’s closing soon”, you said with a patient customer service smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t even realise”, he laughed. “I was working on some music and I guess I got carried away”

“Well,”, you struggled to find something to say,” If you like to sing, we have live music on Fridays”

What was that??? Who says that??

“I’ll keep that in mind”, he laughed, shutting the tabs on his laptop. 

His phone screen played the Fancy MV, connected to headphones lying on the table. He was probably streaming it, and your mind raced at the conversation starter.

“You’re streaming Fancy!”,  you said without thinking. You immediately cursed yourself for not spending more time thinking about what to say. He barely knows you, for god’s sake.

Felix didn’t seem to mind. “You like Twice?” Felix said with raised eyebrows and a goofy grin.

“I do”, you replied, mirroring his grin, “Chaeyoung’s my bias.”

Felix's eyes widened. “Wait a second!”, he said,  “Were you the barista who drew the logo on my coffee yesterday?”

“That was me!”, you said laughing.

---

It was a sunny day - the kind where you technically could go out, but it was just a lot more comfortable staying inside. You started mixing Felix's drink as soon as he came to the counter. Felix looked pleasantly surprised. “Guess I don’t have to order anymore”

“I mean,” you said with your eyebrows raised, “You do have to try other drinks at some point, you know? You’ve ordered the a cappuccino and a chocolate scone everytime you came here, and they’re not even that good”

“Hey!” he cry-laughed. “Don’t you dare say that about my cappuccino.”

“By the way,” you added, “I think you’ll like the music today”

Felix raised his eyebrows. His lips quirked up when he realised a lo-fi playlist of Twice songs played through the speakers. 

-

It was an average day -- the awkward phase between afternoon and evening, the weather so ordinary there was nothing to comment about it. Felix shaked his head as he reached the counter and saw you start to make his drink. “Oh I’m not having that today”

You raised your eyebrows, “Oh?”

“Yeah”, Felix said, fixing his posture and smirking. “I’ll have a black coffee, please”, he said in an over dramatic voice.

“Brave today, are we?” 

“Yes, and”  he said like a child boasting about his most recent tag game, “I won’t add any sugar to it”

“Oh boy”, you sighed, shaking your head.

Five minutes later, Felix’s (black) coffee was ready. Five and a half minutes later, Felix’s black coffee was at his table. You watched as he took his first sip.  His entire face scrunched up at the bitter taste. He noticed you looking at him. He gave you a thumbs-up, still wearing the most pained expression known to man. Felix should not drink black coffee.

It was a windy day, the thick grey clouds above threatening to spill over during the night. Felix apparently wanted to prove a point, seeing as he once again ordered a black coffee (no sugar).

“But you hated it yesterday!”

“Clearly you didn’t see the thumbs up”

“Yeah, I was too busy looking at the agony on your face”

He pouted, “But I want a black coffee~”

You sighed. “This will be your villain origin story”.

Not surprisingly, Felix had the same expression of disgust as soon as the black coffee touched his lips. Still not surprisingly, he kept up the cool-edgy-guy-who-drinks-black-coffee schtick.

-

It was a cool yet humid day - the most polarising weather possible. It was a lonely afternoon with hardly any customers in the coffee shop. It was a weekday afternoon, after all. Felix came into the store wearing a black hoodie and a smug grin.

“Please don't tell me you want a black coffee”, you said even before he fully got to the counter. The boy clearly hated the bitterness, but wanted to prove a point anyway. 

“Hey, this was your idea!”, he laughed.

“We have more than cappuccinos and black coffee, buddy. We don’t have to go into the extremes right away”

“Well I’m hoping that if I keep drinking the black coffee, I’ll get used to the disgustingness.”

You shook your head and laughed. “Tell you what,” you clapped your hands together, an idea hitting you. “I’ll play around with some ingredients and make you something I think you’ll like.”

“Ohhhh”, Felix said. "That sounds fun"

"Yes and maybe it'll help me add drinks to the menu too", you grinned.

"I shall not show you mercy, O worthy opponent". Felix spoke with a British accent, bowing to add some flair. 

You played around with steamed milk, vanilla syrup, espresso, chocolate powder, and sugar. Plus whipped cream for good measure. A few minutes later, the drink was ready. Felix came up to the counter and looked at the drink in mock apprehension. 

"I call it the Felixir", you said, . "Get it? Like Elixir?"

Felix let out a laugh. 

“I know. It’s dumb. But!”, you said, "I played around with a bunch of stuff I know you like. It has chocolate, espresso, whipped cream and some other stuff. I have no idea how it tastes, but my barista senses told me this would be nice".

"I trust your barista senses". Felix took a sip of the Felixir.  Whipped cream made a button on his nose. Felix's lips curved into a smile. His half-moon smile shined through. "Your barista senses rock", he said, punching the air.

"Do you like it?"

"I LOVE it. I don't know how you got my favourite ingredients so spot on."

You laughed. "Barista instincts, my friend". 

Felix took another sip, holding the cup with both hands.

"Anyway," you continued, "this one's on the house. You deserve it for enduring the black coffee".

"This is so much better than black coffee", he babbled. "Black coffee has so much caffeine in it?? I was practically vibrating all of yesterday". 

"Black coffee is for people with a lot of shit to do and not enough energy to do them", you agreed. "This one has espresso too, and also a shit-ton of sugar, so you might still vibrate today, just letting you know."

"I'll take being a popular kid's iPhone if it means I can have whipped cream and caramel and the other stuff".

-

It was a sunny day. Ladies in sundresses waited for their dates outside the cafe. 

“Not a lot of people here, huh?” Felix commented.

“It’s a weekday afternoon, what do you expect? Only teenagers on their lunch breaks come here. And you, for some reason”

“How could I stay away from my favourite barista?”

You rolled your eyes. “Since you’re here anyway, let’s talk. I’m bored.” Was that too blunt?

“Cool, what do you wanna talk about?”

“The meaning of life, God, or Twice. You pick”

“Trick question, Twice is God and the meaning of life”

“You’re too smart”

Felix stroked his hair back, “I know”

You roll your eyes. “What are your favourite songs by them?”

“Literally their entire discography, but Fancy or TT if I had to choose”

“Fuck yeah. Those songs are queens”

Felix looks at you approvingly. “We should hang out sometime”

-

It was a clear day. Trees danced around in the wind. Another afternoon where there was hardly anyone in the little coffee shop. Felix ordered his Felixir once again with a cheery tone. You spent some time cleaning up the kitchen and rearranging the items on display. Felix was waiting near the counter once you got done, absent-mindedly checking his phone. He put down his phone and gave you a bright smile when he noticed you coming back.

You smiled back. “What’s the occasion, bub?”

“Nothing, I’m just a little bored and I wanted to hang out with you”

“Well, there aren’t a lot of customers so I guess that works out perfectly”

“How’s your day going so far?”

“It’s pretty boring, to be honest. Maybe I’ll watch a movie when I get home. My shift ends in like half an hour.”

“Whaaat? I was planning to watch a movie too! I live right upstairs, actually”

“Really? That explains why you’re always here”, you laughed.

Felix laughed back. “I have nothing to do today”. Felix gave you an expectant look.

Oh. 

“Me neither”, you said casually. “Do you think we should watch something together?”

“Yes!” He giggled. “I know I’m not the best with invites, but  I’m glad you picked that up”

“Honestly, I’m surprised I got that. I’m really awkward with invites too”

“More reasons to be friends, then”

“We live closer than I thought, by the way. I live across the street. It’s a five-minute walk.”

That afternoon was a pleasant one. Breeze played with the little children on the street. Felix and you were sprawled on the couch, mindlessly watching the trashy movie on TV. An orange cat ㅡ his roommate’s apparently ㅡ decided to laze around on Felix’s lap, his hand absentmindedly stroking its soft fur. 

“Why are early 2000s movies so much more dramatic than they need to be?” Felix commented.

“Right? I remember watching this as a kid and it wasn’t half as bad”, you replied

“So it’s true then. Adulthood only makes things go downhill”

“Hey now you’re the one being dramatic”

“Wrong, I’m always dramatic”

“Your apartment is pretty nice, by the way.”

“Thank you. You’re free to come over whenever”

“Won’t your roommate mind?”

“Not really. Minho’s out most of the time and he brings over his friends all the time too.”

You smiled. “Hey also,”, you said. “Since we live pretty close by, we can hang out at my place some time too!”

“That sounds great”, he smiled widely.

-

It was a cool day. Most of your patrons huddled themselves in hoodies and cardigans. Felix ordered his drink before giving you a curious look. “Did you come to the cafe yesterday?”

“No, I didn’t have a shift. why?” you asked, slightly thrown off.

“Oh that explains it”, he said, “I came in yesterday and you weren’t there. The other barista didn’t know how to make my drink. Or even what it was, actually. And," he paused, "I missed talking to you”

An embarrassing smile crept up your face. “That’s so sweet”, you said, barely audible.

Felix was about to walk back to his table when you said “Hey actually,”

Felix turned around. 

“I downloaded a really awful movie yesterday. Wanna make fun of it together at my place?” you said, just a little hint of nervousness in your voice. “My shift ends soon. But like, you don’t have to if you’re busy or something, we can always-”

“I’d love to,” he smiled. 

The evening was breezy as you and Felix laughed over the hilariously, excruciatingly bad movie.  Felix and you bonded very fast, apparently. Felix was resting his head on your shoulder. It felt so… natural. It was effortless. And comfortable. It was as though your bodies just did what felt familiar to them. You felt Felix’s body shake every time he laughed. You added sarcastic retorts every now and then, Felix joining too. The movie was terrible. But this moment with Felix was beautiful. 

-

It was a breezy summer day, about a month after Felix came over.

 Loving Felix was easy. It was second nature. Felix just clicked with you. The line between friends and best friends blurred quickly. And based on how much he spammed you with messages and how much he visited the cafe and how diligently he memorized your schedule and how many times you hung out,  he loved you too. 

Your phone buzzed.

felix:

are we doing anything today?

 maybe

im in the mood for hot dogs i think

oooooo should we go to the park then?

yes !!

after my shift sounds good?

yesss

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

You used to find those emoticons cringey until Felix started using them. Now, it was just fucking adorable.

(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

The park was a few streets away. It was a big one. Preteens ran around and played frisbee with their friends or their dogs or their parents. But the two of you luckily found a park bench ever-so-slightly away from the noise and the chaos. 

As you sat there talking about nothing and everything, you quietly took in Felix's features. His skin was radiant in the setting sun. His freckles, darker from the sunlight, looked like little flecks of chocolate. His eyes lit up whenever he talked about music. Or cooking. Or you. His cheeks rose and fell with his words, his eyes crinkling up when he smiled. 

It was a beautiful moment. You lay your head on Felix's shoulder, half lost in thought. The sun painted the park in a subtle shade or orange. The kids around the park laughed and jumped, being loud and being kids. Felix had stopped talking by then, too busy taking in the sunset. His head rested on yours, your hands almost touching. It was a beautiful moment. But moments with Felix were always beautiful.

-

It was a cold night. You snuggled into your blankets, intently watching something on your phone. 

Your phone buzzed. Felix sent you a meme.

you:

???????? why are you awake

it's 2am

go to sleep

why are YOU awake ????????

im watching something 👉👈

im just reading fics and stuff akdkkdj

what kind of fics 👀

they're fluffy stop making everything dirty

i can't stop me (by twice)

sjskksksjjd

oh also

do you make the brownies and stuff?

or is that someone else

in the cafe i mean

that's me babeyyyy

why tho

i like them :D

:"D

baking w you would be fun 🥺

🥺🥺🥺

im good at baking

and so are you

but maybe we should yeet away the recipes and do whatever

baking is supposed to be precise tho :(

if it fails we eat the cookie dough and erase the whole thing from our memory

nice

i mean

im supposed to be precise with the cafe stuff too but the Felixir wouldn't exist if i followed the rules

now you're getting it

when are we doing this?

buddy

we live five minutes from each other

just come over whenever

fuck planning

im *this* close to straight up giving you my keys

me too tf

hell yeah

also this isn't distracting me from the fact that you need to sleep soon

i feel kinda sleepy actually ngl

sleep.

okay 👉👈

gn !! ily

and please sleep soon aksndn

ily2

 okay :]

-

It was a clear, pleasant afternoon, your curtains swaying in the breeze. The smell of freshly made cookies wafted through your apartment. Felix sat on top of your counter, his legs swinging. Felix took one of the newly-made cookies into his hand and regarded it intently. “Looks pretty good so far. It’s a little bit hard but that’s obvious, we added a lot of ingredients and didn’t adjust the flour properly”

“So much for experimentation”

“We did add a lot of fun stuff though, so my money’s on it tasting good”.

You both bit into a cookie. It was… alright. It wasn’t bad, but you expected it to taste a lot better or a lot worse. You both gave each other disappointed smiles. “Underwhelming.”

“But hey! It wasn’t bad!” Felix added.

“True. Still thought the cookies would be more… more. You know?”

“I know. But who cares about that?” Felix put his arm on your shoulder, “Making this with you was the most fun I had in a while and I couldn't care less what they ended up tasting like.”

You let out a small smile. “I love you”

“And I love you”

You looked up at him. His soft brown eyes were warm with affection.

“Now,” Felix continued, “The cookie dough’s gotta be better right?”

You laughed. “The cookie dough is chocolate sludge at this point”

“Yeah, maybe using M&Ms as chocolate chips was a bit much”

“Probably. But let’s race. Whoever finds the most M&Ms in the dough wins.”

“I already know I’m winning”.

-

It was a drizzly night. Streetlights reflected on the wet asphalt outside Felix’s apartment. Felix and you had decided to have an impromptu sleepover. It was almost 3am, both of you slightly delirious from the caffeine and the staying up. You were yelling at the TV, desperately trying to get your character to do something, damn it. Felix just smirked beside you, his character easily attacking yours. He was choosing not to kill you quickly, which was almost more annoying than dying straight away. It wasn’t long before Felix won the game. You pouted in annoyance.

“Maybe I should start killing you quickly so you won’t be loud and Minho won’t yell at us for making noise”

“This game sucks”, you pouted.

“You’re just new to it. Did you know you can do twice as much damage if you press B after you attack?”

“Really?”

“Yeah! And do you know how to dodge?”

“No” you said like a kid admitting to breaking something.

“Why did you make me skip the tutorial?”, Felix laughed.

“The past is in the past, Felix. How do I dodge?”

Felix spent a few minutes teaching you which buttons do what and which attacks are effective when. It only took a few slightly frustrating runs before you almost came close to beating him. Maybe he was going easy on you, but that didn’t matter. It was fun. 

“You are learning, my protégé”, he said approvingly.

-

It was a chilly evening. Old white sheets lay spread out on your bedroom floor, your furniture haphazardly moved to the living room.  Felix had texted you earlier that day, promising to help you paint your room. You were almost done painting half a wall when you heard his familiar deep voice. “Hey! Missed you.”

“Missed you more”, you smiled.

“What do you need me to do? How may I be of assistance?” he curtsied.

You rolled your eyes. “Just grab a paint brush and do that wall over there. Just make sure it's even and don’t get any on your clothes.”

“You say that with a million paint splatters on you”, he laughed. 

Felix got to work. Neither of you really talked. It seemed that Felix was lost in thought, letting his hands do the painting. But it was fine. Because moments with Felix were always beautiful, even the silences. 

You were finished with your first wall when you decided to play calm music on your phone. Soothing guitar chords filled the silence. 

It was hard to keep track of time. Five songs? Six songs? Maybe an hour? Both of you had made a lot of progress with the walls. It didn’t matter.  What did matter was Felix. Halfway through the third or fourth song, you noticed Felix singing to himself.

 It was barely audible, he probably wasn’t even aware of it. But his voice was soothing. And soft. 

You had never heard him sing before. You wished you did. You could listen to it forever. Felix’s singing voice felt like sweaters and cozy winter days. 

You didn’t say anything. You knew he’d be embarrassed if he knew you noticed. But the rest of the painting session gave you butterflies, to say the least.

