#but damn I wish my man was here any to offer proper comfort

[starburst-selfship]

They don’t tell you this but the worst part about self shipping is the fact that they’re not real

[aerosiderwrites]

Archery Practice ... Yandere Childe x Harbinger!Reader

warnings for genre typical portrayals of unhealthy relationships... ngl childe is kinda tame in this one tho

Word Count: 2k

Mid-evening tended to be an unpopular time to train. Most were having dinner, finishing their work day, and getting ready for as restful night as possible in the frigid climate of Snezhnaya. You typically would as well, but with a lot to reflect on and frustrated energy, you brushed off the snow on your person as you entered a Fatui training facility. You gave a quiet greeting to the guards who manned the building, who stood at attention at your arrival. You paid them no second thought as you began to navigate the pristine building.

You followed a path down the corridors you knew by heart, as even years before your ascension to being a Harbinger you found yourself here more than at home whenever your weren’t on assignment. Most windows into the various gyms were dark, and the ones with people in them had young recruits of little consequence to you.

You turned a corner when you heard someone calling for you. You processed the distinct voice as Childe, the most recent addition to the Harbingers. You ignored him, hoping that your increase in pace would not catch his attention. You mentally pleaded that he would avoid the archery range in favor of the other combat gyms.

He didn’t stop, as he never did, as his voice continued to come your way. You closed your eyes in weak attempt to hide your wince as he addressed you by name, by your real name, not your Harbinger title as the other nine would.

You stopped dead and turned to where he was trailing behind you and gave him your attention, unfortunately rewarding his bad behavior, “Titles only, Childe.”

“I wasn’t sure you could hear me” Childe responded, now standing tall right in front of you, his smile still the same, ignoring or otherwise completely unbothered by the standoffishness on your end. “I wanted to see if you wanted to spar while you’re here.”

Like clockwork. Every damn time you came in here and he was here too he’d ask. Each time you’d say no. Each time he’d hover around you until one of you had to leave. It had worked for the other Harbingers, as he now paid them no mind but for whatever reason, he still engaged with you. Tonight, you hoped your verifiable excuse and unfriendly aura would be the last straw for him.

“I’m just going to be doing target practice today,” you said, hoping to deter him. “I don’t want to do anything too strenuous today.”

“Oh you are? Do you mind if I join you?”

You blinked, “I didn’t know you knew how to use a bow,” you verbally dug your heels into the ground, even though you knew he could just walk into the range and practice along side you if he so wanted. There were no restrictions to who could use what when, but you desperately wished he would take a hint and leave you alone.

“I’ve been practicing on my own more recently, actually,” explained Childe, “And considering you’re the best archer among us, I can’t imagine having a better training partner.”

You narrowed your eyes at his compliment, while delivered earnestly, you couldn’t help but interpret his words as being subtly facetious. Since Childe sidestepped your frustrated hint with ease, you relented with a sigh, “Do as you please.”

The two of you headed to an archery range, Childe walking along side you, while you stewed in silent annoyance. So much for introspection time.

No one quite knew how to pester quite like Tartaglia. It was the popular opinion among the other Harbingers that the 11th was obnoxious. While you and your contemporaries preferred to work in the shadows and keep the often extreme extents of your servitude to your Archon hush-hush, Tartaglia, or Childe, as he preferred, ended up with a style that was far more akin to a performance. However, unlike most performers, he would make sure that his performance would be the last his audience would ever see.

You stopped in front of a door to the small range, opening it up unceremoniously, and Childe followed close behind. The room lit up, and illuminating the long room with three suspended targets, at three distances. Even with the unwanted company, you stretched and warmed up on autopilot, the silence between you and Childe surprisingly comfortable.

You glanced over, Childe having gone through his warm up routine faster than you. He had called his bow already, and you found yourself gawking at the absolutely abysmal posture he held as he aimed at the closest target, the one on the far left.

His shoulders were hunched and his bow hand gripped the bow in such a way that seemed entirely unsustainable. The arrow sat flimsy in his drawing hand, the only saving grace of the shot being the strength with Childe drew, which was borderline disturbing. You weren’t sure if he was showing off, or if he genuinely didn’t know to hold back.

You held your tongue as you watched him fire the shot, your eyes barely able to follow as the arrow swiftly embedded itself deep into the target, although the hit was only one by the smallest of margins

You watched him fire two more arrows, the second being a ring outside of the bullseye, and the third a near miss from the top. Both would be a challenge to pull from the targets as the fletching of the arrows were barely all that stuck out.

“See, I have a problem with being consistent in the hits I land,” Childe sighed, aware that you were observing, “What would you recommend?”

You took a deep inhale, “I think most children who pick up bows for the first time don’t have posture as bad as you.”

Childe flinched, his body language exaggerated, a pout resembling a kicked puppy having formed on his face, “Cut me some slack, I’m self taught!”

You remained unrelenting in your onslaught, “That’s obvious,” you scoffed, “You put way to much strength into the draw, especially when you can barely hold the bow itself. I’m amazed you hit the target at all.”

As as satisfying as it was to drag his form through the mud, Childe’s hurt expression only seemed to deepen, and you let yourself be worn down. “Draw the empty string, I’ll tell you what you need to fix.”

He did as you asked, and you rationalized to yourself that you were ultimately helping the Tsaritsa if you assisted Childe here. If he were ever stuck in a situation where he could only use a bow, you didn’t want him to be caught with his pants down. As invasive as he was, you didn’t want him to die or anything.

You lightly tapped his upper back, “Don’t hunch.” He fixed himself quickly. You moved his elbow up on his drawing arm, and went around to bend his elbow on his bow arm, going in quickly, and touching his as little as possible. You gave explanations for why each mistake would be detrimental for any kind of combat, and how to develop instinctive shooting, while making him maintain proper posture.

You were surprised how well he seemed to internalize what you explained, and you didn’t stop yourself from going into more detail than was feasibly retainable, but he stayed attentive, and showed a passion you weren’t expecting. You eased into a comfortable rhythm, and with rudimentary fixes, Childe was able to improve.

Time passed quickly, your engagement far more than either of you had expected. Childe had been trying to gauge you for a long time, but your persistence into giving him as little as possible became entertaining in and of itself. He enjoyed the open resentment of the other Harbingers, and before you had let your shell crack, he had enjoyed yours just as much.

Your patience with any mistakes was unexpected, your exasperation and irritation with his presence having dissipated entirely as you focused on helping him despite yourself. It was endearing seeing this side of you, a side that showed itself with surprisingly little prodding or string-pulling. It felt… natural, and unfortunately for you, it was also very endearing.

“Hey, [Y/N],” he started, interrupting a demonstration you had started about sights, earning a surprised look from you as he got your attention.

It took a split second, but you noticed he used your name instead of your title, your guard went back up, and you narrowed your eyes at him, “Don’t speak informally with me, use my title, Tartaglia.” You hissed out, using his official title instead of his preferred to emphasize your distance.

“Why? You can call me Ajax,” he offered, testing the barrier you set up. He hid his surprise when you hesitated, pursing your lips. He saw through how you tried to treat him apathetically, and forced yourself to be unkind to him. You were so much softer than you wanted anyone else to be privy to, and Childe was excited to exploit it.

In your own head, you had reached a conclusion that you weren’t sure he had reached, or if he even noticed in himself. You could have been way off, but as someone so at odds with his peers, seen as a tool by his superior, and feared by enemies and underlings alike, the pieces fit in your head and spelled out the fact that Childe was probably lonely.

Realizations clicked together quickly upon this conclusion, but you kept them to yourself.

“I won’t,” you maintained, refusing to let up. You couldn’t stop sympathy and understanding from now changing the tint of your interactions or how you viewed them, but you didn’t have to let him know any of that. Childe wasn’t your business, no matter how much he wanted to be.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Childe cooed, holding back a patronizing urge to pinch your angry cheeks, “I just wanted to ask why you’re helping me, since you seem to dislike me so much.”

You shifted your weight where you stood, “I don’t think you’d leave me alone either way.”

“That hasn’t stopped you from ignoring me before.”

Resentment bubbled in your chest, “So you are aware that you’re a pest.”

“Only because I like you.”

You were baffled that he could just say something that familiar, and you hoped any warmth that showed itself on you wouldn’t be interpreted as anything other than embarrassment on his behalf. “Well, stop.”

Childe seemed more amused than anything at your words, it only feeding into his idea that you’re just playing hard to get, “Am I really so unlikable?”

“You have no idea.” Any understanding you gained during your interactions being emotionally tossed to the wayside as your couldn’t bring yourself to care about someone with such a deliberate lack of regard for boundaries.

You disarmed yourself and made way to the door, pulling it open only for it to shut fast before you could blink. Your eyes followed the gloved hand that slammed it shut, Childe now far closer than you have ever let him get before.

You didn't want to turn around, and when you did you found yourself regretting it. His eyes were cold, completely unamused at your intent to leave while he was enjoying your company so much. He didn't mind a chase, but he needed you to realize that he was serious, and very difficult to deter.

If being pleasant and fun wouldn't get you to loosen up, he could change his approach until you changed your mind.

It had been a very long time since you felt this small. You’ve always been aware of Childe’s strength, but at the end of the day, despite his irritating nature, he was an ally. Or was. In that moment you looked up to see his lighthearted facade disappear so completely, you understood that regardless of your allegiance to your Archon, he was a threat.

“Don’t go, I still have so much I’d like to learn from you, [Y/N].”

[lubdubsworld]

Take all of my Firsts.

Genre : awkward humans in love. A lot of first times done wrong? Or possibly done just right. 

Rating : 21+ 

Warnings : Its written by me. Thats all the warning you’re gonna get. also Jungkook here is a whole cutie i’m in love. 

Summary : After getting fired and blacklisted for refusing to sleep with her boss, 26 year old Hana is kind of desperate for a job. So much so, she applies to be the secretary of the painfully awkward, absolutely anti-social Jeon Jungkook, the bumbling CEO of a brand new start up company. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

1. First Date. (1/?) 

 “ This is blue.” Jeon Jungkook's impressively large figure filled the entryway to my tiny cubicle, shoulders brushing the two wooden frames on either side of him and when he carefully stepped into the workspace, the rickety old boards beneath our feet creaked ominously. 

Both of us paused, waiting to see if today would be the day the dilapidated warehouse finally gave up on us, plunging us twenty  feet down into the basement. 

When after a second, Jungkook still stood tall, very much not falling to his untimely demise in an explosion of broken floorboards and rubble, I finally exhaled in relief and looked at what he was showing me. 

I blinked, staring at the pen in his hand. It looked pretty ordinary by all standards, nothing remarkable. But the way Jungkook was staring at it, implied that it had done some sort of very personal affront to his person. 

“Uh..yes?” I wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with this whole thing. 

“There are three blue pens in my draw. I only require two on any day. One that i use and another as a spare in case the first one fails in some way. This is not required.” He intoned gently. 

I could feel the urge to scream, slowly build.

“Right... of course. Very carefully analyzed and concluded, sir. I just don’t know...” why  on earth are you telling me this?

“My draw is cluttered by this pen. A second spent picking and dropping this around is a second of my time wasted, Hana. And you know how I feel about wasted time and its effect on our productivity.”

And you know how I feel about this moldy ass warehouse office that you insist we use because its free and you don’t have to pay rent, there’s insects here that are probably extinct in the outside world, not to mention there's a very suspicious looking algae growing on the underside of my table and I don’t wanna know if its going to mutate and eat me whole, but you don’t really care about any of that , do you, you murderously oblivious pinhead ??

 “ Hana! Are you listening to me?” Jungkook’s voice snapped me out of own head and i smiled weakly, carefully plucking the open out of his hand.

“I’ll get rid of it , sir.” I said dutifully, getting up to drop the pen on a side table and the floor boards creaked again, louder . I froze, staring down at the small cracks in the floor, offering me a glimpse of the dusty basement underneath us. 

 Please God, don’t let me die in this hellhole.   

“Get rid of it?” Jungkook looked very serious, his handsome face scrunched in displeasure and I wondered yet again why I was still here. 

And yet i felt the familiar curl of reluctant affection as well. I had only been working for him for a little over two and a half months and i already felt a desperate need to save him from the world and himself.

Mostly himself. 

“Uh..no?” I asked confusedly and he sighed deeply. 

“That would be an awful waste. The pen should merely be stored away for future use, hopefully somewhere other than my draw. I hate clutter.” 

Right. Right of course. I tried to smile soothingly.

“ I understand your sentiments perfectly, Mr. Jeon. i take full responsibility for not ...de-cluttering your draw this morning.”  because i was too busy adjusting our budget for the month, setting up seven interviews with potential employees and seventeen other meetings with clients and investors. But who cares about that right? When there’s a whole extra pen that needs to be taken care of. 

“ Excellent. Also, the dinner with Kim Sera? Could you tell her that I am not available for coitus?” 

I choked on my own saliva, coughing in disbelief. 

“Are you dying? Do you wish me to call the ambulance?” He frowned and i spluttered, shaking my head. 

“No.. i... No. Just... Sera... You. I... What?” I choked out. 

He rolled his eyes. 

“I said, Could you tell Ms. Kim that I am not available for coi-”

“I HEARD YOU.” I shouted and he jumped a bit. “ I.. I heard you, sir. But ...just... She merely asked you out to dinner? She’s a potential client and-”

“I only meet potential clients here in my office. I only get asked to dinner, in order to have coi-”

“SEX!!” I shouted in desperation. I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around Jungkook saying coitus. it was warping my insides and making my gut clench, intestines twisting like little snakes. 

“Excuse me?” He tilted his head in confusion and I felt my heart ache, completely at odds with the throbbing headache he was giving me, pulse racing at how ridiculously cute he looked, considering he was a grown man of twenty five. A whole three months older than me and yet it felt like i was babysitting him all the damn time.

“Please just say sex. its what every one says... coitus is just-” i felt slightly nauseous. 

Jungkook frowned deeply.

“Sex can hold different meanings. Like gender , for example. I merely wish to avoid confusion. when i say coitus I’m talking about the physical act of a penis-”

I brought my palm down on the table with enough force to scatter the papers and send the stationery flying . Jungkook jumped a little. 

“I  feel-” i shuddered, “ this conversation is getting derailed, a bit Sir.. Lets just talk about why you think, Ms Kim wants to have sex with you.” 

Jungkook opened his mouth to argue and i groaned.

“Coitus.” i choked out quickly. “ Why do you think Ms. Kim wants to have coitus with you?” 

Jungkook shrugged.

“Its what I get asked out for.” 

I blinked.

“You... Dinner is ... It doesn't always have to be for sex, Sir. People go out to dinner to talk to each other all the time.” I protested.

Jungkook frowned.

“Really? People don’t like when I talk.” He stared down at his feet. 

I felt that familiar fist around my heart again.

“I... “

“Its alright, Hana. I understand I’m peculiar and i make people comfortable. So they often just want me to eat in silence and take then back to my apartment.” He shrugged. “ It was wrong of me to assume that that is how all humans behave. I still don’t think Ms. Kim would want to have dinner with me. Even if she did, I may ruin our chances. I’m not.. I’m not good with people.” 

I stared at him.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” I blurted out, before I could think it through.” Sir.”

Jungkook looked up, frowning. 

“What?”

“A dinner date sir. You and I, tonight. I’ll reschedule your meeting with Ms. Kim to tomorrow night. I’ll show you how dinner dates go. And you can be ... well... you can feel more comfortable when you meet her.” 

Jungkook considered.

“That is an excellent idea. You will take me out on a date and teach me what to say and do.” 

I smiled, nodding.

“And there will be no coitus.”

That word had definitely grown on me. 

“No sir. No coitus.” I fought the urge to grin. 

“It would be my first date then. A proper date.” He looked excited. 

And then he frowned.

“What must I wear?” He asked confusedly. 

“Oh something casual should be fine?”

“Casual....you mean like my beige suit? i admit I haven;’t work it in years because its a bit too frivolous but I can make an exception. You’re a bit ...” He paused,” wild yourself.” 

Not sure what he meant by wild, i merely shook my head.

“No suits sir. Just some shirt and slacks should be fine.”

Jungkook frowned again.

“That sounds incredibly scandalous. Are you sure you don’t wish to have coitus?” He asked eyes narrowed in suspicion.

This time the laugh escaped against my will. 

“Your virtue is safe with me sir.” I said with a straight face and he sighed.

“Well, then. I shall meet you at the same restaurant where I was to meet her? At 8.00?”

I hesitated.

“Sure. Unless you’d like the full date experience?”

Jungkook leaned forward, clearly intrigued.

“What is that?”

“If you meet me at the subway station near your apartment at six, i’ll show you.” I grinned, “ Sir.” 

Jungkook nodded enthusiastically. 

“Excellent. I’ll do that Hana.” He smiled and then glanced at the pen , smiling.

“I’ll keep it safe , Sir. Don’t worry about it.”

I watched him walk out of the cubicle, heart racing. i willed myself not to stare at the broad back and narrow waist. 

 If you develop a crush on him, there is no doubt that you are the weakest link in human history. The reason humanity will die out will be because of your lack of sense, Hana, because even stupidity should have its limits. 

( TO BE CONTINUED) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR’S NOTE : So, this is the drabble i was talking about. And i am terrible at fluff so give me ideas for their first date :’( 

[forever-rogue]

Baby Steps (A Good Man)

A/N: Hello my sunshines! I’m back with another little installment of the AGM ‘verse with our favorite Javi and Dulzura! I love them so much and I’m glad y’all do too! I hope you guys enjoy!  As always, comments and feedback are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged let me know! Xx

*can be read as a standalone or part of the ‘verse as a whole*

Pairing: Professor! Javi x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: language, pregnant!reader

A GOOD MAN ‘VERSE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Mrs. Peña?” the sound of your name still surprised you, despite the fact that the students had been calling you for several months now. A grin worked its way onto your face as you looked at the young boy who was watching you with wide, eager eyes. Putting your pen down, you motioned for him to continue, “will you come outside and play with us?”

“You want me to hang out with you guys?” you almost laughed at the idea that any kid deemed you worthy of spending time with them, “I thought teachers were lame, Mikey?”

“Some of them, but not all of them! You’re pretty cool,” he smiled and displayed his toothy grin. How were you supposed to say no to him? You nodded and stood up, taking the hand he was holding out to you, “besides we’re playing kickball and we need one more person!!”

“I should have known you were just using me for my exceptional skills,” you pretended to be hurt as he pulled out of the building and into the playground, where the sun was shining brightly. 

Normally, you’d have turned him down, opting to get some work done during the lunch period, but decided you might as well indulge him and yourself. You really enjoyed the kids you had this year, and it was a gorgeous early spring day. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Turns out, kickball with a bunch of seven and eight year olds was not as simple as it seemed. They seemed to come up with all sorts of nonsense rules, and on top of it all, they happened to be extremely competitive. And yet...you were thoroughly enjoying yourself - and glad you had opted to wear jeans today instead of a skirt or dress. Javi had been particularly fond of the tight, high-waisted jeans that hugged you in all the right places, getting very handsy before you both had to leave for work. Typical Javier; not that you minded of course. 

