#at this point God is like coaxing me away like a cat with promise of treats

[spectrerie]

Your Simon

Simon Riley x reader (gn I'm 99% sure)

TW: toxic!Simon, whump, captivity, psychological torture(?), kidnapping, yandere!Simon, maybe don't read this if you're only comfortable with fluff and light smut... even though there no smut in this (maybe I'll add an epilogue or sm idk)

Approx 2k words, random drabble. wrote this at 4 am, un-betad. Let's not nitpick, yeah? Cool.

Simon knew you were fragile, but he didn’t think you could be so easy to break. This was his third deployment since he’d met you. The third since he’d pulled you into his life. At first you’d been panicked, indignant and ungrateful. You didn’t understand the significance of his actions. Every detail meticulously planned out, every minute aspect of your stay without him accounted for. You just had to stop fighting him and start fighting for yourself. Fight to stay alive, just like him. He just wanted to share this with you, why wouldn’t you let him?

“Don’t worry, Love, I’ll be back in no time. You won’t even get a chance to miss me.” His hand stayed on the back of your head, fingers locked in your hair, holding your head up so you could look into his eyes. So you could watch him lie to you. You knew the routine well at this point. 

First the devil may care Ghost would ply you with cheeky taunts to smooth out your concern. His abrasiveness would wear you down, polish you into a reflection of himself. 

Despite yourself you began to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. In the beginning it wasn’t him you had missed. It was the promise of regular meals, and fresh water. Baths. Heating. Freedom. Now he was the centre of your world. He was your everything. 

While he was deployed you didn’t know how long you’d be left to stew in your own sweat and the grime of the basement he’d thrown you in. The smell of dust and mold hung heavy in the air down here. Soon the smell of your body would join them creating a fetid blend that would stay in your nostrils for weeks after your release. If you lived that long. The single hanging bulb barely illuminating your surroundings, not that there was much to see.  

Gallons of water lined one of the walls, at least a dozen of them neatly tucked from one dusty corner to another. You’d count them in earnest when he left you. Your mind was to panicked now to begin the frantic calculations of how long you could stretch your supplies. Just in case. 

Two boxes of hardtack biscuits and cans of god only knew what were neatly pressed up against another.  At times you feared he’d been feeding you cat food. You’d opened cans of greying meat floating in gelatinous gravy, other times the cans contained some kind of soup. Either way you’d choke it down cold. 

A part of you loved it here, you felt closer to him. You were a soldier too. This is where you’d live or die. Your battlefield.

His hand left your head and he went to the centre of the room where a small metal cot with a thin mattress stood. No pillow or duvet, but at least he’d given you a thick itchy woollen blanket. Army surplus to complete your private barracks. You’d earned the cot after weeks of good behaviour, no crying, no useless begging, no disobedience. A luxurious upgrade from the sheets of cardboard he’d left you to sleep on during his previous deployments. You followed before he even turned to call you, taking a seat on the mattress. 

“Will you miss me, pet?” He asked, coaxing your chin up with a gloved finger. 

“Yes, of course” you said between sobs. He huffed out a humourless laugh, and stroked your head. 

He hardly had to grind you down anymore, soon Ghost gave way to Simon. The mask he wore over his soul fell away, leaving behind the raw and broken boy he’d been before he learnt being someone else was as easy as covering his face. Part two of your dance begun.

The tears you thought you’d controlled began to fall again, pouring out of your tired eyes as you looked up at him. Your protector and captor. The man who told you everyday he’d die without you, the same man who held your life in his hands. 

“Please, please, Si… don’t forget about me here. Please.” The last word came out as a choked sob as you pressed your face against his thighs. Begging him to let you go was useless. You knew the steps now. Let him lead you, let yourself need him. Let him have something to control, someone who wouldn’t disappoint him. Someone he didn’t have to pretend with, unless he wanted to. 

“All you have to do is survive, pet. Same as me.” He knelt down in front of you, dark eyes shining with a mania that told you he was past pleading with. “All we have to do is survive. Think of me while you’re fighting in here, yeah? And I’ll be thinking of you out there. You’ll think of me won’t you? Hmm?” 

You nodded. 

“So say it.” 

Gathering yourself, you pulled away from him, eye to eye it was easier to believe the words that tumbled out of your mouth. 

“I’ll be thinking of you Si, so please, please,” your voice began to quake with unshed tears, “please come back to me. I’ll die without you.” 

You knew he was smiling beneath his mask. His hands came up to cradle your head, his grip too tight to be anything but a reminder of the control he had over you. 

“Of course you would. We need each other, don’t we?” 

You nodded and said your well rehearsed line. “We love each other.”

He watched you weep for a while, and you knew a part of him felt sick with himself. If he returned, if you lived, he’d tell you as much when he came home. 

The realisation that this was your home hit harder down here, puling more tortured sobs out of you as he watched. You weren’t sure if the ragged breaths you heard were yours or his. 

“Simon, Simon” you chanted his name over and over as you cried, like a prayer to a long dead god. He stood above you, within reach. One touch and you’d know he was real. But you cried out his name, and he watched. Until watching became too much and the sound of his name was punctuated with the sound of his boots ascending the stairs. 

The sound of a key turning.

And then the silence. 

— — — 

You counted the days by litres of water, cold canned meals, and fitful slashes sleep. 

One of each a day. 

No cheating. 

You recited songs in your mind, the lyrics painted dark by the deep gravely voice of your thoughts. Simon’s voice. 

You imagined a life with Simon, a life different from this. Those dreams were all that kept you sane. If this was sanity. 

A life with sunshine and tenderness that didn’t have to be earned. With music and hot food, baths together. The warmth of his body against yours. Every dream began and ended with the sound of a key turning, the creak of the old cellar door, deep lungfuls of fresh air. 

After meals and before sleep you’d press your nose to the tiny blacked out window. Taking deep breaths of the English countryside before closing it again. Air when were awake, warmth when you slept. These rules and rituals were what kept you alive here. Hell was rolling green hills and cloudy skies. Hell had no one around for miles. Hell and home were two sides of the same coin.

The same countryside he’d offered to show you when you’d first began dating him. You recounted those first few dates with him often. Combing your mind for any sign of the man he’d turn out to be. 

It had been too soon for a weekend away, you told yourself this time and time again. Turning your captivity against yourself in your darkest moments was a game you hated but still played. What fool would take a trip with a man they barely knew.? You hadn’t even known him for two full months when you went away with him. Your 6th date. This may have been the longest date in history. 

Sometimes you thought of your friends and your family. Were they worried? Were the little dribs and drabs of communication Simon let you have with them enough to keep them satiated. Had they stopped caring, like Simon said they would. 

He often told you the family a person was born into was rarely their true family. Like his. You knew pieces of the life he rarely spoke about. The father he hated, the mother he pitied. The brother he held complex, painful feelings for. You hardly heard about him at all. You suspected he was the only person outside of the 141 Simon cared about. Maybe the only person he truly loved. 

Did he love you? Actually love you?

Could he? 

Another litre, another can.  Another day. 

— — — 

The creak of the old cellar door woke you, as usual. You’d long since stopped running up the steps when you heard it, not trusting your mind to be honest with you. 

“Baby? Are you awake, Love?” 

You didn’t believe it. You couldn’t. The disappointment would hurt to much. 

The sound of heavy boots descending the stairs drew something out of you, but yet you still couldn’t let yourself believe it was real. That you had survived. Again. 

Warm fingers caressed your cheek, tracing the shape of your eyes and nose, until they finally settled on your neck, below your jaw. A beat passed in tense silence, you could still be dreaming.

A shaky breath that wasn’t yours filled the room, “thank god.” You opened your eyes, and he was there. A dark figure against the light, stoic among the swirling flecks of dust in the air. 

“Si?” Your voice was weak and hoarse from who knew how many weeks of disuse. 

He nodded, lifting you from your cot with ease. Holding your body against his tightly as he brought you up the stairs. Your eyes fluttered against the light, the early evening sun cutting  through you until you help your eyes tightly closed.

You heard him shush you softly before you realised you’d been crying. 

“Si,” you said again and you felt him hold you closer. 

“I know baby, I know. I’m so proud of you. We made it.” 

He set you down on the edge of the bath and began the careful work of peeling your filthy clothes off. 

The final chords of this tragic, disgusting song had begun, and your dance was ending. 

He washed you gently, tears in his eyes as he rinsed away the layers of pain he’d caused you. 

He spoke to you in gentle tones, barely above a whisper, as though any loud noise would send you into shock. He didn’t wait for your responses, knowing you were too exhausted to give any. 

“It’s okay, pet. It’s okay, you’re safe now. You’re out. You’re out.

“Were you scared? I know baby, I know how scary it was, but you’re safe now. I’ll never let anything happen to you, never. You’re too important, I love you so much, pet. Too much.” 

You let the hot water and his words baptise you, remaking you under the heat of his love for you. He washed every part of you, yet nothing felt as intimated as when he washed your hair, stroking your head gently as he cried and promised you things you weren’t sure would ever come to be. 

When you were clean he wrapped you in a towel and left to get you something to wear. 

Was that you? Was that really you in the mirror? Chapped lips, large sunken eyes, your cheeks were hollow and your skin dull, your natural undertone wiped away and replaced with a pallid grey. When he came back you still couldn’t look away from the person in the mirror. He placed a pair of sweatpants and one of his t shirts on the heater and closed the door, giving you time to settle back into yourself. Your new self. 

You hated him. You hated him for doing this to you, making you this person. 

You opened the cabinet and went through the minor motions of humanity. Brushing your teeth, brushing your hair, and pulling the t-shirt on mechanically. You left the bottoms folded, knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep them on no mater how tightly you tied them. He was just too big, and you were just too small. 

You clutched a hair band in your hand, knowing he’d want to tie your hair back. He loved doing those small things for you. And you hated him for it. 

When you shuffled into the bedroom you stood in the doorway, watching you with a grief in his eyes as though he hand’t done this to you. 

He pulled you close, picking you up and laying you gently on the bed. The mattress felt obscene after weeks on the cot, you wept again and hated him for turning you into this person, a person that cried at everything. A person who knew what it felt like to sleep on the floor. Someone who felt blessed to have a bed. 

He took his place beside you, and you pulled yourself close, holding your body to the curves and edges of his. His arms wound around you and pinned you to him, his lips brushed your forehead and you felt his tears fall, running down your cheeks and mixing with yours.

“I was so scared without you. I really thought I wasn’t gonna make it this time.” 

“Me too, Si.”

You understood how much he needed this, how much he needed to be the villain, how much he needed to hate himself before he could go into hell and be a good soldier. So he could come back home a hero, a rescuer. Your protector. 

Your Simon.

[midnighthwng]

look up // 2min

soulmates will always find their way back to each other. no matter what.

₊˚.⋆ pairing: lee know + seungmin

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ genre: angst + comfort

₊˚.⋆ warning/s: major character death (i promise i make up for it)

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ word count: 3.1k

₊˚.⋆ ao3 link

──────────

it’s late. 

minho and seungmin are driving down some wet road after a little vacation to minho’s hometown, a celebration of sorts, because minho’s graduating next year and seungmin is... well, still in his second year. but it was an academic year that they both worked hard on. that, in seungmin’s book, was something worth taking a vacation for. 

“i think that’s dumb,” minho playfully snaps. of course, he can’t ever truly be mad at the sweet and dandy man in the passenger seat, who he considers himself lucky to regard as his boyfriend.

seungmin is giggling as he says, “anything i say is dumb to you, but you’re actually thinking i’m right.” 

minho shakes his head for the nth time in the conversation, probably a bit too much for someone holding the wheel. “why would i agree that i’d be a shark in my next life? i’m obviously gonna be a cat.”

“just because you like cats now, doesn’t mean you’ll be them when you’re reborn,” seungmin tutted. neither of them really remember how the conversation started, but when you’ve been on the road for more than an hour, anything can serve an interesting topic. especially for these two.

“i think sharks are pretty cool, but the only thing i have in common with them is that we don’t like humans.”

seungmin gasps in faux offense, twisting his torso to face the older. “you don’t like me, honey?”

“you’re less of a bother than all the others out there,” he rolls his eyes.

“you don’t like hyunjin? or jisung? or chan-hyung?” seungmin prods. his face was getting closer and minho could consider it a driving hazard, because god knows he’s trying his best to repress the urge to kiss him on his stupid, pretty face.

he can’t stop the smile from spreading because of the question though, but he holds in his laugh. “now you’re just guilt-tripping me.”

seungmin giggles his way back to sitting properly, the tight seatbelt causing a bit of a strain to his neck because of his antics. 

“kidding, as always. well, how about me? what would i be in my next life?” ah, so that’s how the debate began.

minho scoffs. “dog. easily.”

“what breed?”

“do you have to be so thorough?” he’s laughing now, both at the ridiculous topic and how adorable seungmin is acting. “golden retriever.”

“you’re so basic!” seungmin is laughing, too, though there wasn’t really anything funny about it. there was something in the air that causes them to act like fools in love everytime they’re together. at this point, it’s probably not an act anymore, really. “i’m totally gonna bite you if i see you in my canine form.”

“goldens don’t bite,” minho quips. 

they probably can, he thinks in his head, but they both throw whatever at each other if it means winning the argument. with love, of course. they haven’t had a serious fight in years, save for the first few times they met. 

how was seungmin supposed to know that minho was looking him up and down because he had never seen someone so adorable but so hot at the same time, and not because he wanted to coax him into a fist fight? that night ended with multiple bruises, but the month ended in tears of laughter when minho finally gained the balls to tell seungmin how he really felt that night and how he felt about him in general. truly a textbook love story.

“well, i will!” seungmin punches the other’s arm lightly. probably not safe for a slippery road, but no harm was done. 

minho rolls his eyes, “whatever. and stop talking like you’ll get reincarnated before me. we’re going together.”

“bit dark, hyung,” the younger comments but still a bit giggly. “and you know that’s not what i meant.”

minho starts sniffling and faking sobs, wiping away non-existent tears. “i’ll be lonely without you, honey.”

“stop!” seungmin busts out laughing again. “and keep your eyes on the road and hands on the wheel, it’s slippery out here.”

minho wishes he had listened. 

the next thing he knew, they’re surrounded by blinding white, and monitors are beeping around them, and he thinks he hears hushed voices here and there. he wasn’t sure what was real and what was only imagined by him. he’s sure, however, of the painfully crimson hand he was clutching, cold and unconscious.

“i’m so stupid, fuck... please...” he pleads to seungmin. tears and blood and snot getting everywhere, but why would that ever matter when his lover was getting weaker and weaker right in front of him? “i’m so sorry, please stay with me... say something!”

his eyes widen at his own tone. “no, no, i didn’t mean to yell... just please...” he feels a pinch of movement under his tight grip and the world spins a little slower.

“h-hyung...” seungmin tries, but coughs blood on minho’s cheek with how close he is. 

“minnie?” 

“hyung.”

“i’m here, baby. talk to me, go on.” minho becomes decreasingly aware at how desperate he sounds. everything in his world has shrunk to only them. only seungmin and minho.

and the pristine sheets stained with red that came from whatever wounds they’ve both sustained from the crash. and the god awful beeping machine next to them. which he doesn’t realize was picking up speed. “-back t’ you.”

“what?” minho clutches the younger’s hand tighter, too tight for a weakened body, but neither of them mention it. “you can do it.”

“i’ll... i’ll come back. to you,” seungmin finally breathes out. no one’s counting how many minutes it took. “promise... wait for me.”

minho’s breathing is chopped up and unstable and he should probably be in another hospital bed getting his own condition checked, but nothing matters to him but seungmin, not even his own health. “stop. stop that. you’re not leaving me, don’t leave me.” 

“i can’t.”

“you can. be strong for me, please.” his eyesight is starting to wither because of how much he’s cried in the past ten minutes, maybe thirty. 

“no i,” seungmin is trying to wheeze now, if not for his punctured lungs that make it all the more difficult. “i can’t breathe, hyung.”

minho adjusts himself so they’re even more in each other’s faces. “do it with me. come on.” the heart monitor is getting rapid now, and the sound finally registers in minho’s ears and in his brain. “inhale, exhale, inhale, seungmin!” 

a single tear makes its way down seungmin’s cheek. “i love you.” 

“i lov- no, seungmin, please. please!”

... 

arms grab minho by the shoulders and he’s sure he knocked someone’s teeth out until his vision completely goes dark.

-

minho stares at the clock. he’s been waiting for something, but he has already forgotten. it’ll probably come to remind him of itself later.

then the calendar right below it. plus one to the year since he’s been on autopilot. exactly, too , he realizes, as he fixates on the bold letters that spell out the fifth month of the year. 

he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket before he hears the ringtone, set to an audio he had labelled ‘important, pick up’ . robotically, he ‘accepts’ and brings the speaker to his ear. “what?”

“i’ll be there to pick up the stuff soon,” the voice speaks. it belongs to him and seungmin’s best friend, or one of them, hyunjin.

“sure.” he zones out on a piece of plastic that landed on the foot of his coffee table. their coffee table. how does he describe the things in his own home anymore? was it even a home at all, when the thing he called home was personified by the tall and handsome brunette, and had perished in his arms?

“hyung.” hyunjin sounds urgent to an outside ear, but minho can hear the pity laced in a single word.

“hm.”

“is everything ready, i said?”

“yeah. yeah.”

he’s not sure if a whole minute passes before hyunjin asks the dreaded “how are you doing?” question. at least it wasn’t “are you okay?” this time.

“next question,” he says blandly instead.

“hyung...”

“stop. i’m fine.” he isn’t. they both know it. but who can blame them for trying to avoid the reality?

“...okay.” there’s a knock at the door. minho doesn’t immediately realize it’s hyunjin. “open the door.”

he hauls himself to the door and opens it to hyunjin, who wears a blank face. but minho can see it in his glossy eyes, what he wants to say. “i’m sorry.”

instead, hyunjin’s mouth opens with “let’s get these downstairs.” ‘these’ pertaining to the half dozen boxes of seungmin’s stuff that took a lot of time, sweat, and tears from minho to pack up. 

it’s sunny when they step out from the apartment. minho wishes he could say he hadn’t been outside in months, but life required him to drag his body to get necessities every once in a while. 

he’s not sure what’s been pushing him to keep going. maybe he hopes seungmin is proud of him for doing so. maybe he hopes seungmin will keep his promise. 

no one can fault minho for believing it. seungmin had always been a man of his word.

he’s only brought out of his thoughts because hyunjin halted right in front of him, almost dropping his stack of boxes. “hey, puppy, puppy!”

minho looks over hyunjin’s slouched figure to see a dog. quite big, but he guesses golden retrievers grow fast. 

must be at least a year old, he muses. the dog knocks minho out of his observation when it jumps onto him, promptly fully knocking over his boxes. “what’s the deal?”

he can tell hyunjin’s holding his laughter when he helps him pick up the stuff that spilled out from one of the containers. the tape must have gotten loose.

they’re almost done when gold shines in minho’s peripheral. he picks up a necklace; simple, flat heart with a small “M” engraved on the center. 

he doesn’t realize he’s tearing up until hyunjin speaks, “hey, you okay?”

“no- yes.” liar. “yeah. this... i gave it to him. for our anniversary.”

hyunjin raises his brows, the way he does when he encounters something shocking or obvious. “keep it. why is it even in one of these?”

“i don’t know...” minho sighs. he doesn’t know what he would have done if he realized too late that he threw this away. “i just packed without paying attention, i guess.”

“you should have called us for help. you always can, alright?” the younger finishes up with the one box and sets a hand on minho’s shoulder. “even if it’s been a whole year since you talked to us...”

minho can’t look anywhere near hyunjin in shame. “i know. and i’m sorry about that.”

“hey, no worries,” he tries chasing minho’s line of sight, offering a small smile. “i know it’s been hard. we loved him, too.”

minho swallows a lump in his throat. how long had that been building up? “yeah. thanks.”

the dog, who minho already forgot about in their exchange, approaches them, specifically the hand that minho still clutched the gold necklace in. it sniffs up and down on it, then suddenly snatches it and runs off.

“hey!” minho shouts, running after it. hyunjin has half a mind to be sensitive and not pull out his phone to film this. he thinks it would have been funny any other day, though.

the two run around the block until the dog, annoyingly, settles right in front of the apartment’s entrance. minho heaves and pulls the jewelry back out from the dog’s mouth. he doesn’t mind the slobber getting all over him for some reason. he even pockets the necklace.

“don’t take things that aren’t yours,” he scolds. he comes back to hyunjin actually giggling his ass off now and pulls him up by the collar to finally put the rest of the boxes into the car.

“thank you, hyunjin,” he whispers. sincerely so, as if thanking him for something else other than helping him pack up. and maybe he was.

hyunjin smiles a little brighter than earlier. “always, hyung. i’m also just a phone call away if you need someone to talk to. me and the others.” 

minho nods. “i’ll remember.”

they go in for a hug, hyunjin tightening his hold a little more. when they let go, it’s like a light bulb flickers on top of the younger’s head. “it’s changbin-hyung’s birthday soon! come see usss.”

“i’ll try.” and that’s all hyunjin needed to hear before he beams at him and finally drives off.

minho hears a whimper beside him and realizes-

“you’re still here?” he asks the dog, as if it’ll respond. but honestly, it might as well have understood him, because it whimpers again and marches toward the entrance of the building.

“who are your owners...? whatever, come on, get inside.”

minho wouldn’t do it normally, letting random dogs (or a dog in general) inside his house, but there was something about this one that he couldn’t resist. call him crazy, but the dog appears to be smiling when it looks up at him, and it’s ruining his heart. when they enter the apartment, it even waits for minho to enter before it shuffles its big paws inside, too. 

“it’s not much,” he’s still talking to it, “not anymore.”

minho watches as the dog prances around the living room. there’s a table near the tv, low enough that it could sniff the few picture frames displayed on it. to minho’s confusion, it whimpers at the pictures.

“what’s wrong? you don’t like them?” his brows furrow into each other as he picks one up. “i think we look alright here.” 

in the frame, the wind was a little too strong to the point of knocking seungmin’s hat into the air, making for a perfect candid shot of the two of them chasing it. they knew it was a good decision to tag hyunjin along that picnic date.

the dog nudges another one of the frames until it falls, concerning minho even more. it was one of seungmin’s, a shot of him facing the sun setting while they were on a bridge somewhere. he definitely did not force minho to take that fake candid shot. 

minho crouches to pick it up and replace both frames onto the desk. the dog noses at his pocket and whimpers again. “jeez. i may not know much about dogs, but do you guys really cry this much...?”

he thinks for a moment before dialing on his phone and waiting probably half a second before hyunjin picks up. “hey, you know that dog earlier?”

“uh, yeah, what about it?”

“he keeps following me around and crying at our stuff,” he comments. the dog is just looking at the pictures again. 

“you let it in your house?”

“well, i wasn’t gonna leave it out in the heat...”

“...sure, hyung. what breed was it again?”

“it’s a golden.” minho was about to ask why it could have possibly mattered, when it clicks. “golden retriever. i gotta call you back.”

“hyung-” and all hyunjin hears is the line dropping.

minho starts petting the dog, to its joy. “you recognize this guy?” it whimpers again before it starts looking around the house. “you have some really odd qualities...”

it leaves minho’s hold and starts trotting toward their shared bedroom. it looks untouched, bedsheets laying undisturbed, but a layer of dust collecting over that. dust covering everything, really. he’d started sleeping on the couch, the fear of his own memories of him and seungmin in that bedroom and on that bed being too much to bear to be able to sleep in there again.

“you won’t find any treats here, if that’s what you want,” he follows anyways. the dog stops in front a packed box. “shit, we must have missed this one,” he sighs.

the dog paws at it, like it was saying “open it” or something crazy in minho’s head. so, he does.

inside, they find a polaroid camera, and a bunch of photos scattered under it. guess i left this here on purpose. he and the dog sit down next to the box as he shuffles through the photos. well, more like showcases them to his new friend.

“this was from our trip to jeju. we were with our best friends.” he chuckles and points to a part in the photo, “you can kind of see them in the back here.”

shifting to another film, “a picnic near han river. he said he loved this place the most, ‘cause the sky is always so pretty when you look up.” 

a tear is trekking down his face now, multiple following after. the dog whimpers at the sight. “i miss him. he’s probably happy in the sky, since he loves it so much.”

the dog is pawing at him, quite rough with how big its paws are and how textured probably from walking around on the street. where did this thing come from, again?

“what?” minho asks it, then suddenly, it’s jumping on him and licking all over his face. minho can’t bring himself to be disgusted over it, but he’s still confused as fuck. “hey buddy, we just met.”

that seems to trigger something in the dog’s mind, because now it’s sitting and whimpering and probably on the verge of barking at minho. “we just met, like an hour ago. I’m not your owner, you don’t know me-”

and it’s barking, really loudly. right in his face. “now you’re just being mean, puppy,” he chuckles. the dog makes a sound akin to a human huff and looks around again. 

it knocks the box over, spilling the photos out, and minho watches in amusement as it seems to be looking for something specific. it gently grabs one into its mouth and nudges it into minho’s hand.

a picture from when they went on vacation to gimpo. that same day... “why did you give me this?”

it’s like it's losing patience when the dog steps onto the pocket where the necklace still is. minho takes it out, and the dog whimpers at it again.

his tears are still flowing when he starts laughing. “i’m gonna get called insane.” the dog’s head tilts.