-

It was a chilly day. Felix was hunched over his stovetop making ramen while you dramatically read out a fanfic to him from the table. You just finished the kissing scene when Felix let out a disappointed sigh.

“I know right?” You commented.

“I don’t get it. Don’t you think they’d make way more sense as just friends?”

“Waaaay more sense. I feel like the kiss scene is just so unnecessary.”

“I don’t get why writers think everything should have romance in it. I mean, love is friendship right? I mean, for me, it is.”

Your heart stopped. A smile crept up your face. You continued reading out the fanfic, but you didn’t focus on it at all. Because Felix said love is friendship. Love is friendship. Love is friendship!

-

It was a cold night. You were all bundled up in bed with a hoodie and a blanket. Felix was on the phone with you, refusing to hang up despite being half-asleep.

“Seriously Felix, you can’t even keep your eyes open”

“Mm. But I want to talk to you”, he yawned. His half-asleep voice was deeper than usual and very quiet.

“Alright bub. What do you want to talk about?” You started to feel sleepy too. 

“I don’t know. Maybe how amazing you are?”

You laughed. “Fuck off”

“No but… your hair is so soft. And your coffee is really good. And you’re awesome. What the heck. I love you.” he said. He spoke slowly. You could tell he was almost asleep. 

“I love you too you beautiful bastard”

You were met with the sounds of soft breathing.

Felix was very endearing when he was half-asleep. 

-

It was a rainy day, rain knocking against Felix’s living room windows. Felix shared a blanket with you atop the couch. You leaned on Felix, your head on his chest. His heartbeat  synced with the rain on the window. Felix’s arm draped your side. Both of you focused on the movie in front of you. It was a good one so far. The plot was well written, and the actors were doing a good job. 

A door creaked open behind you. Felix and you turned to look at the source.

Felix's roommate, Minho  entered the living room. He looked well dressed in a leather jacket and chunky black boots. "Do you think Jisung will like the jacket?", he asked Felix.

"He's gonna love it", Felix replied, smirking.

“Alright, I gotta go”, Minho said, picking up his umbrella and walking to the door. He looked at you. “Sorry we couldn’t talk today, y/n, but have fun with your boyfriend”.

He was already out the door before either of you could protest. Felix looked at you awkwardly before turning back to the TV. Felix was not your boyfriend. And clearly he wasn’t very comfortable being called that. To be fair, neither were you.

 “I’m sorry about him”, he sighed. Both of you looked everywhere but each other.

“Don’t be," you said, “ I know people think we’re dating because we’re comfortable with each other and stuff.”

“Right. But hey, you’re my best friend and you always will be.”

You smiled. “You too”.

It was nice being best friends with Felix. Everytime you’ve been this close with someone, they all seemed to expect more. They all seemed to expect romance. But that just didn’t work for you. Romance was weird.

You’re my best friend and you always will be. 

Felix wouldn’t mind, would he? Probably not. But what if he’s mad you didn’t tell him yet? What if he thinks you don’t trust him? Or maybe his whole view on you will change and maybe he won’t like you after that. What if that happens?

You’re my best friend and you always will be. 

You’re his best friend and you always will be. It’ll be alright. It’ll be harder the longer you wait right? 

What if he really will be mad at you though? He’s your best friend, why haven’t you told him yet?

A mere few seconds passed before you shifted off his chest. Felix sat up, sensing your tension. He paused the movie. "Y/N?"

Fuck it. It’s too late to ignore this now. You looked into his eyes before turning away.  “I’ve been holding off on telling you something.”

Felix’s voice filled with concern. “Tell me.”

You took a breath, trying to keep yourself from panicking. You were too nervous to look at him. “Minho joked about us being together and I know neither of us see each other in a romantic way, but I just… I don’t know why I haven’t told you this yet. But… it’s not just you. I don’t feel romantic attraction to anyone. I’m aromantic.” 

Felix put his hand on your shoulder and moved closer to you. Your thoughts were still racing, your heart rate still high, your breath still shaky. You were still too nervous to look at him.

You kept going, “I haven’t told you this. I know. And I’m sorry. But you’re still my best friend and I hope you don’t think I don’t trust you or something. I love you, okay? I just… I guess I just don’t like coming out. But I just had to today for some reason. I’m sorry if this makes you view me differently.” You thoughts were still racing after you said what you wanted to say. Your hands shook slightly.

And Felix noticed all of that.

He put his hand on top of yours. “Y/N”, he said gently.

You hesitated, then looked at him. His eyes were warm. His smile was understanding - the smile of someone who’s done this before. The smile of someone who’s already dealt with the emotions you were having. He gently pushed your head back onto his chest. “Breathe with me.”

His chest raised as he took a breath. You closed your eyes and took a breath too. He let it out in a few seconds. So did you. He took in another breath. 

Felix spoke softly. “Coming out is hard. Even if it’s to someone you love. What you just did there takes so much courage. And I’m so, so proud of you. I love you so much. And our love doesn’t have to be romantic for it to be deep. I love you. And nothing will change that.”

You buried yourself in his chest.

 His chest rose and fell with every breath he took. You breathed with him. His heartbeat was calming. 

 I love you. And nothing will change that.

“Thank you.” you said. “For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Felix?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it weird?”, you said quietly, “That we’re always so close together? I really like being with you. And hugging you. And cuddling you. But I won’t do it if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No. It’s not weird. Not to me. I love this. And we can do this all day long without it meaning anything more than friendship.” Felix gave you a forehead kiss. “Besides,” he said, “What good are best friends if they don’t give you hugs?”

You hugged him tighter. “I love you so much”

“I love you so much too.” His voice was warm and kind and understanding. You didn’t bother holding back the tears. 

Lee Felix was a sweet boy. And Lee Felix was the sun, giving you warmth and love and reasons to wake up. Lee Felix was a sweet boy. And the universe was a thing of beauty to let your love shine through.

a/n: this took a really long time to write bc of personal stuff im sorry, but this req made me realize i was aromantic skaskdlkdlk :’D. remember my requests are open so feel free to request stuff from me and i’ll try not to take eight years to do it. take care yall

[samwrights]

I’m sorry but ukai with a breeding kink😳yes PLEASE

I swear I saw another ask that asked for Ukai with an impreg kink

*ahem* anyways—WOW this one was a doozy but holy shit did I have fun writing it. 11k words you guys. 11. K. It is a lot so grab some cocoa or coffee and a blanket because this is a read. It even has to be split into two parts because I hit the fucking text limit, BUT this also means there is no actual smut in this portion. You can find that here.

If you guys need some ear candy, I recommend the following:

Day N Nite (Crooker’s Remix) by Kid Cudi

Pursuit of Happiness (Extended version with Steve Aoki) by Kid Cudi

Breaking Me by Topic

C’Mon by Ke$ha

Flannel by The Cardboard Swords (it has to be sad somewhere)

Magic in the Hamptons by Social House

Fun fact: Ke$ha was actually the primary inspiration for this fic and for DJ!Ukai. God bless her.

Warnings: language, nicotine and alcohol consumption, implied drug use, implied emotionally abusive relationship, breeding/impreg kink, dirty talk, rough sex, risky sex, road head, slight dub-con, praise, multiple smut scenes, 3rd person POV reader-insert—because the word ‘you’ just didn’t seem to fit.

Without further ado, please enjoy the filthy depths of my brain followed by a relatively happy ending that I’ve titled, “Between the Lines’” :-)

“You’ve been more tired lately, and you’re showing up right when practice starts. Is everything okay?” Was the question that Takeda had asked Ukai Keishin that haunted him for years to come. Sure, he had wanted to gain more independence from his parents, wanted to start being more adult-like and take over the mortgage and the bills so his parents could finally rest. At the age of twenty-six, it seemed like a good idea at the time. With four years passing, however, Keishin was so damn tired, but it wasn’t like he could just stop working.

He was still tending to crops every morning, tending to the shop, coaching for Karasuno, but in the four years time, he had adopted one more job on the weekends—Ukai Keishin was a local nightclub DJ. He’d discovered the job opportunity one fateful night that he was out with his friends from the neighborhood association. To this day, he was still unsure of why he was approached with the job, especially considering he didn’t know the first thing about being a DJ, but the woman who had offered him the position had taught him everything he needed to know.

It turned out that he had a natural affinity for the position, seeing as he was still at it years later under the alias Spira. Ukai kept telling himself that he would quit the gig eventually because there was no way he could continue working four jobs—it was inhuman and the money didn’t even really matter to him. Okay, that last one is a lie; his DJ gig has been a substantial contributor to his savings funds to the point where he was even able to afford a newer, larger, (and slightly) used SUV in full compared to his tiny, old yellow beater. Even his mortgage bills were starting to look less daunting with the current cash flow.

Who needs sleep anyway? Ukai survived and thrived off of nicotine and caffeine anyway. Besides, sleep was the last thing on his mind whenever he set foot into the club. It was impossible to think of anything other than the writhing bodies of sweaty, young adults that were already drunk or high or were practically fucking each other with their clothes on. Perhaps that was part of the reason Keishin felt the need to quit this job—he was envious. Envious of the fact that he never got to indulge in his youth like these kids did; he started working and helping his family out right away after college. Sure, he went out here and there, but these twenty-something-year-olds were living their best life, while he was thirty and catering to their whims.

To say he was a bit bitter would be an understatement.

Bitterness aside, however, it did him good to see the youth enjoying exactly that—their youth. They got to do as they pleased between exams and becoming functioning members of society and, while he was jealous, Ukai was proud to be able to contribute to their pleasure.

He’d arrived to the club early, as he often did, to try to grab a drink before he was due for stage time. Ukai was thankful the bartenders knew him enough that he didn’t have to verbally order considering the music was too loud to hear him in the first place. A rum and coke manifests itself in a small, plastic cup that the blonde raises in thanks before weaving and bobbing around the various partygoers. For the most part, he’s successful in dodging the flailing bodies as he mutely notes the very upbeat remix of some female pop artist playing.

But only remotely successful as Keishin attempts to salvage his drink from spilling as he raises it over his head as one of the partygoers is pushed into him. “Hey, careful!” He snaps toward the younger, [hair color]ed woman. She only looks half-offended by the scolding, but otherwise unperturbed. If anything, the dominating expression on her face was confusion.

“Coach Ukai?” He’s surprised to hear both his given name and his title, let alone coming from a club patron, as they all knew him as Spira. Recognition slips his mind entirely—he’s never met this girl in any way that he can remember. Certainly, he would never forget crossing paths with this beauty, even if she was dressed in a similarly juvenile fashion to the other ravers. Tight crop top tee cinched together by a knot at the midriff, with army green high-waisted shorts attempting to cover the bare skin, face painted with makeup, glitter, and sweat; even underneath the garb, she brought forth no recollection. “Uh, d-do you remember me?” It’s a challenge to hear over the music, but she presses forward close enough that her lips are right in Keishin’s ear.

“Can’t say that I do,” he yells right back into hers.

“Karasuno class of twenty-twelve, I was Sugawara’s girlfriend.” Oh.

Oh.

Now he remembered, vaguely, but he doesn’t ever remember her looking like this. The last four years had been incredibly kind to her, in more ways than one. Back in her Karasuno days, [name] had always looked pleasant, for lack of better term. But there was always a lifeless, matted, dull glaze to her eyes that screamed she was searching for something more. While it was still somewhat present, there was a substantial joyous air around her. It looked good on her. However, as much as Ukai wanted to stay and admire, he had to go get set up for the evening. Or rather, that was the excuse he used when he said he would catch her after the show. “[name], did you know who that was?” The woman in question gives a nod, confused at the sudden star struck gawks that her friends held.

“Uh, yeah? My ex-boyfriend’s volleyball coach?”

“No dude, that was the DJ, Spira.”

“What?”

Being the closing act meant a lot of different things to Ukai Keishin. On the negative spectrum, it meant he was going to have to tend to crops as soon as he finished cleaning up his set. That also meant he wasn’t going to get to go to bed until nearly eight in the morning after his shift at the farm. Yet, for him, the positives greatly outweighed the negatives. For Keishin, watching the audience lose themselves in euphoria, albeit probably a drug-induced one, just hit different for him. It was a sense of satisfaction that only came from a select few activities, with coaching volleyball being the other major contributor. There was just something about the way the crowd was overwhelmed and screaming the second underground remixes of old Kid Cudi tracks with his own twists overtook the speakers that granted Keishin a sense of enlightenment.

For him, being a DJ allowed an audience to flow and vibe with the journey of his life and all its constant up and down motions while under the guise of anonymity. As Spira, Ukai opened up the complexity and conflicting feelings of his inner mind and brought it to fruition through his mixes. He felt that in his soul, he’d done his art of storytelling justice. The audience felt it. Hell, his mom at home probably felt it. Perhaps it was one of the main reasons this dingy, hole-in-the-wall club kept asking him to come back every weekend.

His mind wanders further as he clutches an electronic cigarette in his hand, mixing beats on the turntable while taking hits of nicotine in between. He wonders if the girl he had ran into just a few minutes prior had been frequenting here as often as he had. Then, thinking back to what little information she supplied earlier, Ukai’s mind drifts off to the former third-year setter from when he first started coaching. Sugawara was a nice boy with a firm, almost parental, hand that walked dangerously along the lines of being a partner and being a control freak. When it came to his relationship, things had to go his way. And while his girlfriend that came to every tournament was much more outspoken yet easy going, she was opinionated and didn’t shy from confrontation.

Now that the coach had given it more thought, it was a wonder that one tolerated the other at any point in time. If anything, Ukai imagines the two of them would typically be at each other’s throats. From the few times he had interacted with her, she was always more free spirited and couldn’t be weighed down by any one else’s opinion, but seeing her now was different—she was in her element in the dingy, dark club with the glitter on her cheekbones refracting light off of her face. There was laughter and true, unabashed joy on her face. She had a light of her own—like she was ray of sunshine in the center of a storm.

Three hours past midnight when the club closed was always Keishin’s sign to leave, regardless of the countless attempts to attend the after party he’d been invited to. He had to go to work, after all. Sure, a part of him had always been a little green with envy at all the DJs that got to hook up with club patrons after, but after being at this gig for a few years, he figured that the right girl for him would eventually come to him if he continued working on himself. After all, he didn’t want to just have a string of one night stands with a bunch of fresh adults that could barely function after the small drop of Malibu rum—he was too old for that.

“Uh, coach?” [name] felt strange calling him that, but she didn’t feel familiar enough with him to address him otherwise. He was halfway in his car, the blonde ready to leave for the weekend to go back to his regular day-to-day work. “You coming to the after party?” [name] asks when Keishin only looks at her in question, cigarette hanging betwixt his dry lips.

“No, I actually have to go to work right now.”

“Oh,” she doesn’t mean to express her disappointment, but it slips anyway, “guess I’ll catch you later then?”

“Uh, yeah.” A tight lipped hybrid of a pained grin and grimace crosses her wet, gloss covered lips. Without another word, Ukai closes his car door, a little more brusquely than he intended to, before backing out and leaving the young woman to her own devices. His mind wanders once again with him humming absentmindedly to the soft acoustic punk playing over the car radio. His eyes are focused on the passing greenery, the cars that are weaving and bobbing off the freeway—hell he even noticed the way the tendrils of the sun are just barely starting to peak over the horizon because it reminded him of her. A thought he banishes immediately because he feels creepy for even thinking that.

Yet no matter how much scenery flitted through his honey eyes, his mind keeps traveling back to one thing, or rather one person, only.

Goddammit.

On Monday’s practice, Ukai Keishin’s mind is flooding and drowning in memories of his first year as the volleyball club’s coach. It was as if his mind was coercing him to attempt to reach out to the girl that plagued his mind for the last forty-eight hours or so. Though, he had no way of contacting her. Instead, with every step along the wooden floors, he can remember the way she would walk Suga to practice, almost physically seeing her standing in the doorway to kiss the third-year setter goodbye. As if he could see her sitting underneath the third window from the left, quietly doing homework and exchanging small talk and airy laughter with Kiyoko and Daichi. As if he could see the same sunny smile she gave in the audience from Saturday night at the club between the lines of the woodwork in the floorboards.