“Come on, give us a good one, Mrs. P!” Mikey yelled at the top of his small lungs as you proceeded to kick the ball that was rolled at you. You offered up a firm kick, but not one you would have used if you’d been playing with only adults. Taking unfair advantage was something you definitely didn’t want to do.

As soon as your foot made contact with the red rubber ball, you watched it whistle through the air before running to the first base. But...it was over before it started as you ran and then immediately proceeded to trip over your slightly untied shoelaces. You made contact with the hard earth before you knew and rolled your ankle in the process. 

You landed with a mixture of an annoyed sigh and a loud oof as you chided yourself. You should have made sure they were properly tied before doing anything. The kids clambered around you, faces anxious as they tried to make sure you were okay. Physically you were sure you’d be just fine, but mentally your pride was wounded. Oh, to make a fool of yourself in front of a bunch of children. 

“I’m alright,” you promised as you slowly rose to your feet; an instant tinge of pain shot through your ankle and leg as you almost lost your balance again. Maybe you were hurt… “it’s alright - you guys go back to playing and I’m going to go back to the classroom and sit for a moment. I might have twisted my ankle.”

They nodded, but gave you wary looks as you hobbled back inside the building. You should have remained the umpire and refused to play; you were obviously not coordinated enough for any of this. Slumping back in your chair, you rolled up your pant leg and hissed at the sight of the already swollen ankle. Shit.

“You’d better get that checked out,” Anna, one of the teachers from across the hall looked at you with a pained expression, “looks painful.”

“Nothing some rest and elevation won’t fix,” you insisted as you slumped against the back of the chair, “I’m too old for this! When did I become an adult?"

“Hey, at least they think you’re cool,” she huffed playfully, “they never ask me to play! But seriously, that looks pretty bad. And it happened at work, you know how they get about stuff like that.”

“Fineeee,” you groaned, “I’ll go to the school nurse.”

“I would recommend an actual urgent care or ER visit,” she raised an eyebrow, “besides, you know how Javi gets - he'll flay us all if he thought we weren’t looking out for you.”

“He’s...something else.”

“He’s amazing,” she reminded as you nodded in agreement. For how much of a worrywart he could be, you knew it was all out of love, “now go and get it checked out. I’ll handle getting the sub in and telling everyone. You have enough to worry about. Can you make it okay, or will you need a ride? Should I call Javi?”

“I can drive myself,” you promised, thankful it happened to your left foot and not the right, “I’m not going to bother my darling, overprotective husband just yet. Not until I can confirm that nothing is actually wrong. I don’t want him to stress over nothing, and I’m sure by the time he gets home tonight he’ll just be laughing at me and my clumsiness!”

“Alright,” Anna grabbed your purse and handed it to you, as you managed to slink out of the chair, “go get checked out and feel better. If you need anything at all, just call me.”

“Thanks for all of your help,” you hobbled towards the door, trying to keep as much weight off of your foot as possible, as Anna grimaced at you, “I swear it’s not that bad - worse than it looks.”

“Sure, sure,” she disagreed politely, “now quit stalling and go get help!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The white walls and bright lights of the exam room were enough to rattle your nerves, even if just ever so lightly. You sat on the examination bed and tried to keep yourself calm as you waited for the nurse to come back and begin examining you. Nothing but the distant sounds of people outside and the tick-tock of the aging clock met your ears. You almost wish you’d called Javier just to have some company. Shit.

“Mrs. Peña?” a kind looking woman, maybe around Javier’s age poked her head in as you nodded, “sorry for the wait, we’re pretty busy right now. You’re here for a rolled ankle?”

“Yeah,” you answered as you relaxed at her comforting presence as she came in and sat on her rolling stool, eyes immediately dropping your swollen and irritated ankle, “I was playing with my kids outside - kickball - and then tripped over my own damn feet and ta da!”

“Were you at home when this happened? Playing with your kids?”

“Oh no, I’m a teacher,” you quickly explained, a warm flush rising up your cheeks at the thought of children, “it was on their lunch break at school. I-I don’t have any children of my own.”

You weren’t sure why you felt the need to offer up a clarifying statement.

“I see,” she made a few notes before turning back to you, “it looks pretty bad, to be quite frank. I’m going to assume it wasn’t a break, a sprain rather, from how you’re managing, but we’ll need to do some x-rays to confirm. We’ll do your blood work as well just to make sure everything is in order. Before we do x-rays or anything - are you pregnant?”

“No,” you admitted, looking at your feet as you tried not to sigh. It had been on your mind recently, and you weren’t sure quite what to make of your own feelings on the matter. While you hadn't been actively trying, you couldn't help but wonder if it would ever happen.

“Any chance you could be?” 

“Umm,” you twiddled your thumbs as you shrugged your shoulders, “I-I suppose. I’m not on birth control and my husband and I don’t use protection...we’ve been trying but not trying if that makes sense? But my cycle’s been regular so I highly doubt it.”

“Okay,” the scratching of her pen on paper was almost maddening as she was making notes and you just sat there. You could curse yourself for babbling on to her, but you couldn’t really help it. Besides, it’d be better for them to know all the details if they were going to x-ray and poke and prod you, “very good. Let me just go get everything and we’ll get started and a better look at everything. We’ll have you set and on your way in no time.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Here you go,” you scratched Stevie’s ears as you offered him a treat, a scrap of carrot from the vegetables you were chopping up for dinner, “what do you think, buddy? Should we tell him tonight?”

“Should we tell who and what tonight?” Javi’s voice startled you so much that you almost dropped your knife. You hadn’t even heard him come in, ever the sneaky DEA agent as he walked into the kitchen. A smile was on his face as he came over to you and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “hi baby.”

“J-Javi,” you couldn’t help but melt into his touch, despite his surprise arrival, “you’re home!”

“Oh very observant of you, Dulzura,” he teased as he pulled back and started to undo his tie. It was only then that he noticed you weren’t wearing what you had earlier in the day; you were in one of his sweaters and a pair of joggers and… “what the hell happened to your ankle?!”

There it was  - Javier switching into overdrive. You put everything down on the counter and turned to him, putting on your most innocent and sheepish expression. His large, warm hands found your face as he looked you over to make sure you were okay. 

“It’s nothing, Javi,” you promised him, “I swear it. It’s just a bad sprain, but I went and had it looked at and they wrapped it and gave me pain killers. It’s umm...a stupid little story actually…”

“What happened?” he bent down and reached out to tentatively and delicately cheek the binding to make sure the nurse had properly tended to your sprain. He made a small sound of disgruntled satisfaction before standing up and waiting for a proper explanation, “why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you, Javier,” you promised as he crossed his arms over his broad but acquiesced with a nod, “you’re so busy, and honestly, it wasn’t a big deal at all. Besides, Anna was ready to call you immediately, but I told her not to worry. All that happened was that I was outside with the kids and we were playing kickball and I tried over my laces, fell, and twisted my ankle. It hurts, but no fracture or anything.”

Javier’s lips twitched as he tried not to laugh, his shoulders shaking with effort as he just studied you, “are you....are you serious, Dulzura?”

“Don’t laugh at me!” you pouted as he started laughing at your dismal nod when you confirmed that that was what actually happened, “they thought I was cool and how was I supposed to say no to them!? I’m the cool teacher to them!”

“And look what that got you,” he snickered as you sighed heavily, “I’m sorry - I’m sorry. As long as you’re okay, that’s what matters. Whatever you need, just tell me the word and I’ll make sure you have it. I’ll take good care of you, Dulzura.”

“I know you will...you always do,” your heart raced as you tried to decide whether or not to tell him the rest of your revelations. But then he looked at you with those eyes, those soft brown, gentle eyes, and your heart melted. He gently pulled you into his arms as he kissed you again, chasing after your soft, sweet lips with his own, seemingly never able to get enough of you, “Javier, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you felt him smile against your lips, “what’s brought on your sudden declaration of love, mi alma?”

“I...I’m pregnant,” you blurted it out without even really thinking about it. Javier pulled back as a surprised expression crossed his features. He looked at you, seemingly in a state of shock, before opening and closing his mouth a few times, “Javi?”

“You’re pregnant?” he repeated as you nodded. It took about a moment for everything to finally come full circle as he finally realized what you had said. Immediately, an overwhelming wave of emotion came over you as you felt the back of your eyes start to sting with tears. He grabbed your face and slowly crashed his lips back onto yours and kissed deeply and slowly, “holy shit.”

“I know,” you beamed at him, “they asked before they did x-rays and blood work and then well...they discovered I was pregnant. I had no clue and then they told me and yeah - holy shit."

“That’s amazing,” he said softly, “pregnant....”

“I know,” you breathed him in and ran a hand through his dark curls, “I’m not far along, only like six weeks, so it’s still very early, but yes. We’re finally having a baby, Javier!

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around and held you in a tight embrace, “I love you so much.”

“You deserve this - everything. You are such a good man, Javier, and I am so honored to call you my husband, and the father of my child,” he almost melted under your praise as you traced along his features before resting your hand on his cheek, “I love you, Javi. I am so excited for this.”

“Me too,” he agreed, “this is everything - you are everything.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

3 months pregnant

“Dulzura?” Javier yawned as he wiped the sleep from his eyes as he got up and found you in the kitchen, peering into the fridge. You were in the mood for...something. You just weren’t sure what that something was. Everything sounded good but nothing seemed to satiate that craving you had deep within, “what are you doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, hoping you hadn’t woken him up by accident, “and I got hungry. I’m sorry if I woke you, my love. Go back to bed, Javier.”

“It’s fine,” he insisted as he shuffled into the kitchen and slowly pried you away from the fridge, “sit down, and let me make you something to eat. What sounds good?”

“Javier,” you did as he asked, padding over to the other side of the counter and taking a seat at the bar. You rested your head on your hands as he stifled a yawn, "honey, go back to bed. You're exhausted and you've got back to back classes tomorrow."

"They start in the late morning," he insisted, with a sleepy nod as you just laughed at him. He was such a stubborn man sometimes it drove you crazy - but you knew it came from a place of love and concern, "don't sleep well without you anyways. 's better when you're there."

"Oh, my sweet husband," he reached into the fridge and pulled out some cheese, butter, and your favorite pickled jalapeños. You watched in curiosity as he went to the bread box and grabbed the fresh loaf of bread you'd purchased earlier at the store, "grilled cheese?"

"Grilled cheese with jalapeños," he corrected, a lazy smile tugged up the corners of his mouth. You made a small sound of musing as you realized it didn't sound too bad at all, "and tomato soup, naturally. How does that sound?"

"Sounds delicious," you grinned eagerly as you leaned in to watch him work. You made a small sound of surprise as your stomach rumbled loudly. Apparently you were hungrier than you had thought, "apparently, my stomach and I agree. I think its your daughter that agrees."

At the mention of your baby, Javier paused and smiled, his eyes flitting to your barely visible bump. Some days he still couldn't believe that you were having a baby. You were his wife. What a wild world it was indeed; years ago he'd never dreamed he would have all of this. The Javier that once existed and refused to believe that there was any light in the world could never have pictured any of this. 

But here you were. Continually proving him wrong. And he loved it all.

"Wait - how do you know we're having a girl?" he asked, suddenly wide awake as he raised an eyebrow at you, "I thought we still need to wait another month or so."

"We do," you grinned at him, "but I just know. I'm sure of it!"

"Well, you do have a fifty-fifty chance of being right…"

"I have a hundred percent chance of being right," you insisted as you reached over the counter and grabbed the jar of pickled jalapeños and fished a few out, and popped them into your mouth, "don't argue with your pregnant wife, Javier Peña. You of all people should know not to cross someone so dangerous."

He snorted with laughter, suddenly feeling much more awake as he sliced up cheese and turned on the stove, "and if we end up having a son?"

"Then we keep having more until we have a daughter and I am proven right," you plastered on a sweet smile, knowing it would wind him up. You'd never really discussed how many children you wanted or planned on having. It was just a sort of...whatever happens happens type thing. But, if you were being honest, you'd probably have given Javier as many children as he wanted. Your husband fell silent as he watched you for a moment before taking the jar away from, "nothing to add? Silence isn't like you, my love."

"We can have as many as you'd like," he promised, "you're the one doing all the hard work. If you're done after one, then it's fine for me. You already amaze me every day."

"Don't make me cry, Javier," your whole body soaked in the warmth and love from his simple words, "its getting really easy at this point, and you're taking advantage!"

"Sorry," he shot you a wink before leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to your lips, "back to business."

"Hmm," you mused quietly, "I thought kissing me was business."

"I thought you were hungry?"

"Fine," you playfully huffed as he carried on cooking, "Javi?"

"Dulzura?"

"I love you," you beamed at him, the little smile that worked its way onto his face take your breath away - as it always had. 

"I love you."

»»————-　♡　————-««

6 months pregnant

A huff escaped your lips as you tried to reach for the socks and underwear that had fallen out of the laundry basket. It was no easy feat when you couldn’t see your own feet anymore. But you were determined to get everything up and off the floor as you walked back towards your bedroom to put away the clean clothes. And you weren’t about to give up and ask for help - not yet anyway.

Instead, you opted to awkwardly lower yourself to the floor in order to blindly grab for the discarded items. But it was no use...this was almost harder. 

“You alright, Dulzura?” Javier came in and found you struggling, cleaning his dirty hands off on a rag. He’d been working outside, getting the garden spruced up as the summer slowly came to an end, “can’t reach?”

“I can,” you stuck your tongue out at him as he huffed with laughter, but motioned for you to go on. Wanting to prove that you were right, and weren’t completely helpless after all. It hadn’t been easy having to give up a lot of the things you used to be able to do with ease as you progressed in your pregnancy. The fact that none of your pants would fit over your belly anymore had been a point of horror for you - it meant you were truly and actually pregnant, you were actually having a baby. You’d always known, but that had been what made it all extremely real. Every day you got closer and closer to your due date, it all became a little more real. Exciting - but terrifying. 

Not being able to see your feet had been another blow. You could hardly get proper shoes on anymore, opting for easy slide ons, which were great for the warmth of summer and didn’t matter since you were on summer break along with your kids. It was almost as though Javier could sense your frustration, and he’d often silently help you with getting your shoes on in the morning. He never said a word, knowing he didn’t have to. He always told you he loved you in so many ways, often without saying it. 

You tried to again, dangling your hand along on the floor as you tried again. After watching you struggle for a moment, Javier came over and grabbed everything in one foul swoop before taking your hand in his and helping you upright. 

“Hey,” you pouted at him as he put the items back into your basket, “I almost had it!”

“I know,” he kissed the tip of your nose, “but I wanted to help. Why can I not help my gorgeous wife?”

“Your very pregnant and easily frustrated wife?” you teased as you started to walk towards the bedroom. He followed after you, swatting at your bum as you squealed in delight, “Javier!”

“Come on, mi alma,” he grinned, “let me help put everything away.”

“If I let you help, you’re just going to take me to bed and then I’ll have to wash the sheets again!”

“I’ve never heard a single complaint from you before,” as you set the basket on the dresser, he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist before settling a hand on your belly and gently rubbing it a few times. He pressed a few kisses to the side of your neck as you tilted your head to give him easier access, “there we go, Dulzura. Just like you like it.”

“You’re the worst,” you teased as you turned your head to kiss him, “you’re lucky I love you. And I’m seemingly always in the mood right now - they really weren’t kidding about pregnancy making you more horny. Although, I’ve never heard a single complaint from you before.”

“And you never will,” he promised, his low in your ear as you tried not to completely let your mind wander too far away, “do you have any plans for this afternoon, Dulzura?”

“N-no,” you  managed to choke out as one of his hands skimmed along the waistband of your leggings. You knew exactly where this was going, and you were loath to stop him, especially as he slowly kept kissing you.

“Good,” he rasped, “because I have plans for you. Been thinking about you all day, especially in these tight leggings. You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you honey?”

“Uh huh,” you agreed as his warm hand slipped inside and a shiver ran up your spine, “Javier. Please.”

“Don’t worry, mi alma,” he captured your gasp in a sweet kiss, “I’ll take good care of you.”

The laundry could definitely wait.

»»————-　♡　————-««

9 months pregnant 

It was an early, chilling morning as you sipped on some tea as you sat out in the garden. It was probably too cold to be sitting outside, but you were handled up in blankets and didn't care. 

Christmas was a few weeks away and you enjoyed peeking into the neighbor's yards to see what they all had going on for decorations.

"Are you sure you don't want to come inside?" Javier poked his head out from the sliding screen door, his brow furrowed in concentration, "its freezing! And I have breakfast!"

"I've got blankets and a baby keeping me warm," you reminded him, pointing at your large belly. You were due in a couple of weeks; how time had flown. He jokingly frowned at you, sticking out his tongue. Playfully rolling your eyes, you clambered to your feet and waddled over to him, "fine, hold on you big baby. This is because I want breakfast."

Javier was on his winter break from teaching and you were on maternity leave now and you definitely didn't mind having him around all the time. If you could have always had it this way, you definitely wouldn't have minded.

"I'm just looking out for you," he insisted with a pout as you pressed a kiss to his lips, "I talked to Papà. He's really excited to come in a few weeks - more like excited to meet his grandbaby."

"I'm not complaining at all," you insisted, knowing there would be many sleepless nights and chaotic days ahead of you, "we'll need all the help we can get. Hell, maybe we can convince Steve and Connie to come and visit too…"

"I'm sure we'll have all the help in the world between our families and friends, Dulzura," he promised as he took your hand and pulled you into the warm kitchen, putting a plate of breakfast for you on the counter, "I'm sure we'll get sick of having so many people around."

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see," you took a bite and smiled as Stevie laid by your feet. The whole house was warm and cozy, perfectly decorated for Christmas, with a huge tree and already lots of presents. Javier had really outdone himself this year, seemingly more in the Christmas spirit than you. Honestly, you were feeling a little bit out of it - being so pregnant would do that to you. 

You watched your husband for a few moments, admiring his profile and lazy smile. Gods, you were still so in love with him. He felt you watching him closely, and turned to you, cooking a dark brow, "what's on your mind, mi alma?"

"Nothing much," you shrugged lightly, feeling a flush of warmth was over you at him catching you, "just thinking about how I love you, and how I'm glad you're here with me, that you knocked me up, and yeah. Are you…are you nervous Javi?"

"About the baby?"

"No, about the Astros' odds next season," you snorted as he groaned at your joke, "of course the baby. I'm just...so nervous. Like I feel ready to meet her, but I'm so scared that I'll fuck it up somehow."

"You still think its a girl?"

"Positive," you grinned at him - you'd decided not to find out the sex ahead of time, leaving it a surprise for both of you. You were still convinced it was a girl, Javier was undecided, "we'll find out soon enough!"