“...seungminnie?”

rapidly, the dog’s tail is wagging and he jumps back onto minho to knock them both flat on the floor, licking and barking (happily, of course) in his face. 

“what the hell,” he exclaims, still laughing at how ridiculous this all seems to be. “your next life.”

the dog stops his movements and just lays on minho. he really looks like he’s smiling at me. he almost can’t breathe under the dog’s weight and because of the snot building up in his nose, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

“surely took you long enough,” he breathes. the dog smacks him in the face with that big paw of his, and minho’s crying even harder because that’s exactly what he would expect seungmin to do.

“kidding, as always. hm...” he trails, scratching softly behind the dog’s ears. 

“i’ll call you sky.”

──────────

☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

i hope i actually made up for the mcd aha i don't usually write angst (i've never even written it without the fluff to counter it) but i really like how this one turned out.

it was originally written for a scriptwriting class i had, so if it had a little too much dialogue, that's why (i tried my best converting it into para forms o7)

thanks for reading :D thinking of putting my other fics on tumblr too but if u'd like to read them while they aren't here yet, they're on my ao3 already :)

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽

[snoelledarts]

whats up with cold showers???

You managed to pick the most unserious one I'm--

It's when Nico and Will are like 18 and 19 (canon-compliant, you know me), and are living together in New Rome while Will goes to school and Nico is home alone a lot because he doesn't go to school... or have a job... or anything. He still runs errands for his dad and that's about it. So it's just about all the time he spends just... sitting alone in their apartment and all the BS he gets up to. And one of the ongoing jokes is how many showers he takes every day just for something to DO. (Teen and Up snippet under the cut, just to be safe! Altho the *joke* is Nico doesn't understand the implications of cold showers.)

Being with Will isn’t the problem anymore. 

Shame doesn’t crawl up Nico’s spine when they’re out together in public. Embarrassment doesn’t threaten to burn him from the inside out when Will steals kisses in front of their friends. He’s not even bothered by how grossly romantic Will is! In fact, Nico is starting to suspect he might be worse. A horrifying, but increasingly true, reality. Flowers at random, cooking Will’s favorite dinners at the end of hard days, singing Will to sleep-- gods, when did he become such a sap?

Well, if Nico had to guess, probably about when Will entered his life. 

Their friends all joke that being in a relationship suits him, that nowadays Nico mellows Will out more than the other way around. A majority of their time together is spent snuggled on the couch, or going on sweet dates around New Rome whenever Will catches a break. 

It’s domestic bliss at eighteen years old.

Will goes to his classes, attends his clinicals, and Nico is there for every spare moment in-between force-feeding the blonde so he doesn’t pass out and coaxing him to bed with promises of more studying in the morning. (Which is always a lie, because Will is weak to early morning cuddles with a grumpy “very cute” Nico, and Nico is not above using that to his advantage.)

So, like Nico said, being with Will isn’t the problem anymore. 

No, the problem is when he’s alone.

And not in that way. Nico is the furthest from lonely he has ever been in his life. Percy and Annabeth live only a few blocks over, and while they’re both pretty busy with their coursework, that doesn’t stop them from demanding Will and Nico come over for dinner twice a week or go for a night out on the town with a group of friends every once in a while. Hazel and Frank and Reyna are just on the outside of New Rome, overseeing Camp Jupiter still, and Nico still gets a little choked up when he thinks too hard about how nice it is to live with his sister so close by. Even a few of his and Will’s best Camp Half-Blood friends, like Cecil and Austin, are here in New Rome attending college. 

(Will still insists Austin should have gotten in Julliard. Nico offered to send an undead army to the Admissions Office, but for some reason Austin didn’t like that idea. A pity. It’s been a long time since Nico has gotten to have an entire legion of skeletons at his beck and call.)

Actually, now that Nico thinks about it, it’s a miracle he’s ever alone at all given the proximity of all of their most extroverted friends. 

The problem with being alone isn’t that Nico’s lonely, it’s that it gives him time to enjoy himself. And time to enjoy himself also means time to think about the future, which always leads to thinking about Will. And thinking about Will leads to-- the current issue.

Nico has taken four cold showers today. 

There is quite literally nothing else for him to do. At this point he’s starting to feel like he should just sit under the cold spray indefinitely like a wet, scolded cat. Doomed to daydream his day away.

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Scherzo (Chapter Six; Part One)

In collaboration with @bethanysnow

Dreams turn into reality on smokey breaths. Inner turmoil melts away with the touch from warm skin. Promises make the evening decisions go from complicated to deliciously easy.

Content | Fluff, slight smut warning, tw soft drugs (marijuana)

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 4421

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitersmoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy  @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @killerqueen1985 @ccweasley @bluscryn @deluxeplanteater @ohtorchio @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @katyldamusic​ @fuckim-so-gay @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @petit-poussin @fedorable-killjoys​ @luvbadass​ @buttercup-beeee​ @navs-bhat​ @etaerealboyv​ @tryymebitch​ @mell-bell​ @fenhakwe​ @solacestyles​ @softforlukescurls​ @vicsangel​ @theimpossiblehologramtree​ @alina-exe​ @cherricola66​

***

Soft skin against his fingers. A hand running down his chest to his pants. Heavy breathing filling the room. The flesh underneath him felt warm and welcoming, hot to the touch and begging for more. Her perfume filled his senses as she pulled him close. Nails running down his back. Whispers of "amore mio, just like that", "keep going,” “cara mia, vita mia, please".

A “Dami, fuck” leaving her lips as his hand started gripping her thighs. Running between them, as she threw her head back, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling on it. Biting her neck. Coaxing more moans out of him, on a mission to make him lose his mind. She was heaven on earth. Supple breasts moving with every breath as he let his mouth descend on them, one at a time, desperate to consume all of her. Kissing every inch of her, exploring her until he knew about every curve, every ridge, every little spot of her body. He wanted to know all the secrets she ever had. Drawing noises out of her that he wanted to keep hearing for the rest of his life. Her hands on his shoulders, on his back, on his arse. Pulling him further into her. Letting his mouth wander lower, getting wrapped up between her legs. She looked at him with dark eyes, nodding, and he was ready to suffocate in between her thighs.

Wait, was he actually suffocating on her thighs?

Damiano woke up with a start, face pressed deeply into the pillow, restricting his breathing in a way that was much less sexy than the one in his dream. A circle of drool had escaped his mouth and dropped onto the pillow. Well, that's embarrassing, he thought to himself.

He was in the middle of pushing himself up and out of bed, highly aware of the situation in his boxers - only to be interrupted when a knock on the door startled him. Trying to wrap the sheet around him, suddenly overly self-conscious of his state, he hastened to the door, almost tripping several times on the way. When he finally unlocked and opened it, he just about let his head appear in the opening, awkwardly hiding between the door still. Y/n’s face was painted in confusion. He forgot how stunning she really was, his brain not even coming close to painting her image in his dreams.

“Yes, hi, good morning, I’m up! I’ll be down in an hour!” He was rushing to finish his sentence, not giving her a chance to reply before he let the door fall back into its lock. A deep breath out. Her face instilled in his mind like a photograph, unable to be separated from the extremely vivid dream he’d just had. He felt bad. He had essentially slammed the door in her face while wrapped up in a bedsheet. Not a very good impression considering he liked the woman behind the door. This was going to be such a long day.

***

“Why are you so awkward?” Victoria nudged Damiano as they had settled on a couch on the bus. He had been looking off since she had first seen him that morning, which was odd. Especially considering he was usually more of an early bird than the rest of them. “Sleep badly? Bad dreams? Good dreams? Or did you scare Y/n away again with another morning wood incident.”

Damiano’s face burned up as if suddenly ignited, making Victoria gasp.

“Oh my god, did you?!” She smacked his chest with her hand as she let out a gasp.

“I wasn’t even aware you knew about the first time,” Damiano mumbled, slumping down deeper into the seat. Crawling into the shirt he was wearing. Anything to get out of this conversation.

“Word travels fast on tour, you should know that by now,” she giggled, repositioning so she had her legs spread across his thighs. “So what happened?”

“I’m not going to talk about that with you,” he scoffed. Victoria’s grin only spread further, though. She was loving this side of Damiano more than she would like to admit - shy, awkward, unsure of himself. He was one of the best people she knew, an amazing frontman, a talented musician, a loyal friend. Yet with one little addition to the team he had turned into a quivering mess.

“You know I’m just going to ask Y/n what happened, right?”

“Yeah good luck with that, she didn’t even notice. At least I hope not.”

“Wait - so you hid your boner from her? I mean, at least you didn’t traumatise her again. What happened though, did you have some good times before the wake-up call?” She once again nudged him obnoxiously, loving how uncomfortable she was making him. “Did you have a wet dream? Did- Oh my god, you’re blushing, you did have a wet dream! Tell me everything! Was it hot? Did she go down on you or something? Did you see her tits?”

“Fuck off Victoria, I’m not telling you anything, now stop! It’s no like-”

“Hi! Attention, everyone! I know it's early and everyone is probably still asleep. But - announcements! That includes you Thomas,” Y/n said pulling the curtain of the guitarist’s bunk back so he could listen too.

Victoria noticed how their assistant didn’t seem spooked by Damiano’s presence at all - it seemed like he had been right after all. She hadn’t noticed a thing. If only those two would stop playing cat and mouse and finally do something, anything, she thought.

"Now, I know we're all excited about going to Amsterdam today, and I'm not looking at anyone in particular here," she explained as she shot a pointed look at Damiano that no one missed. "But I have one ground rule: no weed before the show. You got tomorrow off, so whatever you do after the performance tonight is none of my business. But god help you if I find you with a joint in hand any time before that."

She smiled, but Victoria had no doubts she would be deadly serious if it came to it. Y/n passed out a map of the local area, highlighting the Leidseplein in the middle of town, and in red circles were the venue, the hotel they were staying at, restaurants, and several coffeeshops, all within easy walking distance.

“Do with that what you like,” she concluded. ”As long as you do it after the show.”

***

The band had gotten to the venue straight after lunch, excitedly discussing some new covers they were thinking about playing that night. Soundcheck consisted of a number of conversations all at once, trying to figure out how to change the setlist. Damiano found himself participating less, instead, staring down at Y/n sitting in the audience. She was busy writing in her notebook, the seats next to her taken up by her bag, folders, and laptop. He knew she needed a break. They all worked extremely hard all the time, so it wasn't difficult to spot the signs of a fellow overworked person. He made it his own personal mission to get her to go out with them that night. Spend some time outside of work, see the city, anything that made her put her phone down.

As day turned to night, the concert loomed on the horizon. As soon as they hit the stage, it was clear it was going to be a good night. Amsterdam was the best kind of crazy. Going from Zitti e Buoni into Billie Eilish's Bury a Friend, the crowd went wild. Damiano noticed with amusement that Y/n was absentmindedly dancing along from her spot on the side of the stage as well. His attention had only been diverted towards her for a second, he was sure, but it was enough to suddenly feel something hit his head. Soft, red fabric.

"Was wondering when the first of those would come around," Damiano chuckled into the microphone in between songs, swinging the bra around a few times, before draping it across his mic stand.

Yet as much as the energy of the audience rubbed off on the band, all of them felt like collapsing after the show, feeling like they'd given it more than their all. A perfect chance to unwind for the night, in a way only Amsterdam really knew how. It was legal, after all.

***

“I am absolutely not getting high with you lot.”

Everyone was gathered in Y/n’s hotel room more or less uninvited. It seemed like they were dying to drag her along on what was supposed to be one of the best nights out on that tour. After getting ready, they had simply stormed in as soon as she had opened her hotel door. Now they were perched on her bed, her desk, and her armchair, trying to convince her.

“I gave you all a map to see where you could go. I, for one, would like to stay in my room, just me and my bed, and sleep till my alarm in the morning. That sounds like a brilliant time in my book.”

“Boring!” Thomas shouted, hurling a pillow from the bed at her that she quickly caught and threw back with much less force.

“If you come out with us, we’ll be ready before your wake-up call for the rest of the week!” Victoria tried to bribe.

“If you come out with us, we’ll have breakfast ready for you every day!” Y/n shot a look at Thomas, knowing fully well this was not going to happen. The idea alone made her laugh.

“If you come out with us, you can keep me company while the other three go crazy?” Ethan finally offered. She knew she was close to giving in, no matter how wrong it seemed to blur the lines between working relationship and friendship. She barely even agreed to drinks when she was on the job, and technically, she considered herself to be on the job 24/7. Yet these four had grown close to her heart so much more than anticipated.

Out of nowhere Damiano appeared next to her, slinging his arm around her shoulder. The way his fingertips brushed her neck as he did so left goosebumps. “Come on, darling, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

It turned out, that was all she had needed to hear.

***

The coffeeshop didn’t differ much from the usual pubs and bars; people stuffed in every corner, a low murmur of talk with the occasional loud laughter over the music playing in the background, tables full of glasses and bottles. Only the smoke lingering in the air, its distinct smell, and the relaxed atmosphere let on that it was a slightly different kind of place. Y/n made short work of weaseling through the crowd and securing a table at the far end of the place, just enough space to accommodate all of them, as the others went to order.

“Do you want one as well?” Damiano asked as soon as he had let himself fall onto the couch next to her, already preparing to roll a joint.

“I think I’m getting a second-hand high just sitting here. Maybe take a puff of one of yours, but I won't be able to finish one myself."

Damiano nodded, licking the inside of the blanks as he prepared his joint. Victoria came bouncing in like a tidal wave - her usual fashion - and crashing into the others already sitting down. As soon as Damiano was happy with his creation, she snatched it out of his hand, making short work of lighting it and taking a drag.

“Hey, that was mine!”

“Make another one,” she grinned, obnoxiously blowing the smoke into his face. Rolling his eyes, Damiano quickly prepared another one for himself, everyone now happy and content with their smokes, until only Y/n was left holding at a glass of water.

She preferred to observe the scene from her little advantage point in the corner like she so often did. The mellow music in the background was loud enough to underline the atmosphere but quiet enough to easily talk to everyone around you without having to shout. She liked this much better than loud bars in the evening. Most people were minding their own business, in small groups or pairs, some on their own. Victoria was quick to start chatting to a pair of girls sitting at the table next to them. She wasn’t going to lie - while not her usual spot, she didn’t exactly feel uncomfortable.

A hand appeared in front of her face, seemingly out of nowhere, and it took her a second to realise it was Damiano, trying to pass her his joint. She hesitated - still not convinced whether she should be smoking at all, but one look into his eyes only proved to her that she was weak to his suggestions. Parting her lips ever so slightly, she let him push the blunt between them, his fingertips grazing her. She took a drag, careful not to breathe in too much too quickly, before releasing the joint. Damiano pulled it back towards himself immediately, putting it back between his own lips, and she felt hypnotised. The moment came to an abrupt end when a cough took hold of her.

“Easy, easy,” Ethan soothed from the other side, his hand on her upper back. “Breathe.”

Everyone around the table seemed to be looking at her now, but she quickly got her composure back, holding up her hands in a gesture that was meant to signal she was fine.

“Fuck,” Y/n choked, taking a drink from her glass to wet her throat. “This is why I don’t smoke.”

“Wrong,” Thomas threw in. “This is because you don’t smoke!”

Y/n shook her head, giggling at the guitarist and the know-it-all look in his eyes.

“Up to try again?” Damiano whispered in her ear as the attention had finally ceased to be on her. She found herself staring into his eyes once again, a fluttery feeling erupting in her stomach at having him watch her so intently, at being able to capture his attention so easily.

The look on his face was enough to get her to try again. And again. And again.

She couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but for once, she genuinely didn’t care. The people around them had changed, old ones leaving, new ones arriving, but the music stayed the same. She wasn’t quite sure what the joke Thomas was telling them was about, but she found herself giggling along nonetheless. This was the best she had felt in forever.

Unaware of what she was doing, she leaned back, finding Damiano’s arms carefully wrapping around her, holding her softly. To her own surprise, she was sinking into him.

“Having fun?” He asked in a voice so low she barely heard it. A voice so soft it made her heart melt. She nodded, slightly twisting around in his embrace to look at him again. She couldn’t get enough of his face. She’d stay and study it for all of eternity if he let her.

"Have you ever seen brown zircon?” She suddenly asked out of nowhere. “It's a gemstone that looks like they made sparkly salted caramel bonbons from rock. They mine it in Tanzania, I think? Your eyes sparkle just like that." She grinned at the man beside her. "I can attest to that from this angle at least. It’s like the one scene in Aladdin! 'She's got these eyes, and this hair and…’ Ah oh god, what am I doing?" She couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous she was being. She found her face resting on his shoulder, completely content. His eyes never wavered from her face, listening closely to what she had to say.

Then Y/n watched her hand brush Damiano’s hair to the front, attempting to style it in a slightly different way. “Did you mean to look like Eren Yeager or was that some sort of subconscious coincidence? Not that it doesn’t look good, of course.”

“You watch Attack on Titan?” Dami looked down at her with surprise.

“No I don’t, but my friends do. So you learn the names of the people they yell at through the TV screen very quickly,” she laughed, remembering the way her friends would huddle in the living room, shouting at whatever the characters were doing wrong in their opinion.

“The more I get to know you, the more I’m convinced you’re my kinda woman, you know?” he mumbled, a smile grazing his lips. The more she looked at him, the more she felt her brain shutting off and her heart taking over. Or was it the high? She wasn’t interested in trying to differentiate.

Once again, he pushed the joint between her lips, holding the eye contact and it felt so much more intimate than it should have. It felt like her nerves were on fire. When he pulled his hand back again, she wanted to grab onto it, keep him in place, keep the moment.

I could stay in this forever, Y/n thought to herself.

"Also, I'm not religious by any means, but whatever God was responsible for creating you sure took their sweet time doing it…" The words spilled from her mouth before she realized she was talking, eyes flicking back and forth between his. "You know?"

She caught herself looking at his lips. A small blush grew on her face as she looked away. Staring out into the room, out at the people sitting next to them at other tables. Something distracting to take the rising heat off.

***

Damiano could feel his defenses wearing away. All ideas of staying away completely vanished into the smoke that lulled them in as he was holding her in his arms, her back leaning against his chest. He could feel her breathing, giggling at nothing at all, or maybe something Victoria had said but he hadn’t heard.

“If anyone’s been made by the angels, it’s you, amore,” he mumbled more to himself than anything, but she had heard him. Another chuckle running through her body. The atmosphere was fogging up his brain. He watched in amusement as he let a finger run up her arms, from her wrist to her upper arm where the fabric of her shirt began, and goosebumps appeared as if standing tall in a row. He tried it again on the other arm, getting the same result.

“What are you doing?”

She was turning around in his arms, just enough to look at him without removing herself from his embrace. He wondered if it was the dim light or if she was always this radiant. His hands travelled to the elastic that was holding her hair together and carefully removed it, eyes on her. Her hair fell around her face, framing it beautifully in its typically wild manner.

“I…” Her eyes seemed to twinkle as the light of the bar reflected back at him through them. “I don’t know.”

He looked away, suddenly insecure. What was he doing? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep his hands off her, now less than ever. He wanted her. Wanted her all to himself. Wanted to keep holding her like this forever. There was no denying that.

“You’re sweet.”

Her voice took a second to get through to him, but as it did, he turned his head as if in slow motion. All he had wanted to do was look at her again, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, her lips were on his.

***

All Y/n had done was lean forward to press a kiss against his cheek. Now their lips were meeting and she didn’t know how she had gotten there. She wanted to pull back - no, actually she didn’t. But she thought she should. Though the spirit was willin - to pull away, that was -, the flesh was weak. Delving deeper into his arms, she found herself kissing him like she meant it. Her hands found his chest, feeling the rising heat from his skin. Being closer to him than ever before was driving her crazy. His soft, warm lips against hers. Just the tiniest movements, as if he was afraid of breaking her. She let herself enjoy it. For a moment. That was all her brain allowed before switching back to the rational part. She pulled back in surprise.

She moved out of his embrace, stiffening at the contact. All of the twinkling lights of romance that had just appeared around them now popped as the kiss ended.

I just kissed my boss. I just fucking went and kissed Damiano! I am so, so fucked.

Yet, she couldn't deny that she wanted to kiss him again. And again, and again until they ran out of air to breathe. She looked back at him and the expression on his face said it all. His lids lowered, a small smile appearing on his face. Eyes twinkling in the soft light. He hadn’t wanted the kiss to end either. Either that or the weed was affecting him more than she had thought.

But as cold air started to seep in between them he blinked a couple of times, only now noticing that she had pulled away.

"Sorry - about that. I was trying to- I wasn't trying to kiss you. Well, I was - but not on the mouth. That would have been very forward of me. I would never. That's not me. I don't know how that happened - sorry." Y/n rambled on, unable to stop talking.

Damiano smirked, pecking her cheek. "Y/n, it's fine, you're fine. I turned my head and we kissed. It happens." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. As if this was some sort of common occurrence. As if she was panicking for nothing. Was she?

***

Damiano desperately tried to hide the turmoil inside of him. It happens?! Damiano, what the hell are you thinking! Not the right thing to say in this situation! Now it just looks like you’d kiss anyone, great. He looked down at his hands, fumbling with his rings. Trying to get his breathing back under control. He needed to be cool.

"I mean - not that I didn't enjoy it. You kiss good!"

You kiss good? What the? That wasn’t even English. He was well and truly losing his mind.

***

Y/n took a deep breath, sitting back in her seat, making sure not to be as close to Damiano as she had been before. Victoria and Thomas had migrated to get more drinks and Ethan was deeply entrenched in some conversation with a man next to him. Luckily the rest of the band hadn't seen what just happened. Grabbing her glass once more, the cold wet condensation gave a stark contrast to her warm skin.

The kiss still left a tingly feeling on her lips. Quickly looking at Damiano, she met his eyes. He had not looked away yet, it seemed. She watched as he bit his lip in contemplation. Whatever was playing on his mind, Y/n didn't know. His words left her believing he wasn’t quite as put together as he tried to pretend. He certainly wasn’t making much sense. Although, she wouldn’t dismiss his compliment of her kissing abilities. She wondered if he would think similarly if they did it again, or did more than that…

Her wandering thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a loud crash. The culprit was quickly spotted. The middle of the coffeeshop, which had been empty of people until then, now had Thomas lying on his front, surrounded by liquid and broken glass.

Y/n didn’t hesitate, jumping up to offer her aid. The worry only lasted for a second though, until Thomas turned on his back, giggling maniacally. She barely managed to kick some shards out of the way before he could roll onto them.

She let out a deep sigh at the state of the guitarist, before quickly apologizing to the people at the bar.

“Everyone help me grab Thomas, I think this is our sign to call it a night.”

***

Y/n thought she’d have an easy time going to sleep. The effects of the joint were lingering, plus, the day had just been plain exhausting. Yet, as her head hit the pillow, she felt restless. Her mind kept circling around Damiano. The way he had looked at her. The way he had looked in general. She had seen him basically naked at this point, but she still thought about how it would be different up close and personal. She wished she had been able to read his eyes more. Had he been thinking about the same things she had? Had he wanted to kiss her again and again, get lost in that bubbling excitement of finally being close, finally let his hands wander to new places? She wanted to pull his hair. See what kind of sound would leave his mouth when doing so.

She wanted his hands and his lips, all of him really, badly. She wanted to know what he felt like when he really kissed her. What his fingers would be able to do to her. Biting and moaning. She desperately needed some release, wishing it would come from him, but knowing there was no chance, at least not tonight. Her hand wandered between her legs as she let her mind run wild. Imagining it was him instead, letting his fingers run along the inside of her thighs, exploring every inch of her. How he would treat her just right, hit all the right spots, do so much better than her own fingers ever could. The words he’d whisper in her ear, seducing her with his mother tongue, breath fanning her skin. How he would kiss her senseless. Feeling the rhythm of their bodies take over. Watch his tattoos start to glisten with a sheen of sweat from what they would be doing.

She found her release almost embarrassingly quickly, burying her face in her pillow. Her body felt more at ease, although her heart was still craving something more. She had almost calmed down, getting her breathing back under control. In a moment of clarity, she checked her phone to see when she had to wake up the next day, when the sound of a moan caught her attention. One that definitely wasn’t her own, but seemed to come from the room next door.

Damiano’s room.

[dreamrecorder]

Three - Family in the Inn

Zhongli witnesses the love Xiao deserves.

Two

A bit heavy at the end- i teared up at some point ksks ill add the cut thingy when get my laptop

Starting from the earliest memory your mind can remember, you've already heard stories of the god that ruled over your home land. From your mother, your father, from the merchants and adventurers resting within the inn. You often heard how the Geo Archon would always fly above the lands, overseeing the safety of Liyue- in the form of a great and majestic serpentine dragon. To protect the land, the Archon will not hesitate to strike down his foes with his spears made of stone! Spears that were huge as mountains and can shake the very core of the earth! A fierce god he is, but to his people, the Archon is just and kind. For he has guided Liyue for a thousand years even before Liyue was founded.