It was a repeating pattern day in and day out that was beginning to make Ukai question his sanity.

“Hey, man,” his assistant coach and fellow Karasuno alumni, Tsukishima Akiteru, places a hand on his shoulder and looks at him in worry. “Are you okay? You’ve been out of it all week.” In what world did a week translate into three days, the older blonde coach didn’t know.

“I’m fine, just tired,” Keishin all but bites back. He didn’t want to admit his conscious had been running rampant with thoughts of a girl he’d briefly met at a club. It felt almost as disturbing and perverted as it sounded in his mind.

“The team’s worried about you. Why don’t you take an early weekend and get some rest? We’ll see you back on Monday, yeah?” Normally, Ukai would have vehemently refused. However, his circumstances were far from normal and he was gracious for an assistant coach he trusted wholeheartedly to do the work that needed to be done. And so, Ukai heeded Akiteru’s advice and went home before practice even began on Thursday afternoon.

It was slightly disorienting for him to go home and nap, but he was incredibly thankful for the gift. Waking up just before he was technically supposed to start his shift at the shop, Keishin jumps into a cold shower to bring him to life before heading downstairs. A bellowing yawn passes his lips through his teeth as he starts his evening. Maybe his team was right—he really did need a break. Thankfully, he knew that the second the doors to the Sakanoshita were locked, he was done for the evening and wouldn’t need to reawaken until three the following morning. Just a few more hours until then, he thought.

With it being a slower evening as well, Ukai was able to kick his feet up on the counter as he always did, pull open the newspaper from earlier in the morning and casually flip through. Briefly, he considers giving up one of his four jobs because this was something he missed doing. But consideration aside, he was far too in love with the cash flow and the thought of paying off his mortgage to entertain the thought for long. Maybe one day, he would finally sell the Sakanoshita store or quit helping on the farm—

“You still work here?” Huh. Her voice sounds different when it isn’t drowning under the speakers of a nightclub.

“I do own this place, you know.” Ukai snarks at the woman who’d been consuming his brain for the last week. She looks different without glitter reflecting off of her unreal cheekbones or the heavy layers of foundation and eyeshadow. Even more than before, Keishin definitely recognized [name] now. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Shopping,” she snorts as if it were the most obvious thing, “why else would I be at a store?”

“Dunno, maybe you’re just here to see me.” Ukai responds without skipping a beat, turning the page of the paper to play into his guise that he wasn’t the slightest bit surprised at [name]’s presence.

“Uh...actually...” her voice is quiet, prompting the coach to quirk a brow and fold up the paper he was now pretending to read. It wasn’t like he could focus on anything right now outside of the woman standing before him, spearated only by a thin counter. Without talking again, his brown eyes lock with hers, silently goading for her to continue speaking. “I-I just...I don’t know. It was just really weird to see you at the club and then to find out that you’re Spira on top of that. I haven’t seen anyone from Karasuno since I graduated and—“

“Woah, kid, breathe.” Ukai interrupts her before she can continue spewing word vomit at a hundred miles an hour. “So what if I’m Spira? Though, you better not tell anyone that. My stage name is a secret between us, alright?” For a moment she’s quiet, gears turning in her head. The secrecy didn’t make sense to her because, if anything, he should be proud of the fact that he’s rather well known in the underground electronica scene. Or at least, she was in his stead, because [name] would have been proud of Ukai regardless of whatever occupation he held.

She supposed it came with the territory of having an unrequited crush on the coach years ago, that continued well beyond high school and even university, back when she was still dating Sugawara Koushi. It was the reason she had even bothered to come sit in on his practices and partially the reason she would come to his tournaments and matches. Not that she didn’t want to be supportive of her then-boyfriend—it would have been a fight had she not—but seeing the hot older coach was definitely a bonus in her book. “But why?” She offers, not wanting conversation to end despite her not having actually bought anything.

“If the school ever caught wind of me doing that, I could lose my position as the coach. Some shit about Karasuno’s image or whatever.” [name] gives a small nod, fidgeting subconsciously, as an attempt to shake her nerves and anxiety, by sifting through various candy bars that were in front of her before grabbing her favorite. Without a second thought, she peels the wrapper before placing the candy between her lips, the puffy pink skin greatly contrasting the chocolate coating. “Ya gonna pay for that, kid?” Ukai irks, his honey brown eyes steeling over in irritation. The nickname she’s given hits the final nail on the coffin and seals away [name]’s trepidation. Instead, her own sass comes out to join the fun.

“Nah,” she hums playfully, the chocolate-covered wafer cookie crunching between her teeth. “Quit calling me kid, coach. I’m a lady,” the irony isn’t lost on either of them as she speaks with her mouth full.

“Still a kid, kid. And quit calling me coach, I’m not your damn coach.” The familiar, grumpy attitude of his brings [name] back to the Ukai she knew back in high school. In a mix of nostalgia, warmth washes over her as the haughty tone in his voice sent shivers down her spine like it did a few years back.

“Sure thing, coach,” she teases again before tossing the wrapper of the stolen candy bar into the nearest bin. “You’re at the club tomorrow, right?” The question adds a bit of context and confirmation to Ukai—it seems she knew when Spira was performing, meaning she must have been a patron for a decent amount of time. Part of him wonders how she never realized who he was before, another part wonders how he’s never noticed her considering she could make all traffic stop if she stood in the middle of a freeway. At least, that’s what looking at her did to his heart.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe this time, you’ll join us at the after party.” Without another word, [name] pushes herself away from the counter she’d been leaning on while talking to the blonde man. With Akiteru giving him the weekend off, he actually entertained the thought of attending this time. Even if her invitation was rather blasé and indirect, he didn’t see the opportunity of him attending one presenting itself any time soon. He may be old, by his own standard, but there was a unknown allure to the thought of showing up to a wild party with a woman that was so adamant of his attendance.

Or rather, adamant in his mind. Whether she actually wanted his company remained to be seen, but the curiosity was gnawing at him, and was something he would have to unearth sooner rather than later.

Having an entire night, or a day’s worth, of rest was a rather disorienting, yet pleasant feeling for Ukai. After tending to crops and returning home in the early hours of the morning, the blonde coach was able to catch a solid nine hours of sleep before his shift at the Sakanoshita store with another chance to nap before he needed to head to the club. Despite knowing he had the ability to do so before another restless night, his mind felt the need to keep him awake and alert. Even after showering and styling his blonde tresses into their usual mane—mundane acts that usually came to him automatically—he was hyper aware of the slightest unruly flyaways.

Ukai Keishin was nervous.

He didn’t know what to wear or if there was a dress code or if anything he typically wore would be deemed worthy of an after party. A part of him wanted to leave it alone and let him sport his usual white track pants and tight, maroon muscle tank, but that part of him immediately drowns in the ocean of his anxiety. Another string in his brain prompted him to dress up just a little bit to help him look the part—it had nothing to do with impressing a certain club patron, no—he tried to convince himself. A miserable attempt, but still one nonetheless.

Eventually, he settled on crisp, dark-washed jeans that hugged his muscular legs without being suffocating, paired with a vibrant, crimson muscle tee that hugged his biceps all the same. Ukai still felt a little out of place in the attire, as he often had back when he first assumed the alias Spira, but headed out the door of his apartment before his conscious could dispute it.

He was early again, even more so than normal. Desperate for a drink to calm his nerves and replace his blood with liquid courage, Ukai worms his way around to the bar, signaling the attendant for his usual. Rum and coke in hand, the DJ stands off to the side, hiding like a wallflower, while he studied the sweaty, dancing bodies. Did he know why he was looking for her—no. Maybe partially to tell her she owed him for the candy bar, maybe to tell her he was joining in on the after party this time around.

Maybe to just see her.

Keishin banishes the last thought with a shake of his head before skulking off to the attached patio to smoke. Pulling a cigarette from his pack and a lighter from his pocket, the flame torches the end of the filter at the same time the blonde inhales. Forcefully pushing the smoke out past his lips, Ukai takes a hearty sip of his drink until it’s nearly gone. He was going to need something stronger tonight.

“Is it that time already?” The older man’s head snaps to the voice that had been haunting him subconsciously.

Part of him wishes he didn’t look.

As if to play into her question, [name] checks the large, rose gold watch on her right wrist—an incredibly stark contrast to her outfit for the evening. Maybe it was a hunch when Ukai felt that he had been underdressed, as if his intuition knew that she was going to be dressed to the nines in a black skater dress. Even with a modest neckline, the lace cut out detailing on the sides of the dress accentuated her curves impeccably, playing well with the volume of the skirt, while the open back she was sporting dipped dangerously low.

It took everything in Ukai to not throw every milliliter of restraint and inhibition out the window and fuck her right then and there.

Taking a lengthy drag of his cigarette to hold himself back, Keishin inhales deeply, the smoke billowing past his lips emerging densely and grey in color. “I’m a little early—needed an extra drink today.” The man manages to choke out, downing whatever is left in his little plastic cup for added emphasis.

“Need another?” [name] chirps politely; almost too politely as if to deliberately dispute the salacious thoughts flooding the coaches mind.

“I can get—“

“I owe you anyway,” she reminds him, alluding to the candy bar she had eaten without paying for from the previous night. “Pick your poison.”

“Double rum and coke.” He concedes. [name]’s lips twitch upward slightly at the corner before she plucks the empty cup from Ukai’s hand. He doesn’t miss the way the shellac on her nails grazes against his skin, leaving the whispers of contact to run warm. Immediately, the blonde man uses the nearly dead cigarette between his teeth to light a fresh one—heaven or hell knows he needed the nicotine right now.

Given the silence, Keishin takes the opportunity to absorb his surroundings. From the general direction that [name] initially came from, she wasn’t around any of her friends or really anyone that he knew. That was good at least; there wasn’t anybody else that knew of his presence. [name] returns, two clear plastic cups in her hands and surrenders the darker of the two to the man awaiting. “Hold mine for a sec?” Without thinking, Keishin holds his cigarette between his left index and middle fingers, his drink in the same hand, while taking hers. To his surprise, she pulls out her own pack of menthols and a torch lighter, setting the leaves ablaze before taking her obvious vodka cranberry back.

“You took up smoking?” The older of the two asks in surprise, noting the way her lipstick leaves the slightest bit of residue along the brown filter. [name] gives a shrug.

“Surprised you didn’t notice it sooner, coach. I’ve been smoking since second year.” Ukai gives a roll of his eyes at the use of this strange pet name he’s been dubbed by her. But he thinks about it, thinks about how Suga must have felt probably knowing that she did. Thinks how it just added to this strange, sassy yet happy, wild and free exterior she now had. And [name] notices instantly the very same look Ukai had in his face when he was trying to strategize, trying to figure out a way to navigate a conversation with his team about becoming better—she knows what’s coming next. “Yeah, yeah, I know I should quit or whatever. Suga lost that argument a long time ago.”

“Can’t really tell you what to do when I’m just as guilty.” Ukai gives a laugh—one that is embedded with bitterness and envy at the mention of the third-year setter—yet is just as vivacious as he is. A sound entirely different than she’d ever heard leave his lungs before. She likes it.

After finishing his smoke, Keishin gulps down a hefty swig of his drink before patting [name] on the shoulder before announcing his departure. “I’ll see you inside,” the girl, woman, calls out thoughtfully as she gives a small wave with her cigarette filter between her fingers. Ukai doesn’t verbalize the same sentiment. He doesn’t want to slip up and admit he’ll be looking for her.

But it’s painfully obvious that he is when he takes over the booth. Unable to hide the fact that with every chance that he looks into the audience, he’s searching for that black skater dress that hugs her all too perfectly, [hair color] locks swaying as she moves in the crowd. Ukai can’t hide it at all—not behind the turn table or new remixes meant to get the crowd moving.

He can’t hide the urgency he feels to find her outside in the crisp evening air, smoking on the back patio of the club after his set. [name] is talking and laughing with her friends while thin grey smoke billows from her open mouth before her eyes land on him. Some of her friends take notice to the tension and their shared gazes, some of them whispering his alias in excitement. But [name] just smiles knowingly, if not a little cocky, because she can see that urgency, that desperation, that Ukai was trying to hide. “Wait, [name], do you know Spira?” A bystander asked. Clearly, they weren’t present the last time this was brought up.

“Yeah, I may have met him once or twice,” the woman in question snickers as she strides over closer and closer to the aforementioned DJ.

“Cute,” Ukai sneers teasingly at her jab before instinctively reaching for the half-gone cigarette she pulls to her stained lips. At first, she thought he was going to put it out, considering their little conversation from a few hours ago. Instead, the volleyball coach puts the filter to his own lips, noting the damp fabric probably from her freshly applied lipgloss, and takes a drag. It tasted like watermelons and mint.

“Cheeky,” [name] returns, plucking her cancer stick back from the blonde man. While her friends are still behind her murmuring about the familiarity between the two of them, Keishin and [name] are lost in their own little world. “So since your set is over, and considering you’re still here, I’m assuming you’re joining me for the after party? Or do you have to go to work again?”

“I told them I’d be out of town this weekend,” Ukai tries to play it off as nonchalantly as he could, ties to swallow it down his nerves with rum and nicotine. It proves rather difficult considering the coy smile on [name]’s face is wearing and cracking through his resolve rather quickly. But at least, to him, he could confirm his mind was not playing tricks on him and [name] was just as adamant about his attendance as he initially thought. Even more so with her next statement.

“Cool. Your car or mine?” It took him a minute to process her words even—lust thickening and constricting the flow to his brain at the vague question. Ukai was getting far too ahead of himself, but goddammit how could he focus when the fabric of her skirt hit her mid-thigh and framed her like a Venetian goddess—“I don’t mind driving there.” She adds to coax him away from his silence.

“Nah, I got it. We’ll take mine.”

“Lead the way,” [name] chimes sweetly as she wraps an arm around the coach’s forearm. The physical touch is everything he’s been fantasizing about for the last few days—hellfire and brimstone and sunlight and goddammit why did he wear jeans that were only getting tighter and tighter?

Ukai opens the passenger door to his SUV, supporting the woman as she clambered in cautiously so as not to stumble from her heels. Getting settled in, the coach surrenders his unlocked phone to allow her the entirety of his music library. The irony of the DJ surrendering DJ rights to the passenger was not lost on either of them. Much to his surprise, [name] put on soft acoustic punk as he usually did on his way home from the club. The kind of softness one would turn on to accompany the fragile pitter-patter of rain against the windshield. “Cardboard Swords?” Ukai asks in surprise, more than familiar with the band.

“Flannel is a favorite of mine. I’m kind of surprised it’s in your library.” She adds after she begins directing him to this evening’s party location. From the corner of his eyes, he can see the way her full lips are moving along each word with expertise. He sees the way her [eye color] orbs soften slightly and he can tell this song hits home for her.

She’ll never say why—she’ll never tell him this was the song that helped her move on from Sugawara Koushi while restoring her inner peace.

But Keishin is no fool. He can tell that this is physically hurting her—crushing her soul into the leather seat of his car and, instinctually, he wraps a large hand around hers that’s resting in her lap. “I came out tonight to have fun with you, so don’t you go getting sad on me.” He means each word with innocent intent, yet he cannot ignore the almost hidden, salacious drip to each syllable and neither can she. How could she when his touch sent volts of electricity through her skin?

“Right, right,” she says in a conceding tone, switching the audio to something much more upbeat and a little flirty. “Why did you agree to go out tonight?” If Ukai had an answer, then it died on his lips as he let go of [name]’s hand to reach for another cigarette. The process of lighting the tube, inhaling, and exhaling bought him an extra minute to come up with an excuse; her doing the same giving him another thirty seconds.

“I don’t know.” It’s a blatant lie—a lie that [name] believes all too easily—but Ukai can’t bring himself to admit the truth. He can’t admit out loud that she’s the only thing that’s been on his mind all week or that he jumped at the opportunity, created one even, to be able to have a one-on-one moment with her. Keishin can’t admit that he can tell there are intricate webs spun in her mind and that all he wants to do is untangle them one by one.