"Either way," he brought his plate and sat down next to you, "everything will be alright. You're going to be an amazing mother, Dulzura. You are everything."

"I love you, Javier," you beamed as he gently put a hand on your belly, "I know it'll be alright, but holy shit - I'm so nervous. Its getting so real lately. We're going to be parents."

"Parents," he repeated, "fuck."

"Who would have thought-" you were quickly cut off when you felt the baby flutter round. A small sound of surprise left your lips as you grabbed Javier's hand and placed it on your belly, "she's telling you not to curse."

He was silent for a moment as a smile spread on his features; despite having felt this many times by now, it still continued to surprise him. He couldn't even imagine how it felt for you, "this is...everything."

"I realized I didn't know what to get you for Christmas so I got you a baby instead," you don't know why it came to mind, but as soon as the words left your lips you brought into a fit of laughter - Javier joined in, a brilliant sound that you adored above all.

"Best Christmas present ever," he whispered before leaning in and giving you a gentle kiss - sweet from the syrup and pancakes he had just eaten, "I mean it. I love you both more than you will ever know."

"We love you too," you grinned as he stroked your belly, "I'm glad your class was the only one available and I took it. I'm glad you were a grumpy professor that let me into his office - I was able to work my magic and look where that got us."

He threw his back with laughter, his dark curls shining brilliantly in the light as his eyes crinkled in the corners. You'd never been more glad for subjecting yourself to his class.

"Me too," he whispered as he put a hand on your cheek, "you always were a stubborn thing."

"Some things never change," you stuck your tongue out at him, "I trust your daughter will be the same!"

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were humming to yourself as you shuffled around the kitchen and tried to put together a mid afternoon snack when you felt an odd sensation in your lower belly. It caused you to drop the knife on the counter as you held onto the marble and gritted your teeth. Stevie was at your feet in an instant, looking at you with concern.

"Its okay, buddy," you reassured him as the pain passed. Surely it couldn't have been anything too bad...probably just an end of pregnancy pain. Sighing at your nonsense worry, you reached for the knife again but before you reached it, the pain was back, "never mind, shit shit shit."

Trying to keep yourself calm, you leaned against the counter and tried to even your breathing. Contractions. Of course. You were due in a week and you still hadn't been expecting it.

"Javier?" he was down the hall in the second bedroom that had been converted into the nursery, putting away the final touches of clothing. Before he could respond, you felt an odd sensation followed by liquid running down your legs, "Javier!"

"What's wrong, Dulzura?" he rushed down the hall and back into the kitchen, worry etched onto his features as you stood there in shock and clutched at your belly, "honey-"

"My water broke," you said meekly as you pointed to your wet pants, "and I've had a few contractions - I think the baby's coming."

"Okay," he immediately kicked into gear as he remained cool and calm, despite wanting to panic and worry along with you, "its okay. I'm going to get the hospital bag, we'll get you in the car, Stevie to the neighbor, and then we'll go and have a baby."

"You make it seem so simple," you huffed lightly as you tried to channel his inner calm demeanor, "we'll be okay, right? I-I'm scared…"

"I know, honey," he promised as he kissed the side of your head, "you've done so amazing already, it will all be okay. I'm right here, okay? I'm just going to grab your bag and the dog and we'll go. Ten minutes and we'll be on the way."

"Okay," you agreed as he practically ran down the hall to get your packed bag, "we're going to have a baby, Javi."

"Indeed we are," he agreed with a small smile as he reached for his wallet and keys and stuff for the neighbor to watch Stevie for a few days, "we're having our baby."

Holy shit.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“You’re doing amazing, sweetheart,” Javier praised you as you squeezed his hand after another push. You groaned and gritted your teeth as you glared at him; this was absolute hell, “the baby’s almost there.”

“Shut up, Javier,” you hissed as you got ready for another push, “I am never letting you touch me again! You did this to me.”

“Hey - it was a team effort,” he reminded you in a vain attempt at a joke. Your death glare and the squeezing of his hand said it all, “sorry, Dulzura. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said as you took a deep breath, “but right now, I’m blaming this on you.”

“Fair enough,” he said as you pushed again. He was sure his hand was going to break.

»»————-　♡　————-««

It wasn’t much longer before you were laying back and holding the smallest bundle you could ever imagine in your arms. You were somewhere between crying tears of joy and exhaustion, as you stared at your newborn daughter in awe. Javier was sitting next to you, looking down at her, his own eyes glossy as he gently touched her cheek. She had the darkest eyes and a shock of dark hair, already taking after her father. She had come into the world squealing and crying but had fallen asleep almost as soon as Javier held her. 

“I told you we were having a girl,” you teased him softly, “I was right. Look at her, Javier. That’s our daughter. We made her.”

“You did all the hard work, mi alma,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, “she’s beautiful.”

“Lucia Luna Peña,” you grinned at your husband, “it’s perfect. I love you both more than you could ever know. Javier...you really are everything to me - the best friend, best husband, and now the best father. She’s going to love the hell out of you, just like I do.”

He remained silent for a moment as he looked at the sleeping baby before looking back at you. His whole world was in his arms, and the thought of that alone was enough to overwhelm him with emotion. He’d never thought he wanted this - a “boring” job, a home, a wife, and a baby. 

But here he was. And he had never felt happier, never felt more full of love and life. This was everything. 

“I love you so much, Dulzura - you and Lucia,” he promised as he rested his head on top of yours, “you have given me everything, more than you know. Te quiero con todo.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[nowoyas]

Housewarming (NSFW) (Bunny!Izuku x Reader)

Summary: Izuku comes over to spend the weekend helping you finish moving into your new house. You learn a few things about the habits of rabbits, including just how deep the rabbit hole goes. (bunny!Izuku x reader) (smut smut smut smut smut)

Warnings/notes: fuckin. just straight up fuckin. biting, hair pulling, tail and ear pulling, oral (giving and receiving), uhhhhh reader has tits and a vag but gender is not confirmed. reader and izu are both switches, praise kink with reader receiving, uhhh I think that’s it? a gratuitous amount of focus on the fact that bunnies wiggle their noses to express interest in things.

A/N: so uh. I’ve NEVER written smut before so please be gentle. but I had a conversation on discord the other night with some of my lovely wives. that conversation started something like this:

the following is how the conversation ended. (writing smut is apparently much easier with live audience commentary, i’ve learned.)

Word count: 8100+

~

Spending weekends with Izuku has always been at the top of your list of favorite things, pretty much second only to the man himself. Can anyone blame you? Your rabbit-eared best friend (read: longtime crush) is pretty much the sweetest guy you've ever met, his mom is a wonderful woman, and often, you feel more at home curled up with Izuku on his bedroom floor (neither of you ever want to take the bed only to leave the other on the floor, resulting in a history of cuddling each other to sleep and entirely defeating the purpose of sleeping on the floor to begin with) than you do your own house most of the time.

Spending the weekend together has been a monthly ritual for the two of you for years now, beginning in your last year of middle school (consisting of an extremely flustered bunny) when you still lived in the same apartment complex. You've since moved and the years have been kind, the innocent ritual remaining steadfast no matter how busy you or Izuku got with school or training or any matter of thing.

Only... This weekend is different. Because in the past, the two of you were always in the dorms or at his mom's apartment. There were always people somewhere nearby to pop their head in and offer fresh cookies or join in beating you at Mario Kart or put in a noise complaint if you laughed too loud.

In a way, there were always limits.

This weekend is the first in your new house, bought for a surprisingly low price that you can assume is the result of being relatively small and not in a very desirable area.

This weekend, you're completely alone with him.

Realistically, it's likely not that big of a deal. He's just coming over to help you unpack after you spent the past week preparing for the move. A housewarming sleepover is the perfect way to get you used to sleeping in the new place, after all, and you'd be much more comfortable if Izuku were there with you! (Besides, free labor.)

But you can't help but be just a little high strung.

You've reminded yourself a thousand times now that it's just Izuku. You trust him with your life, after all, and he's trusted you with every secret he has (even those he's technically not legally allowed to be disclosing to you). You were the first person he told about his new quirk, even before his own mom. So why the hell are you so nervous?

You're busily and restlessly looking between kitchen cabinets to decide where your dishes will go when he arrives, landing three firm knocks on your front door. You greet him with a smile and nearly cry when you realize he's brought flowers and pizza, his trademark nervous grin on his face.

"Great! This is the right place!" Izuku says, and you smile and step aside to let him in. "Your new place looks great, [name]!"

You smile, relaxing at his presence as you watch him walk in to explore. "Nothing's really set up yet," you say as he investigates the new house. "I've got a couch, a table, and a lamp and that's about it."

He turns to you, nose twitching excitedly. "It's got a lot of potential! I can't wait to help you get everything set up so we can really see how nice it is! Oh, and these are for you! I know it's traditional to give something, you know, useful for a housewarming gift, but I-I wanted to congratulate you on finally getting enough together to get your own place, and I think having something nice to look at is useful, too, so—"

You accept the bouquet with a faint blush, smiling up at him. "I love them, Izuku. Thank you." (Privately, you think that just his presence here gives you something nice to look at, but you suppose the flowers will stay a little bit longer.)

There's a quiet moment where the two of you just look at each other, and man, Izuku is really good at making you think he might actually be attracted to you, huh. (Probably just wishful thinking.) "Let's... let's go ahead and get started, yeah?" you say, eyes drifting hungrily to the box he has balanced on one hand. "I see you've brought pizza. I haven't put together the chairs yet, so wanna sit in the middle of my kitchen floor and eat pizza?"

He chuckles, ruffling your hair. "Lead the way."

~

An entire pizza between the two of you and with the entire kitchen unpacked, you fling yourself onto the couch with a sigh. "God, I'm so tired of this move already," you whine. "I just wanna be done already."

Izuku laughs as you drape yourself over the back of the couch dramatically, throwing an arm over your face. "That bad, huh?"

"Yes!" You take a moment to peek at him as he crouches by your TV, but his back blocks your view of what he's actually doing. Instead, you watch his fluffy tail with amusement. It twitches whenever you speak, and you swear to god it's the cutest thing you've ever seen. "I spent the past weeks packing when I wasn't at work only to unpack it and I'm tired, 'Zukuuuu."

"Well, what if we took a little break?" he offers with another twitch of his tail. He stands, brandishing your favorite controller as he circles around behind the couch to hand it to you. "You up for it?"

You roll your eyes, shifting to reach for the controller. The minute your fingers brush against it, though, Izuku takes a step back, his nose twitching quickly. The corners of his lips pull up into a poorly-concealed grin, and you sigh, flipping over and reaching for it again.

"Izuku..." you say, tone playfully warning as he pulls the controller just out of your reach a second time.

"You sure you want it?" he teases, pulling the controller just far enough away that you pop up on your knees, propping yourself on the back of the couch with one hand as you reach. "You want me to destroy you that badly?"

Ohgodpleaseyes—You choke, your hand slipping out from beneath you. Before he has the chance to be too concerned, you let out an annoyed noise and fling yourself over the back of the couch, chasing after him with a beet red face. Izuku yelps and runs the other direction when he sees you coming, hardly giving you the chance to break into a sprint before he's down the hall.

He stops a few feet down, watching you with one ear raised up, the other dropping against his shoulder. The grin on his face is downright goofy, and you let out a small giggle before giving proper chase. 

Izuku, naturally, is not one to be caught. Even without the use of One For All, bunnies are naturally very fast, and you learned fairly quickly that he does not get caught if he doesn't want to be. Still, you'd be damned if you weren't going to try. You try to tackle, he somehow manages to slip around you and back down the hall, evading you constantly until the two of you have bounded through every room of the house, narrowly avoiding boxes and as-of-yet still-disassembled furniture just to get your damn controller between his amused laughter.

Izuku stops and watches you again just as you're starting to get out of breath, nose twitching a mile a minute. You come to a stop just in front of the couch, panting a bit from the exertion of chasing your fucking menace of a best friend around your house. He has both controllers held behind his back, and that's about when he does the single cutest thing you've ever seen in your life.

He fucking binkies, leaping into the air a few feet as he flicks his head, his ears flopping with the movement. You let out a giggle, trying very hard not to completely lose your composure, and, in a fit of goofiness, mimic the motion. It doesn't quite work the same when you're not the adorable one with the bunny quirk, but apparently, it does something, because Izuku's face goes full red in an instant, eyes widening as he searches your face.

He drops the controllers.

Your eyes flick to them as they hit the ground, and you realize that if you're going to get those controllers you have to do it now. You make a move to sweep them off the ground, but the second you move, it's apparently over for you.

The slightest sound of electric sparks reaches your ears before the wind's knocked out of you, your back hitting your couch cushions roughly as Izuku slams into your body, one hand cradling the back of your head protectively before he straddles your waist, looking down at you with a downright ecstatic look, green lightning sparking around Izuku for just a moment longer as he stares down at you, nose still twitching like it's run by a motor, ears straight up in the air, but that's hardly the key detail here.

His face is beet fucking red as he stammers. "D-do you really mean that?"

"Uh... wait, mean what?" You tilt your head, a little flustered from suddenly getting tackled and pinned down by your incredibly attractive best friend. Is your head spinning, or is that just the room?

Fuck, are you imagining things, or does he look excited beneath all that blushing?

"Y-you did it back, usually that's, uh, it means— um..." The excitement drains from his face steadily and his expression drops. (His ears also drop.) You've never seen him look so wounded, and now you're really confused. His next words tumble out of his mouth at a dizzying rate. "I-if you don't know what I'm talking about then nevermind, I obviously messed up, I can leave—"

The moment Izuku pushes off you and stands, very obviously embarrassed and looking on the verge of tears, you regain your bearings just enough to tackle him back down so now he's the one being pinned down. "No, you're not backing out of this. Did I really mean what, Izuku?"

He stammers incoherently for a second, his eyes roaming over you like he's not sure where to look, and you're suddenly a little self-conscious at the fact that you've just pinned him to your couch with no room for interruptions if things were to go the way pinning someone down on a couch is probably supposed to go, but you refuse to let up until he gives you an answer. You bring a hand up to his cheek, swiping a thumb where the first of several tears is moments away from slipping out.

"Come on, Zu-kun. I obviously did something to upset you, and I don't know what I did, and won't know what I did until you explain it to me."

He lets out a shaky sigh, squeezing his eyes shut as if it'll change the situation.

"'Zuku..."

Finally, he opens his mouth to answer. "It's, um, w-well, usually when rabbits, y'know, c-court each other, to, y'know..." His hands come up to cover his face in sheer embarrassment as he says the next words in a hushed hurry, so quick and quiet you almost don't catch them. "Y-y'know, m-m-mate and stuff like that, they, uh..."

Hot shame floods your being as you slowly come to a realization of what, exactly, you may have implied to him.

"It's, it usually, um, there's, kind of a m-mating dance? And w-when, um, I-I didn't really mean to, but um, at the end, i-if one of them binkies and the other d-does it back, it means, um—" He lets out a mortified whine. "P-please don't make me explain it any more than that," he says finally, sounding defeated.

Oh. Oh.

Well, that's something along the lines of a "disaster" if you've ever caused one.

"Oh fuck, I am so sorry, shit Izu. I didn't mean to—"

"I-it's okay," he mumbles, dragging his hands off his reddened face. "You can get off me now."

Jesus, he's about seconds away from crying as he gently tries to push you off him. 

Well, fuck. Unless you're mistaken, the expression on his face is utter heartbreak. You're already in the worst position possible here, so...

You lock your thighs in place around his waist to resist his gentle push. "Izuku, wait."

"[name], it's okay. Please just, give me a minute to—"

"Izuku." You firmly place your hands on his chest, pushing him back down. "Please listen for a sec?"

His hands remain on you, but he stops pushing, not meeting your eyes as he waits in silence.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize that binkying back at you like that would imply that I, you know, wanted to get with you, but that doesn't..." You chew your lip, locking your eyes on the controllers, still on the floor from when he dropped them. No backing out. 

You mumble the last part (the most important part) so fast you almost hope he doesn't hear you: "that doesn't mean it was the wrong idea or anything—"

His head is still turned away, but his eyes flick to your face with a surprised sniffle. "...what?"

You furrow your brow, your heart hammering away in your chest. "God, please don't make me say it again," you whine, your hands coming up to hide your own face.

"No, please say it again," he breathes. "I mean, I already misinterpreted once today and I don't want to—"

You let out an embarrassed whine, pressing your hands to your face even harder. "I didn't mean to say it but that doesn't mean it wasn't something I meant to say eventually," you hiss out slowly and much louder than you would have liked.

You peek at Izuku through your fingers, desperately looking for any reaction to tell you whether you just irreparably fucked things up with your best friend. 

Izuku is, and always has been, a very expressive person. You've been able to gauge his emotions at a glance for as long as you've known him—even if he didn't wear his heart on his sleeve, generally the angle of his ears and the movement of his nose or tail have always been more than enough to keep tabs on how your best friend is feeling.

Right now, though, aside from the flush on his cheeks and slight parting of his lips, Izuku is carefully blank. It's like he's shut down, mentally—blank eyes, nose still, mouth just slightly open but not with any hint of emotion to it. Not positive, not negative, just mild shock and a practiced blankness that has your face burning and you moving to get off him.

You feel him shift beneath you just a moment, and then once again, you yelp as you suddenly find yourself on your back, but this time, you're not looking up at Izuku, because his lips are pressed to yours, one leg hanging off the couch while the other is wedged firmly between your legs. You can feel his hands tremble as they cup your face, your eyes blown wide with shock. He's unpracticed, but his lips are soft and it's him kissing you so enthusiastically that you really have no right to complain.

Your eyes flutter shut as you begin to kiss back, your hands gently coming up to tangle fingers in his hair. You let out the tiniest whimper as your reciprocation seems only to spur him on, him kissing you somehow even more passionately.

You can't help but giggle into the kiss when you feel his nose twitching against your face, causing him to pull back just enough to breathe. His obsession with training over the years has clearly done him well—his breathing seems mostly unaffected by the kiss, while you lay there panting and trying to make sense of what the hell just happened. 

Izuku watches your face for just a moment, seemingly shocked at his own actions, but leans in again, brushing his nose against yours adoringly. "I-I'm sorry, I was just... really happy..."

You let out another tiny giggle, leaning up to kiss him again. Much like in all other areas of his life, he's quick to kiss back, already seeming to kiss you with a bit more precision than the first. He pulls back, hot breath ghosting against your lips as he whispers to you. "I-I've loved you for—" —he breaks off to plant another tiny kiss on your lips— "—s-so, so long, [name]."

He goes to kiss your lips again, but whines when you turn your head so he hits your cheek instead. "I love you too, 'Zuku," you hum, continuing to dodge his kisses playfully. 

"[naaaame]," he whines. "I've got a lot of lost time to make up for, stop dodging me..."