Those stories always left you in awe, your mind conjuring up imaginations of a mighty dragon soaring up high in the sky!

~

"Bai, I can't sleep…" You whined loudly to your black cat with gold eyes and a white diamond spot on its forehead. But alas, the cat can't understand you, simply giving you a somewhat dismissive meow. You puted at its direction. It was always like this if your brother wasn't able to tuck you to bed. Without his voice lulling you to sleep, right now you're vibrating energy.

"I wanna play…" You mumbled but then an idea popped up. With some effort, you hopped off your bed and went to the door. A bit of a struggle because of your height, but you manage to reach the doorknob and get out of your bedroom to the lobby. Bai was following close by.

With quiet footsteps, you went to the balcony and called in a whisper of excited glee-

"Thousand Winds?"

Just by those two words alone, the breeze picked up and your ears were then filled by the joyful voices of the wind. To emphasize that happiness, you were carefully lifted up from the ground and twirled you a bit, leaving you in a fit of giggles.

When the wind calmed down, they asked, The Little Wind calls! What is it do you want little kin?

"I wanna play!"

And play they did without a care for the world. Usually these wind spirits were careful when their brother Demon Wind is around- but with him gone for now, these spirits have different ideas. Little Wind do you want to fly like us?

You didn't even miss a second to say yes. After all, you've always dreamed of flying! Just like the stories you heard about your Archon flying up high in the sky!

!!!

"If I can fly, I might get to see Rex Lapis! Please please pleaaaase Thousand Winds, I wanna fly!"

The wind spirits cheered in delight, their whispers growing louder by the second. The breeze grew stronger and stronger around you and soon enough you were lifted off the ground as anemogranas surrounded you. You'll get to fly! How exciting!

At that age, you were unaware of the dangers that lie ahead- all too buried in that naivety and innocence that children possess. 

Rather than flying- it was more like gliding. Of course the wind spirits had some sense not to put you in harm's way! Flying requires some force to make you go higher- as for gliding, a gentle breeze simply does the trick.

It was a slow descent and you were amazed all throughout! You could see the entire Dihua Marsh along the ruins that littered around! You were amazed how the stars and the moon seemed brighter and closer now that you're up in the sky! The feeling of the rushing wind on your skin! It was cold but you didn't care! 

Every now and then, the spirits would suddenly nudge you up higher, rewarding them with your joyous scream and laughter. 

You landed softly at the concrete ground, near a statue. Curious, you noted that the statue was of a man sitting on a throne. This was the first time you've seen this statue but you could feel something from it. Geo? And the statue's hooded eyes, you felt like you were being watched through them.

This, Little Wind, is the statue of the Geo Archon.

The wind whispered with respect but you- you were puzzled.

"I thought the Geo Archon is a dragon? Can he turn into a human, like me?"

You could hear the wind laugh gently, the breeze ruffling your hair. Suddenly, the wind sounded older, wiser. A story for another time, little one. It's about time you went back home.

Again you whined, but the spirits promised you flight and that's all what you needed to be convinced. The spirits and the anemogranas alike were about to lift you- but a voice stopped your tracks.

"Yo kid! You seem lost!" The voice was heavy and gruff.

You turned around to the voice's direction and you were greeted by a burly man who wore a staw hat and some kind of black cloth wrapped around his neck.

"I'm not lost, sir." You replied politely, slowly taking a step back. You noticed how the air stilled. Tense. But of course, the man is not convinced. Seeing how he kept walking to you, you were starting to become scared, but you remembered the words from your brother, Always keep calm-

"Are ya sure, kid? We're kinda in the middle of nowhere. No houses and all that. How 'bout I help you get home?" The man offered cheerily. The forced kind with another sure step towards you. But that was what doomed him, the winds were quick to blow him away and you were surprised!

It wasn't a big distance, and the man was quick to recover. Instead of a cheery smile on his face, it was of anger and that was when you became really scared. "You!" He barked as he walked to you again with equally angry steps. "You're coming with me brat!"

If you find yourself in danger- don't hesitate to call my na-

"That's enough." A man's voice spoke- clear and commanding. The man stood next to you as he landed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. It was brief moment, but he also made sure to give you a quick gentle smile your way. You… you trusted this man with amber eyes.

"Who the hell are you?! I've got no business with you!"

"And you also have no business with this child for I am her guardian." The man replied smoothly as he simply stood his ground with you, despite the other now seemingly ready for a fight. Feeling the anger, you tightly clung onto the newcomer's coat and hid behind him. On his back, you were met by a Geo Vision.

"Like I'd believe you! Just swooping in and play hero huh rich guy!"

The Geo user sighed, and the next thing you knew, the man summoned a spear out of thin air! "I have no intentions of fighting you. But I promise you- You will suffer the wrath of the rock should you choose to continue this behavior."

His voice was light, but you noticed the silent message under his tone. The would-be kidnapper shivered at the amber gaze and decided, that it was wise to back off- Not without leaving a few curses that is. 

"He's gone now." The man spoke gently as hebturned around to look at you. Oh how his heart softened, seeing your frightened look and teary eyes.

"You're safe, I promise you. My name is Zhongli." 

Zhongli? You heard this name somehwere, but you couldn't pin point where or when… still a bit shaken up from whay happened. Remember, Little Wind. Zhongli was mentioned in passing a few times by your brother. Perhaps this is the very same Zhongli your brother speak of…

"Umm…" Your voice squeaked, "Do you.. do you know my brother?"

At that question, Zhongli confirmed that you are the rumored little sibling of Xiao. It would have been delightful to meet you on different circumstances, but he was glad nonetheless to save you from the previous situation.

"May I know the name of your brother, little miss/sir?"

"His name is Xiao." You replied and Zhongli noticed a bit of happiness in your voice.

"I do know you brother, quite the stern one, too. And he will be stern with you if he learns what happened here and you going out during the night. Does he know that you're out right now?"

With that question, you finally realized the gravity of the situation. You left during the dead of the night- without permission whatsoever! Oh no, I'm in big trouble… What if you made them worry? You were so far away from home! All these thoughts made you start tearing up again and Zhongli was quick to notice. He was about to speak up and console the little one when a gush of air stopped him. And that very same gush of air made you tear up some more and clutched on Zhongli's coat.

"Name, where have you been?" Xiao's voice was calm- but he's not the perfect brother nor human. There was something in his tone that suggested he was clearly not pleased about the situation. You could feel his gaze boring onto your back.

With a bit of coaxing from Zhongli, you faced you brother. "I-I'm s-sorry, gēgē…" Your voice cracked as tears started to blur your eyes. But your brother was not yet done.

"Name, do you have any idea how worried our mother was when she found out you were out of bed and could not find you anywhere in the inn?"

The thought of your mother searching all over you made you tears form more. "I- I do."

"Do you really?" 

It was a sharp question without even missing a bit, and that was the starting point for you and for him. Even Xiao winced at his own words, he swore he'll have to make it up to you later- but for now you had to understand. He remembered the panicked face your mother wore with tears threatening to fall. He remembered her panicked voice when she called for him. He remembered the worry he felt and the dip in his stomach when she said you were missing.

"I-I'm so sorry, gēgē. I-I was just p-playing. I d-didn't want you and mama t-to worry…" You couldn't meet his eyes.

Worry?

"Just. Playing? Name, you left home in the middle of the night- when dangers are high- just to play! Name, you could have gotten hurt! We were not just worried, Name- we were scared that something might have happened to you!" 

Every word he spoke- his voice rose higher- not being able to contain the pits of his negative thoughts. Every word- it was like a stab to his heart. But he had to be firm.

"I will ask you again, Name. Do you really understand what you did and their consequences?"

And thay was the breaking point and the night was filled by you whimpers, your wales, and your aplogies. Your shoulders began to shake and tears flowed freely and lungs struggling for breath. "I-I'm sorry, gēgē- I-I shouldn't h-have left h-home! Pleas-se d-dont stay m-mad at me… I p-promise i-it-t won't happen aga-ain- I-I'm s-sorry p-please don't h-hat-te m-me.

You kept going with your rambles and your tears. And for every whimper you released, Xiao was close to breaking too. The brother lost count many times you've repeated your mantras- but he decided- I can't do this anymore. Not with you crying breathless. He'll talk to you about this when everything's calm- his emotions and yours.

With swift steps and sure movements, Xiao pulled you into a hug and your cries grew louder. "Just don't do that ever again, okay.." He said gently but voice cracking, leaving a kiss on your forehead as you nodded readily. Once your cries have calmed down, Xiao carried you to his arms followed hy him wiping away your tears.

"Name."

"Y-yes?"

Your eyes met, and the anger was no longer there, but instead worry and love.

"I love you."

You could feel his genuinity. The words brought a smile to your face, albeit small. "I love you, too, gēgē."

Xiao smiled and left another kiss on your nose. "Sleep now. You had a long night and way past your bed time."

You didn't even protest, you were out like a light bulb as you comfortably laid you head on his shoulder and closed your eyes- not missing the golden dragon floating behind the man who saved you.

~

The walk home was silent. A teleport would be quicker, but Xiao didn't want to disturb your sleep. It was an awkward walk to say the least. Him carrying his sibling, along with the last of his tears stinging his red eyes, all while his master accompanied them home.

But Zhongli- Zhongli was amused. Amused with the blooming dynamic siblinghood between you and Xiao. But he decided to hold his tongue. He knew Xiao was still wrapping his head around what had transpired. Still he does leave a praise to reassure Xiao that everything will be fine.

"You're the best brother your little sibling could ever ask for, Xiao. Remember that."

A/N: Welp ksks lots of loose ends if you squint ksks- like example the tone of the wind spirits, the cat and such

Taglist: @hanniejji @suckerforgenshinboys @arson-frog-art @anime-read-write-repeat @kryzi @riiasekai @sweetstrawberrybabe

[havenoffandoms]

After the events of TW3, Geralt feels like he doesn't have a purpose anymore. Witchers are a dying breed and Geralt is tired of roaming the Path in search for contracts. Ciri is being trained as the future Queen of Nilfgaard and barely has time to visit him anymore. His surprise daughter left the nest and Geralt doesn't know how to handle it. Jaskier suggests taking up a hobby, Yen suggests taking time off and spending quality time at Corvo Bianco. Yen is just as lost and disoriented as Geralt that Ciri is suddenly not a part of their lives anymore, but she can visit Ciri more easily and more often than Geralt.

Geralt decides to take a year off. Jaskier promises to meet him there as soon as his teaching duties in Oxenfurt come to an end. Geralt deserves some time off after all. And sunny Corvo Bianco is the ideal location for him.

Only three months into his sabbatical year, Geralt wakes up in the middle of the night at the sound of persistent knocking on his door. Loyal Barnabas-Basil is already at the door when Geralt emerges from the master bedroom, a dagger in hand just in case. To Geralt's surprise, it's Lambert standing in the doorway and what looks to be two kids hiding behind him and peeking around his legs curiously.

"Lambert, what the-"

"I have a favour to ask of you, pretty boy," Lambert announces before Geralt has a chance to speak, "found these two in Kaedwen. Their parents were killed in the war and they've been roaming the streets since. Miss Mischief here was trying to make off with my horse."

A young girl with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes cowered behind Lambert almost as if she worried Geralt would strike her for her actions. Geralt offers her what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

"And does Miss Mischief have a name?"

"Sophie," Lambert answers for them, before pointing to a scrawny boy with light brown curly hair and the same blue eyes as his sister, "and her younger brother Aaron. Can they stay here for a while?"

"You're leaving us?" Sophie asks with a wobbly lip which had Geralt's heart aching. Gods, he was growing soft in his old age. Lambert looks down at the girl and kneels down with a sigh. He gathers the kids closer and stares them straight in the eye as he speaks.

"I promise I'll come back for you, kids. I just need to get some supplies from Beauclair and meet a friend there. Geralt is my brother, he'll keep you safe. Right, Geralt?"

"You've nothing to worry about," Geralt promises as he steps outside and kneels behind Lambert to be at eye level with the two kids, "I promise I'll keep you safe."

Geralt ends up taking in Sophie and Aaron, and for the first time in months his heart feels full again. The kids take to him instantly. He teaches them some basic sword moves, lets them groom and briefly ride Roach and spends most day playing wit Sophie and Aaron. Lambert returns a week later with Aiden in tow, who turns out is not dead, and Geralt can finally meet the Cat witcher who seems every bit the good man Lambert made him out to be.

"What's the plan, Lambert?" Geralt asks his brother that evening when Aiden is tucking Sophie and Aaron into bed and telling them the story of how he got his eye-patch.

"We'll travel back to Kaer Morhen in the spring probably. It's safe there for them. Thought we could stay here for the winter? It's warmer and so much nicer than a dusty keep."

So Geralt ends up with Lambert, a Cat witcher and two kids at Corvo Bianco. He writes to Eskel explaining the situation and inviting his brother to join them at Corvo Bianco. Of course, the invitation doesn't fall on deaf ears. Eskel turns up at the start of winter with a young girl going by the name of Aurora trailing behind him. The first thing Geralt notices are the horrific burns on the girl's legs.

"House fire," Eskel explains as he tries to coax the very shy girl to step closer to Geralt, "She nearly died from her wounds but I took her to a healer and she survived. Wouldn't leave my side and, well-"

"Let me guess, she's got you wrapped around her little finger already?" Geralt finishes for Eskel, earning a sheepish smile from his brother.

"She's a sweet girl. Won't cause much trouble."

Aurora and Sophie become friends quickly after that and Geralt heart is even fuller wuth love for the stray children his brothers brought home. Since good things usually come in threes, it's Jaskier's turn to show up at the beginning of spring with a young boy in tow.

"Kye, this is my dear friend Geralt," Jaskier introduces without ceremony, "and dear heart, meet Kye. He ran away from the orphanage in Novigrad and the horrid matron chased him all the way to my house. I couldn't let this woman take him back, she was loud and shouty, and she reeked of cheap booze, Geralt. So I made Kye my apprentice, and-"

"Just come in, Jaskier," Geralt sighs but there's a fondness to his gaze when he winks conspiratorially at Kye.

"Oh, thank you dearest witcher, we shan't even be a bother I promise you."

Geralt fills Jaskier in while Kye gets acquainted with the other kids. Aaron is thrilled to finally have a brother to play with. The two boys are inseparable from the minute they meet each other.

And Geralt?

Geralt finally has a son. Kye. The witcher pulls Jaskier close and places a soft kiss on his lover's lips, his heart nearly bursting with love for his family. When Ciri and Yen return to Corvo Bianco some weeks before the start of summer, they both fit right into the domestic bliss that is Geralt's life and the white wolf couldn't be any happier if he tried.

Retirement wasn't so bad after all.

[ficsilike-reblogged]

What’s in a Name? Pt. II

A/N: So I know I said that the first part was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done...but this takes the cake. The softest, cheesiest thing I’ve ever written and I will apologize for nothing. 

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (no y/n)

Rating: PG for mention of guns??? A few smooches or two.

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: The five times Marcus Pike tries to propose and the one time he actually does. 

(Beautiful art by my bb @bucketheadredacted​)

Read part one!

Marcus Pike was finally a man lucky in love.

Maybe. Hopefully. God, he really needed to be lucky. Just this once.

He had bought the diamond ring three months after she had moved in—that was him moving slowly! Honestly! He had felt the urge to look at rings only a month after she had kissed him in the park but had refrained, his past failed relationships whispering at the back of his mind. He didn’t want to push her away. Didn’t want to scare her by moving too fast. Didn’t want to break his own heart again. It had been a strange uphill battle to just learn her name—and now he wanted to give her his name, too.

But he loved her. Truly.

And he knew that within a month of stealing kisses and slipping into overpriced hotel rooms between briefings and meetings and auctions across the country. And Marcus hadn’t been able to stop himself from asking her if she wanted to move into his Washington D.C. apartment six months later.

The words had tumbled out of his mouth while they were still half asleep, his alarm blaring in the background, alerting them both that she needed to get up to fly back to New Orleans.

And she…giggled and rolled over to press a kiss to his lips, uncaring of his morning breath. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

And it had been perfect. It had been good to come home and see her jacket slung over the back of the chair, to smell her perfume lingering in the bathroom as she dashed out the door, to wake up next to her when they both had a reprieve from their chaotic jobs and not have to worry that they would have to separate again within a handful of hours. It was good even when she tried a new recipe and the entire apartment smelled like burnt noodles for two days.

But he wanted to call her his wife and he wanted to be her husband. He wanted to have a family with her and maybe buy a house a little further outside the city—she had mentioned that she wanted a dog and a cat. “With room for them to run around!” She said with a smile.

And that all circled back to the ring. The platinum ring with the princess cut diamond. The ring he had been hiding for ages. The ring he wanted to put on her finger—if she said yes. Or he would have to tuck his metaphorical tail between his legs (again) and nurse a broken heart (again) and listen to his coworkers well-meaning condolences (again).

“When are you gonna ask her, man?” One of his fellow agents asked as they parked the agency-assigned SUV in the underground lot. Marcus had made the mistake of mentioning how he had a ring waiting at the back of his sock drawer and this agent—and honestly? Marcus couldn’t even remember his name—latched onto that and had spent the last three hours trying to ‘help’ Marcus come up with a plan on how to propose.

Marcus had a plan already. Thank you very much.

“I am going to take her to see the fireworks over the river.”

“Romantic. Good choice.”

Marcus felt himself puff up a bit at that. It was romantic, wasn’t it? This would be fine.

                                                     **

It was not fine.

The spot Marcus had picked was already crowded by the time they arrived—he was still grumbling about the flat tire he had to fix on the way there but his mood shift when he heard her sigh. It was a happy sound that had a smile pushing at his own lips.

“This is a good spot. Good choice.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his warm cheek before turning and grabbing the cooler from the back of his car.

Marcus quickly patted his pocket and felt the ring safely in its confines. This could work, right? He just needed to wait for the fireworks. He set a checkered blanket on the warm grass and helped her unload their cooler, filled with her favorite picnic foods and maybe a bit of alcohol too, hidden away in two tumblers. The wind off the river was nice, keeping them from getting too overheated and someone further down the bank had set up a radio, letting music provide a backdrop to the quiet lapping water and the conversations from the strangers around them. He was not the best conversationalist, Marcus had to admit, he was busy rehearsing what he was going to say in his head over and over, trying to imagine if she would cry or smile—or just…say yes. But he made her laugh and earned a few more kisses when he managed to contribute to the conversation and fed her a few of the grapes from the cooler.

It was good…it was fine…until it wasn’t.

It started with her swatting at something on her arm just as the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon. That wasn’t uncommon; the East Coast was notoriously buggy during the summer. It was probably a mosquito.

But then it happened again and again and again until she was standing up with a shriek, wildly hitting at herself. “Marcus! Marcus!”

“Honey?”

“There’s ants everywhere!”

He glanced down and…yes, there were ants everywhere. And then he felt his first bite.

They quickly gained more than their fair share of attention as they both scrambled to get the hundreds of ants off of them, knocking over their food and cooler with unpleasant groans and gasps as they gained more ant bites.

In a rushed haze, still swatting at themselves, they gathered up their belongings and all but dumped them in the back of the car. When their tires hit highway, they heard the first boom of the fireworks.

                                       **

“How’re you feeling?” She whispered as she rubbed a bit more cream onto Marcus’s back. It had been almost a week since the ant incident and his body was still covered in small red bumps. A testament to his failure.

He reached back, a little awkwardly from his angle on his stomach, and grasped her hand. “I’m okay, honey.” He hummed when he felt her pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Marcus turned his head just a bit and looked at her hand. Her ring finger was still bare. The ring had been tucked away in his bedside drawer after they both scrubbed themselves clean and then all but bathed in calamine lotion. But Marcus was a man on a mission. Having brunch, just to the two of them, all calm and relaxed, was just as good as fireworks.

When she’d been showering earlier, he had called in a delivery from her favorite breakfast restaurant, the florist down the block, and snuck around the apartment to try to tidy up a bit. Not that the apartment needed much. He had set a new set of candles in two overly-priced candle holders and lit them…and then quickly snuffed them out, deeming it too early for candles. He had slipped back into bed just as she emerged in a puff of lavender steam from the bathroom, looking much more comfortable than she had in days.

He rolled over and sat up to steal a kiss against her smiling mouth before coaxing her down onto the bed to apply her share of the strangely scented lotion to her matching set of bumps and bites.

“You know,” she started, face squished in the pillow, “for what it’s worth, I did have a really good time.”

“Yeah?”

“You know I always like spending time with you.”

“Even if you get eaten alive by fire ants?” He asked, a smile pushing at his mouth as his fingers trailed down her back.

She laughed. “Even then.”

He leaned down to press a kiss behind her ear before finishing her layer of lotion and his smile only grew when he heard the familiar, satisfied hum rumble in her throat. A knock at the door had him rising. “I’ll be right back.” Marcus pulled on a shirt as he moved toward the door and opened it, happily seeing two delivery men. He paid them both quickly and moved to the kitchen to set everything up as he heard one of his least favorite sounds.

Her cellphone ringing.

Marcus placed the flowers in her favorite vase but didn’t even move to plate the food he’d had delivered. What was the point?

She came out of the bedroom, rubbing at her temples and her phone in her pocket. “I-”

“You have to go,” he said, finishing for her. “Where to this time?”

She grimaced. “Nowhere fun. But apparently a Pollock has surfaced at an auction set for tomorrow night.” Her eyes darted to the flowers and her grimace softened. “Are these for me?”

Marcus smiled and handed them to her, chuckling as she all but shoved her face into the blooms to inhale their scent. He tightened the knot on the top of the takeout and handed that to her, too. “Here, you can eat this on the road.” And when she opened her mouth to apologize, he kissed the words away. Marcus would never fault her for her job and its uneven schedule, just as she never held his strange hours against him. “Home by Wednesday?” He murmured against her lips.

“Home by Wednesday. I promise.”

When he closed the door to her taxi and waved as he watched the yellow car disappear around the corner, Marcus sighed. Strike two.  

                                                 **

Patrick Jane was not who Marcus wanted to see right now. And neither was Lisbon. But that was beside the point. The point was that Marcus hadn’t seen his Honey in almost three weeks because of a demanding client wanting more and more art work so she was flown all over Europe to different auctions and private sales.

He had remembered how he heard her sniffle over the phone when she told him that this client was asking her to pick up more art. “It is good money, really good. I can probably take a few months off after I do this but I…” she hiccupped and his heart broke. “But I just really miss you.”

And that was why he had booked a table at this beautiful and romantic restaurant after she had managed to sleep off her jet lag and rinse the grime of the plane from her skin.

Marcus ordered expensive wine that she knew she only ordered when she closed a big deal and asked the chef to place the ring on the top of the tiramisu he had scheduled to be brought out in exactly 47 minutes.

But that plan had been fantastically derailed when that obnoxious blond man spotted him from across the restaurant and then had the gall to ask the hostess to seat them near each other. (What were they even doing in DC?) For her part, Lisbon looked uncomfortable, too, as they made small talk.

With each passing word and each forced anecdote, Marcus felt himself deflate. There was no way he was going to propose to the love of his life in front of his ex-fiancée and her husband.

“You know,” Jane started and Marcus felt his teeth grind, “Marcus always struck me as a family man.”

She smiled and reached out to wrap her fingers around Marcus’ and squeezed. “He is.”

“Oh?” Jane continued, leaning forward in his seat. “Is a congratulations in order?”

Marcus could hear his teeth grinding but her grip tightened on his hand while her smile remained steady. “That is none of your business. I am sure you can fill your time poking and prodding into other people’s lives. Now, please, you have interrupted my long overdue date with the love of my life with your prattle. I’m sure you’re lovely, but I am done entertaining you.” She raised her other hand and asked for the check which was quickly given. The hostess, for her part, did glance to Marcus to make sure it was okay before he subtly nodded. The ring was slipped back into his hand by a sly waiter.

“Marcus,” Lisbon murmured, “we didn’t mean-”

Marcus stood and buttoned his jacket before helping his Honey into her coat. “Have a good night, Lisbon.”

And they left the restaurant, flagging down a taxi as thunder rolled overhead. Marcus made sure to open the taxi’s door for her and let her slide in before joining her in the backseat. The pair was quiet for a moment, and then two before she started to giggle. The giggle grew into a full-belly laugh that had tears gathering in her eyes and Marcus had to laugh, too. She always made him laugh.

“God!” She said. “He’s so full of himself. And truly, Marcus, I’m sure Teresa is lovely but she has terrible taste in men. Choosing that over you? I would never.”

Marcus felt a selfish bloom of pride swell in his chest. “Yeah?”

She leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder. “Yeah. I don’t plan on ever letting you go.”

And you know? That made Marcus smile just as much as putting a shiny ring on her finger. She wanted him forever.

He could propose tomorrow.

                                             **

He did not propose tomorrow.

Or any day after that for the next three months. There just…wasn’t the right time. The ring he now kept in his suit jacket pocket seemed heavier by the day. Even his fellow agents seemed to pick up on the fact that something was bothering him.

“Fighting with your lady, Pike?” One of them asked as they were huddled around a table in the art storage room, trying to devise a plan to catch a thief who had managed to disappear with fourteen million dollars’ worth of some blueblood’s family heirlooms which included an Artemisia Gentileschi original. It was a brazen heist and obviously a huge case that needed to be their sole focus.