And he certainly can’t tell her that even the mere sight of her sends his brain into overdrive and all he wants to do is repeatedly fill her over and over with his seed until she is entirely his, inside and out in mind, body, and soul. There was no way in the nine circles of hell that Ukai Keishin was going to admit to his sinful thoughts.

“It’s just up here.” [name] points with gaunt fingers, cigarette between them as her voice is half choked from inhaling her own smoke. Mirroring the man’s actions earlier, she indulged in her own nicotine habit to quell the budding disappointment from Ukai’s lackluster response. They drove up a slight winding hill and as the trees pass by, the itch for her truth and her history was gnawing at him. He wanted to know why this rambunctious party girl invited him all week to these elusive after parties. Why Flannel ate away at her insides like it did his. Why did her and Sugawara breakup?

But he decides against it for the moment.

“Where are we?” Ukai asks. There’s cars all lining the sides of the road of varying worth—he felt even more out of place than normal with his older SUV, even if it was an upgrade for him, considering the large number of luxury vehicles.

“Bevelle’s house.” [name] says simply, pointing to an empty space in the streets as she throws the butt of her cigarette into the road. The casual way she name drops the owner of the club makes him gawk, catching flies in his mouth had there been any at the hour. With a satisfied, cheesy grin, she hops out of her seat and walks in the grass to meet Ukai on the other side as he clambers out of the vehicle as well. In familiarity, she grips into his forearm once again as they walk towards the forest mansion.

Keishin wasn’t sure what to expect when the two of them walked in, but a home full of people screaming his pseudonym and her name was not on that list. Younger hordes had surrounded [name], greeting her warmly and telling her how glad they were to see her again for the evening. Others were approaching Ukai, telling them how rare and a momentous occasion that the infamous artist Spira was amongst their midst.

“Glad to see you could join us, Spira.” His boss and club owner, Bevelle, approaches the mismatched couple. Bevelle was an alias used by the middle aged woman, her real name unknown to those that didn’t know her know her, and was once upon a time her stage name. While she had chosen a quiet location in the Miyagi prefecture, Bevelle was quite known in the underground scene. Granted, Ukai didn’t know any of that when he’d taken the job. If anything, it was all thanks to her that he was able to learn for his own success as well as granting him the opportunity to learn in the first place. “Good to see you too, trouble.” Bevelle affectionately goes to muss at [name]’s hair, to which she only replies with a cheeky grin.

“How do you know Bevelle?” Ukai presses his lips towards the ear of the woman still hanging onto him as she expertly leads the way to the kitchen. The car ride left her feeling slightly uncomfortable, ashamed even though she would never admit to that, and she knew she definitely needed a drink after it. Part of her was heavily rebuking herself for trying to pry into his mind by asking why he came along, even more so when she put on the one song that shattered her heart every time she heard it. It just excited her that he had it in his library, that he even knew who The Cardboard Swords were, and that he enjoyed the same obscure taste in music as much as she did.

“She’s a close family friend!” The chirp that [name] gives isn’t entirely convincing, like she isn’t telling the truth. Regardless, Ukai washes down his doubt with the beer he was handed, figuring she probably had her reasons. And as soon as the plastic is in each of their hands, [name] downs the contents immediately, hoping to drown out the nerves ebbing from her stomach with vodka. She should have been ecstatic—her old high school crush, her unrequited crush, was here with her, drinking side by side but she can’t help but feel the tension between them—sexual or otherwise.

Just as the two of them down their second round, a piercing voice cuts through the thicket of the masses, calling out her name and capturing her attention. “It’s your song! Come on!” A shrug and a smile crosses [name]’s features as she’s all but dragged away to a different part of the mansion. Much to his surprise, she grabbed onto Keishin to drag him along as well.

The two of them are presented with a myriad of sweaty, rolling bodies—much more gone than Ukai had ever seen at the club itself. It was oddly...sensual, if it could be called that, to see the fluid movements between party goers. Sensual, intimate, strange—all of them could be used interchangeably at this moment.

[name] is dancing with another woman, mouthing all of the words to the current pop song while bobbing and jumping around excitedly before her eyes lock on his. She’s in her element now. All sunshine and smiles like Ukai had seen from on occasion from years ago or most recently at the club, but they’re directed at him for once as she pulls him closer onto the dance floor. The taunting beats and repetitive call of “come on” and the way [name] loosely wraps her arms around his neck as she dances brings Ukai to the realization that this was the end of the line.

The end of the line, because Keishin can’t hold himself back anymore.

Not with the way her hips are grinding against is and she’s laughing warmly and heartily at his slight discomfort and her teeth are glittering off the lights in the dark room like stars in the night sky. Not with the way her head is thrown back and her dress drops low enough to flaunt the expanse of bare skin of her neck and collar bones that are just begging him to sink his teeth in. Not with the way her [eye color]ed orbs are locked with his as she sings along with the music, oddly enough alluding to some form of confession of her feelings.

He can’t fucking take it anymore.

The large hands he has on her hips move just under her arms to hoist her up, [name] instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist to keep her balance. Their eyes are locked, honed in on each other with the rest of the party melting into the background. With her deepest, most wild high school fantasy driving her actions, she grins. “Hi,” is all she says before Ukai cranes his neck back to cover her lips with his.

His kiss is everything she imagined it would be after years of pining. The smell and taste of smoke and wood floods her senses as his tongue laps at the watermelon lip gloss on her bottom lip before seeking refuge within her mouth. His hands, now wrapped around her thighs give intermittent squeezes, either to keep them grounded in reality or just because he needs something to clutch at—she’s unsure of which. In response, her manicured fingernails tangle into his messy blonde locks. Their kiss pours out their desperation, laying it all out on the table for the both of them to see clear as day.

The only thing that prompts them to break apart is the ending of the song.

“You wanna get out of here?” Ukai asks as he tenderly puts [name] back on the ground. As if he weren’t just making out with her moments ago, the motion is delicate and gingerly and almost loving.

“Not yet,” there’s a knowing, smug lilt in her voice as she turns on her heel and throw herself back into the throng of party people. Or rather, attempts. While she’s attempting to flee, Keishin snatches her wrist, pulling her closer until their chests are flush against each other.

“Nuh uh,” the blonde man tuts, “you’ve been asking me to join you at a party all week, now here I am. The hell makes you think you’re leaving my side tonight?” [name]’s grin only grows wider.

“I’ve waited for years for this opportunity, coach, so if you think I’m not gonna have fun with it, you’re dead wrong.” The word ‘years’ constricts the man’s heart—forces his pupils to blow into dilation with her modest, yet blunt confession.

“Years?”

“Years,” she repeats, “ever since that first practice you stumbled into the Karasuno gym as the temporary coach. Why do you think I came to every single exhibition match and tournament? Or came to study and do homework while you guys had practice?” This girl was grinding at every steel line of self-control that was left in Ukai’s body because every word spilling past her lips added an additional ten volts to the sexual tension between them.

“We’re leaving.” He bites out despite the delicate tone. Wrapping his hand around hers once again, Keishin tugs her along time dodge the party goers that threw the two of them curious glances, wondering why they were quick to leave shortly after their arrival. Just to tease him further, [name] almost wants to offer a rebuttal and tell him that they should stay longer and enjoy the show. However, she knows she’s done enough waiting and if he was taking her home, she wasn’t going to argue.

While urgency and desperation was their game, Keishin didn’t cut corners when it came to presenting himself as a gentleman as he helped [name] back into the car. Hormones be damned—he was still going to help a lady into the passengers seat. “You never did tell me why you finally agreed to come out tonight.” She says quietly, as if the two of them hadn’t been making out and dry humping a few minutes prior. “And it’s clearly not because you knew I had a crush on you all throughout third year—“

“Don’t act like you’re the only one with feelings in this.” Ukai grits out, speeding much faster back home than he did on the way to Bevelle’s house. Paying that no mind, [name]’s ears perk up at his own wayward confession. When she asked for clarity, a rumbling groan shakes his chest as he patted down his pockets in search for his nicotine sticks. “I didn’t recognize you the first night at the club because you look different now. Happiness looks good on you.”

“Happiness?” She echos confusedly, turning to face Ukai fully after lighting her own cigarette.

“You used to always look content back then—just barely content and nothing more. And I can’t stop thinking back to those days because you’re this ball of sunshine, kid, and I can’t stop wondering what the hell Suga did to you to dim your shine that badly. I haven’t stopped thinking about you all week.”

[name] is quiet for a moment at his own rendition, his own version, of a confession and she’s stunned. And she can’t tell if she wants to cry or kiss him because this is not that way she ever fantasized this conversation going. It was going better than she dreamed. Better, because the words that Ukai is saying adds an entirely new layer to his amped up personality—he wasn’t just the sexy volleyball coach that she used to pine over. He was a person with deep rooted feelings for justice in the sense of wanting to understand how someone could inflict damage to the innocent and he wanted to rectify said injustices. He wanted to know how someone like Suga could try to dampen her sunlight instead of allowing her to thrive and bloom.

She wants to kiss him, she decides, but since he’s driving, she settles for placing a chaste one on the corner of his mouth. “Serves you right,” she jokes when she pulls away, “it’s been a long four years for me. It’s your turn to suffer.”

“Trust me, this car ride is torture enough.”

[ next ]

[goldeneyedgirl]

charity fic: all in the stars

So, some of you might be aware of the Move to Higher Group fan-zine that was being put together. It is an awesome project and I cannot wait to see the final product. 

I’ve decided to release my fic independently, with the same goal of raising money for the Quileute Tribe’s Move to Higher Ground Project. There is an amazing post right here by lemonadebottlecap that covers the history of the tribe and the misconceptions that Twilight spread - I’ve also reblogged that right below here. 

So I will cheerfully suggest and implore you to donate to the Move to Higher Ground Project - even just $1 would be amazing. 

I’m not asking for anything for the fic, but in the spirit of the zine and the fandom renaissance, please consider it. <3

Onwards to the fic

all in the stars.

Mary-Alice doesn’t speak much. She hasn’t for a long time. Mostly, she rocks and murmurs and stares. Sometimes she cries or shrieks, but that happens less and less since the doctors started her on the shock treatments. She shivers and stares and mutters, and the staff leave her well enough alone. Mostly.

(Matron hopes she dies this winter, she heard her say it to the nurse; she’s a fragile thing, all bird bones and sharp edges from her body eating away at itself. Her lungs rattle and her chest aches and her head always hurts and she knows that, one way or another, death is coming. It won’t take much to send her on her way.)

The nights are bitterly cold, and she shivers as she stares out the tiny barred window at the stars. No one knows what she’s looking for, or looking at; she’s been having treatments so long, and lived in the dim gloom of her cell for so many years, that her eyesight is greatly degraded - if she were free, she would be considered legally and irreversibly blind. But she stares, right at the stars, as if she’s searching for something.

(Her sight in the real world is nearly gone - she sees shapes and the shift of shadows, but everything is quite smeared, like looking through deep, murky water. But her other sight, of things that are to be and things that could be, that is still as sharp as ever, even if it doesn’t always make perfect sense.)

When she eats, she struggles to focus on her tray, to judge space and distance. Some of the orderlies laugh at her fumbling (hands shaking, eyes squinting, tiny body hunched over her singular meal of the day) and she is left to try and feed herself, barely managing to consume half before she has spilt it everywhere, or she gives up out of frustration and exhaustion, out of disgust of the taste of turning milk, of cooling animal fat and rancid vegetables. When she is taken to her treatments, and sessions with the doctors, she tries to guide herself with one thin hand on the wall. Mostly, she’s manhandled - dragged into the rooms with the report she was being ‘difficult’ and the unspoken promise of punishment, or ferried about in an ancient wheelchair.

(She used to count her bruises like the constellations in the sky, blooming black and blue, purple and green. Her very own Aurora Borealis. Back then, they were just needle sticks. Then they stretched out, wrapping painfully around her torso, her thighs. They swelled with blood and kept her from sleep. They made her easy to manipulate, fingers roughly pressing down on a raw spot to make her bend to their will. Now the bruises don’t fade, they linger - overlapping and constant, and it’s too hard to see them to bother counting them. She cannot tell the difference between a shadow and a bruise now, anyhow - her cell is dark, her eyes are dying, and there is always pain, no matter where she touches on her skin.)

Elias arrived (arrives? Sometimes the passage of time is hard to track) sometime ago. He was… he simply was, in the beginning. Another set of hands moving her around, sticking her with the needles, frowning and judging and damning her. And then one day, for no reason at all, he brought her an extra blanket and wrapped her up tight against the cold. He brought her cold tea, over-steeped and bitter on her tongue, but insisted she drink it. He looked at her with eyes that had seen too much, had tried and failed and run right through every ounce of hope and benevolence he could manage, so he had given up. Until now (then?).

(She knows she would have died that night, from the cold of the night and the shock of the ice bath, for want of a blanket and something to drink. Except he swept in, with his red eyes and the clean blanket and bad tea and held her hand in his, his gloves warming her skin. He stayed, she lived, and the future went spinning off into a kaleidoscope of possibility, lighting up her mind. She’s already lost her words by then, but she wants to tell him, however this all falls together, she forgives him and thanks him for his kindness. That she knows what he is, what he has done, and it is not her place to pass judgement on anyone, man or immortal.

That any kind of light in the dark is a beautiful thing, no matter how long it is lit.)

—

To say she dies when Elias bites her, when he presses venom into her wrists and throat and prays to a god he hasn’t believed in for many years, is a fallacy. It is a polite lie, a bedtime story for children. It is fiction designed to absolve the villains of the piece - doctors in clean, white coats; nurses with shark-smiles and vindictive natures.

(She has died a little every single day since her parents sent her to the asylum. That is true, if quite dramatic.)

What killed her, truly? It might have been the distracted nurse, overzealous in her dosage; it could have been the blow to the head when she fell against the desk in the doctor’s room, shoved by an irritated orderly in charge of shepherding her around. It might have been the addition of an imprecise voltage or two from a dismissive doctor. It might have been all those things bleeding together. But by the time Elias bites her, changes her, there is very little of Mary-Alice Brandon left - just a failing body struggling so hard to make it to the next hour, minute, second. Her heart thumps slowly, her lungs rattle with oxygen, her eyes glassy and unseeing. She does not know what is coming for her, and how Elias intends to protect her.

(If she could speak, she would talk of the change like being in the middle of space, of watching the rush of stars and galaxies, of colours and combustion and the swoop of the unknown, great and terrible. It was like being a tiny spot of dust in an expansive, ornate concert hall - terribly insignificant and in the presence of true greatness. But she is far enough gone that she doesn’t even know of the Hunter that stalks her, doesn’t know that when she wakes, she will be a brand new girl, an entirely new person who will be able to speak and think and run and see.)

It happens exactly how it is supposed to. Elias is old enough to know the tricks, to leave a false trail miles long that sacrifices more than one innocent, maybe a mad little inmate or two, as he carries Mary-Alice to sanctuary. She is an easy burden, still and silent, and Elias continues his futile pleas to god that this will work, and she will be born anew, and he won’t have immortalised her misery and suffering. In his long life, he has never seen an impaired vampire, one that has carried their damage and their disease over into eternity, and he hopes Mary-Alice will not be the first.

(Her galaxies surround her, in black and navy blue, violet and emerald. Rich gold, too bright to look directly at, streaks across the endless space. The stars wink at her, and some of them blink out - futures that are not hers to have, she decides. The light of the remaining stars is warm on her face and limbs, fills her chest to bursting, and she wants to cradle them in her arms, hold them tight forever.)

—

They nearly make it, you know. One day, two days, the third day dawns with no sign of the Hunter; not a scent on the breeze or the still of the woods. Just little Mary-Alice’s thin little breaths and faltering heartbeat, curled into a ball of blankets in the grass. Elias’ hand strokes her hair, and he remembers another sickly girl, brittle and dying. Long gone, in a forgotten grave in a corner of the woods an ocean away. It makes him feel ashamed, like he only helped Mary-Alice to fit her into the place left by another; that he is not so good to help her simply because of her suffering. But in truth, why else pick her, of all of the poor souls in that ward?