Cute, sweet kisses are lovely and all, but as long as you're trapped between his muscles and the couch, you might as well tease him a little, right? And you've got just the idea to push him a bit further.

You look up at him with a playful smile as he glares heatlessly at you. His hand, previously cupping your cheek sweetly, grows a little bit firmer in its hold in an attempt to hold your face in place so he can kiss your lips. He darts down to capture your lips again, exactly according to plan.

Your fingers, still entwined in the mop of green he calls hair, grip carefully and tug his head back before he can properly kiss you.

Bingo. You can't help but grin with flushed cheeks as he immediately grinds his hips down onto your leg, letting out a breathy moan as something suspiciously firm and growing rubs against your thigh, bare from the shorts you dug out of your clothes this morning.

You watch his face in awe, his freckles disappearing among how purely red he's gone, and give another gentle tug to his hair. This time, he borderline whimpers, hips moving like he's being controlled. His eyelids flutter shut, hot pants causing his chest to heave as green eyes stare down at you, darker than you remember.

No lies here, the fact that he can't help but grind on you is... really hot. So hot, in fact, that you can't help but shoot him a teasing smirk as he watches you with half-lidded eyes. "Excited, Jackrabbit?" you muse.

He whines as his head drops to your shoulder. Quietly, so quietly you almost miss it, he mumbles, "how can I not be when you of all people finally take an interest in me?"

God, if he weren't still grinding his hard-on against you, that would've been adorable. "If I'd known you were into me, we could've been doing this years ago, 'Zuku baby." You punctuate your sentence with another tug to his hair, to which he retaliates by biting down on the crook of your neck, dragging a drawn-out moan from your throat.

He pulls off with a small giggle of his own, eyes staring down at you playfully. "Aw, are we sensitive, honeybun?"

You don't dignify him with a response. At least, not a verbal one. You pull him back down for another heated kiss, lips moving against his as your hands slowly drift from his hair, down to his chest. You splay your palms out, just feeling his muscles for a second before you pull back, take a breath, and shove him as hard as you can. He lets out a tiny "guh?" before you're straddling his hips, hands returning to his hair and lips returning to his.

He's shocked, but clearly he's more than happy to continue making out with you like this. You, however, have a curiosity stemming from years of Izuku dodging around you touching his ears that you just have to sate, so your hands slowly but purposely crawl up to the base of his ears, thumbs brushing the velvety appendages gently before you pinch the base and give them the slightest tug.

Izuku pulls back with a moan, shivering as you continue to thumb his ears in slight awe at their texture. "[n-name]~"

You bring a hand up to laugh. "Aw, are we sensitive, Izu?" you tease, drawing a glare from him. Just to drive it home, you shift and grind your hips down, planting both hands on his chest to steady yourself, effectively killing his glare as he lets out another shaky moan.

"T-that's not fair," he whines.

"Life's not fair," you muse, grinding down one more time before leaning down and tugging at his shirt. He doesn't seem to notice, lost in pleasure just from grinding with his eyes closed. "'Zuku baby, can I see a bit more of you?"

Another whine tears from his throat, and he opens one eye to look up at you. "O-only if I—hah—get to see more of you, too."

You smile, locking your legs around his hips and giving him a show as you slowly peel your shirt off. When it's over your head, you look down and wink, almost losing your composure completely.

His jaw's dropped, eyes locked on your body, and when you wink, he bucks his hips up. You yelp, barely managing to steady yourself at the sudden force, and this time when you lean down and go to pull his own shirt off, he helps you wiggle it off of him. You suppress a groan at the sight of his bare chest, shifting up a bit so you're straddling his abs and he can't grind against you as easily. (You love it, but can't have him getting too excited, now.) 

Scarred, calloused hands settle on your waist as he just admires you, completely wordless. You've half a mind to be self-conscious about his lustful gaze on you, but it's hard when you've got your own view to devour.

Izuku really is gorgeous. Sure, it's not the first time you've noticed over the years. Where he was once your scrawny bunny boy, years of training and hero work have left him littered with scars and bursting with muscles, maintaining his lithe form without sacrificing any amount of strength. Among the scars is a smattering of freckles decorating his shoulders, and that's just his body. To say nothing about his face, still young-looking despite the years and, as of right now, dripping with utter adoration for you.

"You're gorgeous," he breathes, thumbs gently rubbing circles into your hips.

"Says you." You smooth your hands over his chest, dragging your nails teasingly. When you barely brush against his nipples, he shivers, letting out the slightest gasp. You smirk and repeat the motion, watching his face as his fingers twitch around your waist. You could honestly tease him like this for hours just to watch his face and feel his muscles as his stomach trembles between your legs. (Again, Izuku has always been the epitome of expressive, and it's moments like these that you truly understand how much that shines.)

Izuku, however, has a better idea as he effortlessly sits up with you in his lap, trembling as he gives you a slow, charged kiss. (You'd like to imagine his thought process right now is something along the lines of "holy shit holy shit holy shit", but it's difficult to tell.) When he pulls away, he buries his nose in your neck, letting out a shuddering sigh as you glance down over his back. "I-is it okay if I touch you, too?"

You stifle a laugh when you finally notice his tail hitting the couch a mile a minute, forgetting for a moment that Izuku asked you a question. "Just do it already, Jackrabbit," you tease. "You don't have to ask."

He doesn't waste a moment at your permission, immediately shoving your bra up and out of the way to take one of your breasts into his mouth, a hand coming up to knead the other one excitedly. For a moment, you simply hold him as he enjoys himself, letting out little gasps as he lathes a hot tongue over your nipple and lets out a tiny moan of his own. But naturally, your eyes drift to his tail again. The ball of fluff seems to be moving of its own accord, and honestly, you can't resist drifting your hand down to grab it and give it a little tug.

The mouth on your breast leaves as Izuku immediately tosses his head back, letting out a strangled moan louder than you ever thought possible. His hands squeeze instinctively as his eyes roll back, ears falling back and brushing your hand as he momentarily loses himself.

Your face flushes as you watch his with renewed interest. You swear you can see hearts in his eyes, the blush on his cheeks creeping down his neck and shoulders, and holy fuck do you wish you had a camera ready. You want to look at that expression every day for the rest of your life.

He lets out a few garbled noises that might have been words, had he been two percent more coherent. Your laugh dies in your throat when, upon collecting himself, he gives you a look about four shades darker than you ever thought your sweet Izuku to be capable of. You knew he was gorgeous and fun and amazing, but now you can add "panty-dropper" to the list of words describing him.

You don't fight back when he practically flings you back onto your back and clamors to hover over you, nipping at your neck as his hands find the waistband of your shorts. He yanks both your shorts and your panties down at once, leaving them to pool around your knees as the force pulls you back flush with his hips. When you give his tail another weak tug he growls into your neck. You're gone. You're officially gone. Between the not-so-gentle reminder that this boy can fling you around like a ragdoll whenever he wants (and that you kinda wanna thank him for doing so) and the growl, just...

Goodbye, panties. You're living a better life now.

When he looks into your eyes with that same heated gaze from before, your breath catches in your throat. His voice, however, is far from matching when he speaks. "I-I really want to take things slow a-and do things right, b-but if you keep pulling my tail like that, my patience is gonna run out, you know?"

You watch his face with wide eyes for a long moment, pulling the most innocent face you can muster. "Pulling your tail like what, Jackrabbit?" you say teasingly.

And then.

And then.

You pull again.

Izuku's moan turns to a whine and mixes with your own as he bites down on your neck a third time to muffle himself. He pulls up when he's collected and reaches behind himself, one hand firmly wrapping around your wrist while the other grabs your other hand. Slowly, purposefully, he pins your wrists down in one hand, attempting to intimidate you with a glare. There's no heat to it, though, especially not like this, not when there's hearts in his eyes, not when he's panting and sweating and blushing down his neck and you're now fully aware that he moans like a goddamn pornstar.

To his credit, none of that makes you any less horny right now.

Now that he's got your wrists pinned down, he takes another moment to just look at you with hungry eyes. They roam your disheveled form, paying particular attention to your tits as they bounce with every heavy breath. His eyes drift up to your face, and he swallows harshly at the look you're giving him. It takes him just a moment longer of admiring you, the damn near animalistic look from before slipping away to something more Izuku before he speaks.

"I-if we're going to do this, I want to make sure you feel good, too," he says evenly, no longer looking anything but purely genuine. "So please keep your hands to yourself for a little bit?" He tilts his head, ears flopping with the motion, eyes innocent as if he's not asking you to hold still so he can drive you to madness without interruptions.

You nod slowly, swallowing a bit and stilling in his grasp. His fingers twitch, his face lights up, and for just a moment you swear he's more like a puppy than a bunny. 

He shifts, his hands releasing your wrists but hovering over them a moment longer. "If you need me to stop at all, just let me know, okay? The last thing I want to do is push you further than you're okay with it."

"Okay," you whisper breathlessly, watching with interest as he properly lets your wrists go. He glares playfully for a moment, watching to see that you don't move your hands, and when he seems satisfied that you'll actually listen this time, he begins tracing down your arms with featherlight touches.

He's painfully slow in his movements, fingertips grazing your skin as he moves down. He briefly leans down and pecks at you softly, first your forehead, then the tip of your nose, then grazes your lips just enough to draw out a whine as he cups your cheeks. With every tiny kiss, he mutters against your skin— "love you—" "—so much—" "—so fucking much."

"Love you more," you chirp sweetly.

"Hmm, that's debatable," he hums. "But let's come back to that later. Right now, there's s-something I want to do."

With that, he continues running his hands down your body, smoothing his rough palms out just to feel your skin. He exhales slowly as he palms your breasts, smiling fondly down at you as you gasp. "You're so soft..." he whispers, mostly to himself, as his nose twitches a single time. He only plays with your breasts for a moment before his hands continue to move down your body, eliciting a surprised giggle when his scarred hands smooth over your sides. He slowly moves in with both hands, dipping between your thighs, and just when you think he's finally going to touch your dripping slit...

He gently parts your thighs and continues moving, lightening his touch as fingertips drag over your inner thighs. You let out a mournful cry when he continues down your legs, hands smoothing against your outer thighs and hooking underneath as he reaches your knees.

He exhales, flicks his eyes up to your face with a blank look that usually spells trouble. Without warning, he yanks you toward him in a controlled jerk, leaning down as you yelp. Before you can get your bearings, his hot tongue is dragging flat against your heat. You let out a moan that almost drowns out his own at the flavor.

"God, y-you're so wet for me, [n-name]." His breath is hot against you, green eyes locked on yours. "You taste so good."

You'd like to respond, really you would, but he goes right back to eating you out, tongue firmly dancing over your clit before dipping into you. His hands grip your thighs as he enthusiastically gets to work, little moans peppering the space in between your own gasps and pants. You throw your head back as he works—he's a messy eater, to be sure, but you swear you can feel him learning as he goes. He's probably cataloging every noise you make, every twitch of your thighs, especially if the rhythm he quickly falls into is anything to go by.

When he moves to latch his mouth over your clit, his eyes closed as he loses himself to pleasuring you, and you're so so close, maybe you can get away with at least winding your fingers through his hair—

The moment your hands move, his eyes shoot open, and he pulls away from your pussy with a look that screams nothing but disappointment, though it doesn't quite cut. "Honeybun..." he says, voice husky and gently chiding, your slick glistening on his lips. "You said you'd keep your hands to yourself."

You instantly slam your hands back down to the couch, letting out a whine as you give him a pleading look. "B-but I wanna touch you, Izu," you whine out.

His hips buck against air at your words, his nose twitching in surprise as his eyes widen. Seeing a crack in his armor, you have to pounce. "Come on, Jackrabbit," you insist. "You're so good to me. Can't I make you feel amazing, too?"

He's so stunned that he hardly reacts as you prop yourself up on one elbow, yanking him down for a hot kiss with a hand on the nape of his neck. You wrinkle your nose in distaste when you realize you can taste yourself on his lips, but that doesn't mean you're going to stop, not by any means. You lift a knee, opening one eye to make sure you're aiming correctly, and rub against his aching bulge just as his tongue slips into your mouth. 

The poor boy jerks away from your mouth, letting out a quiet, drawn out moan as his cock twitches against your knee.

He stares at you for a moment, face flushed and breathing heavy as tiny tears form at the corners of his eyes. "I-I'm so sorry, [name], I wanted you t-to—"

You cut him off with a sweet kiss, locking lips with him as you carefully shimmy out of your bra and bottoms (both having been left hastily shoved out of the way), tossing them out of the way. When you're properly stripped, you gently push him back so you're both sitting up and pull away with a sweet smile. 

"We're only done here if you want to be, Zuzu," you say, dripping with affection (and perhaps maybe something else).

He immediately shakes his head, ears following the motion as his face flushes worse. "N-no, I want to... I want to keep going."

You chuckle softly and slide off the couch, gently guiding him to sit in front of you properly before you reach up to toy with the zipper of his pants. "Then, let's keep going, hm~?"

He nods, nose twitching relentlessly as you slowly pull his zipper down and slide your hands into his pants. You cheekily smooth your hands over his ass before actually beginning to pull his pants and boxers off in one go. You giggle as his cock springs out, somehow still hard despite the obvious mess of cum clinging to his thighs and the inside of his boxers. You slowly lean forward, sure to make eye contact with him. Instead of going for the mess he's made just yet, however, you run a thumb through some of his cum and smear it over his abs, just to have an excuse to lick it off.

You're slow and sweet as you lick up his abs, arms wrapping loosely around his waist. The look he gives you is almost one of betrayal as you pull back, and you bring a hand to your lips with a coquettish grin.

"Sorry Izu baby, I've been wanting to do that for the longest time," you admit, resting your arms on his legs and your head on your arms.

He groans lowly at the admission, head dropping back. "H-how long—" he breathes out, cutting off when you drag a finger over his length.

God, even his cock is gorgeous. Long, thick, honestly just a little bit intimidating. You're functionally a virgin thanks to your formative years spent being silently in love with a certain green rabbit boy, so you're a little concerned that he'll split you in half when you actually fuck. 

...You might not complain if he does.

You admire it with adoring eyes as he whimpers. "Now's not the time for asking questions, Jackrabbit," you coo, glancing up at him for only a moment before wrapping your hand around his cock. (Christ, you can barely wrap your whole hand around it.) "I was good long enough, so you'll let me return the favor, right?"

"I'll be good," he whines, bucking into your hand something fierce. "I'll be good so please, [name], please—"

You lift your head from where it rests, guiding his tip to your mouth to press a tiny kiss there. Izuku whimpers in response, attempting to buck his hips again. You smile, snaking an arm around behind him to gently run your thumb over the fluff of his tail. You keep a light hold on it, just touching it enough to feel it as you take a deep breath in preparation. When you're ready, you lean forward again slowly, teasingly breathing hot air onto his cock before finally, finally taking him into your mouth. 

"Fuck," Izuku breathes as your mouth closes over him, gripping the couch cushions with white knuckles.

If you thought you'd take this slow and teasing, well, regrettably, Izuku can't seem to control himself well enough for that. He bucks into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with ease as you choke. You tug his tail ever-so-slightly as a warning, but his response is almost more than the way he lost his mind earlier—his hips move frantically, leaving you to do nothing but relax and take his cock down your throat.

"I-I'm sorry," he babbles. "Y-your mouth is so— so good, you're so good for me, honeybun, I'm sorry, I don't think— ahn~ I don't think I can be good like you asked, it's too good, you're too good, s-soooooooo—"

You manage to tear yourself away from him just in time for him to erupt, hot ropes of cum hitting your face and the top of your breasts, precious little making it into your mouth as you gasp for air. His tail twitches in your hand as he babbles, legs shaking and feet gently thumping the floor. You gently, carefully, clean him up, pausing to grab your discarded shirt and wipe your face off.

When you're both clean and still out of breath, you rest your head against his leg, tilting up at him sweetly as you trace small, soothing circles over his opposite thigh. "You said you'd be good, but I guess this makes us even, huh, 'Zuku?"

He mutters something you don't quite catch.

"What was that?"

"I said—" —you're suddenly tackled once again, skidding across the floor from sheer force as Izuku pins you down— "—not. yet."

Well. Mark me down as scared and horny, I guess. 

"S-still raring to go, Jackrabbit?" you force out in your best teasing tone. "Huh, guess it's true what they say about fucking like—"

"Hush," he hisses out in a dark tone. You gulp; all the adoration and sweetness you're used to from him has melted away, leaving only something dark and carnal in his eyes that has you shivering. And then, almost instantaneously, he slips into a saccharine tone. "Be a good girl and let me take care of you, okay sweetheart?"

Oh god. You nod so quickly it's dizzying, so slightly that if it were anyone other than Izuku watching you, they might not notice. But it is Izuku and he notices, just like he notices your breath hitching when he does something right, notices how you respond to his praise, notices how you watch him, excited and intimidated all at once, and the smile he gives you is deceptively sweet and innocent and so so unsuited to the situation at hand that if the circumstances were different, you'd laugh. But you're not laughing. Not when you feel his head prod against your entrance and circle teasingly. 

He doesn't tease you for long, though. One whine from you is all it takes for him to slide into you, made easier by how soaked you get the moment his goddamn guttural groan reaches your ears. He shakes as he enters you at a torturous pace, drawing a cry from your lips as you feel yourself stretched in a way you've never been before. The slightest squelch fills your living room as he finally bottoms out in you and stills to let you adjust to his size.

You're not sure whether to thank every deity that he's got at least enough self control to let you adjust (or that he's going to fuck you at all) or to plead for him to please god just rearrange my guts already before you lose your fucking mind. Izuku forces himself to open his eyes and watch you as you take him in, biting his lip as your face contorts. It's so much, so much to not just ruin you right off the bat, but he's careful to wait and not hurt you... too badly, at least.

You just watch him, meeting his eyes with a half-lidded gaze of your own as you pant and lie still. After a moment, Izuku realizes why you're so still and quiet—

His head drops into your shoulder as he chuckles. "You really are so good for me, honeybun. Are you ready?"

"P-please~" you mewl into his ear.

That's all he needs to hear. Slowly, carefully, he pulls out of you until just the tip of his cock is left throbbing inside of you, and then he snaps his hips forward in one sharp motion. That damn smile drops from his face, his jaw going slack as he starts a slow pace, trying his absolute damnedest to not completely lose himself. As much as he adores watching your expressions, he can't help but throw his head back, eyes squeezing shut as he pistons into you, panting heavily.

"Hah~ Fuck, [name], y-you're so— so tight~"

When he finally brings himself to take a peek down at you, he can't help the sudden increase in both speed and force as he grips your hips. With every thrust, your tits bounce in response, and your expression is nothing short of starstruck as he damn near slams into you. Before he even realizes it, a stream of words fall from his lips, every one of them truthful, adoring, and just a little bit incoherent. Your mouth hangs open in silence, unable to even moan as he drills into you at a pace quickly approaching brutal speeds.