But sometimes his group of agents were a little nosey.

“We don’t really fight,” Marcus muttered as he looked over the blueprints of the family’s home, trying to find a way that the thief had come in and out. The official police report said a downstairs window was open but he didn’t believe that. “We have our disagreements but she is the most levelheaded person I know. The most heated conversation we had was over which diner had the best waffles.”

Another agent gagged. “You two are disgusting.”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘perfect,’ actually.”

Marcus shook his head and bit back a laugh—they really needed to focus on this case. “We’re not perfect.” And they weren’t. No one was. But that didn’t mean he loved her any less.

“Still haven’t proposed, eh?”

“Shut up, man.” There was no heat to his tone as Marcus scrubbed a hand down his face before looking at his watch. It was almost eleven at night. “Go home. It’s late. We can pick this up in the morning.”

The rest of the group grumbled their thanks and disappeared to the upper levels of the building, probably in search of their forgotten dinners before going home. Marcus tapped his pencil on the blueprints, his eyes constantly moving to the door leading into the ‘piano room’ which then led down to the wine cellar. He wasn’t sure why, but something in his gut just told him the answer led to that set of rooms.

“Marcus?”

He jumped at the sudden noise but quickly righted himself as he saw her entering the fenced off storage area, carefully skirting around a prized Greco-Roman statue they had just recovered in Philadelphia. It was no longer a surprise to see her down here, the front desk guards knew her by face and name and all but gave her security clearance, easily letting her through when they knew Marcus was working late. He stood and walked over to her, pressing a kiss to her lips and then forehead in greeting, listening to her hum in contentment as her hands wound around his waist. “What are you doing here, Honey?”

She smiled as she looked at him and shrugged. “I knew you were working late. Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d keep you company instead of tossing and turning.”

“You know I’m always happy to see you.” He led her over to the table and told her a little about the case, as much as he could without truly getting in trouble, and let her look over his notes.

She frowned as she turned the blueprints around and looked at them. “These people are like…billionaires, right?”

Marcus confirmed it with a frown but let her continue.

“Right. So, last time I was in LA, I was at that big, private auction at one of the gaudiest homes I’ve ever visited. Remember me telling you about that? The host got so drunk that he demanded he show everyone his three panic rooms and the private tunnel he had requested be dug behind his laundry room in the basement. Apparently he bribed the city inspector to keep it off the official blueprints so that a thief couldn’t use that tunnel.” She held up the blueprints and tapped at the wine cellar. “Ten bucks says there’s more to this wine cellar than just some ridiculous vintages.”

Marcus could feel his face lighting up. She was amazing.

They spoke a little longer, about possible suspects and how there was probably more than one thief—or at least a getaway driver—before their conversations shifted.

“The guys upstairs said something funny.”

“Hm?”

“They called me Mrs. Pike.”

His next breath nearly choked him. He was going to kill the guards upstairs. “O-oh? Really?”

“I think it sounds nice,” she said, her tone a little embarrassed. “Not that I haven’t thought about it before.” She smiled a bit, almost nervous. “We’ve talked about it, me and you, but to hear someone else say it…makes it sound…really nice.” She hid her embarrassment behind her hand and shook her head.

“I think it sounds nice, too.” He could do it. Right now. He could do it. They were surrounded by beautiful art. All by themselves. There was a light in her eyes that made his heart squeeze. His hand patted the pocket where he kept the ring and-

-it was gone.

“Marcus?” Her tone was filled with worry and she reached out to trail a finger over the crease that had erupted between his eyebrows, a gesture she did often when he brought work home with him. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah. I’m fine, honey.”

He most certainly was not but it wasn’t like he could tell her that or propose. ‘Yes, honey. I lost your engagement ring. Will you marry me?’ Fuck.

                                          **

The next day Marcus was stopped by the man at the front desk as he headed toward his office. “Everyone’s been telling me about your big plans. Can’t do it without this.” He handed over a small bag and inside…was the ring.

“Where’d you find it?” Marcus asked, stashing the ring in his briefcase this time. 

Apparently his pocket couldn’t be trusted.

“Parking lot.”

Marcus could only sigh.

                                       **

This was it. This had to be it.

If it wasn’t? He was sure the universe was telling him to just give up. They were happy, right? In love? Maybe they didn’t have to be married. Maybe…

No. No, he wanted to be her husband and he wanted her to be his wife. And that was why the ring was (safely and securely) stowed away in his wallet. He just needed the right time.

She was sitting across from him at their favorite diner, a stack of pancakes and a plateful of waffles between them and half-finished milkshakes abandoned near the saltshakers as they tried to guess which type of syrup was in each little carafe from a single bite. It was a game they played a few times before—one they had played on their first official date, actually. It had lasted well past the dinner and museum visit he had planned and into the morning where they had landed at the diner as the sun rose.

“This has to be strawberry,” she said as she finished her bite. “What do you think?” She asked, holding out the fork for him to take.

He took his bite and nodded. “Strawberry, definitely.”

She lifted the carafe and smiled as she read the tape on the bottom. “Point for us!” They high-fived across the table, laughing. The waitress who always served them shook her head with a smile from her place at the counter, knowing their game too well.

Marcus poured the syrup on their next bite and guessed its flavor before letting her take a guess.

“Um…blueberry?” She licked her lips, contemplating. “Maybe?” As Marcus lifted the carafe and confirmed that it was indeed blueberry, she continued. “Oh, a display of Alphonse Mucha is coming to Georgetown.”

Marcus smiled. Over an hour of their first date had been filled with soft whispers and shy smiles in front of a wall of Mucha sketches. They had been asked to leave by a polite but tired museum guard, not realizing they were there past closing. It was one of his fondest memories. One of the first times he realized she was truly special. He fell a little (more) in love with her that night. “We should go.”

“I’ll get tickets!”

This was the time. This was the moment. He pulled his wallet out under the table and curled his finger around the ring and watched as she smiled, wiping a bit of syrup from her chin. “I love you.”

She paused and looked at him, smile continuing to grow. “And you know I love you, too.”

“And I’ve loved you for a long time. You make my life better, make me better. I know our jobs are crazy. But they’re beautiful. Filled with art and excitement. But you’ve really…made my life a masterpiece.”

“Marcus?” Her voice was soft, eyes narrowing just slightly.

But Marcus pressed forward. “And I know that’s cheesy but I-”

And his phone was ringing. Why of all times was his phone ringing? And worst of all, it was the ringtone he had set for his boss. He had to answer. And she knew it, nodding just once with a fading smile. 

He stood from his seat and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry,” he murmured before slipping away with his phone pressed to his ear.

                                               **

Marcus was tired. Tired.

He had been to New York to Miami to Orlando to Atlanta and then finally to Rio. The band of thieves, making a run for it with millions of dollars of art—including a da Vinci sketch. But he and his team caught them before they disappeared into the wind and the art was lost to the black market.

But he was tired.

He yawned as he drove through the mostly-quiet streets, ready to slip back into his apartment and pull his honey into his arms and then…sleep for three days. 

That sounded wonderful.

But then his phone rang again.

And he had to answer it.

Thankfully, it was a short call. Someone had just broken in to one of the smaller museums in Georgetown and they wanted Pike to catch the thief in the act. Marcus sighed as he tossed his phone in the passenger seat. If this went well, it meant less paperwork. And then he could sleep.

The museum was dark when he arrived. There was only a faint bit of life coming from around of one the corners and he slunk around in the shadows, a hand on his gun. He was ready. He could stop a theft before it happened. He could-

Marcus stopped dead in his tracks as he realized what he was looking at.

Standing in the center of the hall, surrounded by (electronic) candles and priceless Mucha originals, was his Honey. His Venus.

“Hi Marcus.”

He took one step forward and then two and then three-

And she dropped to one knee and gently grasped his hands in hers, tears filling her beautiful eyes. “You make me smile every day. Even when I feel the need to hide all your socks after you make me mad. You have given me a new way of seeing art, appreciating it. You, Marcus Pike, have helped me grow, helped me breathe when I thought the world was just too much, helped me learn what strawberry syrup tastes like.”

Marcus had to laugh at that, feeling tears start to gather in his eyes. “And pecan, too.”

“And pecan syrup, too.” She squeezed his hands again with a growing smile. “I’ve never known love like this. And I never want to be without it. I never want to be without you. I just…” she hiccupped, a few tears falling down her cheeks. “I just love you. Will you marry me? Can I be Mrs. Pike?”

Marcus pulled his hands from hers and quickly pulled his wallet from his back pocket, pulling the ring (finally), from its depths. “Can I ask you, too?”

She all but tackled him to the sparkling marble floors and pressed kiss after kiss to his cheeks, chin, brow, and lips, a laugh on her tear-stained lips. “Ask me.”

“Will you marry me?” The words finally came out in a rush, his heart beating wildly behind his ribs as he watched her smile. Her beautiful smile.

“Yes.”

A/N: Please let me know what you think!

[owlespresso]

witching hour: 12 am

gojo x reader x geto

a difference in schedule means you have trouble falling asleep at the same time as your lovers. gojo has a full proof plan to help you out.

warnings: spice below the cut

- - -

Rain drops pelted the windows and walls of your home, the harsh sound nearly drowning out your companions’ soft breathing. Velvety dark shrouded the bedroom, warm blankets shielding your near bare legs from the chill. The wind howled and thunder occasionally crashed like an aggrieved god’s fist against the barren earth. 

Perhaps it was the sound that kept you awake, or perhaps your insomnia decided to strike for no reason… but you can’t particularly find it in yourself to mind. Not when the bedding was so soft. Not when the two men on either side of you were so warm.

The shirt you opted to sleep in rode up as you absentmindedly shifted, rolling onto your other side. Your eyes slid shut, mouth opening around a contented sigh. It would likely be another few hours until you truly fell asleep, your schedule built around the early morning hours. Satoru was fond of teasing you about it, whilst Suguru often attempted to wheedle you into bed with them before you were ready.

“We can all go for breakfast together if you get up with us,” he promised a few nights ago, hand clasped around yours to drag you into the bedroom. “Don’t you want to spend more time together?” You much preferred to stay awake until the sun rose, but he attempted to blandish you into bed every night with the two of them, with his soft smiles and low, purring voice.

Tonight, he had succeeded. Alas, you lacked the willpower to say “no” to the ever charismatic Geto Suguru, not when he persuaded you with praises and rubbed your tense shoulders with his big, warm hands. 

“Can’t sleep?” Gojo’s voice, thick with sleep, rumbled at your ear. Ah? Had your shifting awoken him? You opened your mouth to apologize, but promptly closed it when his large palm splayed over the slip of revealed skin, perched atop your hip with greedy, curling fingers. He gave you a fond squeeze, blankets and sheets parting as he scooted closer, nestling right up against your back. He crowded close, his practical cocoon of body heat settling over you like storm clouds above a prairie.

“No,” you replied. “But I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” Your eyes remained shut, your face growing warm at the gentle feel of his breath on your neck. Receiving Gojo Satoru’s utmost attention sometimes feels like being a lizard underneath a heat lamp, or a particularly fascinating amoeba under a microscope. Even now, when you’re between his sheets and an everyday fixture of his life, you still struggle with that lamb-legged sheepishness. “Go back to sleep.”

He’ll be busy tomorrow morning, when he’s avulsed from your loving arms by the call of duty. Even if he isn’t tasked with some arduous mission (and is any mission remotely difficult for Gojo Satoru?), he’ll need all the energy he can get. You’ve met his students. They’re bright, enthusiastic and adaptable souls, but educating anyone in the ways of sorcery takes substantial amounts of effort and time. 

“I was going to,” he drawled, voice suddenly against your ear. A shiver rolled down your spine, the plush of his lips just barely brushing against heated skin. “But it’s so loud outside,” he complained. Another roll of loud, rolling thunder howled in the dark, as if the very forces of nature acted on his command. “And you’re so warm.” He punctuated his inquiry by giving you another squeeze, thumb rubbing against the edge of your hip in slow, sensual circles. One of his knees began to nudge between your thighs, urging your legs apart despite your best intentions. 

His hand trails downwards, long fingers nudging beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts. 

“Satoru—”

“Shh, it’s the least you can do for distracting me so much, right?” He pressed a trail of warm kisses up your neck. The plush of his lips parting every now and then, teeth grazing ever so slightly against your soft skin. The pads of his fingers against your clothed cunt, hips jerking, held fast against his body by his arm underneath you. “Aha! See? You’re already so wet.” 

“And didn’t you say you can’t sleep? I’m sure we can fix that with a little physical exertion.”

Goosebumps spread across your skin as he coaxed you with lips and fingers, stoking the embers of your arousal into a steady flame. Your eyes struggled to stay open, breath labored as he dragged his touch across the wettening fabric. Your hips begin to slowly roll with his timely ministrations, your whimpers smothered into the duvet. There was never any hope of dissuading him from the start, not when he had the body of a modern Adonis and the skills to match it. Skilled digits pulled your panties seamlessly to the side, beginning to tease your cunt in earnest.

“You’re always so warm down here,” Satoru hummed in your ear, voice lilting like a praise. “I love you, you know that? So good for me, all the time.” He parted your folds with a lewd, wet noise, a single finger slipping inside of you. Your walls tensed, your breath stolen. The sheets bunched underneath your tight fists as you struggled to contain yourself, smothering your cries.

“Aw, c’mon, it’s okay. You can cry for me,” he cooed, like he was attempting to lure a distressed cat out of its carrier. “You know Suguru and I like it.” The hand that remained idle reached up to grasp your jaw, long fingers curling to grasp you. It took very little effort for him to force your face away from the cool shelter of the sheets, forcing you to look at the room proper again.

At that very moment, a flash of lightning illuminated the room for a mere second—but that was enough time for Geto’s open eyes to scare the living daylights out of you. Your squeal rippled through the air—when had he moved so close!? And since when was he awake!? The man in question had the nerve to pout at your reaction, his cheek pressed to the palm of his hand, elbow atop the mattress.

“What’s with that reaction?” he inquired, face furrowing into a crestfallen glout. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“You scared me—ah!” You cut yourself off with a gasp as Satoru slid in a second finger, tightening around the stretch. “Satoru, please!” At this point, you didn’t know what you were asking for, the fog of drowsiness and arousal making it near impossible to think. All that you knew was that your face was hot and your cunt was warm, waves of pleasure lapping at your lower stomach. 

“Mhm, I hear you,” Satoru hummed, his thumb rolling over your clit. Your legs twitched, your lips opening around another wanton cry. One of your hands, formerly fisted in the sheets, lunges back to grasp at his hips, landing on his grey sweatpants.

Suguru suddenly pressed close, swallowing your pathetic noises and gasps in a gentle kiss. Thorough, but domineering, his tongue curling into your mouth to taste every divine inch of you. Your eyes slid shut, your body going limp against their combined ministrations. They had you hook, line and sinker, overwhelmed and overheated. One of Suguru’s hands curled underneath your thigh and brought it to perch atop his leg, cunt spread open further for Satoru’s lascivious gain.

“Just relax, little one,” Suguru cooed assuredly, a hand roaming underneath your shirt to cup your breast. “We’ll help you fall asleep.”

[duskamethyst]

not a bad thing.

a/n: we often see fics involving cats turning into a human hybrid but i wanted to switch it up. i wasn’t sure if i wanted to make him full on quadrupedal or just half human-cat. spoiler: i chose the latter.

word count: 2.8k

genre: fluff

warnings: n/a

pairing: catboy!shinsou x gn!reader

summary: shinsou is infested by a quirk that turns him into a cat. how is he going to turn back?

you and shinsou are on patrol before suddenly alerted that there is a robbery from the jewelry shop nearby. the both of you quickly get into offensive mode and spot the running criminal, one that you’ve never seen or known of– probably making their debut tonight. they have the physique of a human but the head of a cat. none of you have any idea of what their quirk is but judging from their figure, you probably have the gist of it.

“okay, they’re running into an alley!” you inform shinsou who’s running right behind you. “i’ll try to get them from the back while you try to distract them.” 

“hey, wait–” he calls but you already left him when you turn to the other side of the building to execute your plan. 

you stalk the criminal behind the wall who’s running towards your direction before jumping in front of them and startling them. your quirk allows the ground to turn into clay and objects to molt into shapes you desire with a touch. the ground between you melted once you activated your quirk, but the offender is quick to stop and turn around and face shinsou instead. 

“we got you cornered. please don’t resist.” shinsou says, activating his quirk at the same time. realizing that they have no other options, they sprint forwards into shinsou’s direction to make a break for it. shinsou swiftly uses his scarf to grab a hold on them but unfortunately, they’re so much quicker and are able to smoothly avoid the restraints– thanks to their feline capabilities and senses. 

“shinsou!” the culprit is closing in and before shinsou can defend himself, he’s met with nothing but a soft peck on his lips. the both of you are surprised and they easily take the opportunity to escape and disappear from your sights. 

“are you–” concerned, you run up to him who is still baffled and wiping his lips with his sleeve. 

“fine,” he grunts. “but they got away. hopefully the police are notified by now.”

“i’m sorry, it’s my fault. i didn’t think it through.” you sigh defeatedly. “but hey, at least someone got a kiss!” you joke, eliciting an eye roll from the male. 

“shut up, it’s not funny. what am i gonna write in our report? ‘got kissed by a villain’? goddamn it.”

you laugh, “it sounds romantic, though.”

a loud banging on your door suddenly interrupts you from your sleep. you glance sleepily at the clock from your bedside table– 2:24 a.m. maybe turning on sleep mode wasn’t a good idea.

you look through the peephole and open the door to a very distressed shinsou in his hoodie. 

“what’s going on?” you move to the side to let him stomp in before closing the door behind you. it has only been a few hours since the incident earlier. he stays silent as he stands in the middle of the room and it kind of starts to make you feel worried. “shinsou?”

he turns around with a glare and he sighs to recollect himself, “promise me you won’t laugh.”

you blink at him once, twice. “i was in the middle of my sleep, i don’t think i’m in the mood for a joke right now.”

“promise me.”

“okay, okay. i promise!” 

once he gets your word on it, he slowly pulls the hoodie down from his head– and you can’t believe what you’re seeing; shinsou now has cat ears!

“what– what’s that?!” your hand finds its way to your mouth as you try to hold in your laughter. is this a joke? was he forced to do this?

“you promised–” he pulls back the hoodie on his head to hide his new ears that hold the same shade as his hair.

“i know! but– but it’s a good look on you! you look so cute!” you start giggling and walk up to him. “oh my god, can i touch it?”

“what?! no!” shinsou steps back, protecting his new ears with his hands. 

“oh, come on! you trust me with this, right? i bet i’m the first person you looked for!” 

“y-yeah, but–” he stammers, “but that’s only because you were with me! i bet it was their quirk that made me like this!” 

you manage to corner him to a wall and you quickly take off his hoodie to reveal his ears again that are pushing backwards as some sort of sign of defense. 

“i promise i’ll be gentle.” you coax, hands already reaching up to his ears before he could answer. you scratch behind his ears like you normally do with cats and he slowly relaxes to your touch. 

before he feels like he’s about to purr and humiliate himself, shinsou smacks your hand away, “cut it out.”

“why? i thought cats like that?” 

“and i’m not a cat.” he looks away to hide his face, feeling like his cheeks are turning warm. “anyways, i don’t know what else it’s gonna do nor how long.”

“but we gotta tell the hero’s commission about this. i don’t know if you wanna stay over or something but i really wanna see what’ll happen tomorrow.” 

“so you can laugh at me even more? when my tail shows up?” he snorts. 

“pshh, no.” shinsou squints at you for a moment before you groan defeatedly, “okay, maybe?” 

he rolls his eyes, “don’t mind me then.”

if your sleep last night was disturbed by knockings from the door, this morning you’re woken up by a frantic shout of your name from the living room. you quickly get out of bed to check out what’s happening.

“shinsou– oh my god!” you squeal both in amusement and shock as you notice a fluffy indigo tail coming from shinsou’s back. shinsou, however, looks beyond unamused. 

“ït’s getting worse.” 

“aw, shinsou.” your lips feign a pout. “you look ador– ack!” he throws a pillow at you. “fine, i’ll report this to the commission.”

“could you, maybe...” he mutters before you turn back to your room. “leave out the details? i feel embarrassed.”

you tilt your head questioningly, “but isn’t that the most important part? to find out how to undo their quirk?”

shinsou just remains quiet, his eyes staring down onto the ground. feeling as if you don’t want to make his day any worse, you comply. maybe you can find something out by the end of the day or maybe he can only hope that the quirk won’t last much longer anymore, that there should be a time limit for it like most quirks do.

you leave the room to take a quick shower and write in your report. a couple of hours pass by and you think about cooking for your guest today. shinsou is still laying on your sofa, looking very much in despair while his fluffy tail wags up and down, making you feel nothing more than mesmerized by it. 

failing to fight the urge, you quietly sneak behind him and tug on his tail. the startled male turns to you annoyingly.

“at this point i just wish claws would come out so i can put a scar on you.”

“and i will throw a bucket of water in your face.” you tease. “anyways, i’m gonna cook for both of us now. you can do whatever you like. you’re a cat anyways, i can’t really tell you what to do.” he glares at you while you stride off towards the kitchen laughing. 

you call out to eat once you’ve finished cooking. nothing too special, just fried rice and stirred veggies that are enough to fill your empty stomach. you’re not going to take any complaints and you’re not the best cook either but it’s the most you could do right now. 

“ack!” shinsou coughs after taking the first bite of his meal and quickly gulps down some water.

you look at him dejectedly, “hey, i know my cooking isn’t that good. don’t need to rub it in my face!”

he shakes his head, “no, it’s just– i think my taste buds aren’t working well.”

“you’re just trying to make me feel better.” you scowl playfully but shinsou only chugs his drink each time he tries to put food inside his mouth. “don’t tell me you only want to eat fish now?” 

“i hope i don’t. but– meow?” realizing what slips out from his mouth so casually, he puts his hand over his mouth in shock.

“meow?” you repeat. 

“shit, i– meow.”

“shinsou, are you okay?” you look at him curiously. 

he shakes his head again, his cat ears pushed back. when you stand up from your seat to check on him, he quickly dashes to the corner of the room and faces the wall. you carefully walk closer to him but as you are about to put your hand on his shoulder, shinsou turns around and hisses at you– his tail slightly fluffed up. 

you take a step back in wary, “oh, um, okay? i’ll get you a fish? is that what you want?”

shinsou only growls lowly, his irises narrow and tail wagging in annoyance as he watches you walk back into the kitchen to get food for him. 

oh boy, this is bad. he lost his speech abilities. 

thankfully, you have some raw salmon in your fridge. while you wait for it to defrost, shinsou only curls up in the corner defensively. each time you try to get closer to him, he’ll either growls or hisses at you. as much as you want to be offended (he’s close to you after all), you can’t help but think it’s rather adorable to see him like this– behaving like a cat though you can see that he still has his attitude.

you then try to sway him with the fish, gently placing down the plate in front of him before he sniffs his food and crouches down to eat it without using his hands. 

“that looks... so inhumane.” you sigh. “maybe i should feed you?”

you take a slice of salmon from the plate and bring it in front of his mouth in an attempt to feed him. he looks at you warily for a brief second before sniffing it again and opening his mouth to nibble on his food. 

“that’s a good boy!” you giggle, reaching to pat his head but he shies away as he chews his meal. okay, he probably needs some time. 

you patiently feed him until the plate is empty and give him some water to drink. you then finish up your brunch and do the dishes while shinsou lazes around on your sofa. to your surprise, shinsou is quick to warm up to you when he sits up and scoots from his seat, giving you room to sit next to him. even more surprising when he lays his head on your lap right after that. it makes your heart throb and embarrassed at the same time.

“uh...” he looks content but you’re unsure if he’d allow you to touch him. however, you decide to try your luck and begin to gently caress his hair.  

shinsou flutters his eyes open at the touch and doesn’t fight back but instead his eyes slowly shuts again as he leans into your hold. his head nuzzles against your hand as you continue to stroke his hair. you take it as a sign that he has finally loosen up and you waste no time to scratch him behind the ears. over time, you can almost hear him purring on your lap. your heart squeezes in glee at the thought that shinsou finds comfort and warmth from you. 

“you’re not hard to please, huh?” you chuckle as you watch the male endearingly; maybe he should just stay like this so you won’t have to put up with his smart mouth so much. you’ve heard about how cats are able to provide humans oxytocin but currently you’re not sure if it’s because he is partially a cat or because it’s shinsou himself. 

the both of you stay in the position for quite a time as you idly flip through channels on the tv screen. truth be told, shinsou is the only one that feels comfortable right now. you want to move because your legs are starting to feel numb but you feel bad if you wake or move him. fortunately, you are saved by the bell when there’s a knock on the door. 

shinsou’s ears perk up as his attention is drawn towards the door.

“hold on, i think i got a package.” you stand up from the sofa and head towards the door to greet the delivery man. 

shinsou watches you as you stand there and engage in little unnecessary chats while you sign on the paper. the man gets excited when he recognizes you as one of the pro heroes and somehow it drags into a long conversation before he realizes that he’s running out of time and needs to deliver his packages to the other customers. with a brief handshake, he finally leaves your doorstep and you turn towards a vigilant (half) man from your sofa.

his indigo eyes narrow down at you as you walk up to him, gaze piercing through you as you find your seat next to him again.