(Her old self is almost gone, as the stars slowly decline and the colours begin to fade. She cannot excuse his motivations when she does not know him or remember him. Or remind him why he was precious and good and kind to her. In her memory, his star has blinked out and gone, another lamp extinguished.)

She whimpers then, and it is their undoing - he is startled by her sudden noise; hope and concern knotting in his chest as he leans over her. It is also enough for a lurking Hunter, downwind to surprise his target. He is angry, a rippling red rage, at being tricked and turned around - at his precious quarry being snatched from under his nose and the stench of Elias’ venom taking hold of her blood. The Hunter is no loser; he is his own champion, one that takes sick delight in broken, bloodless girls whose throats are raw from screaming, and whose bones never fit back together right. One that has lost the battle but will win the war, and salt the earth just to spite Elias.

(In her last seconds, Mary-Alice sees. She sees Elias and the Hunter locked in battle; she sees Elias’ destruction and then she sees the Hunter come for her, still lost to the change. She sees what he does to her, how he mutilates and breaks her to punish her saviour, who is already ash in the air. And as quickly as the images press around her, they are gone, like confetti in the air.)

Elias is angry, angrier than he has been in a long time as the Hunter is upon them, and he drags the Hunter away from his charge’s prone body.

(Just a little longer. A little more time…)

—

She has a choice to make now; one she won’t remember. There are only a handful of her stars left, and she needs to pick one.

(She sees herself rise, red-eyed and confused but determined. It’s an easy trail to follow, watching the Hunter feed broken limbs into his fire with a smirk on his face and delicious plans for the girl in the glade. He’s taken the other man’s coat, and that strikes rage into her heart. He doesn’t have time to turn around before she has his head off and into the fire. She crouches in front of the fire, and watches carefully as it burns lower. It’s only when she’s left with ash and smoke that she rises, feeling heavier and sadder than she thinks she should be able to feel and slips off back into the forest, to a future yet to be decided.)

No, she doesn’t want to be sad anymore. She was sad before, she’s tired of sad.

(She runs south. She runs through the forest, faster and faster, to escape the one that is coming for her. When she stops running, she hides. She’s frightened, fearful, like a hunted rabbit. Her heart is quiet, but it still feels like it wants to burst from her chest in fear and she is completely and utterly lost, in all the ways that someone can be and she doesn’t know what to do.)

She doesn’t want to be afraid either.

(Golden eyes. A warm smile, one that makes her feel like her chest is full of starlight again. A scar on his neck that her fingers worry over, as if she can protect him from the pain. A kiss on her nose, her cheek, the corner of her mouth before his lips graze her ear.

“I love you, Alice. Irreversibly and forever,” he murmurs and, and…)

That one. That’s her. She’s Alice; she gets to be Alice, chooses to be Alice - Alice who is happy and loved and safe and precious. Alice, who loves him more than anything in existence. She could burst with how much she loves him. She could have a million choices, a million stars, and that will always be the one she chooses and holds tight.

(“Forever.”)

—

And she opens her eyes, clear and bright and ruby-red. She spies the moss and the ferns, her discarded blankets, the bugs in the dirt. She sees feeble light of dusk pushing through the trees. She smells water and dirt and trees and … smoke.

(“Alice.”)

Getting to her feet, her throat burning and her mind too full of everything that is new and unknown around her, and the ominous promise of the smoke hovering in the air, she holds the image of the man with the golden eyes in her mind and she begins to run.

(“I love you.”)

She runs North with nothing but hope and a name, spoken by the one who loves - or will love (she forgets that time moves differently when you can’t see what’s coming) - her best. She runs away from disaster, from pain and fear and sadness, and everything she came from, a brand new girl on her way to a brand new life.

(“Irreversibly and forever.”)

—

[shianhygge-imagines]

Sundown 勿忘草 [Reno/Reader]{Final Fantasy VII}

AN: I’ve been wanting to write a Reno one shot, but never really managed to get my lazy ass into gear. This is a long one (though at this point, I’m just known for really long story posts... let me know if you think it’s a good thing or a bad thing). I was debating splitting it into parts, but you all know how bad I am with posting updates to any of my fics written in parts. Also, can anyone tell me why I keep seeing “#reno sinclair” in the Reno tags? Since when was Reno’s surname Sinclair? None of the Turks have last names that I recall. 

Was hoping to get it to 10,000 words, but I’m around 2,200 short :P 

Title is “Sundown Wasurenagusa” meaning “Sundown Forget-me-Nots; ”Forget-me-nots meaning “True Love” in hanakotoba (Japanese language of flowers)

If you like the content I create, please consider donating to my Ko-fi! Please help me feed my tea addiction!

|Masterlist Link|

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A heavy and tired sigh escaped your lips as you continued to read through the various reports scattered upon the table before you, scribbling down information into your work notebook that would act as relevant evidence to support your proposal for several structural upgrades to the plates. Though it was a concern that your boss, Reeve Tuesti, had brought up during various board meetings, it seemed that the executives of Shinra Electric Power Company would do nothing without a formal report containing sufficient evidence to support immediate action.

Already over worked from his other projects, Reeve had personally asked you to oversee the project proposal. As a resident of the Sector 5 Slums, you felt that it was your duty to do everything you could to make life for your fellow under city residents better. So, despite the fact that you would be working on the project alone, you accepted Reeve’s task.

Now, sitting at a corner table on the Relaxation Floor, you were almost regretting taking on the task alone. Outside the large windows overlooking Midgar, the sun had long since set, the city lights and mako lighting up the dark space below in a sea of various colors. Most Shinra employees had left the building hours ago, yet here you were, still working, dinner purchased from the cafeteria sitting off to the side and half gone.

After reading another set of reports, you paused in your scribbling to slam your head non too gently on the cafeteria table, “You’d think with all the complaints we’ve had about falling metal pieces from the plate almost killing slum residents, that the company would immediately do something.” No one responded to your muttering. Not that you expected an empty space to provide commentary to your misery and exasperation. So, you stayed in that position, debating whether to call it a night so that you could catch the last train home.

“Well, color me surprised, I didn’t think any of you pencil pushers liked staying after hours.” Just when you were about to relax, a sly and cocky voice decided to interrupt your solitude.

Jolting up with a twitch of your eye, you glared at the redhead who approached your corner table, suit and dress shirt unbuttoned and showing off an ample amount of chest. Had you not lived in the Sector 5 Slums for your entire life, you probably wouldn’t have recognized the man as a Turk. Besides, the people at Shinra liked to gossip. Red hair pulled into a weird ferret tail looking ponytail, goggles resting on the crown of his head, red marks under his eyes, and a severe need of a slap to the face… yeah, there was no doubt in your mind that the man steadily approaching your table was Reno of the Turks… and the Turk second in command.

Rolling your eyes, you sat up and began to straighten out the papers on the table, putting them into a pile to slip neatly into your briefcase. “Just my luck. The entire cafeteria is empty, Turk. Why are you bothering me?”

A little hostile, but you couldn’t help it. Having grown up watching these strange men in suits harass Aerith… you didn’t exactly have a kind opinion of them. Plus… they were unwaveringly loyal dogs to Shinra, something that didn’t sit well with you.

Reno feigned a hurt expression, placing a hand upon his chest, “Why the hostility? It was an honest question.” The redheaded Turk smirked and lifted his hand to raise his pinky, “Pinky swear.”

Reigning in your frustration, you huffed and propped your head upon a raised hand, closing your eyes in an attempt to calm down. “Yeah… yeah… Sorry.” After inhaling and exhaling for a few seconds, and listening as a chair was dragged out from the other side of the table, you opened your eyes to stare tiredly at the now seated Turk. “Uh… what are you doing?”

“Keeping you company, of course.” The cocky smirk widened as Reno leaned back and propped his feet upon the table, narrowly missing your half finished dinner.

Reaching a hand out to grab the remains of your dinner, you quietly started to finish said meal off, “Uh…huh… sure. I buy that.” You remarked sarcastically, eyes not leaving Reno’s form. “So Reno of the Turks decides to just randomly pop on by to keep a Shinra office worker company as they work overtime… sure…”

The grin didn’t falter as his blue eyes wandered to observe you, “It would seem so.”

“Right.” You muttered, finishing the last of your meal before standing up with your bag and tray, “Sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got a train to catch.” You weren’t sorry, but you still called out to him as you walked away, “See ya, I guess.” Hopefully not.

“You can bet on it!” Reno called back to you, watching as you threw away your trash and left the Relaxation Floor. As the doors slid close, you caved and turned around to look back at Reno, meeting his gaze just as the doors closed. Why did you feel like that was more than a promise?

…

…

…because it was.

The two days after were supposed to have been your days off. Yeah, perhaps you still had to structure your formal proposal a little more, but at least you were surrounded by fellow under city residents instead of Shinra employees… yeah, no, that was perhaps a little harsh of you. Not all Shinra employees were like the Turks and executives. But you were still bitter at how content the employees were with this company. It’s sickening.

When you left your home across from Leaf House on your second day off, you had fully intended to spend the day stocking up on groceries and helping either Aerith or Miss Folia. What you didn’t expect was to run into a duo of Turks when you stepped over the bridge to Aerith’s house. The duo had stopped to stand just outside of Aerith’s house, clearly speaking to one another and absolutely intending to enter the residence. The moment you’d cleared the bridge and walked into sight, you paused with wide eyes and gingerly took a step back, hoping to walk away without drawing any of their attention towards you.

You didn’t want to be seen outside work. Much less while you were wearing the sundress that Aerith had insisted you get for yourself. It was girly and feminine, and not at all professional. But still, Aerith had asked you to bring her flower baskets back home while she helped look for the Leaf House kids, who had all gone on patrol again.

Unfortunately, the bridge creaked under your foot, and two pairs of eyes were suddenly turned to stare you. “Uh…” you faltered for a moment before raising a hand in greeting, “Hi?” The end of the word pitched up into a squeak and you suddenly wanted to dive off the bridge and escape.

Recognition appeared in a familiar redhead’s eyes, “Pencil pusher! Didn’t think I’d see you here of all places!” The bald man with the shades coughed and glanced towards his coworker with raised brows.

Growling indignantly, you stomped a foot and approached the two Turks, “Don’t call me that!”

“And why not? You never gave me your name.” Reno pouted dramatically, “How’s it fair that you have mine, but I don’t know yours?”

Your expression doesn’t budge the slightest, “It’s Y/N. I work in the Urban Development Department. And I know yours because there’s only one redheaded Turk that draws in so much gossip.”

That infuriating smirk was back on Reno’s face as he pat the taller man’s shoulder roughly, “Ya hear that, Rude? The people know me.” Rude looked like he wanted to say something, if the slightest twitch of the brow and parting of the lips was any indicator. Unfortunately, the stoic looking Turk didn’t get a chance to respond before his partner opened his mouth again. “So… Y/N, huh? Cute name, cute face… it’s a wonder that I haven’t seen you in HQ before yesterday.” The statement seemed innocent enough, except for the strange look in his eyes.

For Shinra’s version of secret service, you already knew where this line of inquiry was leading to. So you stared at Reno dispassionately, “Yup, it’s an absolute wonder that a Turk such as you, who has  to work outside the building most days, has never seen my face in the five years that I’ve been employed at Shinra. It’s not as if I’m just a faceless grunt among a few thousand office workers who are also cooped up in their offices during the work day.” Rolling your eyes, you continued forward, practically bulldozing your way past Reno when he didn’t move aside with his partner. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” You waltzed up the front steps, raising the weaved basket in your hand, “I’ve got a basket to drop off. If you’re looking for Aerith, she’s not home, yet.”

There’s a sound of a metal baton snapping to full length behind you, “If you hurt her…”

Sighing in annoyance, you turned to glare at Reno, who seemed to look like he was going to charge at you with the stun baton. Rude, likewise, was in a combat ready position. “And why the hell would I hurt her?” You hissed, propping a hand on your waist. “Don’t just come to random conclusions. I’m simply here as a favor to her, she’s in the town helping Leaf House.” Waving your hand in a shooing motion, you turned to open the front door, “You Turks are all about the mission, right? So, go!”

Maybe you shouldn’t have been so antagonistic… maybe you shouldn’t have turned around. Because the next thing you know, your arm is yanked backwards, and you’re suddenly pinned facedown to the front porch floor, arms restrained behind you and the painfully tingly end of the baton jabbed into your back. The scream that left your lips was one of outrage, fear, and pain. “What the hell!” You cry out, tears in your eyes as you try to struggle.

“Y/N!” The front door of the Gainsborough household pulled open to reveal Elmyra, who cried out in horror at the scene before her. Before long, the blonde woman had settled on shoving Reno off you, “Get off of her! Just what do you think you’re doing?!” Startled into falling off of you, Reno merely stared wide eyed at the enraged woman, who gestured for you to run as she laid into the jerk with her words.

With Reno no longer pinning you down, your limbs were able to finally take on a more natural position, though the stabbing pain from having them forced into an unnatural position still remained even as you clambered to your feet and sprinted away from the house. Rude didn’t bother to stop you, going so far as to step way off the path to let you through. You didn’t look back as you ran, not even stopping to greet Aerith as she crossed the wooden bridge.

When you were safe in your shabby second floor apartment, you did everything you could to get rid of the pain in your limbs, stretching them out and massaging them.

No such luck.

The pain remained, following you into the next day as you prepared to head back to work. Luckily for you, your job mostly consisted of office work. Signing and arranging paperwork, project reports, and other desk work.

Unluckily for you, you were the only person in the department with your first name. When you returned to your office from lunch, rubbing an aching limb, Reno awaited you, leaning against your desk. The moment you saw him, you paused and walked out of the office intent on avoiding the Turk that had caused you bodily harm.

From behind, Reno sprinted after you, “Y/N! Buddy! Wait up!”

“I don’t see you. I don’t hear you. You are absolutely, definitely not following me right now.” You muttered, not turning your head from its fixed position staring straight and down. If I can just get my ass to Reeve’s office, he’ll leave me alone. If I can just get my slow ass, in these stupid heels, to Reeve’s office, he’ll leave me alone.

Reno, for his part, had no problems keeping up with you, catching up and strolling along beside you, making you growl inwardly in frustration. “Y/N, c’mon. I’m sorry about yesterday. Slow down, you’re going to-”

An uneven part of the carpet failed to catch your notice until your foot caught it, sending you sprawling toward. Ah shit. This is gonna hurt. You muttered to yourself, bracing yourself for impact and closing your eyes… only for the impact to come sooner than expected… and less painful than you expected… I’m still upright? You questioned yourself, opening your eyes to find yourself being held up by Reno, face practically buried in his open shirt and his arms gently holding onto both of your arms.

“See.” The cocky expression was gone now. Only mild annoyance remained as he made sure you could stand on your own two feet, roughly kicking at the uneven carpet in an effort to smooth it down.

“I… thanks.” You finished lamely, slightly unsure as to what had just happened, but glad that you were saved a few bruises… and probably a more severe injury to your limbs.

Reno raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, “Can we talk now?”

You wanted to say no, the memory of being pinned down and tasered still fresh in your mind, but by the Planet, the jerk had just saved you from further injury, hadn’t he? The heavy sigh and slump of your shoulder betrayed your reluctance even as you agreed to speak to the redheaded Turk. “Yeah, fine.”

The Turk second in command seemed surprised that you’d agreed, a breathy and relieved “Great” leaving his mouth as he followed your lead back to your small office.

As you walked the short distance back to your office, you kept a bit of distance from Reno whilst attempting to block out the stares from your fellow colleagues. I can practically hear the gossip spreading now. Oh, did you hear? Y/N’s in a relationship with Reno. Oh, Y/N probably got in trouble with the company if the Turks are investigating them. The thoughts only worsened when you entered your office and Reno closed the door behind him. And that’s my cue to put as much distance as possible between us. You thought to yourself, shuffling to stand behind the desk. Yes, because a waist high wooden structure is enough protection against a Turk…smart. Reallll smart.

“You know, I’m not going to hurt you, right?” Reno looked slightly put out and frustrated at the fact that you had immediately shuffled behind your desk. And you had to hand it to him… despite his reputation as a bit of spazz, his observation skills were fitting for a member of the Turks.