"God, y-you feel so much— so much better than I ever expected-hoped-dreamed about, honeybun, and I really mean that, really mean that, you're so— guh, so tight around me, i-it's hard to believe you weren't made to take my cock, you know? You're so hot and wet and tight and I— I-love-you-love-you-love-you oh godddd I love you so much you're so gooooooood~"

If you were able to focus enough to think, let alone speak, you'd probably make some comment about how he's literally fucking you like a rabbit, but it's all you can do to claw desperately at his back, legs locking weakly around his hips as you quiver beneath him. Between the way he's babbling nonsensically to you and the wet slaps filling the room and the charming sloppy-enthusiastic way he's fucking you relentlessly it's almost too much. If you can walk after this, it'll be nothing short of a miracle.

You've been almost silent, practically unable to moan due to the overwhelming bliss from being stretched out so deliciously, but the keen that tears from your throat as the building knot in your stomach finally snaps is loud, nails dragging down his back one last time as your tongue lolls out of your mouth.

There's not really any doubt left in Izuku's mind that he's fucked you stupid, not with your walls fluttering around him, not with your hands desperately moving, searching for something, and he's got an idea of what it is when your hand brushes his tail and yanks, rougher than you have before, hard enough to send him crashing over the edge with you and nearly making his legs give out from the pleasure. 

Izuku's vision blacks out as the pleasure crashes over him, the pair of you riding out your orgasms in tandem as he paints your walls white. You're dizzy as he finally collapses on top of your body, shuddering and not bothering to pull out of you as he rests his cheek against your heaving breasts.

"Holy shit, Izuku," you breathe, hands tangling in his hair as you stare up at your ceiling.

"Now we're even," he says, shaking a bit as he chuckles.

"I hope you know I'm never letting you go." His hair is soft as you nuzzle into it. "Holy shit."

"Aw, am I that good?" he teases, slowly pulling out of you. You whine at the loss. "Shh, it's okay, honeybun. I promise that won't be the last time."

"Thank god," you mumble, playing with his hair lazily. "Go out with me."

"No."

Your hands still, your blood running cold. "Oh."

"You go out with me," he finishes, smiling against you.

You lightly smack the back of his head. "You scared me, dick."

"Is that a yes?"

You go back to playing with his hair. "I guess. But you have to go out with me, too."

"Yes, that's how it works."

"Really?" you retort. "You had me fooled, rejecting me so you could ask me out instead."

"What can I say?" He lifts his head, pushing himself up to plant a soft kiss on your lips. "I wanted to win."

"You could've killed me, Izu," you whine. "You're heavy and then you say no—"

He rolls his eyes, nuzzling into your neck. "You know I could never actually say no to you, right?"

"Oh~? Are you saying you're too in love?" you tease.

He giggles, pressing tiny kisses along your neck. "Yes, I am. I've been in love with you since middle school. Got a problem with it, honeybun?"

"O-oh." Huh.

"What? Got nothin' to say to that?" he teases.

"S-sorry, I'm just... fuck, you're saying I could've had you years ago?" You press a kiss to the top of his head, right between his ears. "I've been in love with you for just as long and this whole time I've just been pining instead of kissing you."

"Pining?" he echoes, rolling off of you with a grunt. He immediately wraps his arms around you to pull you flush with his side, smirking at your little squeak of surprise.

You blush, burying your face in his chest. "Y-yeah, I said it. Pining."

"Tell me more, Honeybun. I'm interested to know exactly what you mean." A large hand drifts up to card through your hair affectionately, and you sigh as you drape your arm over him.

"Izuku," you whine. "It's embarrassing."

"Please, [name]?" 

"...fine," you mumble. "I was always... You were always so sweet and kind and passionate, and in middle school you were cute and I wanted to protect you. But then we got to high school, and oh no he's hot, I guess... I mean, shit, Izu, you got muscles. And scars. I know you don't like them much but they're hot."

"'Hot', huh...?"

You don't have to look at him to note how much he's clearly enjoying this. "Keep making fun of me and you can sleep on the floor tonight."

"That's okay, as long as you're here, too," he replies without missing a beat. "Do you wanna get up and go wash up? I can't imagine all that feels very comfy right now."

You laugh nervously. "I'd love to, but, uh. I still can't feel my legs. I don't think I can walk."

Izuku lets out an affronted gasp as he sits up. "[name]. I'm offended at the implication that I'd make you walk." He pushes himself up. "You wait here, and I'll run you a bath."

"Mm... no," you reply, watching him with subtle amusement. "Run us a bath, Jackrabbit."

He laughs, shooting you a wink. "Anything for you, Honeybun. I'll be right back." 

He rushes off on shaky legs. You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle your giggles when he returns not even a moment later.

"Hey, [name]?"

"Hm? Could it be that you don't know where my bathroom is?"

He rubs the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. "Maybe."

You laugh. "Down the hall, first door on your right."

"Right. Gotcha! Thanks, Honeybun. Oh, one more thing?"

"What's that?"

His expression shifts, eyes dripping with fondness as he looks you over. "I love you."

Your heart swells, smile unwittingly stretching your cheeks at the confession. "I love you too, Izuku."

[sankyeom]

the c in ceo stands for cute | k.yh

pairings: kim younghoon x reader genre: ceo au, secretary!reader x ceo!younghoon, strangers to lovers summary: in which your handsome boss is often mistaken as cold due to his good looks and forward personality, but is actually the sweetest introvert you’ve ever met word count: 7.2k series: sankyeom’s 2k followers celebration

masterlist

“It’s been such a pleasure working for you, Mr Kim,” you told the CEO of the company you worked for, genuinely meaning every word.

Mr Kim beamed at you, eyes bright behind the large frames of his glasses. “The pleasure was all mine, Y/n,” he assured you. “You’re a marvellous help. My son is going to love you,” he was sure.

The heir of the Kim corporation, Kim Younghoon, was returning from getting his Masters degree from Harvard Business School just in time to take over after his father retired. He was a little young to be the CEO of such a large corporation, but Mr Kim had a lot of faith in his son, and spoke very highly of him.

“I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” you smiled, even though you were lying through your teeth.

There had been enough rumours about Kim Younghoon going around for you to know what to expect. His schoolmates said that he was often cold to them, giving blunt answers instead of mingling with his peers, and having an air of superiority around him. You asked some of your older coworkers if they knew much about him, since you had only been Mr Kim’s secretary for a little over two years, and they feared him too much to have ever really approached him.

Of course you knew that it was unfair to judge a person by the rumours surrounding them, especially if you never even had the chance to meet this person, but there seemed to be no positive stories about Kim Younghoon at all. Sure, his face was plastered across billboards for being an excellent businessman and for having great instincts when it came to the stock market, but he never smiled in any pictures; not even the ones on his social media (which had millions of followers).

Mr Kim seemed to know you well, giving you an intentional smile. “He’s not what people expect him to be. You’ll see when he arrives,” he promised. You decided to take Mr Kim’s word for it and give the new CEO a proper chance, despite the fact that Mr Kim was very biased in this situation.

“I think it’s time for me to get home,” Mr Kim admitted, handing you his almost-full champagne flute.

The Seoul division of the corporation’s office had held a farewell party for Mr Kim, celebrating his many years of building up the company and all the people whose lives he impacted while he was CEO. “So soon?” you asked, helping him up from his chair. “You’ve only had one slice of cake.”

Mr Kim laughed. “I’ll take a good night’s sleep over a second slice of cake,” he assured you, taking your arm and letting you walk him to the elevator. “You know that I like you a lot, don’t you Y/n?” he asked you.

You couldn’t help but smile back at the man who was almost like a second father figure, and your most influential mentor. “Yes I do, Mr Kim. It’s been a pleasure.”

“I consider myself quite lucky,” he replied, saying his farewells to you before letting his chauffeur walk him to his car.

You waved as the elevator doors closed and sighed to yourself when Mr Kim was gone, looking around to see what was left of the office party.

You knew you were good at your job. Throughout high school and college, you found it difficult to figure out what you wanted to do with your life. All you knew was that you had good organisational and people skills, and you wanted to do something creative and exciting. At first, the idea of being someone’s secretary sounded dreadfully boring and time-consuming. But as you started to learn more about the profession, you liked the idea of being able to be apart of different projects as well as organising someone’s time.

“Hey, Y/n,” your coworker Kevin called over to you. He was someone you worked with a lot because he was a part of the design department, and no design ever went out without Mr Kim’s direct approval. “Where did Mr Kim go?” he asked.

You smiled, making your way over to him and the group of people he stood with. “Home,” you informed him. “I think he appreciated the party, but when he said he wanted to retire, he really meant it.”

Kevin laughed, raising his champagne flute in the air as a toast. “Fair enough,” he allowed. “Did he give you any details about the new boss?” he wondered, quirking an eyebrow in inquisitiveness.

“Not really,” you admitted. “He said that he thinks we’ll get along, and that he’s not what people expect him to be. But aside from that, he didn’t give me much.”

“Damn,” Kevin sighed. “I just want to know if he’s as scary as people make him out to be. I mean, attending a prestigious business school overseas and not making any friends? That seems kind of weird.”

“A little,” you agreed, accepting the champagne he offered you and sipping it. “I don’t know. I guess if you already have a decent set of friends at home, and your priority is to finish school as quickly as possible, then I can see why he might come across as unfriendly.”

Kevin hummed. “I suppose,” he agreed, downing his champagne. “Now c’mon. We need to dance and actually have fun at the party that you spent weeks planning,” he insisted, letting you finish your drink before dragging you over to where you had pushed chairs and tables away to make room for dancing. “Tomorrow, the new boss arrives. And if he’s half as bad as people say he is, you’re going to wish you had partied.”

You arrived at the office the next day an hour earlier than you usually did. You weren’t sure what time the new boss would be arriving at, so you just decided to be early. Fidgeting with your clothes, you smoothed them down as best as you could as you waited in front of the CEO’s office for Younghoon to arrive. You had already printed out a plan of things Mr Kim had left him to finish up for the next three months, but you didn’t have any more specific plans after that.

After half an hour of waiting around, hushed whispers rang around the office area. Taking this as a sign that Younghoon was on his way, you stood up tall with all of your papers, planner, and clipboard, and took a deep breath in to calm down. Not long after, Younghoon’s familiar face – which you recognised both from billboards, magazines and articles, as well as Mr Kim’s framed pictures in his office – appeared in front of you with two men trailing after him.

He was handsome in a chic way, with deep set eyes and high brow bones. His cupid’s bow was slightly pointed, and his lips in general were turned down into a sort of passive frown, as if he had a mild case of resting bitch face. All in all, he was intimidating. Tall, handsome, and rich. You dealt with men like this every day, but none of them looked at you as indifferently as Kim Younghoon was.

You put on your best smile. “Good morning Mr Kim,” you greeted. “My name is Y/n. I’m here to assist you with whatever you need. I’d like to go over your schedule for the next few months based on what your father already had planned, if now is a good time,” you told him, wanting to get that over and done with.

“Now is perfect,” Younghoon replied, allowing you to open the door for him before he let himself into his new office. You breathed out a quiet sigh of relief when he was inside, recovering quickly to smile at the two men he came with.

“Nice to meet you both, I’m Y/n. I’ll be Mr Kim’s secretary,” you introduced yourself again.

Both men returned your cheery expressions. “Nice to meet you, Y/n,” the one with the dark brown hair greeted. “My name is Sangyeon. I’m the head of Younghoon’s security, but I’m mostly just an old friend,” he admitted. “This is Juyeon,” the man with the black undercut smiled, which made his otherwise angular face seem soft and cute. “He’s Younghoon’s chauffeur but he’s another old friend.”

“We’ll see each other a lot so I hope we get along,” Juyeon chimed in.

“I’m sure we will,” you promised, already feeling comfortable around them. The two men exuded positive energy and a carefree attitude, which helped to calm your nerves just a little bit. Following them into Younghoon’s office, you motioned for them to sit in the two seats in front of Younghoon’s desk, where he was already sat in his office chair.

“We can talk about redecorating the office after we discuss your schedule, if you’d like,” you suggested to Younghoon, noticing the way his eyes were darting around the office. It was left the same way that Mr Kim had wanted it, only most of the belongings that he cherished had been moved into his personal office at home.

“Don’t bother,” Younghoon replied in a quiet voice, leaving you to smile awkwardly at his friends. “You said something about my father having plans for me?” he added.

“Right,” you nodded, taking out Younghoon’s agenda and placing it down in front of him. “Your father had already agreed to a few things before he retired,” you explained. “As the new CEO, you’re expected to carry out these events. I’ve colour coordinated everything that you have set, as well as given you the time and location of every event,” you pointed to the different coloured sticky tabs. “Since we’re going into the last quarter of the financial year, it’s not as busy as the rest of the year but there are more charity-related events than at the start of the year.”

Younghoon held your gaze, taking in your worried eyes and your shaking hands. “How kind of you,” he decided, sending you a half-smile before thumbing through the rest of his journal.

You thanked him quietly, feeling even more deflated now than when you were waiting for him. “Just so you know, I’m going to be arriving the same time everyday as I did today. You don’t need to arrive before me, we can arrive at the same time. And please don’t call me Mr Kim. Mr Kim is my father, you may call me Younghoon,” he said in his calm drawl, done looking through his schedule and glancing up at you. “Can I keep this?” Younghoon motioned to the planner.

“It’s yours,” you assured him.

“Then that’ll be all for now,” Younghoon gave you another half-smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll be familiarising myself with my father’s previous system of organisation and then I’ll meet the main teams this afternoon after lunch. Send the word out that I expect an update on what they’re working on right now, but I don’t want any presentations. Just an informal chat.”

“Of course,” you nodded, placing the stack of papers you were holding on his desk. “These are from legal, they need you to sign off on some patents by Thursday. I figured I’d give you some time to read through them and I can collect them from you Thursday morning,” you informed him. “My schedule for the day is always on this,” you tapped his desktop screen. “We have access to each others’ electronic calendars. It has everything that I put in your planner so far in it already. You can add whatever else onto it so I’m up-to-date. You can see my calendar so you know where I am if you ever need something and I’m not around. I’ll call the team managers right away and schedule your meetings with them.”

“Thank you, Y/n,” Younghoon said.

“Can I get you anything to drink or eat?” you offered, extending your words to Sangyeon and Juyeon as well.

“We’re good,” they assured you, Younghoon nodding in agreement.

“If you need lunch reservations, just let me know,” you smiled, exiting the room and almost collapsing onto your chair. After a moment to catch your breath, you picked up your phone and began to dial the number for Kevin’s cubicle.

“What’s he like?” Kevin exclaimed instead of answering.

You rolled your eyes. “Mr Kim wants a meeting with all the main teams. I’m having the design team go first so. How does 1 o’clock sound?”

“Fine,” he agreed, so you opened your laptop and updated Younghoon’s digital calendar. “Seriously, though. What’s he like? Apparently he didn’t smile when he came into the building at all.”

“Sound accurate,” you mumbled quietly. “I don’t know, Kev. I’ve only met him once. He seems like he’s focused and willing to do the job, so there’s not much I can say.”

“Yeah, okay. But is he a jerk? Unsociable?”

“Well, he’s no fairy princess,” you allowed. “That’s all I’ll say. Like I said, I’ve only met him once. And he’s the CEO of a huge corporation. We’ll have to see.”

“I guess so,” Kevin sighed. “Oh my god. He wants a meeting with all the main teams? I don’t have enough time to make a presentation, what am I supposed to do?”

“I think he wants to be caught up on the current projects and put some faces to the names, is all. Don’t worry too much. You’ll do great,” you motivated your friend. “Now I have to make some other calls, so don’t freak out, okay? Bye.”

As you hung up, Juyeon stepped out of Younghoon’s office. Automatically, you stood up to give him a smile. “Do you need anything?” you offered, earning a grateful smile from him.

“No, no, I’m just on my way to do some errands for Younghoon,” Juyeon waved off your concern. “Thank you, though.” You nodded, sitting back down and going back to organising the team meetings. “You seem like you’re good at your job,” Juyeon complimented. “Very organised. Colour-coded, even,” he added.

“That’s me,” you laughed. “Was it too much?” you wondered. “I mostly did it to kill time waiting for him to come into the office.”

“You’re all good,” Juyeon assured you.

“What errands are you running?” you inquired. “If Younghoon needs anything, I can do it for him. It is my job, after all.”

“Just picking up some stuff for his office,” Juyeon said vaguely, giving you a sheepish smile. Recalling the way that Younghoon disregarded your offer to help him redecorate his office, you felt the nervous feeling in your stomach rise up again.

“He doesn’t like me very much, does he?” you said gloomily.

“He doesn’t know you,” Juyeon retorts. “And you’re great, really. If you were my secretary I’d be jumping for joy,” he promises. “You just… need to get to know him. He takes time to get comfortable with people.”

“Okay,” you smiled sadly. “Well, let me know if I can help with your errands. You can call the lobby and ask for me, they’ll forward your call.” Juyeon waved goodbye and you watched him walk out, slightly upset that Younghoon wanted his chauffeur to do your job, even if they were old friends.

“He’s scary,” Kevin told you when you came to check on him after his meeting with Younghoon. “The new Mr Kim is nothing like the old Mr Kim,” he added.

“What happened?” you asked, wondering what wound Kevin up so much. You knew that Kevin often overthought social interactions, as most socially awkward people do, but you had never seen him so jittery at work before.

“All he did was stare at us and take notes,” Kevin revealed. “He didn’t make any comments or expressions or anything. He just sat there, listened, then dismissed us like we’re school children.”

You winced. “That must have been tough,” you sympathised. “But I mean, it’s only the first meeting,” you tried to find a way to defend Younghoon, giving him the benefit of doubt.

“Sure, but first impressions are kind of important,” Kevin argued. “It’s not like I need to be his best friend the second we meet, but a little communication would have been nice.”

“I’m sorry, Kev,” you sighed. Just as you were about to offer to grab him some coffee, knowing how much he adored the bitter concoction, your phone rang. “Mr Kim,” you answered, seeing that it was forwarded from from your office.

“Younghoon,” he corrected.

You grimace. “Yes, Younghoon. I’m sorry, sir, force of habit,” you said, making Kevin cringe when he realised who you were talking to.

“Where are you?” Younghoon asked, his tone even.

“I’m taking my break,” you explained. “It’s on my schedule.”

“Yes, I see,” Younghoon hummed. “I’m looking at it right now. It doesn’t say where you are, though. I thought it was supposed to say that.”

You cursed silently. “You’re absolutely right, sir. I’m sorry. I can come back immediately,” you offered.

“Please do,” Younghoon said before hanging up the phone without saying goodbye.

“It is Mr Sunshine?” Kevin said sarcastically. “What’s up with you calling him by his first name?”