“what?” you look at him in unease. he shifts closer to you and scrunches his nose as he takes a sniff from you and a low growl rips from his throat as if something unpleasant just flared through his nostrils. and to shinsou, it is– the scent is still you but it’s somehow tainted now and he doesn’t appreciate it.

“hey, i already took a–” 

shinsou suddenly jumps on you, his hands pushing you roughly by the shoulders as his bigger and muscular build hovers over you. your heartbeat is running a mile once your eyes are locked with his. you hung around him a lot before and there were some unintentional brush of the hands here and there, but this is probably the closest you two have been and you’re starting to feel nervous. 

“shinsou? c-cut it out.” you whimper but the male doesn’t budge at all and instead his lazy eyes just continue to bore into yours.

if only you have a water quirk, you probably would spray his face by now.

once shinsou’s grip softens, you try to wriggle away. however, he leans down closer to you and stops an inch away from your face. you want to brace yourself for what’s to come but you have no idea what to expect either, but there’s an unshakeable feeling inside you that wishes to feel his soft lips on yours. you blush at the thought– you probably shouldn’t feel such way towards your colleague and especially when this is the work of the criminal’s quirk, you should keep this professional and not let your personal feelings be involved. 

however, your little wish is granted. 

your eyes almost go out of their sockets when shinsou gently presses his lips onto yours so tenderly. you can see that the absurd fury he had has subsided and he turns rather calm as a soft sigh escapes from him. slowly, your own eyes close as you give in to the kiss. 

it feels all too quick before he pulls away and gazes at you with those half-lidded eyes. it’s a dreamy sight and you just want to pull him back but you notice that his ears are slowly disappearing. 

he blinks a few times before letting reality finally hit him and realizing the compromising position the both of you are in. a tinge of pink creeps on his cheeks and he quickly pushes himself off of you. 

“your ears and tail are gone!” you squeal, voice masking the dread inside you that he’s back to normal but you’re also glad that the quirk has worn off. 

“thank god.” he sighs. he tries to remember the details of how he even got on top of you but nothing pops in his mind. he might have the slightest idea but he doesn’t want to believe it. the thought of it makes his ears and cheeks burn hotter. even if he did kiss you, he doesn’t want it to be like that– not when he’s under a damn quirk. 

“do you remember what happened?”

“the last thing i remember is when we’re having brunch.” he murmurs, still trying to put one and one together.

“oh, boy. you should’ve seen yourself! you suddenly started acting like a–”

“listen. you are to forget what just happened.” he cuts you off immediately. 

he’s so used to putting up a stoic attitude around people. he always deliberately tried to look cool especially around you and made sarcastic remarks to annoy you but that was one of his confusing ways to express his liking to you. and now the fact that he might have looked so vulnerable in front of you, it’s just too humiliating. 

“but–”

maybe this time, shinsou thinks it’s okay to finally use his quirk on you.

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

I can see in your face that you mean it

Guess whose back. Back again.

Yeah I had a bad anxiety day so dived back into some old comfort media and decided to finish off a fic I started back in my intital Nightrunners obsession phase.

It's fluff and smut and emotions and if you like it, please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3!

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

Oh Aura, he’s beautiful.

Seregil would have thought, hoped maybe, that after months of pining after Alec and everything they’d been through, after finally getting him into bed and opening his heart in a way he’d never done before, he’d be done with this. That there wouldn’t be moments when his lover’s eyes caught the morning light or he grinned in that way that showed the slight gap in his front teeth or he’d feel his soft hair run through his fingers and Seregil’s heart would drop like he was half a child again and didn’t recognise the taste of love. And in his mind he’d just sigh he’s beautiful.

Except now he got to feel the second heart throbbing behind his own with it’s own silly, dizzy, free falling love and Seregil would get to follow it with and he’s mine.

Five days since their first together and none had been exactly like any other. Each one had been unique as Alec’s confidence grew and he began to ask for more, push further, move into the spaces Seregil left for him. He was as quick a learner as he’d ever been though Seregil couldn’t remember ever being quite so delighted by it. Maybe as he’d watched him learn his letters and read his first books while delight dawned in his eyes, perhaps that would come a fairly close second.

But when he closed the door to their Watermead room behind him and flicked the lock across with a reassuringly heavy metallic thunk, turning to see Alec already sprawled naked across the bed, Seregil thought maybe it wasn’t that close at all. Because what could compare to this?

Gods above, he’s beautiful.

“Come on,” Alec stretched out a hand to him playfully, a needy whine in his voice that may have been part of the game and may not have been, “I’ve been waiting for ages, how long does ‘one last cup of beer’ take?”

“When it’s as good as Kari’s? Quite a while,” Seregil smirked with amusement, coming over and catching Alec’s hand in his own, “And besides, I was trying to make it slightly less obvious what we would be doing. Trying to save what little of your modesty was left after you tore up the stairs as soon as dinner was done.”

Alec blushed a little but not as much as he might have done a few nights ago, “Everyone in the house already knows...and besides, you promised me something new.”

“That I did, talí,” Seregil raised Alec’s knuckles to his lips, “I would add that it’s only if you're willing but judging by how you tripped rushing up here- everyone saw that, by the way- you’re more than willing.”

His cheeks now the bright cherry colour Seregil knew and loved, Alec shivered, “You said perhaps we could go a little further…”

Seregil nipped at the inside of his wrist before letting go so he could make short work of his own clothes. Wearing any scrap of material while his lover was so pleasingly naked was unbearable. As he did, Alec rolled onto his back, stretching like a contented cat as if to make absolutely sure there was no possible inch of him he hadn’t seen. They’d been repairing and painting fences that day, there were still scrapes on Alec’s palms and knees from their work, white wash on his hairline he’d missed as he’d scrubbed off the marks from their duelling with paintbrushes. Little imperfections, lingering traces of the time they’d spent together, like a map Seregil was eager to follow.

Gods, he’s just so beautiful.

Twice in one night, what was happening to him?

Now undressed, Seregil nudged Alec’s legs open enough that he could kneel on the bed between them, “Not so much further, my talí, I won’t be asking a lot of you. I just...well, offering you some more of me?”

Alec’s eyes widened at the edges, as he gazed up at Seregil, “Oh. Like, um...like the tavern board?”

Seregil grinned, he really owed some of his green lantern friends a drink if they were ever back in Rhíminee, “Well, not quite as athletic as all that. And strictly just the two of us. But in essence? In mechanics? Yes.”

There was a soft inhalation, a flush creeping down Alec’s neck, “So...me...me in you?” Just saying the words sent the flush bleeding down across his collarbone.

“That is the way I’m used to doing things though I’d certainly be interested in covering all of our options, as it were,” Seregil tilted his head playfully, “Another night. For now, I thought this would be a little less daunting.”

Alec’s teeth snagged his lower lip, his clever mind clearly working behind his bright eyes as they slid down the length of Seregil’s body. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t rather smug at the look of hunger and want that swiftly gathered in them.

“I’m willing to try,” Alec murmured eventually, his smile coming back quick and coy and daring, “As long as you promise I won’t be hurting you.”

Seregil raised an eyebrow and let his own eyes wander shamelessly, focusing between Alec’s open legs, “Well...it’s your rather superior equipment against my experience, isn’t it?”

“Oh hush!” Alec snorted, kicking out at him lightly, “I’m serious!”

Laughing, Seregil caught him by the ankle, pressing kisses along the inside of his leg, “I promise I’ll tell you if I need you to slow down or hold still. Communication, yes? Just like we talked about.”

Alec nodded, melting into the touch, growing pliant and supple. He knew this, he’d grown pleasantly familiar with such attentions to Seregil’s joy. And where his lover’s limited experience ended, Seregil could take his hand and lead him.

So he took his time, devotedly ensuring Alec was boneless and purring contentedly, soft and relaxed everywhere but between the legs. Only then did he pull back and go for his pack, left carefully within reach just over the edge of the bed. He drew back, holding a small bottle of oil made in red glass and shaped rather fancifully into a heart, stoppered with black wax.

“What’s that?” Alec asked, now watching every one of his movements very carefully.

“Ah,” Seregil slipped easily into his instructing voice, naturally holding the same tone he would if he were introducing Alex to a new type of lock, “When people make love in this fashion, a little extra help is required to allow things to move easily. That’s what this oil is for. Very important, particularly from my perspective.”

“Oh, to his credit, Alec was blushing less ferociously each time, “And, um...what do you do with it?”

Seregil smiled indulgently, eyes sparkling, “Why don’t I show you, talí?”

He opened the stopper with his teeth, holding the bottle at a height so Alec could watch it ooze thickly onto his fingertips. In the low candlelight, it shone like glass fresh drawn from a blower’s oven, it moved like honey.

Immediately, Alec sniffed, eyes brightening, “It smells nice...what is that?”

Seregil chuckled, tilting the bottle back to stem the flow once he judged he had enough, “You’re not getting away that easily. You tell me.”

“I thought we were making love, not a lesson,” Alec wrinkled his nose but he wasn’t one to miss a chance for praise, “Um...roses. Vanilla. Oh, those yellow flowers that grow in the Oreska House park, I can’t remember their name…”

“Ylang,” Seregil supplied, beaming proudly, “Well done, my love. This is the finest stuff from the Street of Lights so it’s scented. I expect we’ll have some leaner times in the future but fortunately there are a lot of other cheaper options that work just as well.”

He worked as he spoke, working the oil between his thumb and fingers, warming it a little. In moments, the air was filled with that rich, floral smell, the kind of scent you could get drunk on. Alec inhaled deeply, watching closely so he didn’t miss a moment of what Seregil was doing.

“And that stuff goes where exactly?” he breathed, curiosity and lust making him a little impatient.

“Plenty on your cock before it comes anywhere near me,” Seregil hummed, “You may think I’m flattering you, talí, but I’m perfectly serious. You’re one of the more...physically gifted lovers I’ve had.”

“One of?” Alec muttered as Seregil shifted, lazily stretching out onto his back then propping himself up on one elbow, stretching his legs out across his lover’s. Alec took immediate advantage, running his hands up Seregil’s calves, enjoying the play of muscle there.

Seregil either didn’t hear or chose not to hear, continuing, “But first my body needs some preparation. Other times this can be your task, if you like, but for tonight...just watch and learn.”

Alec nodded hard, his attention now fully caught on Seregil’s hand, two fingers shining with the oil, and it’s path down between his open legs. He’d spent the last five nights exploring every inch of his faie’s body but he still felt a slight shiver when he was allowed to see these most intimate parts of him, when he was allowed to feel some sense of ownership of them. Five nights was not nearly long enough that Alec’s pupils didn’t widen, his breath didn’t quicken, his mouth didn’t dry at the sight of Seregil sinking first one finger into himself, then two. He wasn’t sure an entire lifetime would be enough.

“Gods…” he murmured, apparently unconscious of the naked awe on his face, “And that...that feels good?”

Seregil rather thought his rapidly hardening prick answered that question but he was charmed nonetheless, “Yes. There’s a spot a little deeper, hold on...ah, there, right there...not strictly the point of this but gods, yes, it feels good.”

His voice grew more strained and breathy as he brushed his sweet spot, as he coaxed his muscles into slackening, scissoring his fingers and chuckling at the expression that put on Alec’s face as he watched, enraptured and practically salivating. He’d started leaning forward, apparently not realising that he was now sat right up off the bolsters.

“That’ll do,” Seregil eventually sighed, drawing his fingers back, “If it were you, I’d give you a little more but I rather like when it has a bit of bite to it.”

“Now me,” Alec reached for the oil, still in Seregil’s other hand, clearly eager to progress.

But Seregil sat up quick, holding the red vial just out of reach with an amused smirk, “Ah ah. Sit back, talí.”

Alec swallowed hand but did as he was bid, hands flitting to his chest where they waited like anxious birds. He watched, wide eyed and breath coming in snatches, as Seregil poured oil on his trembling erection from a few inches above, giving a strangled moan as the cool liquid met his burning skin.

“I want to make the most of this,” Seregil purred, “The first time I get to have you share my body...I won’t rush this, talí.”

Alec’s youth flashed through for a moment as he stuck his tongue out but then fell quiet as Seregil’s fingers caught the oil dripping down the side of his cock, working the slick across the flesh. Both of them seemed to realise the importance this night had taken, maybe feeling it in the talímenios bond humming with love and need between them. They would have hundreds of nights together over their long lives, they would know each other in so many ways, but everything would have a one and only first. And that was cause to hold your breath, bare your heart and pay attention.

Seregil kept his attentions brief and light, remembering that Alec had the stamina of someone very new to sex. He stopped as soon as his lover’s cock was shining in the rapidly dimming glow of their bedside candle.

“How…” Alec murmured, pupils now wide enough that little of their blue colour could be seen.

Seregil smiled indulgently, “You lie back, talí. It’ll let me set the pace of things and I want to see your beautiful face.”

That made Alec chuckle as he slid completely onto his back, making room for Seregil to mount him, to bracket his hips with his knees. He didn’t sink down just yet, taking a moment to admire his young lover’s face, the anticipation and surprise at a new, unfamiliar desire. Seregil lightly touched Alec’s cheek and, there again, that thought.

Oh Aura, he’s beautiful. How can he be so beautiful and not know? How can he be so beautiful and be mine?

Alec just smiled, turning his head slightly and kissing the tips of Seregil’s fingers, tasting rose and vanilla. Either the thought hadn’t made it across the talímenios bond in its entirety or Alec had simply heard, he’d glimpsed the insecurity that lay not all that deep beneath Seregil’s crooked smile and had swept it into the pile of things he loved about him without a second thought. Like it could be so easy.

“I love you,” the words were rawer than he’d intended, bursting from his chest like a bird fleeing through a bent bar in its cage. He’d said it before and he’d meant it but this time it came from the very soul of him.

And Alec smiled, bright as sunlight, meaning it just as much but finding it so much easier, “I love you too, Seregil.”

Dark strands of hair falling in his face, Seregil had no answer to that but to reach back and take Alec’s cock in his hand, guiding him inside him as he slowly sank down. Any more words and he felt he might explode. But this he could do, he could give Alec his body and gladly.

Alec gave a strained moan as soon as the head of him pushed past the tight ring, face tensing, “Gods...oh gods, Seregil…”

Seregil took a deep, slow breath, allowing and not forcing his body to stretch to accommodate Alec. There was pain, just an edge to it, the kind he had always loved about this act. Eventually, inch by inch, he took him down to the hilt, shifting both hands to brace on Alec’s chest.

“You’re so tight, fuck…”

Seregil gave a trembling, breathy laugh, tilting his head back, “Just give me a moment, talí…”

Alec held obediently still, even as a low moan echoed through his chest. His blonde hair fanned about the sheets like a sunburst, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes fixed on Seregil’s face with such devotion. He looked almost godlike, something to be worshipped.

Finally, Seregil felt ready, moving his hips slowly and then gradually faster. Each time, Alec pressed against his sweet spot, direct and undeniable, pulling a high gasp from him at the peak. Eventually he felt his talímenios move too, angling his hips to meet Seregil’s movements, near lifting him clear off the bed. He could only express his approval in a broken, wanton cry, drawing his nails down Alec’s chest.

“Oh talí, my talí,” he gasped, high and wild, falling forward so his hair fell in a waterfall about them, pulling him into a desperate kiss that was lavishly returned. He bucked wildly now, body instinctively seeking release.

“Seregil…” Alec keened into his open mouth, “Fuck, I...I can’t…”

“Let go,” Seregil gasped, pressing their foreheads together, “I’ve got you, it’s alright.”

“I...Seregil...fuck,” he near screamed the last few words, whole body snapping taught and rigid, hands flying up to seize his lover’s hips hard enough to bruise, holding him in place as he flooded him with heat.

Seregil cursed in Aurënfaie as he fell, bare seconds behind, painting Alec’s chest and chin in spatters of white. Not just their bodies but their bond thrummed as if set alight, pleasure almost painful to hold like you weren’t sure your body could hold it. But finally, just at the point where it would become too much, it peaked and both men were left panting and shaking.

Somewhere in it all the candles had finally guttered, Alec and Seregil coming back to their own minds in darkness. Outside, an owl called out a sweet, lowing song.

Alec moved, catching their lips together again, kissing him now gently and sweetly. Sergeil was helpless in his hands and his tenderness, feeling small and soft and safe above all.

“That was...gods, that was incredible,” Alec eventually murmured, his voice raspy and fractured, “What in the name of the gods was I doing for a year when we could have been doing this?”

Seregil laughed, feeling Alec soften and slip out of him, letting him fully sprawl across his lover and fully give in to his exhaustion.

“We have hundreds of years to make up for it, my sweet. Don’t you worry.”

Alec sighed happily, that thought giving him so much comfort as he threw a leg over Seregil to press him closer, “I don’t know how you do it. How you make me feel so brave so I can do things I never thought I could.”

Seregil pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw, “I don’t make you brave, talí. I just remind you that you are.”

Alec sounded like he wanted to argue but was too tired, just embracing Seregil all the tighter, “Do we need to bathe now? After all that?”

“We should,” Seregil admitted, sighing and forcing himself to roll onto his back, “Especially me. You’re running down the backs of my legs…”

Alec wrinkled his nose and groaned, throwing his arms over his eyes as Seregil made himself stand, “Why is making love so messy when it's two men?”

Seregil looked over his shoulder, intending to make some wry comment but it died on his tongue. Alec had let his arms drop, revealing his face. Edged in what moonlight could creep past the curtains, his face flushed from exertion, gloriously naked and open and honest. Smelling of roses and sex, conquered and triumphant. Everything Seregil had told himself he didn’t deserve and yet here it was.

“What?” Alec was looking back at him, a soft smile playing on his lips, “You keep staring at me.”

Seregil inclined his head, padding back over to the bed and kissing him again just because he couldn’t imagine doing anything else at that moment. When he was done, he drew back just enough that he could see his lover’s face, knowing Alec could feel his love just behind his own heart.

“You’re just so beautiful.”

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 33

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst

; Word Count: 6.1k

; Warnings: Discussion of car accident, brief sexual content mention, depiction of a PTSD/panic attack

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: This is a bit earlier than usual but I want to get it out while it was done and I was feeling okay about it...work and job rejections have been hitting ol’ self-confidence hard so writing is a bit tougher than normal. I’ve gone through this for grammar but I haven’t properly proof read. I hope you all enjoy this though and please send me comments and feedback so I know what you think! I love to read them and it helps to boost me :)

; Flower Masterpost

-

Straightening up, you winced before rubbing at the small of your back before stretching. It was summer, which meant the sun was shining strongly. As much as you like the sun, you weren’t so much of a fan when you knelt in the grass for hours on end. The sunhat on your head helped a little, as did the sunglasses but your skin was shiny with the veneer of sweat.

You were hot, and with a deep sigh, you wiped across your forehead with your arm. The thick gardening gloves on your hands were covered in dirt and compost, keeping your hands clean but also making them incredibly warm. As much as you enjoyed gardening, it felt like a chore in the heat of a summer’s day.

But at least you had some company for your misery today. Your mom was knelt next to you, leaning forward and diligently weeding her beloved flowers. Hoseok and you had come over for the day, intending to feast yourselves on your dad’s famous pot roast before heading home with a bag full of leftovers that would be eaten at work.

Watching your mom closely for a moment, you felt a surge of warmth and love for her. You never really noticed how much older she looked now; the lines on her face that were deepening and the greys in her hair that were multiplying more than you liked. It was easy to miss the passage of time on your parents when you weren’t paying attention too closely, but now that you stopped and looked at her closely you could see it.

You hoped she was happy with how her life had turned out. Even if it wasn’t the best, that’s all you wanted for your parents. To be happy and proud of you.

“So, what’s your plan for your yard? Are you going to get that porch built that you wanted? I wouldn’t bother trying to do any of your gardens and flowers at the moment. Unless you’re planning on planting flowers that will bloom in autumn and winter. Though there are some pretty ones. I’ll have a look online for you and find the best ones if you want? Maybe we can get your garden looking all nice together, a little mother-daughter bonding time.” Smiling at her, you nod your head slowly.

“Sounds good. Though we haven’t bought it yet. Officially. I mean, they’ve accepted our offer but now it’s all that legal stuff, you know? So I don’t feel too comfortable changing anything just yet, just in case anything goes wrong.” There’s a slight hesitance to your tone. So small that you don’t even realise it’s there, but your mom recognises it.

Sitting up, she stretches as well before shifting until she’s sitting cross-legged and facing you. There’s a wince on her face from overused joints that are ageing but she doesn’t complain, instead just looking at you intently.

“What’s wrong? I can tell there’s something. Is there something wrong with the house or anything like that?” It’s amazing how easily she picks up on things like but she did raise you. Cleaned you up when you were younger and you fell over, taught you everything you know and helped to make sure you grew to be the best version of yourself.

“No. No, there’s nothing wrong with the house. Or with Hoseok, before you ask. It’s just...I feel a little stressed. Or worried rather worried that’s better. More accurate. It’s just...a house, you know? It’s a big purchase, really expensive and it’s permanent. If anything happens with Hoseok and me then we have to go through the whole process of selling it and splitting the proceeds. And then we have to move out and I wouldn’t have a home anymore and-” The gentle pressure of your mom’s hand on your arm causes you to pause.

She has a gentle smile on her face and an understanding expression which soothes whatever frayed nerves you have. This is probably one of the few times you wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about this issue with Hoseok, being too worried he might take offence or something. But your mom understood.

“Sometimes...I think you get way too caught up in your thoughts. I want you to consider something, okay? Yes, it might all fall apart and it might not work out. But what if it does work out? What if everything is perfect and you get a nice house? And then Hoseok proposes and you get married. Then in fifty years, you can be telling your grandchildren all about meeting their grandad and falling in love in your lovely home.” Snorting slightly, you can’t help but roll your eyes slightly as your lips quirk.

“We’re not having kids, remember?” She makes an expression indicating she’s remembering what you’d told her. Your parents hadn’t been surprised to find out Hoseok didn’t want kids either. If anything, they’d been pleased because they knew how much you wanted to remain childfree.

“Yes, yes, but you know what I mean. Sometimes you just have to go with it. Enjoy your life in the moment sweetheart, you’ve spent far too long focusing on the negative aspects of life in my opinion. Just...take the time to enjoy the fact that you’re able to buy a house with the man you love and who loves you back. I can’t predict the future or anything but...I think you’re both going to be happy. So just focus on that, okay? You’ve got a nice little house to work on together, two cars, a cute cat, a good job and a great relationship. Focus on the positives.” Letting go of your arm, she took your hand before squeezing in reassurance.

Taking a deep breath, you let it out slowly before shifting and reaching out to carry on gardening. You know that your mom is right, but it’s still a worry that buzzes in your stomach continuously. That something will go wrong and you’ll have no home along with no Hoseok.

The very thought of not having Hoseok in your life anymore makes your breath stutter, lungs freezing until you’re pressing a hand against your chest to try and coax them back to life. One of the reasons you’d been so nervous about getting into a serious relationship had been because you were terrified of falling in love only to have it all stolen from you.

It still scared you, the idea that one day you might wake up alone and that you’d never see or talk to him again. But that was just because you loved him so much that the very idea of not being with him anymore hurt. You wondered if Hoseok felt the same, deep emotions that you did.

“I know...I know. I can’t help it, you know? I’m trying, I promise. Hoseok’s finally convinced me to give therapy a try. The antidepressants are working well but I still have moments, you know? I don’t feel entirely settled and this whole house thing is getting me a little stressed. Not because of the house itself but...just everything it symbolises. So I’ve got an appointment for one next month, the earliest I could get.” Shrugging, you smile at her before digging back into the soil to make a hole for the flowers your mom had bought.

“Good, I’m glad. I hope it works. My advice to you is to just take everything a day at a time, okay? It’ll all work out for you.” There’s a quiet reassurance in her words and you can’t help but relax, knowing that for now at least you can just enjoy yourself without any negative thoughts.

A loud groan leaves her as she stretches once more, a loud crack emanating from her back as her bones move and you wince slightly. Reaching over, you rub at her back soothingly and laugh as she lets out a deep sigh before thanking you.

“Okay, finish that flower off and then we’ll head inside. My back is killing me and I just want to sit down for a bit.” Nodding at her, you let her go before finishing off the flowerbed and packing up all the gardening stuff into the small shed your dad had built last year. 

Hands grasping at your waist cause you to shriek in surprise, spinning around and getting ready to push at the intruder. The sight of your boyfriend, his expression full of mischief, causes you to relax to the point your eyes are rolling.

“Hoseok! God, I thought you were some rando.” Hissing, you push lightly at his stomach and pout. A tiny bit of an over-reaction but if you couldn’t be dramatic with Hoseok then who could you be? He knew you weren’t truly bothered by his playfulness, especially when you leaned into his body a little.

“Bit weird for a rando to be in your parent’s backyard,” His arms slide around you, hugging you tightly and practically moulding your back to his front. “But no, it’s just your loveable weirdo.”