“Tell that to my poor arms.” You spat, rolling your shoulders in another unsuccessful attempt to alleviate the pain that remained from yesterday.

Reno deflates a little when you wince in pain, and lightly scratches his cheek. “Yeah… about that… my bad.”

“Your bad…” you mimicked back at Reno with a hint of disbelief. “Heck yeah it’s your bad! I mean what the hell! What kind of a reason did you have for assaulting a civilian!?”

“That’s uh… we were assigned to look after Aerith… and the way you were acting yesterday… I thought you did something to her.” The explanation that came pouring out of the redheaded Turk’s mouth was lacking, but you let him continue because oh boy did the man sound like a certified walking mess. “And um… I reacted too harshly… which is totally my bad. And I know that’s no excuse, and I’ve already gotten an earful from Elmyra, Rude, and Tseng, so… what I’m saying is… I’m sorry.”

…he looks like a kicked puppy. You muttered to yourself, heaving a sigh as you sat down at your desk and allowed your posture to relax just the slightest. “Fine, apology accepted, but my shoulders still hurt like I got trampled by a fiend. How the hell do I get it to stop?” Apology vaguely accepted, you just wanted him to stop giving you that look.

“I uh… figured that you’d still be in pain.” Reno winced before sheepishly slipping a hand into his pocket and pulling out a beautiful glowing green materia, “It might be overkill, but casting Cure will get rid of the ache-ah… if you’re okay with it?”

You wondered offhandedly what Elmyra had said to Reno for his behavior to have shifted so drastically towards you. Look at the Turk now, you figured that there was no harm in befriending the man. Besides, you probably needed more outgoing friends anyways. “If it’ll get rid of the ache, go ahead, Reno.”

The smile on his face was almost boyish as his arm glowed faintly, casting the healing spell on you. “One full body stress reliever coming right up!” Hm… maybe he’s not that bad after all. The spell was like a wave of relief, not only alleviating the pain from yesterday, but also taking away the tension from months and months of stress. “Feeling better?”

The groan of relief that escaped your lips was probably enough answer for Reno as you stretched, a smile on your lips appearing at the redheaded Turk’s chuckle. “Much better, thank you.”

A moment passed between the two of you until the silence was broken by the sound of Reno’s phone. You couldn’t see the caller ID, but by the way he picked up almost immediately, you guessed that it was his boss, Tseng. “Hey-” The redheaded man was cut off from his greeting as he listened, “Yeah, I just finished…” Blue eyes met yours as he mouth, ‘got to go.’

Reno started to move just as you gave him a farewell salute, smirking when the Turk simply winked back at you before the door to your office closed.

Although you initially didn’t expect the day to turn out so well, you went back to work in a good mood. I guess being friendly to Reno won’t be such a bad thing. As the day passed, your mind absentmindedly wondered when you would see him again.

December 11th… Twenty-four days and seven hours later

“Oho, staying late again?”

A familiar voice broke you out of your furious scribbling while you once again stayed late to progress further in the piles of maintenance reports on the plates. And while you were tired from staring at black and white letters all day, you pushed aside the cranky attitude to at least smile and greet Reno as he approached your usual corner table. “Hi, Reno.” You raise a brow at the drink tray in his hands and gesture for him to sit wherever. “Late night for you, too?”

Reno shrugged and took the seat just to your left, setting the tray down on a spot free of paperwork, “Turks are always on call.” He handed over a covered paper cup, “Coffee?”

“Oh boy, yes please.”  You beamed ecstatically when the redhead handed you the heavenly drink. “I’ve been working on this project proposal for the past… I don’t know how long… and it’s just… so much.”

Taking a sip of his own caffeinated drink, Reno took a peek at one of the files sitting on the table. “Huh… ‘Maintenance Walkways In Hazardous State of Disrepair’…’Infested with Mako Mutated Fiends’… I forgot you worked in urban development. What’s Reeve got ya doin that requires so many late nights?”

Despite his asking, Reno made no further attempts at reading the papers on the cafeteria table. Pursing your lips, you eyed the Turk second in command for a long moment, regarding him with as much suspicion as he had directed towards you nearly a month ago. It was well known throughout Shinra that the corporation had bigger goals and aspirations than to serve the people. There were many in the company that truly believed in the work that Shinra did, but as someone who had lived in the slums all your life, and one of the project leaders within Shinra’s Urban Development Division, you held no such illusions of grandeur. With the exception of Reeve, the higher ups in Shinra had no qualms of neglecting the public, only paying attention to the people beneath their feet in order to satisfy their egos and prevent rowdy citizens from forming anti-Shinra groups like AVALANCHE. Reno, a Turk, had to answer to the President and Vice President of Shinra directly, and everything they do is by the will of the two highest powers in the company. If you told Reno of the plate restoration project… would it cause a negative reaction within the company?

“If I tell you, Reno… you have to keep quiet about it.” Despite being tired, you leveled the red head with a grave stare.

Reno raised his arms and displayed his palms out in a ‘I’m harmless’ manner. “If it doesn’t have anything to do with an assassination attempt or terrorist attack, my lips are sealed.” The Turk shrugged, “And if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I mostly came here to keep you caffeinated… and to ask if you wanted to grab dinner sometime?”

Well… that came out of left field.

The blush that rose to your cheeks made your embarrassment pretty clear to Reno, who hummed and leaned forward to observe you closer. “Huh… Red’s a good look on you.”

The wink that the Turk sent your way did not help you calm down. “That’s not… uh… why?” Why was Reno asking you out to dinner? You’d known each other for all of twenty something days… not that it was completely unusual for individuals your age to go on dates… if this even was a date.

“I figure you could do with a night free of worries.” Reno explained, now positioning himself to lean on the table towards you. “Plus I get to take a beautiful woman out to dinner.”

You raised a hand to stop his flirting, knowing the rumors that spread throughout the company of Reno’s flirtatious ways. “I accept, but it’s just dinner, okay? I shouldn’t stay out too late.”

The red head seemed happy that you accepted, but pouted nonetheless, “Well then… that’s boring. I was thinking of taking you out drinking with Rude and I.”

You gesture towards the paperwork all over the table, “I have to get the work done eventually, Reno.”

“Fine…” the sigh that left Reno sounded more like a whine than acceptance. The mischievous smirk did nothing to ease your concerns as Reno stood up to help you clean up the piles of paper and notes. “C’mon, the sooner we clean up here, the sooner we can get some grub into your growling stomach.”

“My stomach is not-” Gurrrggghhh… You blushed crimson when your stomach cried out for food.

“You were saying?” Reno raised a brow, mirth glinting in his blue eyes as you tried to act nonchalantly.

“…” Snatching the last of the paperwork on the table and shoving it into your bag, you sniffed in embarrassment, “We’re dropping this stuff off in my office before we go anywhere.”

The red headed Turk actually had the audacity to smirk and salute you.

… Twenty minutes later, you found yourself in a car heading towards Sector Eight… Although Reno had advertised the outing as a dinner between just the two of you, the two of you somehow found yourselves seated in the back seats of the vehicle while Rude drove and Tseng sat in shotgun. Glancing to the side at Reno, he seemed at a loss for words for once, blue eyes glaring sulkingly at the back of Tseng’s head.

“So, Y/N, as I understand it, you work closely with Reeve Tuesti?” Tseng asked, his eyes meeting yours in the rearview mirror despite its angle.

Somehow, you felt like you were about to get interrogated by Reno’s ‘parents,’ if the groan of exasperation from the red head beside you wasn’t enough of a give away.

“Um… I would say closely enough. I’m one of his project leaders, but even that title can be grossly overestimated.” The explanation leaves your lips before you can so much as think, “Because I work on projects that focus on the slums, most of my time is spent doing research and putting together proposals for projects that urgently need to be addressed.” Not that any of my proposals have been accepted thus far. You left the last statement unsaid, and your bitterness at the company unheard. Still, the discontent must have shown on your face, as Tseng started to speak again.

“Do you not like your job?” Such a simple question, but not something you could answer simply. The pleasant smile on the Turk commander’s face, which you glimpsed from the side view mirror, told you that he was well aware that you would have to expand your answer.

Wincing, you turned your gaze away to stare out the window as the car pulled off the highway. “I don’t dislike it, no… but I took the job as project leader in order to help make a difference for my community. But every project proposal that I’ve drawn up and presented has been turned down by the people that have a say in the company.” The sneer that started to form froze before smoothing into a less intense expression as you took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Sorry. Forget I said anything.”

“If you only wanted to help your community, then why take a job at Shinra? And why didn’t you simply quit?” Tseng was prodding at you, knowing that you knew what he was doing.

“Uh, Boss? Bit of a touchy subject, yeah?” Reno protested, sending very clear glares at Tseng’s way.

The Turk commander’s lips twitched in the slightest of smiles, “My apologies, Y/N. I didn’t mean to press you.”

Didn’t mean to press me, my ass! What the hell is this? Another round of ‘Y/N is a suspicious person?’ You thought with a lot of snark, outwardly shrugging, “You Turks certainly do live up to your reputation.” When Tseng rose a brow and Reno stared at your questioningly, you elaborated with another shrug, “The questioning… the false pretenses… you guys are very good at what you do, but…” Sighing, you shook your head and decided to shut your mouth, “Nevermind. Forget it. So long as you’re good to Elmyra and Aerith, I don’t give a damn if you guys restrain me and take me in for questioning.”

“…I thought I already said sorry for that!” Reno pouted, a wounded expression on his face.

The car stopped in front of a restaurant, but you were no longer hungry. Glancing down at your watch, you feigned a sigh, “Well, looks like I won’t be joining you guys for dinner tonight. I just realized that I had something to do in Sector 5.”

“Wait… hold on-”

“Would you like us to give you a lift?” Rude offered, cutting Reno off from his protests.

Bowing your head, you made to get out of the vehicle. “No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine taking the train back. I’m sorry for the trouble. I’ll see you three at work tomorrow.”

With that, you slid out of the car, shutting the door with as little force necessary before strolling down the street towards the train station. After turning the corner, you paused and sighed, shaking your head at the dinner plans. If you were being honest, you were actually quite excited to have dinner with Reno. He had turned out to be more thoughtful and intuitive than you had first pinned him as. Maybe we can have dinner alone next time. Suddenly hopeful, you resumed your gait towards the train station. If you hurried, you could catch the next train back and be in time to eat at the restaurant around the corner from your home.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice called out to you, accompanied by the sound of sprinting dress shoes, just as you were about to enter the train platform.

“Reno?!” You stared at the red head as he sprinted the last few meters to stop in front of you, perplexed and worried that he’d run all the way to the train station. The people sharing the train platform stared at the pair of you even as the train pulled into the station. “I… um… thought you were going to have dinner with Rude and Tseng? Did you need something?” You asked, glancing towards the train as it opened its doors.

“Y-you…” Reno gasped, clearly panting for breath despite the fact that he was supposed to be used to this. “You don’t work tomorrow.”

Tilting your head to the side, you admired Reno for a moment, pleased with his listening skills during the times that you spoke. “You’re right. No, I don’t.” You watched as the passengers all started boarding the train. “Reno… I have to catch this train, what is it?”

“Let me walk you home!” the red headed Turk suggested, straightening up and gently taking your wrist in his.

“Wait… What?” What the hell-

“It’ll be fun.” Reno didn’t give you much of a choice, as he led you aboard the train, careful not to tug on your arm too roughly. Once the doors slid close, the red head smirked at your completely baffled expression, “I promised you a dinner date, didn’t I?”

Your turned red as you stuttered, completely conscious of the stares incoming from the other passengers. “But what about Rude and Tseng? How are you going to get home after?”

Reno grinned, “They’re the ones who ruined our plans in the first place, so of course I’m ditching ‘em. And if I need to head home, I’ll just head back with the infantrymen stationed in Sector 5. So don’t worry.” Then, as if realizing that your face was growing more and more red because he was now holding your hand and had moved just a breath away, Reno coughed and backed up. Letting go of your hand, the embarrassed Turk raised a hand to scratch his cheek in the same nervous tic that you’d noticed before. “Anyways, let’s find a seat, okay? It’s been a long day for you… so if you want to take a breather…” Reno’s voice trailed off as the two of you shuffled through the cart to find a pair of empty seats.

Once seated, you sighed and leaned back on the uncomfortable bench. “Five years ago, I was living with my parents in the Sector 7 Slums. My father was an infantryman in Shinra’s army, and my mother was just a regular housewife. Around that time, fiend attacks had mysteriously started to increase… and people started to go missing. My mother went missing one night, and my father was a part of the infantry that was sent to investigate.” The dull ache in your chest increased as you thought back to the events years ago. “Neither of the two came back, and suddenly I was alone. But… I wasn’t the only one who lost a loved one that day.”

“So, that’s when you decided to do something to help your community?” Reno muttered, having turned to pull you into a hug, “But why Shinra? The slums have neighborhood watches that you could have joined…. Oh… eh… but you don’t have to tell me if you’re not up to it.”

Leaning your head to rest on Reno’s shoulder, you chuckled, “You don’t have to worry about walking on eggshells with me, Reno. I mostly gave Tseng a hard time because he was being too nosey.”

“Well… that’s good to know.” The Turk gave a light hearted laugh of his own, relaxing in his mannerisms. “Felt like I was standing on trial for a moment there.”

Rolling your eyes, you elbowed Reno in the side lightly. “Drama queen. But anyways, after mom and dad disappeared, a SOLDIER and his protege were assigned to hunt down the fiends. Before they started their hunt, they made a point to visit all the families that lost someone from the fiends attacks. It was sweet of them, taking the time to check up on us. And it’s because of them that I decided to work at Shinra. That if those two truly believed in the company that employed them, that I would be able to make a difference if only I had those same resources.” The smile on your face turned bitter once you started to think about those two. “After three years, I found out later that both mentor and mentee were quite popular in Midgar… and that they had died.”

“I think I know the two you’re talking about.” Reno muttered, gaze taking on a far away glint. “It’s good to know that they left behind a legacy.”

“They left behind more than a legacy.” You whispered with a fond smile, “Zack’s fanclub became the inspiration for Sector 5’s neighborhood watch. They all wield wooden replicas of Angeal’s sword.”

“A new generation of heroes, huh?” Reno smirked and closed his eyes, “I bet Zack would be ecstatic.” Blue eyes suddenly meet yours, a brightness in them as Reno addressed you, “Be honest, were you part of that fanclub?”

“And if I was?” You raised a brow, glad that the tone of conversation had shifted back to something light hearted.

Reno pouted and slumped in his seat, pulling you along as he playfully whined, “Where’s my fanclub? I want groups of people singing my praises, too!”

“Now you’re just being silly.” You chided, amused by the man’s antics. When Reno continued to pout, you rolled your eyes, playing along. “Fine. Then from now on, you can count me as your first fanclub member.” You raised your head to look him in the eye, “Happy now?”

The hug tightened, but Reno stuck out his tongue in reply. “Eh… I don’t think I can handle having a fanclub. Too much noise. Nah. I’m good.”

This time, you didn’t bother holding back your strength when elbowing him.

…… Around twenty minutes later, the pair of you departed the train with the rest of its passengers, and found yourself seated at your favorite noodle restaurant in Sector 5. Although it was thirty minutes before closing, the boss and chef knew you well enough to take your orders without much of a fuss. While the food was being prepared, you and Reno swapped stories about work and random weird stories.

“-I’m serious about the doomrats! They’re always appearing in Sector 7, stealing random shit and everything! My entire childhood was spent with threats of doomrats coming to steal my toys! My friend, Eli, her entire toy house was taken when her side of the sector was overrun with the pests!” You laughed in between bites of noodles.

“But that’s nowhere near as bad as having to deal with Hojo!” Reno protested, a string of noodles slipping out of his mouth to hang against his mouth. “The guy just takes things without telling anyone and somehow it returns with a bunch of stains on it! It’s like he has no regard for anything outside of his research.”