“He asked me to,” you shrug, putting your phone back in your pocket. “I gotta run. I’ll see you later?” Kevin waved and off you went back to your desk. “Mr- Younghoon,” you corrected yourself, finding Younghoon leaning against your desk waiting for you. “I’m sorry. What did you need me for?”

“You didn’t have lunch,” Younghoon said, tapping your laptop, which was open with your schedule on it.

“Pardon?” you asked.

“You didn’t take your lunch break, which means you haven’t eaten lunch,” your boss elaborated. “Let’s go. I’ll take you to lunch.”

Startled by his offer, you started shaking your head. “That’s alright, sir, I’ll just make a reservation for you.”

“I insist,” Younghoon retorted, taking his phone out of the pocket of his slacks. “Do you feel like eating anything in particular?”

“I’m not picky,” you said quietly, realising that you wouldn’t be able to get out of this.

“I’ll order in,” Younghoon decided, handing you his phone. “Pick whatever you want, it’s on me.”

“That’s really not necessary,” you attempted to argue, but Younghoon insisted.

Half an hour later, you were sat in the plush chair in front of Younghoon’s desk in his office, eating your noodles slowly as you observed your new boss. You weren’t sure if you were just misunderstanding him, or if he really was as blunt and cold as people said he was. However, you respected his father too much to make assumptions based on the first day of meeting him.

“My father speaks very highly of you,” Younghoon broke the silence in between bites of food. “He says that you’re the best secretary he’s ever had. And that you’re one of his favourite people he’s ever worked with.”

“Wow, that’s very high praise,” you said, stunned that Mr Kim even shared his compliments to you with his son. “I’m sure you and I will get along once we get to know each other better, too,” you offered.

Younghoon nodded. “People often misunderstand me,” he began. “I know that people think I’m cold and antisocial. Some people even think I’m arrogant,” a smile graced his face, one that was full and genuine. It lit up his sharp features and softened his entire face, causing him to practically glow. “The truth if that I’m just not very good at what I do yet. A lot of people have expectations of me and I want to meet them. But I’ve always been more reserved and introverted, so expressing that is hard for me.”

Pleased that he was opening up to you, you gave him an encouraging smile. “I understand,” you assured him. “I found this job really scary and hard when I first started. Mr Kim helped me a lot, and he made the office a warm environment where I felt comfortable.”

“I want to do that too,” Younghoon said. “But I also want people to take me seriously. I know I’m taking over much earlier than everyone expected me to, myself included, and I want to make a good impression.”

“You will make a good impression,” you told him. “It will just take some time.”

Younghoon nodded. “I think I scared the design team this afternoon,” he mumbled.

“You did,” you confessed, having just heard Kevin’s experience. Younghoon’s eyes filled with worry, brows furrowing together slightly. “But I think they would’ve been scared no matter what you were like.”

“I have a lot of positive things to say about them,” Younghoon told you, taking out his tablet and handing it to you. You took it, scrolling through the notes he took during the meeting. It was filled with compliments and suggestions to better the project.

“Kevin would love this,” you exclaimed. “These notes are very conceptual and visual, that’s exactly what helps him.” Handing his tablet back, you had to ask. “Why didn’t you say anything? Apparently, that’s what made the meeting the most daunting.”

“I didn’t want them to think that I thought I knew how to do their jobs better than them,” Younghoon confessed. “Because I don’t. That’s why they’re here.” The realisation that Younghoon was truly misunderstood hit you hard, and somehow it made you feel quite relieved. “I must have scared you this morning, too, then.” You nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” you said easily. “Everything is still very new. Anytime you need help with this kind of thing, or if you’re unsure about anything, just talk to me. That’s what I’m here for, after all.”

Younghoon smiled again, and you observed how his handsome face could actually look quite cute. “Thank you, Y/n. Now eat your noodles before they get too cold.”

“Yes, boss,” you agreed, grinning before digging back into your lunch.

You first heard the news that the cost of company shares had plummeted from one of your friends in the finance department. Chanhee was good friends with you and Kevin, and he practically ran to your desk when he first saw the numbers going down.

“What happened?” you wondered, confused as to why the shares were going down in value all of a sudden. “Our most recent project was incredibly successful. Our shares should be going up in value more than anything.”

Chanhee bit his bottom lip, eyes flitting to the large oak door that led to Younghoon’s office. “He’s at a lunch meeting with a prominent fashion designer,” you explained, causing Chanhee to nod in relief.

“It’s Mr Kim,” Chanhee admitted, lowering his voice.

“Mr Kim?” you echoed. “Did he do something before Younghoon took over?”

Chanhee rolled his eyes. “No, I mean the new Mr Kim,” he corrected. “He only lets you call him by his first name,” he added, something that you hadn’t known. “When the news broke that he’s taking over, people started selling their shares at low prices. So, the value went down.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, confused. “But, he hasn’t even been here for a month yet? How can the public make such quick decisions on how he’ll impact the company?”

“Reputation is just as important as skills,” Chanhee reminded you. “You know that well. Mr Kim’s reputation is… Well, you work with him. I’ve been in meetings with him. He seems a little…”

“Cold?” you offered, sighing at the predicament at hand. Chanhee merely smiled, lifting one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Okay. We can fix this. I can talk to Younghoon when he returns from his meeting and-“

“Talk to me about what?” Younghoon called, stepping into the room with Sangyeon and Juyeon in toll.

Juyeon waved. “Hi, Y/n,” he greeted you, Sangyeon nodding in acknowledgement.

“Hi Juyeon, Sangyeon,” you replied, standing up from your chair as Chanhee trembled. “Younghoon, I was just talking to Chanhee about the company’s finances,” you said vaguely, giving Chanhee the chance to bow and duck out of the room.

“I’m assuming you mean the share and stock values,” Younghoon nodded, motioning for you to follow him into his office. “I saw it before heading into my lunch meeting. I don’t think it should be a big deal,” he decided, taking a seat at his desk as you closed the door behind you. “I can just have a meeting with the investors to explain my situation and get things straight. Once they know I’m reliable and competent, the matter will surely be resolved.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” you confessed, causing Younghoon to pause in his action of opening his planner. “It’s just that reputation is very important here. Especially in large companies such as yours,” you added. “I think it would be best if we focused on stimulating your image more. So far, people only have rumours about you from your business school peers, as well as magazine and newspaper interviews to go off of. You’re still a mystery to the public.”

“I like my privacy,” Younghoon explained, a small pout forming on his mouth.

You averted your eyes from his lips. “But image is still important. Your father had the image of a friendly family-oriented man who raised money to build homes for the underprivileged population,” you recalled. “We could have some events to stimulate your own image. Parties, charity events…”

“You really think this will help?” Younghoon asked, eyes resembling those of a scared puppy.

The fact that he had terrified you so much upon your first meeting felt like a hundred years ago to you. Now that you had been working together for almost a month, you had seen how nervous Younghoon was. And how cute he could act. Seeing him around Sangyeon and Juyeon also helped. The pair was hilarious and they always brought out a happier, more relaxed side of Younghoon that you were pleased to see.

You knew that Younghoon just wanted to do well and make his father proud. He was less confident in his abilities than you thought he should be.

You nodded. “What should we do?” Younghoon wondered.

“I think we should find something that you enjoy and promote it,” you began. “What do you like to do, other than work?”

“I don’t have time for much else,” Younghoon thought. Whenever he was deep in thought, his head tilted to the side and and his eyes looked up at the ceiling as he mumbled under his breath. It was a truly cute sight.

“He likes music! He’s actually a pretty decent singer,” Sangyeon supplied for his friend, giving him an encouraging smile when Younghoon stammered a denial,

“That’s great,” you exclaimed. “We could talk to our charity department and look into funding music programs at schools. Arts are always underfunded and could use our help,” you suggested. “And I think that meeting with the investors is a good idea. But instead of talking about your qualifications and experience, you could talk about the direction you want to take the company in. Focus on the fact that you took over from Mr Kim the second he needed you.”

“Does that makes me sound soft and emotional?” Younghoon asked. “I don’t want to look weak in front of the investors.”

You smiled. “The investors are here because they trusted your father’s vision for the company, and they trusted that he was a family man who wanted to do good with the assets his company had.” You recalled the many meetings you sat in on with Mr Kim, and how much everyone adored him. “You take after your father. The fact that you finished business school early to help him with the company, and that you want to do well will please the investors.”

Juyeon laughed. “Your secretary knows this company better than you do,” he teased his friend.

Younghoon managed a smile, meeting your eyes amongst his giggling friends. “That’s why I need her,” he reminded Juyeon, a comment which made you beam.

“Y/n!” Sunwoo from advertising called out to you as you walked down the hall. He came rushing in your direction, despite the fact that you stood still to wait for him, holding a stack of papers in his hand. “Could you get these to Mr Kim for me?” he asked you, passing the papers on. “They’re the final proposals for the advertising of his charity event,” Sunwoo explained.

Younghoon’s meeting with the investors had gone really well, and he had definitely won their favours and respect. He mentioned wanting to invest in art and music programs because of his own passion for music, and had many ideas for a charity event to promote their program. The investors, always happy to go to a party and excited for the direction Younghoon wanted to take the company in, were overjoyed with his suggestion.

“Um, sure,” you agreed with furrowed brows. “Why don’t you just bring them to him, though? Your office is on the same floor.”

“Oh,” Sunwoo stared at you with large, round eyes. “Can’t,” he stammered. “Meeting. Gotta go. Thanks, Y/n!” he called, waving at you as he darted away in the direction of the elevator.

Ignoring his odd behaviour, you flipped through the pages to make sure everything was there before making your way back to your desk. When you arrived, you sorted out the notes you had photocopied for Younghoon from Sunwoo’s proposals, just as you heard another person call you name.

“Would you be able to give these to Mr Kim?” Changmin from human resources asked, showing you a thick stack of papers, stapled together in the top left corner. “They’re the human resources policies for the next financial year. He wanted to see them before the end of the week so he could sign off on them.”

“I can,” you agreed. “But his office is right there. Why don’t you just go in and give them to him? I’m sure he’d be happy to see you since he’s cooped up in his office all day.”

Changmin gave you a nervous smile, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “I would, but I actually have someone on hold at my desk,” he admitted.

Your eyes widened. “Why did you bring me this while waiting for someone? Go, go! It could be important,” you shooed him away, earning a loud thank you from him before he rushed to get back to his desk.

Sighing, you stacked his papers on top of the ones you were organising and made your way into Younghoon’s office, knocking on the door to let him know you were coming. “Woah,” Younghoon stared at the large pile of papers in your arms as you entered, leaving the door open behind you. “That’s a lot of photocopied notes from your meeting with Mr Park,” he observed.

You laughed at his comment, spreading the papers out in three neat piles in front of him. “I also have Sunwoo from advertising’s final proposal for the charity event ads, and I have Changmin from human resource’s policies for the next financial year.”

At your revelation, Younghoon groaned and buried his face in his hands. “They hate me,” he whined, looking at you from in between his fingers. “They don’t even want to come into my office. I always wonder if people are meeting their deadlines, since nobody ever comes to see me. But they just like you better than me.”

“They don’t like me better than you,” you deny, causing Younghoon to laugh ironically, removing his hands from his face so his pout was visible. “They just know me better than you! You’re still their new, cool, super educated boss. They haven’t gotten to know you yet.”

“You’re probably right,” he mumbled, flipping through your notes. “How do I get them to know me better?”

“Well, it might help if you don’t just stay in your office all day,” you suggested unsurely. “You don’t seem very… accessible to them.”

“But I like being in my office,” Younghoon told you. “It means you’re just a single door away. I like when you’re close by. It makes my day better.”

Your eyes widened at his unexpected compliment, causing Younghoon’s expression to follow suit. He laughed awkwardly, pink dusting his cheeks in embarrassment. “Was that inappropriate? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he apologised quickly, clasping his hands together and leaning slightly away from you.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassured him. “I’m glad that you’re comfortable around me.”

“I’m more than comfortable with you,” Younghoon corrected, standing up from his chair to be at eye-level with you. His tall presence used to want to make you cower away, but now that you knew Younghoon personally, you felt secure enough to meet his eyes and lean into him. “I’m… safe. Happy, even.”

The admission made you grin, not minding the way you could feel his breath against your cheek or the fact that you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. “I make you happy?” you whispered teasingly, relishing in the way that Younghoon’s cheeks darkened even further, a nervous laugh leaving his lips.

“Blissful,” Younghoon corrected, his eyes shining with warmth.

“This is cute,” a voice called behind you. You startled, turning to see Juyeon and Sangyeon standing in the doorway of Younghoon’s office, smirking at the two of you. Sangyeon had spoken, looking like he was ready to burst into giggles at any moment. “Do you guys always make fond eyes at each other when we leave you alone?” he teased.

Ignoring his comment, you greeted the two with a smile and excused yourself from Younghoon’s office to go cool off; you could feel your face heating up with embarrassment and wanted a moment to catch your breath.

In the time that Younghoon had taken over as CEO, you had gotten to see many sides of him. On the first day, he was open with you after making a bad first impression on you and you had decided that you would give him a chance. You hadn’t realised how shy and cute Younghoon could be. Of course, he could be loud and carefree around old friends like Sangyeon and Juyeon as well, and he was slowly starting to make jokes with you as well. Now, he was saying that he felt downright blissful when you were around.

The change made you really happy.

On the night of Younghoon’s charity event, you had arrived early to make sure everything was in order. Dressed to the nines, you had to admit that you were pleased with how you looked that evening, putting in a lot of effort since you knew that the event meant a lot to Younghoon.

After discussing how the dishes should go out with the catering company, you allowed yourself to take in the large ballroom now that it was empty and before it would be overcrowded with rich investors, businessmen, and press. Just as you were going over the schedule for the evening with the event planner, you heard a sharp intake of air behind you.

“Wow,” you turned around, revealing Younghoon standing there breathlessly.

He wore an elegant black suit and tie, topped off by perfectly styled hair and his usual silver watch that his father had given him for getting into Harvard Business School. Younghoon always looked handsome, but in this moment, he was absolutely radiant. He looked like he belonged at this event, like he was the CEO of the Kim corporation.

You smiled. “I could say the same,” you complimented, motioning to Younghoon with your hands. “You clean up pretty nicely.”

“Ah, well, my secretary did get my suit perfectly tailored to fit me,” Younghoon said, smoothing down lapels of his suit jacket with a beam.

“Your secretary must be smart,” you replied, stepping towards Younghoon and adjusting his tie properly. “Because you look great. Dignified, sophisticated-”

“Handsome?” Younghoon asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“You know you’re handsome,” you retorted with an eye roll.

“Maybe,” Younghoon shrugged, placing a hand on top of yours on his chest. You froze at his action, glancing up at him through your lashes. “But I want to hear what you think.”

“You look very handsome,” you allowed, trying to speak as smoothly as possible without indicating how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

“If I look half as good as you, I’ll be happy,” Younghoon replied, gently releasing your hand and clearing his throat. “You did a really great job arranging this event. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Well the event planner organised it, I just told her what you wanted,” you said humbly, denying the large part you had in the event.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Younghoon told you. “If I know you at all, then you were constantly jotting down details that I mentioned vaguely and made sure that the event planner fixed everything to my preference,” he paused. “And I’d like to think that I know you quite well.”

“Believe me, you do,” you answered. “And thank you. For seeing the work I put in.”

“It’s you,” Younghoon shrugged. “I always see you.”

As the event began and more guests started coming, you were delighted to see Mr Kim enter with Younghoon’s mother on his arm, beaming at all the familiar faces he saw. “Mr Kim!” You called out to him, not having seen your old boss since his farewell party.

“Y/n,” Mr Kim replied, accepting a hug from you and releasing you so you could greet his wife. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“I’ve missed you, Mr Kim,” you admitted. Of course you loved working for Younghoon too, but you hadn’t seen Mr Kim in far too long.

“I’ve missed you too, Y/n,” Mr Kim promised. “Although, I’ve heard a lot about you from Younghoon any time we meet. It seems that you’re all he has to talk about, more so than his company,” Mr Kim narrowed his eyes at you playfully, a knowing glint in his eyes. “He seems quite taken with you.”

Taken with you. You could feel the butterflies start to wake up in your stomach as your heart beat a little faster at Mr Kim’s implication. “He’s wonderful to work with,” you told him, brushing off the way Mr and Mrs Kim were both giggling at you. “You’ve raised an amazing man.”

“Well, he certainly make us proud,” Mr Kim allowed. “You look nervous. You should be relaxing, Y/n. You planned a very successful charity event.”

“I’m more nervous about Younghoon behind nervous,” you admitted. “I just want him to know that he’s doing well. He always thinks he’s not doing good enough even though he’s gone above and beyond.”

“He might relax if he sees you have some fun,” Mr Kim said, stopping a passing waiter to get champagne for himself, Mrs Kim, and you. “A toast to Y/n and Younghoon’s partnership,” he proposed, causing the three of you to clink glasses and sip the bubbly beverage.

“Mum, Dad,” Younghoon appeared at your side, greeting his father and then his mother with hugs. “I didn’t know if you two would make it tonight.”

“We wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Mr Kim assured his son, causing Younghoon’s lips to spread into a wide smile. 

“You did great today, Younghoonie. You and Y/n have a lot to be proud of,” Mrs Kim added.

“Thank you, Dad, Mum,” Younghoon was ecstatic to hear praise from his father. “I couldn’t have done it without Y/n, though. I’m grateful that you hired her.”

“I bet you are,” Mr Kim hummed, winking at his son before facing Mrs Kim. “How about a dance?” he offered, excusing themselves and making their way to the dance area.

When you turned to face Younghoon, his face seemed to have reddened. “What did my dad tell you?” he wondered.

You raised an eyebrow. “Um, just that you talk about me to him a lot. And that you’re quite taken with me,” you recalled, realising how romantic Mr Kim’s descriptions were.

Younghoon whined embarrassedly, shutting his eyes as if it would make him disappear. “I told him not to talk to you about any of that, I wanted to tell you all that myself…” he muttered, opening his eyes to see your curious expression.

“All what?” you asked dumbly, hoping that you weren’t just getting your hopes up at Mr Kim’s implications.

“The way I feel about you,” Younghoon explained nervously. “I wanted to tell you… Tell you that I’ve loved working with you these past few months. That you make me nervous and excited and happy whenever I’m around you. How hearing your voice makes my day and how I can barely contain a blush any time we’re alone. That I’m falling in love with you more and more every single day…” he trailed off, gently taking your hands in his. His touch was familiar now. “I didn’t want my declaration to be in such a public place, though,” Younghoon’s eyes flitted around he crowded ballroom.

You laughed, tears blurring your vision just slightly. “It’s fine,” you promised him, lacing your fingers through his. “I don’t care where you tell me, as long as I know.”

Younghoon nodded, taking your comment as permission to pull you closer to him. “This is the part where you tell me that you feel the same,” he whispered, close enough in proximity for you to hear his murmur above the noise in the ballroom.