Snorting, you continue to carefully put away everything into their specified areas. Your mom liked things to look neat and tidy at all times now, which meant you were having to find where everything belonged. Otherwise, you’d get a phone call that would result in you being berated for leaving the shed messy.

“Is the door finished then?” Hoseok had volunteered to help your dad repaint the front door and start varnishing the porch steps. That had been around three hours ago, so you could only assume that not only were they finished but that he was probably famished. You’d discovered he seemed to have that stereotypical guy’s stomach in that it was a black hole which would eat anything and everything.

Burrowing his face into your neck, he hums in acknowledgement. Closing the drawer, you twist around until you can slip your arms around him in turn. Unlike the normal smell you’d come to adore, today he smelled of the overwhelmingly strong chemicals in the polish he’d used. It didn’t smell great and you wrinkled your nose, unhappy at the fact it wasn’t what you were used to but unwilling to move away from him.

“Thank you, for helping him. He’s been wanting that porch done for years now but his knees are so bad.” None of that is new information to Hoseok and you suspected that was why he’d volunteered to do it. To the point that he’d even headed out with your dad to the local DIY store to grab everything that they would need.

The look of happiness on your dad’s face when he’d realised that he was finally going to get one of his jobs finished had made you almost want to cry with emotion. You hadn’t though, but you were giving Hoseok a tight hug to convey your gratitude to him for being a good person. The quick kiss was just an afterthought, but he’d earned that too.

Wandering hands tell you that he’s more frisky than you’d thought he would be after the work he’d been doing, and it’s only when he squeezes a good handful of your ass that you pull away with laughter. While you still weren’t a big fan of your ass, it was still a little too big for your insecurities, Hoseok was very much a fan.

What some people call ‘an ass man’.

“Hoseok, come on. We have to go in and I am not doing anything with you in my parent’s shed. Plus, you got a blowjob this morning! I need to go help sort the vegetables out for dinner an-” Warm lips pressed against your own interrupt you, their softness making you give in almost instantly as you just enjoyed him.

Little butterflies were fluttering in your stomach as he just lazily kissed you, no urgency to his movements despite what you’d just said. Still, you didn’t push him away. He still remembered, even after over two years, that you enjoyed just kissing. Catching up on all the times you’d missed out on as a teenager and the intermittent years.

So you were loath to pull away from him; especially when he was doing what you imagined a loved-up teenage couple would do when out of sight of their parents. It was fun. Plus, Hoseok was a great kisser.

Finally, though, he stops and leans back to grin at you. It’s a testament to how much you are attracted to and love him with how strong the urge to drop to your knees for him right then and there. Maybe he could have two blowjobs in one day.

“Okay, we can go in now. Do you need help with the vegetables?” The way he changes the mood so quickly has you almost experiencing whiplash, eyes widening as you watch him turn around and walk out. Bringing a hand palm up, you squint at his back and mouth out ‘what the fuck?’ before following him.

By the time you manage to catch up to him, giving him a slightly sullen look even if you’d been the one to deny anything was going to happen, he’s already entering the house. The air is rich with the scent of slow-cooking pot roast and you sigh in contentment, heading into the kitchen.

“You can help if you want. Hey mom, it’s okay. We’ll do that for you.” Gently, you push her away from the counter and take the peeler from her hand. She looks between you both with a quizzical look, her lips quirked up into a half-smile when Hoseok just starts to wash his hands with no complaints before taking control of the carrots.

Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything except for thanks as she leaves you both to it. You get the strong feeling that she’s bemused he’s helping you without complaint or further prodding. As much as your dad likes to cook on occasion, he usually takes a little bit of convincing to get him to help out.

“Oh hey, there’s stuff to make my mom’s roast potatoes...do you want me to make them?” You don’t see the curious expression on your mom’s face as she tilts her head, watching as Hoseok lifts a bottle of soy sauce and the grinder full of black pepper. Instead, you’re too busy making an excited face at him as you nod eagerly.

“Oh my god, yes! My parents have never had them before. I think it’ll go well too as my dad always likes to put everything in the cupboard in his pot roast…”

-

“You know...you weren’t kidding when you said that there was a high chance that I could end up getting the shits from your dad’s pot roast. That was a spicy ass meal. God, it tasted so damn good though. I’m glad he made so much for us to take back.” Hoseok was sat, or rather slouched, in the passenger seat of your car.

A hand was resting on his stomach, which looked to be holding a significant food baby. Snorting with laughter, you nodded in agreement before grinning as he let his head loll on the backseat. You’d been telling him about your dad’s infamous pot roast for a long time now and he’d finally gotten to experience it. 

On top of that, your parents had been wowed by the roast potatoes Hoseok had made using his mom’s recipe. To the point that your mom had begged him to tell her how to make them, at which he’d made a big show about having to ask his mom for permission.

Somehow, that had all led to her calling his mom to formally ask for it. Even though Hoseok had been joking about it and fully intended to let her know how to make it. An hour after that, when you’d finally left after bidding your dad goodnight and with a bag full of leftover roast in Tupperware, your mom’s were still chattering away to each other.

You didn’t have too much experience with how parents were supposed to interact with each other but you were pretty sure becoming close friends wasn’t too normal. But again, you didn’t have any relevant experience here so maybe it was.

“Have you ever seen Step Brothers?” The question comes out of nowhere but Hoseok’s used to it by now. He doesn’t even look over at you in confusion or amusement, just answers you like you’d asked him what his favourite colour is.

“Yeah, why?”

“I think our moms just did that whole ‘did we become best friends?!’ thing.” Now he’s the one letting out a snort, his smile big enough that you can spot it out of the corner of your eye. He knows exactly what you mean, nodding even though you can’t see him properly.

“I think they did. You know, I’m not sure if this is a good or a bad thing. We’ll never be left alone now, you know that right?” Shrugging, you flex your fingers on the steering wheel and enjoy the texture of the leather beneath your hands. You were already approaching home, the roads quiet in the warm evening sun as everyone probably spent time in their yards.

“I like your mom. And I like my mom...sooo, I don’t see any problem with that.” Given you’re focusing on the road, you don’t notice the droll stare he gives you. Which is probably a good thing, because you’d just poke him if you had seen it.

“Are you kidding? Okay, maybe it’s just me that won’t be left alone then. I’ll never be able to do anything wrong. Whether it’s trivial or something serious.” There’s a serious whine to his voice and a glance over shows you that he’s pouting almost comically, causing you to giggle at his protruding lower lip. He may be a little dirty and sweaty from his day’s work, covered in tattoos and piercings but he just looked adorable.

“Well...I guess you’ll have to be on your best behaviour then, won’t you?”

“Very funny. I tell you, I’m going to hear about everything tiny thi-” He’s cut off by your loud cursing, the words coarse and filled with vitriol as you glare at the asshole who almost hit you. Slamming on the brake, you jerk forward hard as the car stops far quicker than you expected and the seat belt feels almost like it’s choking.

“Fucking hell, these brakes are sharper than I expected.” You exclaim, resting your hands in the perfect driving position on the wheel while letting out a deep breath to calm yourself. Glaring down the road, you note that the other car isn’t even there anymore and you can’t help yourself from flipping the bird in the air.

You were at the last intersection before your street, the opening just ahead of the traffic lights that had been green for you. Which meant that they had been red for whoever that ass was. It hadn’t stopped them from speeding as they ran their red, coming within inches of hitting your side of the car if you hadn’t braked so suddenly.

Shuddering, you crack your neck and wince as you rub at it, hoping you hadn’t caused yourself whiplash. Setting off again, you scowl before realising you were hearing a weird noise. Frowning deeply, you look over the display to see if any warning lights have come on before realising it’s coming from your side.

It takes one look to realise Hoseok is very much not okay. 

He’s paler than you’ve ever seen and that immediately startles you, but what’s even more worrying is the way he’s got a death grip on the door handle and his seat cushion. You have to look away from him sooner than you would have liked given you were still driving, turning into the street with the house in sight now but you could hear him.

And you weren’t sure that you’d ever heard something so...haunting.

It was like he couldn’t breathe properly; his chest constricted or something while pained noises were being dragged out of his throat. You don’t even realise that you’ve sped up, subconsciously trying to get home and park so that you can help your boyfriend with whatever’s going on.

He’s still making those horrible sounds and breathing like he’s run a marathon when you pull into the drive, putting the parking brake on and turning the engine off before turning to him. Reaching out a hand slowly, it’s only when you can feel his bicep that you realise he’s trembling. No, not trembling. He’s shaking almost violently despite his death grip on the car.

“Hobi...Hoseok. Baby, what’s wrong? What’s wrong?” You didn’t know what to do, and you didn’t understand what was happening. Why was he acting like this? Like he’d just seen a ghost or something.

And then it clicks in your head. The intersection, the idiot who almost hit you, the way you’d slammed on the brakes and cursed a storm. For you, it had just been an annoyance and a near miss. But Hoseok had been in a situation like that when he was a child, and it hadn’t been a near miss.

“Oh, shit. Shit. Fuck,” Muttering, you look around the car as you wonder how to break him out of whatever attack he’s suffering. “It’s okay, Hoseok. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe, you’re okay. I promise.” 

As you try to find something to jar him out of his memories, you talk to him constantly. It’s utter nonsense what you’re saying but you want to make sure he can hear someone he loves, reassures him that he’s not alone. Glancing over to him, you swallow thickly at how panicked and frightened he looks.

Pulling out the tube of hard peppermints that had been living in your bag for probably two years at this point, you thrust them into his nose. It’s probably a dumb thing to do but something you’d learnt since your panic attack had been that a good way to get people out of the looping fear was something unexpected.

The strong scent of the hard-pressed mints was probably hard to miss given you jammed it against his nose a little too hard. There was white powder left, which wouldn’t look too great if anyone happened to see him, but you didn’t care. It worked.

Yanking his head back suddenly, Hoseok took a deep breath that sounded more painful than you like before looking at you with wide eyes. Letting the mints drop to the floor, you shift until you can reach and cup his face in your hands.

He feels cold yet the apples of his cheeks are so hot, his breath still faster than you liked but there’s coherence in his gaze. The Hoseok you know and love is back, no longer trapped in the memory of an eight-year-old. Guilt overwhelms you as you realise that you’d probably caused this.

“Hobi…” Is all you manage to get out before you’re stopped once more. Only this time, it’s by the way his face crumples and his eyes glisten as tears bank in them. It makes your chest tighten painfully to see him hurting; especially given how he so clearly tries not to let himself fall over the edge.

It’s only when your thumbs gently stroke at the skin of his cheeks, soft yet ever so slightly prickly from his evening shadow that was beginning to make itself known, that he cracks. The tears slowly slide down his face, each one shining in the evening light while his lips wobble as he tries to keep them pressed together.

“Baby, it’s okay. You’re okay, we’re okay.” You’re pretty positive that you’ve never seen anything more heartbreaking than watching Hoseok slowly break down. The rock in your turbulent emotions and mind, eroding as the dark currents of his mind hit at his weak points.

He just stares at you for a moment before he’s grasping at the door handle, breathing heavily before almost throwing himself out of the car. For a moment, you just stared out of the open door, watching as Hoseok practically scrambles for the porch of your house. It takes a few seconds for your brain to finally catch up, propelling you out of the car to follow him.

Crouching down, you reach out slowly to see if he’d be okay with you touching him. He’s sat down, the faded white paint on the old porch looking chipped and dirty as he rests a hand on it. When he doesn’t push you away, you carefully sit down next to him and rub his back in slow, soothing movements.

You can feel the muscles there shaking, his limbs still trembling slightly from the traumatic memory he’d probably had. Not a word has passed from his lips, only heavy breathing that he’s slowly managing to regulate once more and worry fills you.

“Hoseok...it’s okay. You’re okay,” Shuffling a little closer, you move your hand up to stroke the short hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m okay, you’re okay. We’re home. Nothing bad happened. I’m sorry for triggering bad memories.”

Hoseok shakes his head suddenly, the movement fierce and firm. Eyes widening, you let out a small ‘eep’ as he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tightly. This gesture is much different from his earlier embrace in your parent’s shed. There’s a little more urgency to this, the way his hands run along you isn’t sensual but more like he’s reassuring himself that you’re real.

That you are okay.

“You’re not hurt, you’re okay. Right? No pain, n-no injuries? You’re okay?” His voice quivers, breaking halfway through his words and your heart contracts at the sight of the fear in his eyes. The tears are still falling down his face, almost like he doesn’t realise and you gently cup his cheeks once more, wiping away at them.

This time, he seems to recognise your touch fully and leans into it, pressing his forehead against yours as a choked sob sounds from his throat. Cooing to him, you rearrange him until his head is buried in the space between your neck and shoulder, his larger frame seeming so small as you wrap your arms around him protectively.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, I swear. Nothing happened. That asshole ran the red light but I braked quick enough. I was just angry at him, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...to do this. I’m so sorry.” Now it’s your turn for your voice to crack, emotions tumbling together at seeing him so afraid and upset.

“S’not you. It wasn’t you,” He mumbles against your hoodie, squeezing you a little tighter. “It was...it was just the sound and the feeling. The brakes screeching, the cursing, being thrown forward. It was...I was back there. Then, back then. It was just so similar. The intersection and it all just...I guess my mind just got lost in it. It was like I was reliving that moment in my head; both here and back then. I could hear you but I could hear my parents, my sister. I couldn’t figure out what was real.”

You didn’t have any experience with this, with any of it and you didn’t know what to do. From your limited experience of watching shows and movies, you guessed he’d had some kind of flashback to his childhood accident. The sounds and movements of the incident throwing him back decades into that traumatic moment. You felt stupid that you’d never even considered he could still have some form of PTSD it.

At least, you assumed that’s what it was. 

“You’re here. Here with me and we’re okay. I don’t...I gotta be honest baby, I don’t want to say. Or do. What do you need from me?” You hated having to ask that, putting the onus on him to figure out what you should be doing to help him. But you had no idea, you’d never dealt with this. You couldn’t even manage your panic attacks, nevermind one caused by a flashback.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Don’t stress about it. You got me out of my head, that was good. Quick thinking,” Pulling away from you, he laces his fingers together before lowering his head till it’s between his knees and just breathes slowly. “Fuck, I’ve not had one of those in a long time.”

“You’ve had them before?”

There’s silence for a few minutes as he just breathes slowly, his eyes closed as he forces himself to relax. Twisting his lips, he rolls his head and the crack of his neck is loud in the quietness of the street. You don’t push him, letting him take his time to get to terms with what had just happened.

It was a good thing because you weren’t entirely sure what you were meant to do.

“Yeah. I used to get them when I was a kid. It took months for my parents to convince me to get in a car after it happened. Certain things would just...trigger a panic attack or a flashback like then. I can’t listen to the song that was on the radio at the time and...well as you’ve just seen, a sequence of events like that sets me off. A lot of my behaviour when I was younger, was a result of the PTSD from the accident. I thought I’d pretty much got past having these incidents as it’s been forever since I’ve had one.” Wiping at his face, he looks away from you and down towards the end of the road.

Wiggling over to him, you lean against him supportively before carefully taking his hand and linking your fingers. He lets you, his hand mostly limp except the slightest tremble of his fingers. Running the fingers of your free hand along the back of his, you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Don’t be angry or upset or anything, you can’t help it. I know very well that we can’t control what our brains do. It probably thinks it’s trying to protect you somehow but...you got through it pretty quickly. You’re okay and you’re here, talking to me rationally pretty quickly. Maybe you had this because you weren’t driving, right? So you weren’t able to do anything about it. When you’re driving, your mind is usually focused on something else.” Part of you recognises that you’re just rambling crap to him but you want to keep him listening. Make sure that he doesn’t fall back into his mind.

Turning to look at you, Hoseok gives you a weak smile and you feel pain in your chest at how tired and sad he looks suddenly. All signs of your happy and boisterous boyfriend have vanished for the moment. You’ve never felt more useless.

“Yeah, probably. You’re probably right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin-” Cutting him off with a sharp gesture, you gently poke at his arm before smiling.

“Don’t apologise. Please don’t apologise for something you can’t control. You tell me this all the time, so now I get to tell you. It’s okay to not be okay, remember? All I care about is that you’re okay, that you’re not hurting or scared. That’s it. I don’t care that it happened, I only care about you.” His eyes look a little watery again at that, his smile weak yet a little happier than before.

“I know it’s early but...can we just go to bed? Just nap or something? I’m so tired. From working on the porch earlier and from this, I just want to cuddle you and sleep.” Tilting your head, you scan over him slowly and sigh softly.

Hoseok looks tired, his shoulders slumping and back slouching from the weight of everything. It’s the least you can do for him, especially if that’s all he wants. So you nod, smiling at him before squeezing his hand.

“Sure. You go head in, I’ll grab the stuff and put it away then come up.” Standing, you head over to the car to grab everything your parents had given you to bring home. The sound of Hoseok’s keys jangling together as he opens the door is familiar, as is the door closing to prevent Kasumi from getting out. A glance back tells you that he’s inside and you let your head drop, hands resting on the cushion of the backseat as you take a deep breath.

Taking the time to just inhale and exhale slowly, you tell yourself to relax as well. Just as you’d told him that he was okay and safe, you had to acknowledge the same for you now as well. Seeing Hoseok like that was scary and you would be happy if you never saw anything like that again. It hurt to see him afraid, to see him cry and struggle with himself. Was this what it was like for him when you were experiencing a bad mental health day?

Shaking your head, you blow the air out of your cheeks before looking up at the sky. The colours are starting to become more extravagant and vibrant, the blue deepening into purples, pinks and oranges as the sun sets. It’s still warm out but there’s a pleasant breeze that cools you, blowing gently through the grass and the branches of the trees that line the road.

It all looks so peaceful and calm, so unlike what you’d been experiencing not even ten minutes ago. Swallowing, you grabbed the bags and pulled them out, closing the door and locking the car before heading inside.

His shoes are alongside the others but there’s no sign of him downstairs. No noise coming from the bedroom either and you look up the stairs with a concerned expression. You didn’t know what to do, what was right to do. So all you could do was what he asked.

Quickly putting away the leftover food and baked goods your mom had given you, you head upstairs to the bedroom. The curtains are already closed, leaving the room darker than in the hallway and a glance at the clothes hamper lets you guess he’s probably gotten into some comfy pyjamas.

The shape underneath the covers doesn’t move, but you smile at seeing Kasumi laid alongside him with wide and unblinking eyes. Quickly pulling your clothes off, you get into a fresh pair of pyjamas as well before heading over to the bed, placing your phone on the bedside table.

“Hey, pretty girl. Are you looking after daddy?” Whispering, you slide into bed and stroke at her soft fur. Hoseok’s eyes shine slightly in the dim light, the covers pulled up to his chin in an almost protective way as he watches you shower love onto Kasumi.

Turning your attention to him, you take him in for a moment with a soft smile. Gravity makes his cheeks softer and rounder while lying down, his lips pouting a little more than normal while his hair half flops onto the pillow. He looks adorable, yet there’s still that vulnerability in his eyes.

“Do you want to be the little spoon?” You ask, grinning when he nods quietly. It takes no time for you to shuffle forward, meeting him in the middle of the bed and wrapping your arms around him. He nuzzles his head into the space below your chin, his arms trapped between both your bodies while you throw your leg over him as well.

Grinning to yourself despite the serious situation earlier, you can’t help but find some peace and happiness at this moment. To know that he loved you enough to feel safe in your embrace like this, to feel protected and not silly. You were smaller than him, yet you knew that you would keep him as safe as you possibly could.

Reaching up, you alternate between running the strands of his hair through your fingers and massaging his scalp in the way he likes. A quiet rumble of appreciation leaves him at the feeling, his body relaxing in your arms. It would never fail to amuse you how easily you could get him to sleep just by playing with his hair. And you wanted him to sleep right now, to have good and pleasant dreams to rid himself of the anxiety and panic from earlier.

Pressing your lips to his head, you sigh quietly and tell him something that you rarely vocalise. Normally it’s hard to get the words out, but today they flow easily and you can practically feel the way he relaxes even further. 

“I love you.”

[whalesfallmoved]

hand over wound

round two. 

chargestep, rated t. 1.9k.

a brief, helpless attempt at ortega’s point of view. the shameless flirty banter and back and forth of pre-heartbreak ricardo, whose main goal is being an absolute menace to society- population, sidestep. horribly self-indulgent in every way, but she lets herself get helped in this one, so what can I say.  

ao3 link.

—

She’s got a hard grip and a bite sharp as her bark, and when you finally get her to put her hand in yours it’s not without the same sensation of coaxing a street cat out of hiding, flinching at the first sudden movement. 

Not this time, though. This time, she lets you catch her wrist, lets you turn it over, and— oh boy— this is the most skin you’ve ever seen, sleeve pushed up almost to her elbow, wrists on display, never would’ve thought they’d look this dainty, crisscrossed as they are by scar tissue and branching blue veins and solid as birdbone.

She squeezes that small, angry little fist in your hand and the tendons flex, the knuckles split raw and furious, scabs already coagulating where the damage runs reddest. Her trophies for that blitz quick punch she packs, armorless and fast (but not as fast— not as fast as you— lightning striking twice.)

Fidgeting, antsy, she kicks her feet against your chair, knock-knock-knock, squeezing her mask in her other pink, exposed fist. Jittery, and you bite back something wry and flustering, something that’ll earn you a freeze and an idiot and a blush and oh, you love that even more, how you can watch it bloom freely now, worth the wait and the coaxing to get her to finally tug Sidestep off the rest of the way, leave just Noa and her big, big eyes (deep brown as a hound’s and you weren’t expecting that, for her to be so warm underneath the hard, cold turquoise) and how she desperately needs the mask, they’d never be scared of her otherwise—and with your other hand you loosen her curled fingers free. 

Toss her a grin, tap her leg with yours, pretend you aren’t surprised by how soft her skin is when it’s not covered in skinsuit and blood, the way it’s never seen the Los Diablos sun—at least, not long enough to match the freckles on her doughy cheeks (freckles down her shoulder? her back?) Layers and layers and here she is, in your apartment, hand in hand, and fuck, you can say something about that too. Something about that kiss something about— later.

“So, I was thinking.”

“Wow. Did you hurt yourself?” Reflex, but she straightens up, watches, waits, and you like that too— the way she can’t hear, the way she has to ask.

“A little, yeah,” medkits and rags and clean water, you dab at the cuts and earn yourself a hiss.

“Out of practice, huh?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You wink and that gets you a scowl, a twist of her mouth, and you’re pretty sure if you weren’t you you’d get her teeth, too. Not even Themmy would get away with that, much as she likes them, they can’t cross the hard line of her last name yet, and you’ve earned smug, you think, you grin, you drag the antiseptic across her knuckles while she’s still glaring and pink at the ears—her hand jerks in yours and you squeeze tighter, gentle. “I was thinking about your suit.”

“Trying to give some fashion advice? Pass.”

“First of all, if anyone here’s in desperate need of it—”

“Jesus fucking Christ, not this again.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you make the unwashed seventeen year old boy look work for you, somehow—”

“Asshole.”

“Sorry, would you prefer sexily disheveled?”

“You— shut up,” there it is, her averting gaze, her grooving brow, her pretty cheeks— ow, fuck— her foot ramming into your calf. “You are such a dick.”

“You love it,” wink, sly grin, she glares harder but doesn’t argue, you’ve got her there and you both know it. “And that wasn’t what I was going to say.”

The split cuts are worse than you thought, wounds wiped clean revealing the deep and the raw all laden on top of each other, opened again and again, her smarting palms scratched and torn, not so different from yours when you try hard enough but it’s different (because it’s her?) and fuck, how long has she been doing this?  

Still can’t win her over with the blue and the white and big capital R and the promise of solid health benefits. Too bad. Can’t blame her though, even if it makes your job twice as hard to let her into the systems, to let her put her darting fingers all over the Rangers’ files, to let her anywhere near the missions you need her most. 

“Well?”

Look up, and she’s watching and waiting still, and you must’ve gone quiet for a moment, turning her knuckles over.

“Your suit’s crap.” Homemade and spliced together, practically sportswear these days, riddled with seams and stitches she’s mended. Not bad for a third-rate vigilante, but that’s not her, not Sidestep, not your—

Not your anything, and she’d eat you alive if she ever caught the tail-end of a thought like that. But she’s going to get herself hurt all the same. More hurt than usual.

“It’s just lightweight. Yours isn’t any different.”

“Mine’s definitely different,” fresh white bandages over red, swollen bruises. You wind them around once, twice, taking care. “The material’s outdated. Where’d you get it, anyway?” 

“None of your business,” she snaps, and you half expect her to rip away, pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t. “And it’s not like I can just hit Uncle Sam up for some brand new state of the art gear.”

“I mean, you could.”

“Don’t.”

“I think you’d look good in blue.”

“Ugh.”

“Just think about it. You. Me. Matching uniforms. We could get you a little lightning bolt, right here,” hand over your heart and she’s definitely going to hit you for that one. “I don’t mind sharing the brand with you.”

“Go die in a hole.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please go die in a hole.”

“Will you join me?”

“Fuck no. I’m putting you there myself. Can’t stand your ass.”

“Good thing you’re sitting down then. Also, thinking about my ass, hmm? Good to know.” 