Your brain brought up a memory of passing Professor Hojo in the hallway once, and you let out a full body shiver. “Ugh… yeah… he does give off that whole… egotistic mad scientist vibe… sometimes, I wonder what the hell is so important that we have to devote so many floors to his research lab.”

“Y/N?” Reno’s humor suddenly disappears.

You blink, startled by the change, “Yeah?”

“No matter what happens… stay away from Hojo, okay?” There’s some concern in his eyes and tone, but he doesn’t elaborate.

You don’t know how else to respond to a somber Reno than to reluctantly nod your head, “Yeah. Okay. He gives me the creeps, so that’s not a problem.”

“I mean it, Y/N. If anyone in the company tells you to bring something to Hojo, you refuse. And if it’s a higher up, you come to me first.” The intensity in his stare is startling.

“Got it, Reno.” Not knowing what to do, you reached out to lightly poke his cheek, “C’mon, I know you have your own reason to be concerned, but I work in urban development. There’s little to no chance that I would have to cross paths with Hojo. So, let’s finish our noodles and stop worrying, okay?”

Reno pauses for a brief moment, taking in a breath and letting it out, a small smile making an appearance again. “Okay. Fine.” Reaching into his pocket, Reno pulls out more than enough gil for your meal and stands up, leaving the money on the table and offering a hand to you, “Let’s getcha back home, okay? It’s gettin late.”

Trailing after the red headed Turk, you stared at his back with a questioning stare. Though you pretended like the sudden shift in attitude from Reno hadn’t alarmed you, your thoughts kept shifting to linger upon the warning that Reno had wanted to make sure you understood. I feel like… something bad will happen if I don’t listen to him… When Reno stopped just outside your apartment building across from Leaf House, you tilted your head to the side, “Why am I not surprised that you know where I live? That’s kind of creepy, ya know?”

Reno startled, spluttering excuses as he let go of your hand and backed up, the warmth from his palm instantly being missed. “I ugh… You know it’s my job-and I just wanted-cause Tseng’s super paranoid about people close to-I’m just gonna shut up now.” The Turk second in command stopped his muttering when he noticed the teasing glint in your eyes, “Oh, ha ha. Very funny.”

“C’mon, Reno. You think I was going to miss my chance at teasing you?” The grin on your face was infectious, prompting Reno to return your easy-going smile.

Gesturing to the two story building, Reno bowed, “I will rest easy knowing that you got home safely, my lady.”

“Oh my!” You gasped, a hand raised to rest against your chest in mock surprise, “What a gentleman!”

There was a silence before the two of you burst into laughter that was probably too loud for that time of night. From down the street, you could hear one of the residents open their window and shout, “Fer cryin out loud, would ya lovebirds shut up! People are tryin ta sleep!”

Stifling your laugh, you practically danced towards the metal stairway leading up to the second floor apartments. “I guess that’s my cue to get inside.”

Reno’s eyes glinted as he stared after you fondly, “Yeah…” There was brief pause before he spoke up again, “Hey, Y/N? Let’s go out for a proper date… maybe, tomorrow or the day after?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You smiled as the agreement fell from your lips without much thought except the want to get to know the man before you better. “I’ll be at my friend’s place celebrating her birthday tomorrow, but I don’t have plans for the day after.”

“Great!” Reno gasped, seemingly breathless as he took a step towards you, “I’ll pick you up at 10, then?”

“Ten works for me!” You agreed, watching the red headed Turk as he closed the distance between the two of you, closing your eyes as you expected something to happen, only to feel a hand rest on your cheek before pulling away.

Confused, you opened your eyes just in time to catch Reno’s smile as he turned away. “I don’t kiss on the first date.” A wink is sent your way as he rounds the corner, disappearing from sight. “Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You don’t know if you want to squeal at the gesture, or punch him for leaving you hanging. Biting your bottom lip in a manner befitting anticipation, you turned to climb up the rest of the stairs with a smile, very much looking forward to the next two days.

When Reno returned to Shinra HQ for the night, Elena would make note of the stupidly happy grin on her senpai’s face… even when he was handed a datapad containing the plans for the next night’s operation.

December 12th

The following night…

You grinned as you watched your friend, Selene, open up her gifts from each member of your friend group. She had just been accepted at her dream career of being a planetary conservationist, and was due to move away from Midgar tomorrow. Though her apartment was empty, you and your friends had brought enough food for the lot of you while you all celebrated and bid your goodbyes to a long time friend.

“Let us know if you meet any handsome guys where you are!” you heard someone joke, patting Selene on the back with a teasing grin. “City men aren’t romantic at all!”

“Hey! I resent that! We’re not all bad!”

“No… she’s right. We’re not romantic.”

Maybe it was the good vibes and laughter that prevented you all from noticing when the ground started shaking. Maybe you had all indulged a little too much on the alcohol. Regardless, no one was laughing when a large steel beam crashed through the apartment roof and landed on top of where Selene had been standing with her parents.

The room descended into shocked silence as all eyes stared at the metal beam…the crumbling ceiling…the limbs sticking out from under the mess of rebar, concrete, and wire…and the blood… All of your faces went pale at the realization of what happened. And then, the panic.

“Oh god!”

“Selene!”

“Someone call emergency services!”

“Help me lift this thing up!”

“So… much blood.”

Stumbling backwards, your eyes darted from the rubble to the moving bodies in the apartment before looking at the hole in the apartment ceiling. The beam could only have been from the plate… But how had it fallen? Had a piece been loose this entire time? …Had this been your fault? You were in charge of the plate maintenance project… you hadn’t read any reports about structure integrity over Sector 7… but maybe there had been something hidden. You shook your head in denial. No, the project proposal was sitting on your desk at Shinra HQ, nearly finished except for the conclusion. There had been nothing irregular about the plate above the Sector 7 slums. Not even when you’d gone personally with the inspectors to investigate.

And then, above the shouting voices and confusion within the apartment, you heard it. Helicopters and gunfire… people screaming outside.

“No…” you whimpered, eyes wide as you sprinted for the front door, throwing the latch open and ramming yourself into the metal door in your rush to get out onto the apartment balcony hallway.

Now that the door was wide open… now that you stood with a view of the Sector 7 Slums, the cacophony of screams and noises reached your ears with no problem. The plate above groaned as explosions detonated along the underside of its structure, sending larges pieces of debris crashing down like meteors upon the residential buildings below. You could see several Shinra helicopters flying away from the plate pillar, where the explosions seem to have originated from. Down in the streets below, the residents of Sector 7 scramble in different directions to avoid being crushed by the seemingly crumbling night sky.

“The plate’s falling!” You cried out to your remaining friends before making a break towards the stairway down to the ground floor, ensuring that the path was clear before waving your friends over. Just as you stepped off the stairs, another massive explosion rumbled violently from above you, the sheer volume of the noise popping your ears and throwing off your balance. A random civilian ran in your direction, screaming and flailing his arms, knocking you down in his haste to get away from another falling metal beam.

You’d landed on your arm wrong, but the adrenaline running through your body kept you moving as you stumbled to your feet and trailed after your friends. Behind you, another giant piece of the plate crashed into Selene’s apartment building with such force that the ground beneath your feet shook as the structure caved in on itself. You watched as people fled from their homes, as fires started and spread. You watched as people begged to be rescued, their limbs trapped under flaming metal and wood. You continued to stumble forwards even when rubble rained down upon you all like hellfire, crushing the unlucky many on the path ahead of you and blocking you off.

You wanted to cry… or maybe you were already crying. All around you, the plate continued to fall, blocking you off from any means of escape. Your ears rang from the magnitude of noises. Your arm had begun to ache from your fall. The flames consuming the houses rose in intensity, scorching your surroundings while you fought to maintain your balance. Trying, among the chaos, to find a way out of this impossible situation. But no. If you went one way or the other, you would be burned severely. Any other way would require you to pick through pieces of metal that were easily ten times your body weight.

Another explosion, this time coming from the direction of the pillar, sent you crashing to the floor from the force it left in its wake.

I hope you all made it out of here. You prayed to the Planet that your friends had gotten out of Sector 7. Looking up towards the falling sky, you could only sob as it fell too fast for your liking. Resigned, you brought out your phone, intent on calling a certain red headed Turk one more time.

“Hey, Reno. It’s me, Y/N…” you dry swallowed and held back another sob, hand raising to muffle your cries of misery. “I just wanted you to know that I’m glad that I met you. I’m really annoyed that you didn’t kiss me yesterday night, and I-” the line on your phone beeped to signal a disconnect, and you pulled the phone away to stare hopelessly at the screen.

No signal.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you bent forward, pressing your face to the cracked glass screen. A shadow swallowed your figure whole as the last of the plate fell down. “Reno…”

“I was really looking forward to our date.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! 

[titaniumblender]

Happy HK secret Santa  @emmmmiru !!! I hope you don’t hate this lmao, I’ve discovered I really need prompts when writing christmas fics so I combined like several and I think it sort of worked???  Also plz excuse my ER/hospital knowledge it’s very outdated because my reference hasn’t worked in an ER for like years so I did my best lol. So, without further ado plz have Doctor Toshiro/Nurse Karin and mistletoe, for some reason I really just like RAN with the mistletoe thing!! 

Karin was twitchy. She’d been waiting in the Starbuck’s line for a solid fifteen minutes before her order was finally taken. Now here she was, stuck waiting another ten minutes for the actual drink to be made. There were four people in front of her too.

Today was her first day at her new hospital. She was finally escaping the shadow of her brilliant family at Karakura General Hospital, KGH. Both her father and brother were well known and highly sought-after doctors. Ichigo, a renown neurosurgeon and Ishhin, probably one of the best ER doctors around, training a number of great pupils in emergency medicine. Even her own twin sister was well known, Yuzu was one of few dietitians in Karakura and a good one at that.

Karin herself was a damn good nurse and she knew it, but she got rather fed up with being known exclusively as Kurosaki Junior. Yuzu didn’t seem to mind the nickname as much, but of course Karin wasn’t as nice as Yuzu.

So, here she was, a town away at a brand-new hospital starting her first shift on Christmas Eve, just her luck.

And now her need for Starbucks and caffeine was going to make her late.

“Venti gingerbread latte for Karin.” The barista finally called out and Karin practically sprinted to the counter.

Quickly grabbing a lid and pushing it onto the cup Karin briskly turned around ready to get to the hospital ASAP. Only to run smack dab into someone, immediately spilling her precious gingerbread latte all over this nice someone’s crisp white dress shirt.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” She asked before looking up at the very attractive man she had spilled her hot drink all over.

He was probably one of the most attractive men she had ever seen with white hair, piercing blue eyes and a very attractive face. An attractive face that was decidedly unimpressed with situation as his white shirt dripped latte. He brought a hand up to his face, pinched his nose and muttered, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Wait, Toshiro?” Karin asked, his unimpressed scowl triggering a memory of that very same face but much younger lecturing her about proper hospital etiquette.

“Karin?”

“Yes! How are you? It’s been so long; dad really misses you.” It was really her who missed him, but he didn’t need to know that.

“I’m doing just fine Karin, but I think I’d be much better if we could have this discussion when I don’t have coffee all over me.”

“Ahh right! Let me get you a paper towel, I’ll be right back.”

And then she disappeared quickly, trying her best to calm her heart rate.

Toshiro Hitsugaya had been one of her father’s most promising medical interns and Isshin had loved him so much he became part of the family. Did a young nursing intern, happen to find him very attractive? Yes. Did that same intern also happen to develop a huge crush and sulk for weeks when he finally left to pursue his career at a different hospital? Also, yes. But she still had her dignity dammit!

The current twenty-five-year-old Karin was not the same as twenty-one-year-old lovesick Karin, she would not be caught pining over Toshiro Hitsugaya. She was better than that.

Grabbing a wad of napkins, Karin returned to Toshiro and resisted the urge to dab at his well-muscled chest with them. Instead, she handed them to him before seeing the time. “Toshiro, this was great, but I really have to go, I’m late to my first shift!”

Toshiro had no chance to respond before the dark-haired beauty was gone and he was left still sopping wet with latte. Classic Kurosaki.

Karin barely managed to make pre-shift, sliding into the nurse’s station just as the charge nurse started giving everyone the basic rundown of how the shift would work.

Karin knew the brief layout of the hospital and how it worked from her few training shifts, but she wasn’t sure she was entirely ready to be thrown into a Christmas Eve shift just yet. Unfortunately, another nurse had come down with a nasty flu and Karin was forced to cover for her. Since Karin had never worked a Christmas or Christmas Eve shift before she had absolutely no idea what to expect.

She really hoped Christmas Eve wouldn’t be as insane as it was on Gray’s Anatomy.

After pre-shift ended Karin approached the charge nurse to let her know of her newbie status. She was a kind older woman named Yuki and Karin knew immediately she’d like her.

“Oh, don’t worry too much dear. Christmas Eve usually isn’t that busy, this is probably a good first shift for you to learn how we work here. But just to be safe I’m going to assign you to beds 6-12, they’re usually not as hectic as the trauma room. The doctor on tonight is also one of our best. I’m sure you’ll have no problems but if you need anything don’t hesitate to ask him. He’s very thorough in his work so I’m sure he’d be more than happy to help you learn the layout here.”

As Yuki finished speaking Karin spotted a messy head of silvery-white hair walking towards them and she quickly realized exactly who her ER doctor would be tonight. Just her luck.

“And speaking of, there he is. Karin, this is Dr. Hitsugaya and he’ll be the doctor in charge of the emergency room tonight.”

She could have kicked herself; she really should have put the pieces together. What was the likelihood she’d run into Toshiro at the coffee shop next to the hospital before her night shift randomly? Very slim.

“Hello again Karin.” He said with a small smirk, and she couldn’t help but notice the new green dress shirt he was wearing underneath his white coat brought out those piercing eyes of his. He was really so unfair.

“Toshiro.”

His eyebrow twitched; an annoyed reaction Karin was thrilled to evoke.

“Karin how many times do I have to tell you it’s Dr. Hitsugaya.”

“Oh, you two have already met then?” Yuki interrupted innocently.

Yes, yes, they had. She had an embarrassing schoolgirl crush on him, thought their weird sexual tension might lead somewhere only for him to leave after his residency never to be seen again. She was only a little bitter. But it was FINE.

“Yes, we used to work together at another hospital.” He smoothly replied and Karin was thankful he didn’t bring up her family and exactly which hospital they’d worked at. She didn’t want to be known as Kurosaki Junior again and he seemed to understand.

“Well, I hope we have a good shift Toshiro.”

His eyebrow twitched again, and she couldn’t help but feel pride at how she could drive him so crazy in such a short amount of time.

As it turned out Karin did have a pretty good shift with only a few hiccups. Thankfully, nothing too insane happened and as Yuki promised beds 6 to 12 were pretty relaxed. The most notable patient was a man who had smashed his hand through a fish tank.

Karin was forced to carefully tweeze out the glass while one half of his family yelled at him across the bed about his recklessness. From what she could gather the two sides of the family were arguing about some family recipe and it had led to an all-out brawl.

She was a little chagrined when the other half of the family arrived twenty minutes later with his cousin who had third degree burns from cooking said family recipe.

Overall Christmas Eve wasn’t that bad. Karin had learned about the hospital staff more than anything. Mostly that they were a bit crazy. At first Karin hadn’t immediately noticed the mistletoe pretty much EVERYWHERE in the hospital but the more she paid attention the worse it got. Every doorway, archway, hallway, and windowsill were covered in the plant. There was even some hanging off the light fixtures. She privately thought it was a terrible fire hazard but whatever.

After hours of encountering, it at every corner of the hospital during her shift she caved and asked what it was about on her lunch break. Matsumoto, an impressive veteran ER nurse whose only goal in life seemed to be to drive Toshiro insane, was more than happy to let her in on the hospital gossip.

Only for Karin to find out it was all over some ridiculous wager. Apparently, there was a longstanding bet in the hospital about who could catch a certain white-haired doctor under the mistletoe first.

In four years running, not one had ever been able to kiss him. Doctors, nurses, and X-ray techs alike had all tried their hand but to no avail. Not a single soul had ever gotten near him.