“You seem confident that I return your feelings,” you mentioned, trailing your hands from his up his arms, across his shoulders and eventually to rest on the back of his neck. “What happened to the sweet, introverted Younghoon that couldn’t even smile at me when we met?”

“Precisely that: I met you,” Younghoon told you. “Now, if you’re not going to tell me that you feel the same, you should at least kiss me,” he added as an afterthought. “It would only be fair.”

“Well, in the name of fairness…” you trailed off, lifting onto the balls of your feet to lean up and press your lips to Younghoon’s. 

The pounding in your heart only intensified, encouraged by the way Younghoon smile against your lips before returning your kiss. In that moment, it didn’t matter that you were in public at all. All you could focus on was the way Younghoon’s lips felt on yours and how he pulled you impossibly closer to him with each bruising kiss.

“Disgusting,” you heard a voice mutter, easily recognising it as Juyeon’s after months of seeing him almost every day. Reluctantly, you pulled away from Younghoon, glancing sideways to where Sangyeon and Juyeon were sipping on champagne to hide their excited smiles.

“You guys know that you’re in public, right?” Sangyeon added.

“It’s my event,” Younghoon shrugged. “If I want to kiss my secretary then I will.”

“I hope you don’t go around kissing all of your secretaries,” you retorted with a laugh.

“Just the one I’m in love with,” he replied, sending you a wink that made your heart flutter.

note: this was a long one but i hope you still enjoyed it!

[chastiefoul]

secret. | itafushi

in which Fushiguro and Itadori are dating in secret.

and it was going all great and good

until Itadori accidentaly kissed Fushiguro in front of their whole group of friends.

---

Needless to say, it was kind of a great night.

With both, 1st and 2nd year trio hanging around in the common room watching some stupid movie—that’s what they decided to call it after Itadori chose it- cramped around each other, because no one really wanted to give up the couch and sat on the floor.

Well, not really everyone is cramped up. Maki—of course, got to sit alone on the single couch all because she won the rock paper scissors tournament, and when that settled no one really wanted to rechallenge the scary master of cursed weapons now, did they?

Panda and Inumaki had also luckily managed to win the double couch, already making themselves comfortable. And given how unlucky the first years track record was—like having to fight a literal special grade cursed spirit on their very first mission, the three of them had to sit pressed against each other on the another double couch available there.

It was right then Itadori, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki made an unspoken agreement that as soon as their damn white-haired teacher comes back from his usual shenanigans, they would rightfully demand another place to sit they deserved immediately. Literally these guys had to risk their lives every time a mission comes up and they couldn’t even get a proper common room where everyone could sit comfortably.

Though, it’s not like these situations didn’t bring certain advantages to certain boys who are dating in secret.

The atmosphere was strangely quiet, only the sound of the tv continued along the nightfall. They’re all focused on the movie that Itadori had specially hand-picked from his personal collection. He felt strangely smug about that—fortunately no one has said anything about it.

But the thing is, being the guy who recommended to film means that you’ve already watched it. And it’s only normal to find some parts of it were pretty boring when you already knew what’s going to happen.

Itadori yawned, feeling the drowsiness coming. Kugisaki that was leaning to him mumbled on his right shoulder, “You tired?” Her eyes still on the moving screen. “Nah, just sleepy,” Itadori responded, finding himself staring Fushiguro on his left. He thought about how great it was if he could snuggle up against the boy and just sleep right then, but couldn’t, since they both agreed to wait for more time until telling the group about their relationship.

It wasn’t long before Fushiguro noticed the lingering gaze, returning the stare with one of his own. “What?” He whispered exasperatedly, yet gentle, like a newfound fondness in what he considered to be annoying before. Itadori just smiled, letting out the quietest mutter he could manage, “Nothing, you’re just too pretty I couldn’t help it.”

The raven-haired male only cringed at how cheesy it sounded but still blushed, nonetheless. “The embarrassing things that came out from your mouth sometimes..” He held the cushion pillow closer to his face, in an attempt to hide the color that was creeping up to his cheeks, though it wasn’t really doing much since the room was already dim.

Suddenly Itadori felt a sharp nudge on his right side, making him double over in pain. “Shut up with your whispering over there, some of us are trying watch!” Kugisaki hissed, clearly infuriated. “Salmon,” Inumaki chimed in, seeming like agreeing to what the redhead had to say.

Itadori only chuckled without any remorse.

“Fine I’ll be quiet! Geez. This could be considered bullying, y’know,” he mumbled the last part, Kugisaki made a face at this, ready to give him a second violent nudge. Itadori raised both of his arm, surrendering. He could feel Fushiguro’s body shook, holding his laughter. Itadori softened.

If he could see Fushiguro’s smile then all is good.

Another fifteen minutes passed, Itadori couldn’t take it anymore. He’s extremely sleepy. As good as the movie was, it’s not really fun anymore to watch for the second time, especially for someone who got easily bored. He let out another yawn,

“I think I’m gonna go back to my room, enjoy the rest of the movie everyone, good night.” Everyone offered a curt hum, one or two of them mumbled wishing him a good night as well.

He got up, giving Fushiguro a small peck under his eye.

It was not until too late and everyone had stared at him that he realized, he just kissed Fushiguro in front of them, the very people who they’ve been desperately hiding the relationship from.

Itadori would be fine with some cheering, or a hundred bombarding questions, or maybe something else, really, anything besides this complete and utter silence. This unbearable stillness that demanded explanations about what it was that Itadori just did.

“Th-there was an eyelash on Fushiguro’s cheek!”

Even Fushiguro’s demon dogs knew that wasn’t a very smart answer.

“So like a normal person you decided to pick it up with your mouth?” Maki asked, drawing her hand up to fix her glasses’ placement.

“That’s unsanitary,” Panda said disapprovingly while Inumaki only nodded along.

“What?! How was it different than kissing a person?” Itadori retorted, Fushiguro wished that the older male would just stop talking. None of the thing he said had helped their now futile attempt in keeping their relationship a secret.

“So you were kissing him then?” Kugisaki smirked, the four of them succeeded on cornering Itadori to where they wanted.

“There was no kiss, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Itadori stubbornly deflect, bringing his gaze elsewhere. “No? So nothing like the one like last week when both of you were in the kitchen making dinner?” Maki said, now wearing a similar smug smirk like Kugisaki. “Or that time at night after a mission before you both went back to your respective rooms?” She continued, merciless.

By then Itadori and Fushiguro’s faces had turned red in shame, the pink-haired boy a spluttering mess, the younger boy had his face so deep on the cushion he’s holding, wishing it would open a hole similar to a shadow puddle he summoned on a daily basis and swallowed him already.

“Right, I also saw you two on the training ground a few days back, underneath the tree, K-I-S-S-“ Panda followed, tone mischievous.

“Ah!! Stop, stop!!” Itadori cut him off, before he could totally die out of mortification.

His friends already knew, they already knew and didn’t say anything to him. He remembered all those times thinking he was being sneaky when it turns out, they all already knew, even worse, they saw it all!

“I can’t believe none of you guys said anything until now!” Itadori yelled, though it lacked bark seeing his neck still in a color similar to his uniform’s hood. “Please, it’s not like we had to see you guys kiss to know you both are dating, you flirt with him in broad daylight every damn day, have some shame!” Kugisaki yelled back, now standing up pointing his index finger sharply to the other male.

“Wha-well, in my defense, Fushiguro likedit!” He blurted out, making the entire room spared their attention to the shadowcurses-wielder.

If Fushiguro didn’t want to die before, now he definitely does.

“Oh? Why are my cute students still up this late at night?” Said a familiar playful voice, making everyone turned their heads to the source of sound. Gojo had come back from whatever business he was attending to. Honestly no one asked anything about it anymore, the guy’s too vexatious.

Itadori saw this distraction as an opening, he dashed past his teacher, grabbing along Fushiguro with him.

“Nothing at all, Gojo-sensei, me and Fushiguro were just about to go back to our own room!” The older male shouted, running to the direction of their rooms.

-

It seemed like they were both saved, because Fushiguro honestly didn’t know how to respond to that kind of thing. Relieve washed over him, seeing the sight of his own room’s door. A safe place. But forget about that.

Fushiguro thwacked Itadori over the head, it didn’t hurt, it never did. “Are you an idiot, saying things like that in front of everyone?” He sighed relently, his cheeks somewhat still a bit warm. He was actually glad by the sudden development of the event, Itadori really looked like he was really troubled then.

“Ehh?” Itadori leaned in upon hearing that, putting his both of his hands on the dark-haired male either sides, trapping him against the wall between their room. He’s pouting. “But you do like it, right?” His eyebrow furrowed in worry, searching Fushiguro’s expression.

The latter man only squirmed at the sudden proximity; his face returned to a color of crimson.

“Of course I do,” he mumbled, looking away. Fushiguro’s eyes glistened with peeking moonlights, his eyelashes moved gently along the breeze of wind over the opened window. What a stunning sight, Itadori thought.

He sneaked a hand below his lover’s jaw, leading his stare back to him. The usual goofy expression on Itadori’s face was gone, replaced by a serious one. Like finding a chore that had to be done immediately, the urgence on the boy in front of him was pulling Fushiguro in, he shivered in excitement.

Finally their lips met, for a moment, nothing else mattered.

It was only a quick kiss, but still sweet nonetheless, considering the smile they have on their features.

A realization dawned upon them suddenly. Perhaps the real problem here all along was that they need to stop kissing in places like hallways if they really want people to not know. They only looked at each other, knowing that the matter was far from over since they practically ran away from the situation.

They can only imagine how troublesome tomorrow’s going to be.

“We don’t learn, do we?”

“I guess we don’t.”

They smiled.

[rosy-cheekx]

for the kiss prompts... 16 with jonmartin?

Combined this New Years Kiss prompt with @ombreblossom‘s prompt for “a giggly kiss" and an anon prompt: “I wish you would write a fic where martin scoops Jon into his arms and Jon realizes how strong he is” damn if i dont deliver

Just a good vibes fic while I’m dying over the pre-finals stress. Check on your friendly neighborhood psychology students, especially juniors. They’re a-struggling. 

Enjoy!!

Resolutions, 2.2k

CW: alcohol

--

“Happy New Year’s Eve!”

Jon wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s house. Maybe something haphazardly designed, with takeaway menus pinned to the fridge? Maybe the epitome of the bachelor pad?

He definitely hadn’t expected the open floorplan, spotlessly cleaned and well-organized, with furniture complementary to the walls and each other. Warm light spilled from every lamp, with purple and silver decorations inscribed with “2015” and “Happy New Years” dangling from almost every surface.

“You can close your mouth now, buddy,” Tim elbowed him lightly. “I keep my spaces clean, what can I say?”

Jon clamped his teeth back together and held out a bottle of white wine mechanically. “I brought this. Er, sorry I’m late.”

Tim shook his head jovially, taking Jon’s coat and scarf along with the wine, before handing the bottle back to him. “Party’s just getting started. We’ve been drinking a bit, playing some games.” He winked before nudging him toward the couches, where Sasha’s dark curls were just visible. “Go on, I’ll be right behind. They’ll be happy to see you!”

“Jon!” The man in question jumped and craned his neck to see Martin—or, more rightly, his hand—from over the edge of the couch cushions. “Good, you’re here! Sash and Tim are kicking my ass in Scrabble.”

Jon approached the living room, spying Martin, sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, another bottle of white wine between him and Sasha, along with the aforementioned Scrabble board. “Scrabble isn’t a team sport?”

“Hey, Jon. Ooh, more wine, thank god, this one’s just gone.” Sasha scrunched her nose with her greeting, reaching for the bottle in his hands. “And no, it’s not,” she continued as she spun a corkscrew between her fingers. “But Tim is missing like half the tiles so we can’t play four.”

“Tim’n’Sash ganged up on me,” Martin mumbled, the edges of his words softened, Jon assumed, by wine. “I didn’t even—I’m new to research, issnot fair.”

Sasha pulled the cork from the wine as Tim leapt over the cushion of the suede couch, landing neatly next to her. “I told you, you would get Jon when he showed up, which evens it out anyways. Stop pouting.”

“Am not.”

Jon folded his legs beneath his hips as he sat, examining the board and taking a proffered glass from Sasha’s hands. “Don’t worry, Martin,” he offered, smiling gently at the man, taking in the flush of his face and the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt—maroon, he filed away. Looks good with his hair. “We’ve just got to last long enough before Tim gets drunk or bored and starts to throw letters at us. Did he tell you that’s why they’re missing?”

Martin laughed aloud and the noise caught Jon off guard. It was a low, warm sound, loud in a way that suited the man. Jon smiled to himself, proud.

“I do-I do not,” spluttered Tim, pointedly ignoring Sasha’s raised eyebrow. “…I stopped that when we were down to one W.”

Jon nudged Martin, gesturing for the block of letters in front of him. “You’ll see. Our turn?”

--

Eight rounds, three glasses of wine, and a dodge from the letter E later, Jon was feeling properly comfortable. They were all properly buzzed, if not a little tipsy, and the clock ticked steadily closer to midnight. Martin and Jon had continued to be partners for all the other games they played: Charades, Pictionary, and a silly game Sasha had made up where they had to describe concepts like colors or sounds, without using words directly related to them. Martin had carried their team for that game, explaining through an embarrassed blush that he liked to read a lot of poetry. Jon elected to ignore that statement, though he was grateful for the edge it gave them; his competitive streak was willing to ignore a multitude of sins.

At 11:15, Tim flipped through the television programs, searching for one doing a proper countdown. One of the BBC Music channels was playing a Countdown playlist, with an eclectic variety of music on the playlist if the presented queue was any indication. Remote in hand, Tim spun on his heel, lip-syncing voraciously to the song, some dreadfully cheesy rock ballad. In turn, he focused on Sasha, then Jon, then Martin, hand outstretched to each of them in a mockery of longing. When he turned his attention back to Sasha, the chorus swelled and she took his hand, swinging herself under his arm with a grin on her face. Jon settled into the couch cushions, a warmth running through his chest as he watched the two spin with each other in a pseudo-dance. Martin sipped his glass of water on the other end of the couch, seemingly as happy as Jon to just watch.

As the song ended, the rock ballad was replaced by a pop song, one Jon didn’t know but it was apparent everyone else did. Tim sang along in a horrendous shout-sing, and Sasha grabbed Martin’s hand, tugging on it lightly. Martin rolled his eyes, resisting briefly as Sasha wordlessly argued with him, but her will was stronger and he laughed softly as she pulled him to his feet and jumped around to the beat, air-guitaring in circles around him. Eventually, Martin closed his eyes and leant into the dance, reminding Jon vaguely of his club days with Georgie, the dozens of hot, sweaty young adults without a care in the world of who saw them dance. And, most importantly, dance badly. Martin was truly terrible, but Jon was unable to tear his gaze away. He wasn’t matching the tempo and he knew about half the words as he joined Tim in singing the chorus, but there was something about him that was absolutely intoxicating, more than the wine Jon had consumed.

The Beatles played next, and of course Jon knew them. They had been his grandmother’s favorite, and for good reason. He hadn’t even realized he was singing under his breath to Come Together until Tim’s TV remote was shoved under his lips unceremoniously. Without thinking, he accepted the faux-microphone and joined the trio, standing from the couch to the coffee table in socked feet. As he sang, voice growing in intensity, he swung his arms wide, the images of clubs and dancers and stages at the forefront of his mind.

When the song ended, Jon was breathless, and the smattered applause from his friends brought him out of his reverie. He blushed, suddenly acutely aware of the blood rushing through his body and the heart that was pumping it. he handed the remote to Tim and moved to step off the table, chewing on his lip as he did so. Before he could make the awkward step to the floor below, he yelped as he was suddenly swept off balance. The spinning of his mind, thanks to the alcohol, confused him briefly before he realized he hadn’t fallen and was actually being clutched in a pair of strong arms, bridal-style. Martin’s arms, to be precise. His brow was furrowed in concentration, though he held Jon like he weighed almost nothing.

“Ah, you said you didn’t want to fall.” Martin shrugged and bounced Jon in his arms slightly as if that explained everything.

He had? “Mmm-thank you Mar’n,” Jon murmured, eyes unsure where to land and deciding on a loose curl that hung over Martin’s forehead. He wanted to pull it, Jon realized, and he did so, gently, giving the coil a tug, and giggled to himself as it sprang back in place. Martin was a lot stronger than Jon gave him credit for, and warmer too, though that may have been the alcohol. It was nice, being held like that, and Jon felt himself nestle towards the heat of Martin’s barreled chest without thinking about it.

Tim and Sasha, to Jon’s relief, hadn’t seemed to notice, deep in conversation. Martin deposited Jon safely on the couch and slumped next to him, unbuttoning his collar a little more and turning his attention quite intently to his phone.

The music carried on, and Jon was pulled into a few more dances with Sasha and Tim but felt himself gravitating towards Martin as the hour pursued, making excuses to scoot closer on the couch. A few videos of kittens later, he was properly next to him, watching Tim and Sasha tango to Britney Spears and the clock that ticked steadily towards midnight.

As 11:50 hit, Tim lowered the volume and flopped next to Jon, sweat beading on his forehead. “Alright, mates, resolutions for 2015, go.” He popped a grape from the platter that rested on the chair nearby. “Mine’s to get outside more, I haven’t been able to get out of London much. Maybe go backpacking, see the world.”

Sasha shrugged and perched on the armrest of the couch, feet resting on the cushion next to Tim. “Patience, I think. Listening to people better.”

Jon surprised himself by speaking. “Work-life balance,” he mumbled, dragging his eyes from the coffee table to meet Tim’s curious expression. “It’s not like Elias cares much what the researchers do.”

“Hell yeah, mate!” Tim clapped him on the back. “Maybe you’ll finally come dancing with me. You’ve clearly got the skills.” He turned his attention to the final member of their party. “Marto? What about you?”

Martin shrugged, lips pursed in thought. “Mm, be more honest with people, I think.”

Tim nodded excitedly. “Oh yes, I would love to see Martin Blackwood, The Director’s Cut.”

The ginger shrugged. “I don’t think you’re missing much, honestly, just maybe a little more negativity, a little more feeling.”

“Regardless,” Tim waved the thought away. “Can’t wait to see it.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling and crossed his arms under his chest. “What do you think the illustrious Elias Bouchard does on holiday? I swear that man lives and breathes Magnus Institute.”

Sasha grinned. “Bet he wears nothing but a silk robe, with the Magnus owl embroidered on the chest, skulking around the house and drinking scotch, grumbling about budgets and paranormal stories.”

“Bet he has a cat he strokes menacingly while watching the stock market,” Martin added, sighing. “We can agree he’s a total Tory, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” came a chorus of affirmation.

The group sat in comfortable silence as an upbeat love song played on the television. Jon’s eyes were starting to feel heavy, like how they felt when he got them dilated at the optometrist. Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.