“Ugh.” 

“Bad time to ask about what other sounds your mouth can make?”

“Try it and I’ll feed you your own eyeballs.”

“Ohh, promises, promises.”

She wants to laugh, catching it quick between her teeth, a soft indent in her softer cheeks, and if you try a little harder you might be able to shake that grin from her, earn yourself a glimmer in her dark, dark eyes—and she’s running out of bark, out of bite, so the first round goes to you as you set her fist down, wrapped, clean and new in bandages that won’t last the next fight.

You reach for the other and she goes willingly, fingertips settling butterfly-light on you, her thumb to the heel of your hand, scars and nicks aligned. There’s something about it, about the skin, about the colder palm that rests quietly in yours, the mods sticking to your bones, and— yes, you like this the most; the way she lets you touch her, even if it’s just this, one kiss in the aftermath of violence and her wrists on display. 

She breaks the silence not with a laugh or a sigh but a shake of her head, a suspicious cant of her eyes to yours, then away; blushed, accepting defeat. You smile, wash her wounds again with the slow repetition of old, small ritual and she knocks her ankle against yours, knee to knee. 

“You’re a deeply troubled and troubling man, Ricardo Ortega.” She finally says, low and almost sweet, and there it is; a dimple beside her mouth, unwillingly surrendered, and the sight unfurls something achy and bruise-deep in your chest. 

And the truth is, you can’t help yourself. “I love the way you say my name.” 

“I swear—” a gasp, an exhale, her bandaged hand meeting her forehead, fissuring that barbed facade of sneers and razor-edged tongues. “You’re so fucking weird. Can’t you just take an insult like a normal person?”

“Oh, those were insults? But they sounded so sweet coming from you.” You reach for the bandages again. Repeat. Gauzy, featherlight loops around her flinching knuckles. 

“God…”

“No need for that. Ricardo works just fine.” 

“How about idiot?” And oh, you’ve got her soft, how’d you manage that? She’s red from her ears down her neck, flush disappearing beneath the black nanomesh, and you wait for her to smack your knee or bring a little teeth but all she does is squeeze your hand, nose scrunched jaw dimpled, melting, and your heart’s tattooing itself to the ribs—maybe you can get her to let you kiss her again, just to see what her lips feel like when they’re not red-slick with iron and sweat and fear. They were softer than you thought. Desperate, too. Almost as desperate as you, and fear’s a thrill a rush a jump but when you thought she’d ended up mashed on the pavement it—

“Only for you.” A tease or a confession and the most honest lie to cross your lips, you tuck the gauze but keep her hand, and she lets you, thumbs over the boundary line of your wrist. Strange. Almost intimate.

She pulls back just enough to trade places, snaring your hand between her own wounded ones, running circles around the emitter, fearless, unflinching, trusting, waiting. Always waiting and never staying long enough for an answer, like you could give her a straight one either way, like you even know what it is beyond aches and bruises and the pained gasp pressed to your lips when you pried her loose and held her tight, Psychopather gone on the ground, victory in the shape of her mouth.

Still, a skip runs down your spine as she massages down, down into the calloused meat of your hand, not even jumping at the kick of electricity, spiteful as blanket static. 

“What, nothing stupid about kissing it better?” She mutters—disappointed?—and of course, how could you miss that chance—but she’s always been better about the plans, a thousand little ways to sidestep dancing around in that lovely skull of hers when all you want to do is charge right in, and as she pulls away you pull back, catch her gauzy, angry fists in your open palm.

She waits. Waits to see what you’ll do. 

You watch, hold your breath, the biting grin gone now, mask shucked loose for a moment when she looks like that, soft and vulnerable in the white-gold light of your kitchen, and she could pull away if she wants, or careen forward, turn it into a punch, into a throttle. 

But she doesn’t.

Her eyes really are pretty, warm brown like the slow burn of whiskey down your throat, and you keep them as you draw her hands up, bring those softened knuckles to your lips, feel the first twitches of a smile that you press lightly against her and— kissing— 

And she raps the back of her fingers against your cheek, barely more than a tap, a reprimand and hey—! She jerks away, stands up, darts from your grasp, gone again. Moved too fast. You sigh, catch yourself, remember to smile. 

“Idiot.” She scoffs, grabs her mask off the table, ducks her head like she’s expecting that soft hair to make a curtain, a shield, but it’s twisted back at the nape and you chuckle, lean back, because it looks like round two is yours again, and you want— you want—

She’s on the other side of the kitchen, working that mask back, turned away, and you don’t ask her to stay, you already know the answer, but fuck if you don’t love to watch her leave, if you can’t wait for round three.

[angelicyoongie]

desolate (3)

— summary: you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so, you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

— pairing: cat hybrid yoongi x  reader

— genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut

— word count: 4.3k

— tag list: @mrcleanheichou @ladymidnightt @cheese123344 @xanny91 @dinorahrodriguez @best-space-boy @dulcaet @moccahobi @keijaycreates​ @staytrillswag​ @xsmilebitesx @serendipityoreuphoria @jiminot7

Part one Part two Part four Part five Part six Part seven Part eight Part nine Part ten (M) Part eleven Part twelve Part thirteen Part fourteen (M)

“We’re still on for tonight, right?” Jihyo’s head suddenly pops up over her computer screen, voice barely above a whisper as she sneaks a few looks around the office. The atmosphere is tenser than normal today, and it seems like your co-workers are almost afraid to breathe every time your boss storms through the open office.

You think you overheard someone talking about a few computers being hacked into from inside the company, but you’re not sure. Either way, you figure it’s a good idea to stay on the low and out of your boss' way as much as possible, unless you want to get chewed up and spit out for literally just existing.

You give Jihyo a thumbs up, eyes glued to your screen just in case someone is watching. The thought of having a girl’s night with Jihyo and Sana definitely brightens your mood enough to make it through until lunch. You already have a few movies picked out that you’ve been meaning to watch for ages, and you can’t wait to just relax and spend some time with your friend and her hybrid.

You and Jihyo both decide to eat lunch outside, braving the cold autumn winds to escape the stifling mood of the office. You find a little coffee shop that isn’t too far away, giving you decent time to eat and talk before you need to head back.

“So, how’s your little black menace doing?” Jihyo asks with a small laugh as she places a few pastries on her plate. You shrug, reacting out for a stuffed croissant. Your sore back definitely seems to point to your kitty warming up to you, considering you ended up sleeping on the couch all night with him curled up on top of your stomach. But then again, he scurried off underneath the couch with a low grumble as soon as you woke up, so you feel like it’s hard to say. You’ve never met a cat before that’s so hot and cold.

“I don’t know,” You admit, moving behind Jihyo in line to pay for your food.

“He seems to tolerate me one second and then hate me the next .. It’s hard to say,” You frown.

“Y/N ..” Jihyo pauses, her shoulders tensing before she continues, “Maybe you should consider giving him back to the shelter? Not to be mean, but you look horrible. You seem sadder than you were before you even got a cat, and news flash, you’re supposed to feel happier - not miserable,” Jihyo throws you a look over her shoulder as she moves to pay, concerned eyes briefly locking onto yours.

You feel the clump in your stomach grow, the anxious feeling you haven’t been able to shake off completely since you brought your cat home becoming bigger. Maybe you aren’t the right home for him. Maybe Jihyo is right ..

“I guess,” You mutter as Jihyo steps aside to let you pay. You can almost feel the soft fur against your fingers as you pick up your plate, uncertainty gnawing away at your thoughts as you both find a table to share.

“But I still need to try a little longer. I’m sure he’s had a rough time before he came to the shelter, stuff like that isn’t cured over night,” You reason, the tension in your body loosing up just a tad. You will take him back to the shelter if it doesn’t get better between you two, but you need to at least try first.

“A month then,” Jihyo proposes.

“If things haven’t improved between you in a month, then you take him back to the shelter. I hate seeing you so down,” She pouts, hand reaching out to squeeze yours before she starts eating her lunch.

You take a bite of your own pastry, mulling the idea over in your head as you eat. A month seems reasonable. It’ll give your cat time to settle down a little, and if he’s still so afraid that he hides from you after all those weeks, then it’s probably for the best to bring him back.

“Alright, deal. One month,” You give Jihyo a nod, your mind already racing to come up with plans of how to make your cat feel more at home.  

.

Unsurprisingly, the rest of the workday is just as stiff as the first half.

“I never thought this day would end,” You groan as you and Jihyo step outside, your shoulders aching from how tense you’ve been all day.

“Tell me about it,” Jihyo huffs. Her face lights up as she spots the waiting car, probably eager to get inside and remove those god awful heels the company forces you to wear as part of your unofficial uniform.

“I’ll head off now. Text me what kind of snacks you want me to bring, okay?” Jihyo flashes you a bright smile and a wave before she’s off, climbing into the passenger seat of the car as fast as she can manage.

“I’ll be at your place at seven!” Jihyo yells out of the window as the car takes off, leaving you behind in whirlwind of dust and fallen leaves. You sigh as you turn, beginning your journey home. Your apartment is around a thirty-minute walk from work if you’re wearing good shoes, but with these heels it's probably closer to forty-five.

You would normally take the bus, but since you need to stop by a mart and get groceries, it’s honestly better to just sacrifice your feet and take a more direct route home. Thankfully the mart isn’t too busy when you get there, and you quickly find all the things you need for the dinner tonight, as well as some food to get you through the rest of the weekend.

You pause as you pass by the chicken section; hand reaching out for the chicken breasts your cat enjoyed so much before you even realize what you’re doing.

“He’ll probably be angry at me after tonight,” You reason, and food seems like the best bribery for a cat that doesn’t like to be pet.

Your arms are shaking by the time you’ve made it up the stairs to your apartment, shirt clinging uncomfortably to your back from the light sweat you’ve managed to work up.

You quickly unlock your door and step inside, bags falling to the ground with a heavy thump as you turn around. The first thing you see in the dark hallway is golden eyes staring straight at you, the black fur almost blending into the shadows. You let out a startled squeak, hand flying to your chest to calm your racing heart.

“I know I’m late kitty, I’m sorry,” You say after taking a deep breath, a small smile on your face as you try to convey just how bad you feel for delaying his dinner. You see him give a small flick of his tail, the only indicator that he’s actually listening to you as you reach down to bring your bags to the kitchen.

You don't hear him follow you, but you can feel those golden eyes tracking you as you move around the kitchen putting your groceries away. You throw a quick glance at the clock hanging over your stove as you shove the rest of the food inside the fridge.

“Shit!” You only have half an hour until your guests arrive, and you desperately need a quick shower before you do anything else. You rush towards your bathroom, just narrowly missing bumping into your cat that’s peaking at you around the corner. He hisses at the close proximity, and you let a string of sorry’s hang in the air behind you as you hurry inside, wrestling with the buttons on your shirt as you go.

You’re practically out of breath as you wrap a towel around your damp body, holding it in place as you scurry to your bedroom to find some clothes to wear. You don’t remember leaving your door open before you left for work, but you probably just didn’t close it properly. You pay it no mind as you quickly grab some fresh underwear and sweats from your closet, it’s not that big of a deal anyway.

You slip your underwear on under your towel, throwing the pants behind you on to the bed as your search for your favourite hoodie. You frown as you rummage through your clothes, hoodie nowhere in sight. You’re sure you washed it a few days ago, so it doesn’t make sense that it’s just gone. You huff, settling for throwing on a cosy sweater instead. Your hoodie search will have to be resumed later.

You can see a black ball of fur out of the corner of your eye as you tug on your pants, your cat having moved to scowl at you from the hallway, golden eyes narrowed as they watch you get dressed.

“I promise I’m making your food now kitty,” Your cat glares at you before he turns around and leaves, the motion a little weird and eerily inhuman. You could’ve sworn it almost rolled its eyes at you .. But you don’t have time to think about it, the encounter already being pushed into the back of your mind as you hurry to start making dinner.

You get the chicken ready first, setting some aside to cool as you add the rest to the dish you’re making. Jihyo sent you a recipe that apparently Sana loves, and since you figure you’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other from now on, you really want to make your friend’s hybrid like you.

“Kitty?” You call out as you place in the dish in the oven. You hear a soft disgruntled meow coming from the living room, and it’s not that hard to guess where he might be hiding. You only have a few minutes until your guests arrive, but it should be enough time for your cat to finish eating.

You bring the plate out into the living room, placing it down a little further away from the couch than you did last time. There’s a few seconds where nothing happens, the apartment quiet aside from the soft noise outside of your window.

You hear another annoyed meow before your cat emerges, and he practically gives you the cat equivalent of the stink eye as he crouches down to eat. He must’ve realized that you’re trying to coax him out from under the couch, and it seems like he isn’t too happy about it.

You busy yourself with straightening out the pillows on the couch as he eats, trying to make your small living room look a little less cramped and more put together.

“Kitty, you need to be on your best behaviour tonight,” You see a fluffy ear swivel your way as you speak.

“My friend Jihyo and her hybrid are coming over, so please don’t hiss at them, okay? Jihyo seems to dislike you enough already, and I’m sure she’ll force me to give you up if she thinks you’re dangerous,” You grimace as you fluff out the last pillow, missing how your cat’s head snaps up to look at you with wide eyes just as the door bell rings.

“Please behave kitty,” You murmur softly as you pick up the empty plate from the floor, your cat scurrying back under the couch as you drop the plate off in the kitchen. You really hope he won’t react too badly to Sana considering she’s a dog hybrid, but as long as she appears in her human form you’re sure your cat won’t mind it too much.

But of course you should’ve known that was too much to ask for.

As soon as you open the door, a fluffy white ball of fur flies through the opening, Jihyo stumbling in behind it. The little Pomeranian takes off down the hallway, feet clicking against the hardwood floor as she runs through your apartment.

“Sana!” Jihyo calls out, bags of snacks stuffed under her arms as she hurries in after her. You quickly lock the door and follow them, a bad feeling settling in your stomach as the apartment grows too quiet again. You freeze beside Jihyo as you reach the living room, eyes widening in horror as you see Sana and your cat growling at each other near the couch.

Your cat is seemingly furious, black fur standing on edge and teeth barred to mimic the look on Sana’s face. The low hiss rumbling in his chest seem to grow louder and louder, and you see Sana’s posture turning more and more rigid the longer they keep eye contact. They seem to be squaring up to fight, and you have absolutely no intention on letting that happen.

“Jihyo!” You hiss, elbowing her in the side. “Do something about Sana!”

“I don’t know what to do! She’s never been like this before!” She hisses back, not daring to tear her eyes away from the increasingly more agitated animals.

“I’ll grab her,” You say, the dog hybrid too busy growling to notice what you’re saying. Jihyo nods, a nervous expression on her face as you take a step closer. Sana doesn’t see you, but your cat does, and that brief second his eyes flicker to you seems to be enough of an opening for Sana to attack.

You lurch forward, barely managing to scoop Sana up before she has the chance to snap after your cat. You can tell your cat isn’t ready to give up the fight, its golden eyes narrowing in on you and the squirming dog in your arms.

“No kitty!” You give him a glare, but it’s like he isn’t seeing you at all, just the white fluff that seems to be threating his territory. You quickly pass Sana on to Jihyo; bags of snacks falling to the floor as she hurriedly brings her hybrid into your room to separate them. At the sound of the door clicking shut, your cat visibly relaxes, eyes finally seeing you instead of burning right through.

“Kitty,” You warn, voice stern and your hands on your hips as you stare down at him. Your cat holds your stare for a short while before it almost sounds like he huffs in annoyance. He ignores your attempt at a scolding, and instead chooses to lick his paw and clean his face while you watch in disbelief.

“Fine. Why am I even trying, you’re just a cat,” You tut. You feel a little silly, especially since you’re trying to scold an animal that doesn’t even understand what you’re saying.

“Y/N?” Jihyo’s voice calls out to you from behind the closed door. “Can we come out? Sana’s shifted.”

“Yeah, come on out,” As soon as the words leave your lips, the door flies open. You barely get a glimpse of Sana before she crashes into your arms, arms wound around your body so tightly it almost hurts to breathe.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to be a bad dog,” Sana buries her face in your chest, tears staining your sweater as she trembles. Jihyo sends you a sad look over her shoulder, a little pout on her lips that seems to be begging you to forgive her. You manage to free your arms enough to wrap them around her, awkwardly patting her back as she cries.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m not mad,” You say, but that only seems to make Sana cry harder.

“You’re so nice! And I’m such a bad dog, I’m so sorry!”

“Sana ..” Jihyo tries, but her voice only makes Sana cling harder to you.

“I just wanted to protect you! I smelled him inside and I didn’t want him to hurt you,” Sana pulls back enough to look up at you with her big glossy puppy eyes, fluffy ears glued down against her light hair.

“It’s okay, he’s just a kitty Sana, he won’t hurt me,” You smile, reaching up to pat her head affectionately.

“No! He’s not! He’s–” A loud hiss suddenly interrupts Sana, the sound scaring her enough to make her run back to Jihyo. She cowers behind her back, cheek pressed against Jihyo's shoulder as she refuses to look at your cat.

You’re about to scold him again for scaring her, but the words get caught in your throat as you feel something brush against your legs. You look down in shock to find your cat rubbing himself against your sweats, tail curling around your leg as he moves around.

“Uhm, does he normally do that?” Jihyo raises an eyebrow, the conversation you two had earlier in the day fresh in her mind.

“No?” You look at her with wide eyes as your cat raises its back, eyes blinking up at you. Does it want you to .. You slowly reach down with your hand, hesitating before your fingers can brush against the black fur.

Your cat doesn’t seem to mind your hand coming closer, but you still hold your breath as your fingers finally touches the silky fur, running a few fingers along his spine in a quick pat. Your cat freezes at the contact, body locking up underneath your fingertips as they run along his back.

“Sorry kitty,” You snatch your hand away, stepping back to give your cat some space. Sana is still hiding behind a dumbfound Jihyo, and you feel terrible that your evening started out in the way that it did.

“Let’s grab some dinner, it should be done by now! I made your favourite,” You smile kindly at Sana as her eyes hesitantly meet yours.

“Really?” You can see her tail wagging slowly back and forth, a small smile spreading across her lips at the thought of food.

“Yeah, let’s eat in the kitchen,” You laugh as Sana starts pushing Jihyo sideways in the direction of the kitchen, using her owner as a shield against your cat the whole way. Thankfully your cat stays in the living room during dinner, but you can see Sana’s apprehension returning the moment you suggest watching a movie. However as you walk into the living room, he’s nowhere to be found. You even sneak a quick peak under the couch, and there’s no kitty hiding there either.

You shrug, quickly getting the snacks the girls brought ready, and putting on the movie all of you decided you want to watch. You and Jihyo have taken over the small couch while Sana has curled up in the chair next to it.

“Sana?” You call out, “You know there’s room on the couch if you want to sit here?” You see her ears perk up, tail wagging as she looks at Jihyo for permission.

“Can I?” She asks, eyes bright at the thought of being allowed to snuggle up to the both of you.

You hear a dull thud from your bedroom, your cat quickly shimmying out between the crack in the door. So that’s where he was, you think.

He bolts over to the couch before Jihyo can even open her mouth, quickly jumping up into your lap and making himself at home. Your hands are frozen by your side, mouth hanging open in surprise as you watch him lie down and start kneading your shirt.

“Kitty?” You ask, but the only response you get is an ear twitching in your direction. You can tell that your cat’s eyes are trained on Sana, golden eyes barely blinking as his claws dig deeper into the fabric of your sweater. Maybe he understands a little more than you first thought.

“Kitty?” Jihyo snaps your attention to her, a questioning look on her face. “You haven’t named him yet?”

You shrug, lowering a hand to gently scratch across your cat’s head. This time he doesn’t freeze up, and your smile grows a little goofy as you feel him snuggle closer to your hand.

“No? I don’t know, none of the names I’ve thought of seems to fit him.”

“Well, it’s not like he’s gonna tell you himself,” Jihyo snorts, reaching out for the popcorn that’s placed on the table in front of you.

“I guess not,” You giggle, amused by how pliant your cat has gone in your hands. You’re practically supporting his head in your hand, and it’s obvious that he’s enjoying the petting by the low slightly broken attempts at purring your hear coming from his chest. But he’s still refusing to look away from Sana, eyes never closing fully despite how sleepy he seems.

“Yeah .. That would be weird,” Sana gives you both an uncomfortable chuckle, eyes flickering between your cat and the TV. You spend most of the movie mesmerized at the black fur beneath your fingertips, eyes hardly straying from the cat in your lap. He seems much nicer and softer like this, and you can hardly believe that it’s the same cat that attacked your arm just a week ago.

As the movie goes on, you often find yourself chiming in a beat too late when the two other laugh, earning you a few weird looks and eye rolls. But how can they fault you for not paying attention when you’ve got a lap full of a black fluffycuddly cat? It would be a crime to not pay attention to him.

The movie slowly comes to an end, the snacks on the table half eaten, and Sana’s ears drooping down sleepily. You’re about to suggest putting on another one, feeling a little bad that you basically ignored the whole movie aspect of a movienight, but Jihyo waves you off before you can even speak.

“We’ve all had a rough day, maybe it’s better to call it a night?” She reaches over to run her fingers through Sana’s hair, a tender smile on her lips that makes something ache inside your chest.

“Sure,” Come to think of it, you are pretty tired yourself. Work was stressful and almost having your kitty and Sana fight definitely didn’t lessen the tension you’ve been feeling in your body all day either. You gently ease your cat off your lap, but despite its sleepy protests it quickly settles down on the couch as it realizes that your guests are leaving.

“I had a nice evening despite .. the little hiccup at the beginning,” You smile, reaching up to ruffle Sana’s hair. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as she suddenly scoops you up in another hug. She rubs her face against your neck as you pat her head, the dog hybrid really being too cute for her own good.

“Please be careful okay? You don’t know– I-I don’t trust him,” Sana shoots a glare in the direction of the living room, and your building amusement at her distain for your cat dies down as you see the seriousness in her eyes.

“Of course,” You give her hand a squeeze, the tone of her voice making something weird tug in your stomach.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” You give Jihyo a quick hug before you wave them off, a sigh leaving your lips as you lock the door behind you. Sana’s expression keeps floating around in your head, and you can’t seem to shake it no matter how hard you try.

You pause as you enter the living room, your cat blinking sleepily at you from the couch. You don’t really see how he can do anything bad aside from being moody and a little mean, but Sana does have actual animal genes and you don’t. You’re just not sure if hers are extra sceptical because she’s a dog and your cat is well, a cat.

“Night kitty,” You murmur as you turn off the lights, leaving the clean up for tomorrow. You hear a low hiss behind you just as you turn to close the door, a black paw scratching through the crack. Your cat has never shown any interest in your bedroom before, so you open the door, curious to see what he wants.

Your cat doesn’t even spare you a second glance as he prances inside, he just head directly for your bed and curls up in the middle of it. You roll your eyes at his shift in personality, quickly tugging off your clothes to find a shirt to sleep in.

You suddenly feel oddly exposed in your room, like someone’s gaze is watching you intently. A quick look back at the bed confirms that your cat is already asleep, eyes closed and tail tucked up over them, but you still tug on your shirt before you remove your bra, the weird notion not really going away.

You just chalk it up to Sana’s words making you a little paranoid, and you shake your head as you carefully slide into bed.

You end up practically curled around your cat, the position not very comfortable, but you’re unwilling to disturb him now that he's has finally fallen asleep. You guess all those memes about people letting their animals hog their beds had some truth to them after all.

It doesn’t take long for the exhaustion of the day to catch up with you, quickly pulling you under into a restful sleep.

There’s a wet sensation of something cold dragging against your skin, not really enough to wake you up, but it still drags you out of the dream you had. You feel it moving across your neck and collar bones, and your sleep-riddled brain barely makes the connection that it seems to be covering up the areas that Sana rubbed her face against earlier.

You huff, snuggling your face deeper into your pillow.

You’re pretty sure you fall back asleep, because the last thing you remember from your dream is a hot breath spilling against your ear, and a low gruff voice whispering Yoongi.

- - - - Hello! Hope you enjoyed the third chapter of desolate! I know things are building up a little slow, but we're getting there! The next chapter will have some surprises :)

My inbox is always open if you want to chat about the story or just fics or life in general! See you all soon!

[yourkeeperoftherunners]

Save the Best for Last

Plot: AU Free. Chocolate. Cake. Three magical words for him, but he’s too late to grab a slice of the newest slice from his favorite cafe. Little did he know that eventually, his patience would pay off.

Rating: G

Characters: Student!Han (Stray Kids) x Reader (any gender), plus mention of ITZY and other Stray Kids members

Notes: This is a sort of sequel to Slice of Happiness. You do not have to read it to understand what is happening in this one shot. The cake mentioned is inspired by a chocolate cake that a restaurant at Disneyland used to offer.

Happy Birthday Han!

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

“Is it just me, or is the line for that cafe you like longer than usual?”

Han craned his neck and pouted when he saw the line for the local cafe was a few blocks from the entrance. Usually in the morning it was busy, but there was never a line this long.

Seungmin stood on tiptoe and tried to see what was happening. After a few seconds, he decided to run up ahead to ask people what the line was for. He excused himself and made his way across the street, while Han spotted Chaeryeong squeezing through the door with a box in her hands. Lia followed behind her and apologized to the people trying to get in as she squeezed by them to exit the cafe.