Karin couldn’t help feeling a little pleased about this. So, what if she still harboured a little crush on the man and was smug no one had snagged him yet? Who could blame her, he was hot.

It was widely believed Toshiro was some sort of ninja in his spare time because he’d never been spotted near the mistletoe which was an impressive feat seeing as how it covered every possible surface.

“So why does everyone want to kiss him so bad? Other than the bet of course?”

“Karin have you seen that man, who wouldn’t want to kiss a face like that?”

“Fair point.” She was willing to admit he was indeed a very fine specimen.

“So, who are you betting on this year Matsumoto?”

“You.” And with that ominous answer, Matsumoto winked, grabbed her empty tray and left the cafeteria.

Karin could only gape at her back.

The rest of her shift was just as relaxed as the beginning and for that Karin was thankful. Her mind was now completely filled with Matsumoto’s last words. What was she supposed to do with that? Why would she have a chance of winning that bet with Toshiro. Did Matsumoto know something she didn’t? Sure, they’d shared some heated looks at her old hospital and yeah, people usually told them to get a room whenever they argued but that didn’t mean he was interested in her right? She definitely would have known if Toshiro Hitsugaya, star ER doctor had a crush on her. Or would she?

It was these thoughts that occupied her mind as she put on her street clothes and exited the hospital for the night on complete autopilot. There was no way she could have missed her first love liking her back. No way. Or at least she really hoped not.

And it was these very same thoughts that caused her to make her way down the main stairs in a daze. As she turned onto the empty sidewalk right outside the hospital, she was so engrossed in her thoughts that she failed to notice the black ice covering the previously snowy sidewalk. She promptly slipped and fell onto the concrete and after that she really didn’t think of much at all.

Woozily looking up, Karin heard him muttering to himself, before her blurry vision became clear.

“Injured slipping on the sidewalk, trauma to the head, likely has a concussion.”

And then he looked up from her chart and finally noticed just who his patient was. “Karin, for fuck’s sake.”

“Hey Toshiro.” She awkwardly waved and after a moment added, “You know you have a terrible bedside manner.”

His eyebrow twitched, “It’s Dr. Hitsugaya.”

“Ya, Dr. Hitsugaya whatever, what’s my prognosis, can I go home? I want to go to bed.”

“Too bad. You’re not sleeping until I know your brain is fine or someone’s there to wake you up every two hours.”

Unfortunately, Karin’s list of people to monitor her for concussion symptoms was very short and consisted solely of Yuzu. Yuzu, who was also conveniently at her boyfriend’s for Christmas eve. Her brother and father were both working tonight and she was unsure when they’d be off. Toshiro seemed to sense this because he started to open his mouth, probably to suggest she stay at the hospital and she immediately cut him off.

“I am not staying at the hospital tonight so you can forget that.”

He gave her a withering look before responding.

“Karin, I can’t just release you and you know it. Stop being stubborn and just stay here.”

“No.”

There was a long-suffering sigh in response and then, “I guess it’s up to me to keep you entertained then.”

“Aren’t you the only ER doctor on right now? Don’t you have like other patients to deal with?” She asked defiantly, she would be going home to sleep even if it was the last thing she did. Which, it very well could be if her brain was seriously injured but she didn’t really want to worry about that.  

His eyebrow began to twitch again at this. “Yes, Karin but they’re all in stable condition for now and contrary to popular belief we’re not usually that busy on Christmas. Besides my shift is almost over anyways. I was just going to go chart for the last half hour.”

“So, I can go to sleep then?”

“No, you can nap on the couch in my office and I’ll wake you up and take you to Ichigo’s. Rukia should be home if he isn’t.”

She almost argued back but then she saw the infamous unimpressed look on his handsome face and knew not to bother. This was not an argument she would win.

“Whatever.”

Karin was momentarily confused when instead of responding Toshiro left the room, practically sprinting through the archway to avoid the mistletoe. She eased herself off the bed to follow and quickly became aware which parts of her body had taken the brunt of her fall: mainly her butt and her head. What a great Christmas eve this was shaping up to be.

She managed to settle herself just as Toshiro appeared around the corner rolling a wheelchair. “Toshiro, no.”

“Karin, yes.”

This conversation repeated several times before Toshiro simply took it upon himself to forcefully shove her into the wheelchair and Karin found herself being awkwardly wheeled down the hallway. Today was definitely not her day. She supposed having one of the most attractive doctors in the hospital dote on you wasn’t the worst thing to happen.

Toshiro’s office was exactly what she expected it to be like, overly organized and painted in different shades of grey and blue. He brought the wheelchair to a stop next to his predictably grey but very comfortable looking couch. He moved to help her to the couch, but she waved him off.

“I’ll be back I just have to go collect some paperwork. Take a nap and I’ll wake you when it’s time to leave.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, she had already maneuvered herself onto the plush couch and was ready to conk off. The last thing she saw before her eyes closed was his scowling face as he ripped a sprig of mistletoe out of the doorjamb.

She woke next to blaring hospital lights as she was once again wheeled down the hallway, this time towards the parking garage. “Do I want to know how you got me back into this wheelchair without waking me up?”

“With great difficulty Kurosaki and that’s all you need to know.”

“Yeah, I definitely don’t want to know. So, there’s no way I can convince you to just drop me off at my apartment, right?”

“Not unless I stay the night Karin and to be honest me sleeping on the couch in that situation is not how I had imagined that would play out.”

Was that flirting? That was definitely flirting but she wasn’t going to call him out on it. She didn’t have the presence of mind to verbally spar with him right now. But clearly her sleep deprived brain had other ideas.

“So, tell me Toshiro who do you think is going to win the hospital mistletoe bet this year?”

 Why did she bring that up????

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He replied easily as they arrived at his black BMW.

“Yes, you do, and quite frankly I’m impressed I’ve never seen someone literally somersault away from a group of nurses.”

He groaned as he courteously opened her door before helping her inside his of course perfectly clean car.

“Karin it’s not funny, it’s gotten to the point where I dread the Christmas season. I considered an extended leave of absence for the whole month of December.” His face as he started the car told he was 100% serious.

“Why don’t you just kiss someone then?” She asked as he started the car, making his way towards her brother’s apartment. His unenthusiastic grunt was her only response.

“You could even rig the betting pool; I’d bet Matsumoto would help you and you would make bank.”

“Of course, you’d suggest something like that Kurosaki.”

“Yeah, just so long as I’m in on it, I want a piece of the cut.”

This time she got an amused look in response instead of annoyance.

“No but for real just pick a cute nurse, give her a smooch and it’s all over. Four Decembers is a long time to deal with this.” Somehow, she managed to refrain from suggesting she herself be this cute nurse, but she was sure if he really wanted, he could figure it out.

“They usually start in November.”

“Even worse.”

The rest of the ride was spent in their usual amicable silence. A few times Karin almost nodded off but was pleasantly awoken by a swift smack in the arm each time. Stupid doctor Toshiro.

They arrived at her brother’s apartment soon enough and she nearly had to fight Toshiro so he wouldn’t go inside and apprise Rukia of the whole situation. “I may be tired but I’m not tired enough not to let Rukia know I probably have a concussion.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyways thanks for taking care of me, I owe you a favour.” She said as she dragged herself out of the warm car and around towards the building entrance. She was about to give one more wave when the driver’s side window rolled down and Toshiro beckoned her over.

“Can I collect on my favour now?”

She gave him what she was sure was a very confused look, what could he possibly want from concussion Karin at 4 am on Christmas morning?

She bent down closer to the window to ask him what the hell he could possibly want from her when suddenly her sleepy brain was made aware of the fact that Toshiro Hitsugaya was suddenly holding something above her head, and it was mistletoe. Her eyes went back and forth between him and the plant for several seconds before she finally spoke.

“Really this is your big move. I’ve been waiting for this since I was 21 stupid.”

“Whatever Kurosaki are you going to put me out of my misery or do I have to spend the next 4 Decembers avoiding this stupid plant again.”

He looked entirely too pleased with himself but really Karin could deal with it if she got to kiss one of the hottest ER doctors. Who could complain?

The next morning Matsumoto won the betting pool and was seen discreetly sharing her earnings with a certain white-haired doctor and his new girlfriend in the break room a few days later.

[midnight-marimba]

Mar’s DQXI Fic OCs

It’s Dragon Quest OC And NPC Week, and I’m going to approach it from the other direction than what’s described in the event proposal, because I rarely end up inventing a detailed character without context, but I often find a specific need for a character in a piece of fanfiction and build them up out of that prompt into something better than a footnote. So I’m going to take the opportunity to talk about some of my fics and the original characters and NPCs who wandered into them and made themselves interesting enough that I’m eager to share a little extra detail or commentary about them.  (Under the cut)

Hair Tie That Binds

A comedic story about Hendrik recruiting Erik for a heist to help fix his own mistake. (9k words)

I needed a minor villain, so I invented Lady Druzy (named off of an obscure corner of a gem list, so as to suit a minor Heliodoran noble).  She is petty, spiteful, vengeful, and apparently my favorite archetype of OC to write.  She is awful and I loved writing her.

After Rain, The Sun Will Shine

A Sylv/Hendrik one-shot involving Hendrik’s memories of Sylv’s mother. (8k words)

When I wrote this, I had not yet heard the detail from the voice drama (please somebody translate the whole thing?? <3) that Sylv's mom's given name was Gerbera and her stage name was Sylvia (that is, exactly the same stage name Sylv took in the Japanese version of the game).  I had only heard a broader rumor about the drama and Sylv choosing a stage name in honor of their mother.

So when I went to write a story about her, I looked at a list of Dutch names (to match Arnout and Hendrik — Zwaardsrust is Dutch) and hunted for one a name with a "Syl" sound.  I landed on Silke, which is also satisfying from a word association perspective (since it looks like "silk" which sounds highly appropriate for a "famous Zwaardsrustian beauty" — one of the few canon details we get for her).

I tried to make her stubborn and determined, inspiring and willfully optimistic for the sake of the people she had under her leadership.  Sylv-like, but with a slightly more intense philosophical flavor than canon Sylv, as she’s walking out of an arguably even greater tragedy (or at least more personal at a larger scale?)

Silk and Swagger

Faris/Reader, from the point of view of a Heliodor guard. (1.7k words)

The guard is nameless and the fic is relatively short, but my goodness it was fun inventing someone who is instantly smitten with Faris and believes the best of him at all times.

When Home Isn't Marked on the Map

A Sylv/Erik longfic set a couple years after the end of the game, in which Erik is coming out of a period of self-imposed isolation after a disastrous attempt at confessing his one-sided romantic feelings for the Luminary, and he begins by going looking for Sylv, the one old companion he dares hope won’t yell at him for his absence.  (74k words)

Since the ultimate seed of the idea behind this fic was "Erik would be protective towards orphans and Sylv would like that about him" I needed some kids to put in the story.  There are two sets of four that I named and included. 

First is the group from the rural area near Puerto Valor, and thus they have Spanish names: Isabella, Serafito, Paz, Ana.  I'm pretty sure I named the younger ones with shorter names to help myself keep them straight.  In my head, they have a darker complexion than the rest of the kids in the story, since I always wish the DQ world was a little more diverse on that front, but I fear that I forgot to actually write that detail in.  (Room for improvement...)

The second group is an expansion of the four child NPCs you can find playing hide-and-seek in downtown Heliodor.  I could only find a canon name for Cammo (the King of Hide-and-Seek) so I gave the rest of them stone related names, figuring the pattern from Cobblestone might extend around Heliodor into the poorer and less formal areas of the kingdom (Ruby the innkeeper notwithstanding). So they are Flint, Crystal, and Mica.

There are so many of them that it was tough to give all of them a lot of characterization, but I tried to distinguish each of them at least a little.  Isabella, the leader of her group, blunt in a way that reminds Erik of Mia and Veronica.  Serafito, a little bit of a self-sacrificing caretaker. Paz, young but outgoing, and Ana, even younger and a little shy.  Flint, the canny, cautious, and slightly manipulative leader of the Heliodor gang.  Cammo, sneaky and adventurous and clever.  Crystal, strong and brave and protective.  Mica unfortunately ended up being most notable for the ordeals he goes through.

My favorite among them ended up being Crystal, from the instant she decided she was after Hendrik's job.

Diamond

A Sylv/Serena and Sylv/Dave fic, from Serena’s point of view.  Set after Act 3 as Serena chooses a mission to research and perform healing around the world, travels alongside Sylv’s new circus troupe, and they both get to pursue some missing character development.  (118k words, technically 1 chapter short of an intended ending but may not be continued.)

Mind the tags and content advisory if you go into the fic itself, because (1) for reasons of 2020, a story about a doctor-hero was simply not an ideal story to begin in the year 2019, and (2) it is NOT a utopian style world — many characters have prejudices, others are closeted in some major ways, and not all of that is gone by the end of the story.  I 100% understand many folks not wanting to go roll around in that kind of fiction, and while there’s a discussion about Representation I could shoehorn in here, I’m going to set it aside for the sake of on-topic rambling about fun OC development.

For this fic, I wanted Sylv and Serena to be traveling the world together.  Serena was to be motivated in part by the allure of getting to meet more new people, and also, I think it’s useful for her personal growth to spend a little time away from her blood family and most of the people from whom she would naturally take direction.  I also wanted to explore Sylv as a leader in a way that’s not so easy within the canon party, and in general, I imagine Sylv both being friendly to every stranger and also having old friends pop up everywhere he goes.

Between the two of them, I ended up needing to plop in OC's left and right, both for Sylv’s new Act 3 circus troupe, and in every town they visited.  Because I’m a nerd, I expanded lore for some of the regions too, and I will mention some of those details here with the characters.

Sylv’s troupe:

Chill, a contortionist from Sniflheim, where people get kind of uncomfy about magic, especially when it looks too close to evil witchery.  Like, say, Zing.

Samir, a short, round bard from Gallopolis who can do amazing things with a variety of instruments, and his partner Grey, once a guard from Heliodor until he decided that job was even more bland than his name, and he ran off to Gallopolis to join the circus.

Maria and Mateo, a couple of quiet, short and slender dancers from Puerto Valor (in my head, Mateo is about 5 feet and Maria’s a couple inches shorter, though I keep gravitating away from talking in Modern Earth units of measurement when writing for this fandom).  Their kids, teenaged Leo and toddler Lena, aren’t (yet) performers, but are present because I thought it was interesting to plug some kids into a story about a traveling circus troupe, and because I wanted to give Sylv an excuse to interact with kids.

Francine. A classically beautiful acrobat from Octagonia, where the only work she could find was being a bunny girl handing out flyers.  She’s had a crush on Sylv, which didn’t work out, and in the aftermath she’s a little bitter and is predisposed to dislike anyone else getting too close to Sylv.  She is rude and spiteful when she does not like someone (though she may do so in an overly-sweet tone), and she awkwardly overcompensates when she wants to prove she’s moved on from something, and she ended up being my favorite OC here.

Some other notable OCs in the world:

In Sniflheim: Healer Heather, the doctor who would really rather not have any magic in her house, so she doesn’t get a mob coming after her next time the tide of public opinion turns against witches.

In Lonalulu: Nohea, the charming and handsome hula dancer who isn’t quite as nice as he seems, and Pika, the shy, plain, and clumsy but kind-hearted net weaver.  Both are there as potential love interests for Serena (and for contrast against Sylv, of course).

In the Inner Sea: Coral the mermaid, a singer.  She's here for advancing Serena's character development, but it was fun to have other OCs react to a mermaid, and trying to write plot-advancing mermaid dialogue raised my respect for the localization team 1000%.

In Gallopolis: Doctor Zel, who is very scientific and good at her job, never makes eye contact, and lacks a comforting bedside presence.  (Happily they have Faris to help with public relations during a health crisis…?)

This is only about half of the OCs and NPCs named in the story, but they’re most of the ones with the most screen time, and most of the ones that stand out in my mind.  But the outgoing and friendly Sylv and Serena I was trying to write, both of whom wanted to engage with the people of the world at large, just spawned new characters around them as they went.  You know those stories about mythical people where flowers bloom after them everywhere they go?  This pair was like that, only with OC’s instead of flowers.