Han raised a hand and waved at the girls, who spotted him and quickly jaywalked across the street to say hi. “What’s the line for?”

Chaeryeong carefully opened her box to reveal a tall slice of chocolate cake, placed flat on its side. The sight made Han’s mouth water and the girl quickly shut the lid on the box.

“Sorry Oppa, but I waited in line for this,” Chaeryeong shared. “I was one of the first people to get in line once the Tweet went out.”

“Tweet? What Tweet?” Han demanded.

Lia pulled out her phone, opened the Twitter app, and flipped her screen around to show Han.

A Spot of...

Change is good! Wanna try our brand new Supreme Chocolate Layer Cake free? Starting at 14:30 PM, you can grab one free slice per party to try. First come, first serve until we run out! 12:47 PM

“It’s some freebie,” Seungmin sighed as he rejoined Han. “Man, people do some weird stuff for free food.”

Han dramatically pointed to Chaeryeong’s box and the girl quickly opened it to show Seungmin what the freebie was.

“Oh my God, that thing’s huge!” Seungmin murmured when he saw the large cake slice. “What was that? Like 17 layers?”

“21,” Lia corrected. “The head baker said it’s 21 layers of cake, frosting, and ganache.”

Han’s face twisted into a look of pain and frustration and he threw his hands up. “Why did I have to be in Ethics until 3:30?”

“Maybe you can get in line?” Seungmin told him.

The girls shook their heads and explained that the cafe was already running low on slices by the time they left. “They only made 8 cakes total for the giveaway,” Chaeryeong shared. “When Lia and I were leaving, they were putting out the last two cakes and I’m pretty sure the rest of the line is going to be turned away.”

Seungmin patted Han on the shoulder and told his friend that maybe he could get a cheesecake slice instead. “You love their cheesecake.”

Before Han could agree, he felt his phone buzz in his back pocket and he pulled it out to answer it.

“Hannnie! Dori’s acting dazed and I need someone to watch Soonie and Doongie,” Minho rambled on the other end.

“Hyung I can’t – I have study group with Hyunjin and Felix!” Han protested.

“You guys can study at my place and I’ll buy you food,” Minho offered. “Please?”

Han’s shoulders sagged and Seungmin could tell that the cheesecake situation was going to have to wait. The former reluctantly agreed to ask his study group to change the meeting place to Minho’s apartment and he hung up.

“I’m done for today – you want me to get you a slice?” Seungmin offered.

Han shook his head and muttered that he needed to go call Felix and Hyunjin about the sudden change to the study group location.

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

“HEY! Get down!” Hyunjin snapped as he tried to get his notebook away from the cat.

Doongie walked closer and Hyunjin fumbled with his notes as the cat walked across the table where Hyunjin’s books were spread out. The cat stretched and stood on top of a heavy textbook for Art History, which made Hyunjin scowl in displeasure.

“Can’t we lock them in hyung’s room?” Hyunjin grumbled as he glared at the cat.

Han shot his friend a look and Felix tried to coax the cat to move off the book. Eventually Doongie moved off of the book and came over for scratches from Felix.

Hyunjin retrieved his textbook and dusted the cover off quickly. “Hannie, why couldn’t we do this at the library? Hyung could have asked someone else to babysit his cats. Kkami wouldn’t do this to me if I was studying at home.”

“He doesn’t want his cats to be left alone,” Han sighed with a shake of his head. He removed and replaced the beanie on his head as he tried to focus on his notes he took for the unit that the group was studying tonight. But his head was filled with the bitter disappointment of missing the free chocolate cake from his favorite cafe and now this disaster of a study group session happening in his friend’s apartment.

Felix looked up from petting Doongie and asked Han if Minho promised them food for watching his cats. The mention of food made Hyunjin perk up and he looked over at Han with a raised brow.

“You forgot to tell us that part,” Hyunjin remarked.

“I’m sorry!” Han groaned. “Minho-hyung said we can order food and he’ll pay for it. We are allowed to use his UberEats account.”

The other two grinned and they began checking their phones for dinner ideas. Han closed his notebook and shook his head in frustration.

Was this day over yet?

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

After Minho came back, the guys parted ways and began heading back to their respective apartments and dorms. Han chose to walk back, as Minho’s apartment was close to campus and he felt like getting some fresh air.

Once he crossed the street, Han glanced to his right over at A Spot of... Cafe and saw the lights were out, save for one by the door. He slowed down and turned toward the cafe, squinting when he saw someone emerge from the back.

The person came toward the door and he saw it was you, the co-owner and head baker of the cafe. He slowly raised a hand to greet you and you met his eyes from across the street as you pushed the door open.

“Hey stranger,” you greeted him. “You’re out late – classes going okay?”

Han smiled and nodded as he jerked his head in the direction of Minho’s apartment. “Had to do some studying and cat-sitting at the same time today. Chaeryeong showed me that amazing chocolate cake you were giving away – really wish I could have tried it.”

You held the door open to the cafe and asked, “Still have room for dessert? I have one cake left.”

Han’s eyes widened and he shot you a confused look. Either he was tired or he just heard that you had a cake left, despite Chaeryeong saying that you only baked 8.

“But, but I thought you only made 8, or at least that’s what my friend told me.”

You moved so your back was propping the door open and crossed your arms over your chest. “Ah that was kind of a lie,” you admitted. “I had 8 planned, but turns out I had enough ingredients to make one more. It was still cooling when the promotion was happening and I didn’t get a chance to do the decorating and frosting until a half hour before closing. You want a slice? It’s free by the way.”

The young man checked both ways before running across the street to the cafe.

“Sunbae, you had me at chocolate cake.”

[earliebirb]

Fic prompt for u: Tony behaves like a lil cat, always snuggling up to Steve, especially when he's tired or feels extremely in love with him. Steve is absolutely smitten.

Hello! Thank you for the prompt. Sorry for the long wait. I hope you like it!

everything falls into place

steve/tony, fluff, established relationship, 1090 words

“Steven.”

Steve looks up from his rough sketch of Dum-E to find Tony standing at the other end of the workshop couch, blinking blearily at him. He proceeds to fold his legs that were previously stretched out across the workshop couch so Tony has a place to sit. The man does exactly that, plopping down on the empty space like his bones have given up on him. 

The last time Steve glanced at him, Tony had been elbows deep in the armor’s torso as he dealt with a mess of machinery and circuitry, surrounded by hologram projections glowing blue around him. 

Now, however, Tony has his cheek mashed into the couch with careless abandon. His exhaustion makes him look about a few years older. Steve sets the sketchbook down on the nearby coffee table and slides his feet forward on the couch, burying his toes under Tony's warm thigh.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“No. Nothing’s working out.” The answer is slurred against the plush fabric of the couch. Tony’s eyelids are growing heavier with every blink. “I think I’m just going to go live in the mountains and become a hermit. Yeah, a hermit. Sounds nice. No snobby investors, no stupid code that won’t run properly…” Tony lets his words trail off into a yawn.

Steve suppresses a chuckle, biting down on his lower lip. Something pulls at his heart at the sight of Tony like this: tired, not making much sense, and inhibitions low.

Absolutely adorable. God, he is so hopelessly gone. It’s ridiculous.

He wouldn’t want to have it any other way. 

“Sweetheart?”

“Hm?” Tony says, half of his face still pressed into the couch, eyes fully closed now. His mouth chews on nothing, already on the way to dreamland. 

Seriously adorable.

“Look at me?”

Tony rubs at his eye, uncaring of the fact that his fingers are stained black here and there with grease. When he turns to stare blankly at Steve, a small grease stain has been transferred to the side of his left eye. There are faint creases on his right cheek where the pattern of the couch’s fabric is ingrained into his face.

Steve smiles, slow and warm, and opens his arms wide. Tony continues to stare at him. Steve raises his eyebrows, nodding down at his own chest. Tony blinks. Steve nods again, encouraging. 

Eventually, Tony gets with the program and crawls forward, plastering himself on top of Steve’s body like a blanket. His head rests on Steve’s chest, ear right above his heart.

“That’s it,” Steve mutters, content and satisfied. He smooths his hand over Tony’s hair in a gentle motion, pushing the strands away from his face. Tony lets out a noise akin to a purr and noses gently at Steve’s sternum. 

Steve tangles his fingers in Tony’s hair, watching the digits sift through soft locks, the sight ever-mesmerizing. He begins to draw indiscernible shapes on Tony’s scalp. “Everything’s going to be okay, sweetheart. I promise. Life always works out.”

Tony sighs, world-weary and heavy. “You don’t know that.”

Steve hums in disapproval, fingers traveling down the side of Tony’s face, tracing the edges of his goatee. He smiles when he sees Tony instinctively leaning into his touch. “I’ll have you know that I happen to speak from experience. You might feel lost right now, like everything is falling apart and nothing is going the way it’s supposed to. But life always works out in the end.”

Tony huffs, turning to rest his chin on Steve’s chest, ever-expressive brown eyes blinking up at him. His bottom lashes are long and dark, like someone has painted them right under his eyes—delicate brush strokes done in black ink. His chapped lips are turned down in a resolute frown.

With a grunt, Tony shuffles upwards on Steve’s body, decreasing the distance between their faces. He points his finger at Steve’s face, eyes squinting.

“How would you know that?”

Well, that’s easy.

Steve curls his fingers to mimic Tony’s, forefinger protruding out from his fist. Carefully, he presses the finger to the one pointing back at him so that both of their point fingers are joined at the tip.

“After everything I’ve been through, I managed to find you, didn’t I?”

Tony freezes. Clearly, that was not the answer he had been expecting.

Steve smiles, something soft and delicate unfurling in his chest.

“You came into my life and somehow, I get to love you, sweetheart. I’m lucky. You’re living proof that life’s been kind to me. That’s how I know.”

Tony blinks quietly for a few moments and Steve looks on patiently.

Slowly, with his brown doe eyes still wide open, Tony’s cheeks begin to flush, a light crimson that creeps down his neck and chest. The finger pressed to his own is retracted back into a closed fist and Tony buries his burning face in Steve’s chest in the blink of an eye. 

Steve feels his heart expand threefold with adoration. A soft chuckle bubbles up out of him, his chest rumbling with it. 

“You can’t just say things like that.” One of Tony’s hands gathers a fistful of Steve’s shirt, bunching it up in his grasp. 

“Things like what, my love?” Steve coaxes Tony’s fingers to release their grip on his shirt and holds the hand in his, giving it a light squeeze. He tilts his head to the side, trying to meet Tony’s eyes. Upon catching the movement, Tony squeezes his eyes shut, determined to avoid Steve’s gaze.

“Stop it. You know exactly what,” Tony mumbles, voice muffled by Steve’s chest. The blush has spread to his ears, both of them tinged a lovely shade of red. 

Helpless fondness turns Steve’s smile lopsided. He leans down to plant a kiss on the top of Tony’s head.

“You asked me a question, and I just told you the truth. Nothing wrong with that.”

Tony says nothing, but he sniffs and burrows impossibly closer into Steve, their bodies slotting together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

“Oh, and sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

Steve curls an arm snugly around Tony’s middle, leans close so his mouth ends up right next to Tony’s ear.

“If you do end up moving to the mountains to become a hermit, promise me you’ll take me with you,” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of Tony’s ear with every word.

Tony snorts, squirming slightly at the way Steve’s breath tickles his ear.

“Shut up,” he says with feigned annoyance, and when Steve’s body starts shaking with laughter, Tony laughs along with him. 

[shoichee]

Lucky Bucket

Midorima x Reader

Word Count: 2686

Submission for @knb-kreations‘s All Hallows’ Eve event!

Prompt: black cat

»»—————　☼　—————««

Midorima hated Halloween.

Why would anyone celebrate the day that is especially infamous for terrible misfortune and ominous superstitions?

Scratch that—why in god’s name does October have to exist?

He swore that every step he took provoked different unsettling breezes that whispered various taunts of a series of unfortunate events for Cancers like him.

He even tried to convince Captain Miyaji to bail out of practice for the month out of fear for his “safety and wellbeing,” promising to practice in the sanctuary of his own backyard to compensate.

“What the fuck are you on about?” the said Captain glowered, his patience visibly thinning on his face. “If this is about your horoscopes again, I’m not hearing about that shit again. Winter Cup is around the corner, and you still think you’ll get special treatment just because you’re one of the Generation of Miracles?”

“Sh-shin-chan, I think this is the time for you to run—”

“Takao. This is none of your—”

“5 extra laps around the campus.”

---------

“You 1st-years are really pushing your luck, huh,” Kimura deadpanned, slightly huffing to catch his breath after doing the extra laps.

“Yeah, thanks a bunch, Shin-chan.”

“I knew it—the horoscopes predicted that the majority of the signs would experience subpar luck today, nanodayo.”

“IT WASN’T THE PREDICTIONS THAT LED US HERE, IT WAS YOU!”

“Absolute nonsense. Why would I intentionally wish ill luck onto my teammates?”

“...”

“...”

“Can I throw my family’s pineapples at him?”

“... Maybe it’ll be better for all of our sakes if you’re out of practices just for this month.”

“That’s what I tried to tell the Captain, Otsubo-san,” Midorima sighed, disregarding the stupefying stares his teammates were giving him. “But he would not hear me out.”

“You’re such an impossible person to deal with. Takao, how are you even friends with him?—”

“I am not friends with Takao.”

“Shin-chan is just like an onion with many layers, y’see?” Takao lightly chuckles, evident that he was still short of breath from the sprinting. “I mean if anything, I wonder what (y/n)-chan sees in him.”

“Th-that is none of your business!”

“Awwwww, is Shin-chan being shy?”

“Cease this foolishness at once!”

“Oh hi, (y/n)-chan!”

“Wha—?” At the speed of Aomine’s agility, Midorima whirled around… to see nobody. Right on cue, Takao starts to struggle to hold back an unfiltered guffaw, and his other teammates had their own poor efforts of suppressing their own snickers at his moment of gullibility.

Midorima could feel his veins about to burst at his temples.

“Takao.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It was too good to pass up!—oh? (y/n)—?”

“Are you daft? I’m not going to fall for that again, nanodayo.”

“Fall for who, me?”

At the sound of your voice taking on an irritatingly familiar teasing tone, Midorima reluctantly swerved his head to meet your eyes. He quickly turns his attention away back to Takao in front of him.

“Was this your game all along?” Midorima narrows his eyes.

“What? No! This one was a total accident!—ow!”

“Midomido,” you pouted, prying your boyfriend’s arms away from a dying point-guard. “I want your arms around me too, y’know?”

The entire basketball team is standing there aghast at what you just said in front of the ever-modest Midorima. Sure enough, he was ready to put Takao into a chokehold, and if one didn’t know better, they might think they were extremely close.

“...”

“Miiiiiiido,” you said, tilting your head to look up at his face. He was definitely red. “I want a hug.”

“... We’re going,” was all he said as he (rather harshly) tugged your hand to walk away from the team.

“Oi! Practice isn’t even over yet!”

“Leave poor Shin-chan be. Cut him some slack just this once.”

“Miyaji-san isn’t going to like this when he finds out Midorima isn’t at practice… isn’t he going to kill us all?”

“Easy… just don’t let him find out.”

“Don’t let me find out what.” Miyaji looms over with a threatening smile in a feeble attempt to hide his dark expression. No one needed to turn around to know it was their spartan captain. The immediate chills down their spines told them everything.

“Sh-shit! Run!”

---------

“Shin-chan!~ Shin-chan!~ Shin-chan!~” you called out to Midorima in a sing-song voice to get him to break his silence. You knew that his amount of patience wasn’t generous like his Teiko-manager Momoi’s, nor was he honest about his feelings like his ex-teammate Kuroko, but nonetheless, he had his own unique charm that you found extremely adoring. To tease that is.

Midorima stops walking abruptly and you softly walk into him from the back, amusedly noting that he still has your hand in a tight grip in his own despite his obvious embarrassment.

“What are you doing here, (y/n)?”

“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing?’” you said, ready to pull out your signature pouts again. “Have you forgotten that I was gonna bring you a bento box to you at practice? Like I usually do?”

Ah, that was right. You always made the time to drop off snacks and water in the middle of practice. He supposed that his fanatical fear of bad luck for the rest of October made him forget. While he’s not the forgetful type, some extreme things just make him feel completely out of sync with his mind. October was one of those occasions.

“... you don’t have to always do this, nanodayo.”

You giggled. That was just his way of saying: “Thank you, but I don’t feel like I deserve all of this.”

“If you really wanna thank me, kiss me on the lips every time we meet up! Even in public!”

“Wha—!” he sputters. “D-Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Half joking. But I want you to rely on me more. I don’t think of this as a burden or obligation. I want to take care of you. Because I want to. Because I love you, Midomido~”

“... Did you have to say the last part?”

“This time I’m not joking, if you didn’t know.”

A silence falls between the two of you before you teased him to break that silence.

“How long are you gonna hold my hand? Not that I’m complaining obviously, but this is way too out of character for you.”

“Sh-shut up,” he mumbled, his eyes downcast onto your linked hands. “I’m thinking, nanodayo.”

And you patiently stand there, relishing the warmth of his hand as you shamelessly drink in the sight of his sweaty form from practice. His hair was a slightly darker viridian from the perspiration, and miniscule droplets slid off his biceps, making him all the more tantalizing.

“... I want to ask you something.” He lets go of your hand and you reluctantly do the same.

“Eh?” You broke out of your admiring trance as you slowly made eye contact with him again. His piercing gaze, you noted, hadn’t changed at all even from the physical exhaustion.

“Could you…” he started, clearly struggling to get the appropriate words out of his tongue. “... bring me extra lucky items every day… just for this… month.” He didn’t even say it in the tone of a question, and his tense shoulders told you everything you needed to know.

Shy Midorima was too adorable.

“Of course!”

“J-just like that?! You’re not going to ask me why?”

“I know you just wanna be extra prepared, Midomido,” you grinned. “There’s nothing wrong with that.” At your words, he visibly relaxes.

“However…” Midorima perks his head up.

“My lucky items won’t be based off of the horoscopes… but they’ll be all still chosen to help you in some way.”

“... You’re not planning anything, are you?”

“Of course not! I just feel that I would be able to help you better if I was able to choose these on my own terms since I’m not so good at astrology stuff! Plus, I celebrated Halloween and know all the October superstitions since I was a wee kid… I’m an expert on this stuff, trust me!”

Midorima hesitates before he sighs. You knew that meant he gave in and was ready to accept this without a further objection.

He is going to try to rely on you after all, so he might as well start by believing your words.

“Mido! Look! Those cats have been around lately! Aren’t they so cute??”

Please don’t let it be what he think it is, please don’t let it be what he think it is—

You dash from Midorima’s side as you ditched him for the felines, making the extra effort to coo at them to coax them towards your direction. You don’t even notice the way Midorima has his back to you, stiff as a plank.

“Ne, I’ve always wanted to pet them but they’re so sneaky and elusi—Mido? What are you doing?” you turn away from the cats to peer over the petrified greenhead. A realization popped into your head. “… No way! You can’t be scared of a bunch of cats.”

Midorima quietly gulped to himself before he slowly cranked his neck to you… before he noticed the pair of black cats analyzing him behind you. Chills visibly wracked his body before he bolted behind the nearest wall.

“(y-y/n)! Get away from them, nanodayo!”

“No, dummy! Look, they’re so affectionate and cuddly!” Midorima shrinks back further in annoyance when he sees them rubbing themselves up against you and monopolizing all of your attention. While he would’ve just tugged you away to feel your touch again… the cats were a genuine problem.

He stiffly brings out his phone before dialing his right-hand man.

Ring…

Ring…

Ring…

“... Takao?”

Please leave a message for Takao Kazunari.

Fuck, how could he forget? He ditched today’s practice in the heat of embarrassment. They were probably at the gym ready to kill him tomorrow. He groaned before facepalming himself. Nothing seems to be going in his favor at all.

Damn it, it was all because of October.

He resignedly sighed as he put away his cell before you hopped to his side again.

“Wahhh, the cats just left,” you whined to him. “I really wanted to pet them more…” Before you reach out to try to hold his hand again, Midorima jumps 3 steps back.

“Stop right there. Not a step closer.”

“Wha? Why?!”

“Bad luck is all over you, and I will not have it be spread to me, nanodayo,” he explained as if it was the most obvious thing ever. “Wait right here. I’ll look for a lucky charm to repel the bad luck for you, (y/n).”

Had his superstitiousness really been that bad?

Half an hour passed before Midorima fully “sanitized” you with some type of water with a spray bottle and gave you a “special plushie” to ward off other misfortunes.

“Did you give me a cute stuffed toy because you felt bad for me?” you cooed at him.

“D-don’t get the wrong idea, nanodayo!” he vehemently denied. “The horoscopes said that this particular item was lucky for your sign today.”

“That’s so cute!” you giggled at him nonetheless, and you were immediately met with denying grumbles and half-shouts.

“Say, are you really scared of those cats?” you curiously turned to him.

“I am not scared,” Midorima said matter-of-factly. “They simply do not bring favorable luck.”

“... Right,” you dryly replied, but you decided to change the subject. “Do you ever see yourself ever prepared against the ‘bad luck’ to the point where you’ll never bat an eye at seeing them again?”

“If I work hard and take every opportunity I can, I don’t see why fate won’t give me a favorable outcome regardless.”

“You didn’t notice my spooky ‘bat’ pun, Mido!” you pouted at him.

“Wh-Wha—Stop that—Oi! Don’t tug on me, nanodayo!”

“I’ll see you off to your own house first, so you don’t have to go through the bad luck atmosphere here any longer, okay?”

Meanwhile in your mind, you were concocting up some ideas on how to boost his luck stat for the month…

---------

“Miiiiiiiiidohh!!” you sprinted to catch up to Midorima the next day, noticing how your boyfriend was eyeing warily at whatever you had in your hand. He wordlessly stops and turns to face you.

“I…” you heaved for air. “... have your… lucky item!” You held out a conspicuous, plastic pumpkin bucket, obviously meant to be used for trick-or-treating. He immediately had his guard up the moment he heard rattling coming from said bucket, but he reluctantly peered into it when you made the point of shoving the tacky orange container to his face.

… It was literally all the stereotypical lucky items he’d see in cartoons.

“Horseshoe… plastic dice toys… talismans?” he frowned. “... why are these papers misshapen 7’s and 8’s?”

“Ah… ehehe…” you sheepishly replied. “I may have fibbed up the cutting part just a bit because I was rushing…”

Midorima squints harder to try to discern the rest of the chaotic collection.

A random rabbit’s foot? He would assume it was faux… dirty pennies… dreamcatchers… acorns? Is that a smashed 4-leafed clover??

“... You said you had a lucky item. Singular noun,” he narrowed his eyes. “I was not aware that you garnered such a collection of multiple things in such a short time, nanodayo… unless you had these for a while now.”

“Yeah! Good catch, Midomido!” you grinned. “But it is a lucky item. It’s the bucket!”

“... I’m leaving.”

“No! Midomido!—Hear me out, I swear!” You tugged on his sleeve in a panic, and he heaved a sigh in response but nonetheless stayed in his spot.

“Okay so, any item that you put into this bucket… becomes lucky!” you explained with utmost seriousness. “Since these items are already known to be lucky, if you let it sit in the bucket, they become even luckier!”

Where the hell did you get this logic from?

“It also serves as your lucky item storage, so you can easily rummage out your lucky item for the day with total ease! Not to mention if you somehow run out of lucky items, you can just put any item into the bucket and it’ll turn lucky! You should totally…”

You’re rambling at this point, and while Midorima still cannot comprehend your flimsy logic, his eyes trained onto your bubbly face and your shining eyes, noting your most adorable smile you’d have when you were passionate about something.

… Maybe if you cared that much about his odd habits and went through such a huge extent for his sake, maybe the bucket isn’t such a bad thing. Maybe it’s lucky because you worked on this idea with love and care?

“Mido! Are you even listening?” you huffed. “Geez, I go through all of this for you and you won’t even listen! Hmpf!”

Midorima slipped out a small rare smile, and almost immediately, your angry face dissipated and was replaced by a faint blush.

“W-w-well, anyways!” you said. “Thank Takao too! He helped me put this bucket together last minute without letting out a single complaint!”

“Takao?”

“Oh! And one final, personal gift from me!” you said, ignoring his looks of confusion. You pulled something from your bag…

And it was a black-cat ear headband.

“Are you mocking me?”

“I would never, dummy!” you frowned. “I heard you say it many times during practice about how you have to know your enemies before you can defeat them!...

… What better way is there to know an enemy than to become them?”

Midorima’s smile was overtaken by the harshest frown you’ve seen in a while.

“This is Takao’s idea isn’t it?—where is he?”

“Nooooo! Midomido, come back! Let me put them on at least! Pretty please! Come on, put them on! I wanna hear you meow!—No, wait! Don’t leave me behind! I have so much fun plans for us on the actual day of Halloween! Don’t ruin the spirit, dummy!”

Needless to say, the real danger of his sanity (and his poor heart) was you.

Screw October—he has to learn how to be careful around your own devious tricks 24/7.