“Hey, guys?” The voice from his right was quiet, hesitant. Martin’s eyes were glassy, phone abandoned on his lap. “I’m really happy to be here, with you all.”

“Martin!” Sasha and Tim cooed happily, rushing to coat his words in affirmations and gentle kindness, sweet gifts with which to end the year. Jon opted for a quieter approach, not the verbally affectionate kind of man, placing a hand over Martin’s gently, squeezing his wrist once. He wasn’t even sure if Martin noticed it—he didn’t move his hand before Tim was shouting, hauling them up as 11:59 flashed on the screen and a countdown began to shout its way from 59 on the screen.

“Come on!” Tim crowed. “My mum always said you can’t stand still when midnight hits, or it’s bad luck. Something about starting the year moving.” Tim led them all in a sort of march, stomping forward and back, spinning in circles, and swinging each of his friends under his arms, though Martin had to duck rather considerably. All four of the research staff members were laughing through their words as they tried to add their discordant shouting to the last few numbers on the TV.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Tim grabbed Sasha around her waist and dipped her low as he kissed her, both grinning into the kiss. Jon chuckled and shook his head at the pair, before feeling the hand that was still on his tug gently.

“I-I said I wanted to be more honest,” Martin murmured, voice low in his throat. Jon nodded wordlessly, indicating for him to go on. His words seemed caught somehow.

“If I’m honest,” Martin continued, eyes flitting over Jon’s face before landing back on his eyes. “I really want to kiss you.”

Jon giggled, actually giggled at Martin’s words, the boldness of the wine piloting his voice for a moment. “What are you waiting for?”

So Martin did, one hand on Jon’s waist and one tangled in the hair behind his ears, pressing Jon close and up towards his lips. It was a warm kiss, soft and gentle, and Jon’s head was spinning, not from the buzz or the dancing but from the four points of contact he had with MartinMartinMartin Blackwood is kissing me and Martin’s hand is on my waist and my hand is on Martin’s cheek and his skin is so soft I think I could kiss him forever. Screw 2015; I’ll come back for 2016 and just kiss Martin for a year—

Martin pulled away, smiling down at Jon with a look of utter adoration. “Happy New Year,” he breathed. “Here’s to 2015.”

“H-Happy New Year,” Jon returned, ducking his head shyly at the gaze Martin was casting on him. “Let’s hope it’s a good one.”

[buckyownsmylife]

Burn - Loki Smut

The one where a dark!Loki becomes obsessed with you and won’t stop until you’re his. Based on a request from the incredible @cosvic-brownie.

Warnings: non-con, smut, breeding, kidnapping, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, bdsm, bruising, possessiveness, spanking

Loki’s P.O.V.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.” From the moment you two met, you had impressed him. While everyone recoiled at the mere sight of the prince, despised in Asgard, feared here, you treated him like he was any other - no, you treated him like he was proper royalty - like he deserved to be rightfully treated. You never flinched when he found ways to touch you innocently, like when he accepted the cup of tea you offered him in the mornings or when you showed him how to use the remote to turn on that lousy screen that everyone was so obsessed with. 

He’d never before shown any interest in learning how to use such devices, but as soon as you appeared in his life, he took whatever means possible to be able to smell your sweet perfume that enticed him so very dearly.

Meanwhile, you never even noticed. Loki could easily see that all of his attention, his little ways of showing you his interest went completely unseen. It wasn’t that you didn’t care - in fact, the problem was the exact opposite: you cared too much. You had a heart bigger than yourself, and you showed your love for everyone equally, all the time.

Loki didn’t like that. He wanted you all to himself, or at least that you prioritized him just as he had done when he put you in the frontline of all of his thoughts. Sometimes, he could see why it was wrong of him to want you. But even in those moments, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Wasn’t he already a monster? You were the only possibility of him ever joining the light. He needed you.

So he patiently watched over your every move, ever the gentleman, always there to help and smile when you needed someone. He couldn’t very well let anyone else be the one who fulfilled your needs. While watching, he created and perfected his plan, while feeding his belief that you were the right person for him. In his mind, you were already his. Certainly, the way your eyes lit up when he joined you in the kitchen every morning or how you constantly asked for his opinions during conversations were your way of communicating without raising your team’s suspicions, right? They would never understand just how badly you wanted to be with him, alone with him, only with him. But he did. And he would do everything in his power to make you happy.

One day, an opportunity appeared. You had announced to everyone that you were going to use up some vacation time to finally get to travel a bit, and Loki could barely believe his own ears. This was really it. Somehow, you had understood his schemes and planned accordingly. Now, you’d finally be able to run away together.

Loki didn’t even sleep that night, just patiently waited in the darkest corner of your room until your bags were packed and you had fallen asleep. Grinning from ear to ear, he ran a single finger over the skin that had become exposed as your top scrunched up from your restless movements, and in a blast of dark green mist, you were both gone.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

At first, you couldn’t understand what was wrong. In fact, it didn’t really seem like anything was wrong. You felt… warm. Comfortable, even. Slowly, your senses started to awaken as your body did, and it was only when you tried to stretch like you usually did every morning that you realized that, in fact, something really was wrong.

“Loki?” You whispered, finding his green eyes looking at you expectantly as he grinned like the cat who got the mouse. “Why are you in my bed?” Just then, his fingers tightened around my waist, making me realize something much more important. “Loki…” I started, “Why am I naked?”

Instead of an answer, what I got was a kiss. My eyes widened at the feeling of his lips on mine. I had dreamed of this moment countless times, but I’d never imagined it to happen like this. It felt off, especially since I couldn’t understand what was going on. “You’re not kissing me back,” he took notice after some time of trying to pry my lips open with his.

“And you didn’t answer me,” I countered, and that same damn smirk appeared on his face again.

“Well, you’re in my bed, darling. And that means that you have to follow my rules. In my bed, no clothes are allowed.” That statement led me to realize two more things. First, there was a particular hardness well pressed against my lower belly, and there was absolutely no sort of barrier between our skins. He was naked too. Second, the light of the sun shining through the thin curtains felt different over us. Colder, but also bluer.

“Loki, when you say this is your bedroom… We’re not in the tower, are we?” By now, I think he had finally started to see that I was on the verge of a panic attack. Immediately, he let go of my waist, separating himself from me just enough so he could hold my face.

“Of course not, my dove. We’re on Asgard. Why are you acting like this? Isn’t this what you wanted?” My head was throbbing by then, as was another part of me that I was trying very hard to ignore. Now wasn’t the time to feel horny, no matter how attracted to Loki I’d been before… before he kidnapped me. Because this was what had happened. And it was wrong.

“Loki, when you say this is your bedroom… We’re not in the tower, are we?” By now, I think he had finally started to see that I was on the verge of a panic attack. Immediately, he let go of my waist, separating himself from me just enough so he could hold my face.

“Of course not, my dove. We’re on Asgard. Why are you acting like this? Isn’t this what you wanted?” My head was throbbing by then, as was another part of me that I was trying very hard to ignore. Now wasn’t the time to feel horny, no matter how attracted to Loki I’d been before… before he kidnapped me. Because this was what had happened. And it was wrong.

Very carefully, I pushed him away from me so I could sit up, mindful of the fact that I shouldn’t startle him or even make it clear that I was scared of him in any way. It wouldn’t serve my purpose and it might as well only offend or irritate him.

Besides, I wasn’t even sure I was scared of him, exactly. Was I confused? 100%. But if there was one thing that was clear here was that there was some sort of mishap going on. I was more afraid of the situation as a whole than of Loki himself. He just… he seemed so vulnerable. As was I, naked as the day I was born, in his bed in Asgard.

The reality of the situation suddenly dwelled upon me. I was trying to find reasons for what was going on because it was hard to suddenly change how I felt about the man I liked, but the truth was, I hardly knew him at all. And everyone did try to warn me against him. 

Perhaps they were right. At least, things weren’t looking so great to me right now, and Loki was the only one to blame. Thankfully, he allowed me to sit up on the bed, but as soon as I was able to locate something to cover me with, he ripped it from my arms, making me jump.

“What is going on here, dove? I thought this was what you wanted. You told everyone you were going away, so we could finally be here, together.” A sudden surge of panic took over me. He really was bonkers. I tried my hardest not to show it in my face, but the second a frown took over his beautiful features, I knew I was screwed. “Why did your heart speed up? You’re starting to make me very confused, my dear…” 

I opened my mouth a few times, racking my brain, trying to figure out a way to make it out of here. But I wasn’t fast enough. Loki seemed to have had enough of my behavior, and he pulled on my wrist so I’d lay down on the bed again, this time forcing my legs open so he could kneel between them, hovering over me.

“Despite what kind of egocentric personality people tend to associate with me, I don’t like to talk with myself, my sweet…” He held my jaw, making me look him in the eye. “So tell me, just what is going on?” I bit my tongue so nothing would come out. There was nothing I could honestly say that would make him happy. It was better to remain silent.

Of course, my silence already told him everything he needed to know. When Loki clicked his tongue, the sound resonated across the room, making me flinch despite my best wishes. “I see…” Was all he spoke, his eyes leaving mine to wander down, down, until they found that place I had unwillingly exposed to him and was trying very hard to ignore in the moment. 

I knew what he would find when he turned his attention there. That’s why when he humorlessly chuckled, it didn’t surprise me at all, as it didn’t surprise me when two of his fingers lightly ran over my pussy lips, collecting some of the wetness that had gathered there. 

“So I must be imagining this too, right?” I shivered when he moaned at my taste, his pink lips perfectly wrapped around the digits that had touched me.

Loki’s P.O.V.

“Just like I imagined the stolen glances, the little smiles… The way you talked to me. It was all a figment of my imagination, wasn’t it, darling?” She bit his lip at my words, guiltily avoiding my eyes as I raised my eyebrows. “Thought so. Well, if this is all in my head, I guess it doesn’t do any harm to take advantage of it, don’t you think?”

When her eyes widened as she processed my words, I waved my hand so hers would be restrained over her head in green silk just before she tried to sit up again. The image was everything I had dreamed of and more, and I couldn’t help but to purr, slowly running my hands over her delicious thighs. 

“Relax, my dove… If you’re lucky, you might wake up to find out you’re still in the tower and this was nothing but a nightmare. But right now, you’re stuck in my dream, and I’m making the most out of it.” I delved into her waiting heat with unrestrained hunger. Just that teasing taste I had tried was nowhere near enough, I wanted to soak in her essence, bathe in it. When I was done with her, my sheets should be ruined by her wetness.

However, the more I licked on her little clit, slurping on her juices, the more I realized that I would never be done with her. How could I? Not when she tasted better than any royal feast I’d ever partaken in. Not when the little moans she tried so hard to suppress were igniting my flame, making me burn even brighter for her. 

I wanted her forever. And not even herself will stand in my way of achieving that.

“Your taste is magnificent, my darling,” I moaned against her lower lips, the vibrations provoking a response strangled moan from her. Smirking, I sucked on her clit a little bit more before teasing her. “I’m sorry you’re not enjoying this, my sweet. If only you were feeling at least some of the pleasure I am from eating this delicious pussy.”

Just my words were enough to make her moan again. She wanted this, that much I knew to be true. It might not be in the way she expected it to happen, but now that it was, there wasn’t anything much she could do except to take what I was offering her. 

The more I licked at her pussy, the more she offered me, granting me pride like nothing else. When her thighs started to quiver around me, I knew it was only a matter of seconds until she flooded my lips with more of her essence.

“Come on then, dove. No point in pretending anymore. Come for me, fill my mouth with your cream.” With a hoarse scream that tore its way from her throat, she did just so, and I happily drank all that she had to offer before deciding to let her taste herself at least a little bit. “Here, darling. See why you make me crazy?” She instinctively opened her lips a little bit when my fingers approached, dripping with her essence, but I forced them to completely accept my intrusion, pushing my digits as far as they could go inside her wet mouth, hearing her gag around them. “I can’t wait to hear that again, but it’ll sound so much better when you’re choking around my cock, my sweet.”

She opened her eyes at that, obviously intending on saying something back, but I only pushed them further down her throat before I brought my other hand in between her legs.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I wanted to fight back, I wanted to shout and thrash around, but more than anything, I wanted more of what he had to offer. And I hated myself for it. God, what was wrong with me? Loki was abusing me, taking advantage of me and I had never been wetter in my life. Still, I knew I had to keep trying to break free. I needed to show him he couldn’t do this to me.

The second one of his long fingers penetrated me, my body fell slack against the bed. I couldn’t keep fighting it, I needed him and I needed him right then. “Please, please…” I started to moan, and that picked up his interest because he separated himself from my clit just enough to raise an eyebrow at me.

“Please? Already begging, my dove? Can you imagine how you’ll be by the time I’m done with you?” The second he finished his question, he started to furiously fuck me with that single finger, creating just enough friction to get me on the edge of orgasm again, but not enough to make me cum.

“Loki…” I whispered, desperate for more of something, anything, really. By then, my body was completely covered by a light sheen of sweat. I should be feeling dirty, especially since I was relenting to sexual activities I didn’t really accept to partake in, but all I felt was arousal, desire, need.

He hummed around me, still relentlessly sucking on my clit. “I think it’s time you call me something else, darling.” Trembling, I struggled to wrap my mind around what he was saying. All the while, his finger kept moving, in and out, in and out, making me frustrated beyond belief.

“W-what do you want me t-to call you?” He pretended to think for a moment, his lips still trapping my nub between them.

“Sir,” was his answer, and just then he forced another finger inside of me, prompting a second orgasm that made me scream. “Thank me for your pleasure, my sweet, c’mon. Thank your master.”

“T-thank you, sir,” I obediently acknowledged as soon as I was able to speak again. He blinded me with the most predatory smile I’d ever seen, crawling his way up my body until he could pull me by the back of my neck, forcing me to accept his tongue this time.

“See, my sweet? I can be so nice to you if you continue being a good girl for me. Why can’t you accept this? My claim on your body?” As much as I wanted to provide some sort of answer, any answer, it was hard to even think straight as he pressed the head of his cock against my overstimulated clit. 

“N-no, no,” I tried to warn him away, feeling too sensitive to have him touch me another time, but that only served to change the tide of his mood against me yet again.

“What is this, my dove? Already misbehaving again?” Tsking, he held my hips forcefully, surely leaving bruises behind. “I thought you were smarter than this, but I guess you’ll still need some time to understand, huh? This cunt, my beloved…” He cupped my sensitive pussy while speaking. “... belongs to me.”

And with that, he pushed his cock completely inside of me, making me writhe for air as I struggled to accept the invasion. He was so long, I could feel him in my stomach, and as he didn’t allow me any time to adjust to his length.

I choked once again, in my desperate need to find air, and while I felt like I was drowning, I could hear Loki’s melodic laugh in my ears. “Do you feel me, my sweet? Possessing you from the inside? Look how deep I am inside of you. You’ll never want to be empty again. You’ll beg for my cock over and over and over again. And I’ll give it to you, over and over and over still.”

Opening my eyes to watch the thrusts he coordinated with each of his words, I found his green hues fixated on my lower abdomen. I checked to see what I already knew - each of his thrusts in created a bulge on the spot, showing just how true his sentences were. My pussy lips gripped him each time he pulled out to leave only the tip in, desperate to have him inside of me again. 

My own transfixed observation was cut short by an uncharacteristically rough grunt from the man so determined to own me. My head flew up just as his fingers collected some of the excessive moisture seeping from inside me, already dampening the bed as he fucked me, and used them to ruthlessly play with my clit.

“Now, dove, it’s time for you to cum again. I can’t control myself much longer, I need to cum inside this pretty little pussy soon.” The words sparked something inside of me, suddenly remembering yet another reason why I shouldn’t be doing this, not like this.

“L-Loki,” I tried to warn, my legs cramping as I struggled yet again to get him off of me, but to no use. The only acknowledgment I received was a slap to my pussy, a punishment that my mind immediately processed while my body convulsed as I cum around him. “Sir!” I screamed, just as he doubled his effort to fuck me silly, taking advantage of the fact that I could no longer take control of my body.

His brows were dipped in concentration when I came to my senses, a single drop of sweat even running from his hairline to his beautiful nose. “Sir…” I tried again, my voice raspy beyond the point of recognition. “Please, I-I don’t have any… If you cum inside of me, I-I’ll…” The knowing smirk that appeared on Loki’s lips only served to worry me further.

“Shhh…” He tried to calm me down, his eyes still connected to where we were both joined, to where he had forced me to accept him. Each brutal snap of his hips against mine made me instinctively flinch away from him, but he only impaled me back on his cock with much more roughness.

Loki’s P.O.V.

I was hypnotized by the image of her petal lips engulfing my hardness, sucking me in, begging me to empty myself inside of her. And I would, oh how I would. I’d make sure that if she were to ever leave my bed again, it would be with a part of me forever in her. She’d never again remember how it felt to live without bearing my child.

“I know, my dove…” I assured her, raising a hand to cover her lips when it became clear that she was going to start screaming again. “Don’t worry, I can smell how fertile you are. There is no way I won’t get you pregnant tonight. And if after that you still want to leave… Then I might just have to lock you up in this room, but one thing I’ll make sure of is that you’ll keep on giving me kids, one after the other.”

All we could hear around the room were the filthy wet sounds of my cock driving into her dripping pussy, and the grunts I couldn’t hold in anymore. Yes, I was close to bursting and perhaps there truly was something evil in me, because it was the way she struggled against me and the look of panic in her beautiful face that made me finally tip over the edge I’d been dying to ride ever since we met. 

White light took over my sight as I slowed my movements, making sure she received every single drop of cum my cock was desperate to give her. When I opened my eyes again, it was to notice that she had at last given up on her pointless fight, and there were tears soaking the hand I was still covering her mouth with.

“Now, now, darling…” I cooed, slowly taking off my palm and using it to clean her face of the wet tracks on her cheeks. “There’s no reason to be sad. This is such a joyous occasion, the conception of our first child.” My words brought a new wave of tears to her eyes, prompting me to scoop her up and cradle her in my chest. “And you know what?” I whispered in her ear, keeping her tightly pressed up against me when she struggled to push me away. “I promise I’ll give you this same amount of pleasure every night. For the rest of our lives.”

You can read the follow-up I wrote for this fic here!

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Nine

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 9 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: strong language; use of a derogatory slur/racist language (not said by any main character); mentions of blood and injuries; angst!  

Word Count: 11,200+

A/N: One more chapter after this - I should really stop labeling this as a mini-series considering it’s already over 100,000 total words lmao. Thank you for staying with me this long! I love you guys soooo much!!!

~

Utah Merry Hotel, January 2025, 2:09pm

     “I’m being an ol’ sport, why can’t you?” You whine, stomping your feet as you trudged up the stairs to the hotel roof. “It’s our first serious stakeout in forever! I’m pretty sure Wanda shaved her legs for this.”

Steve shoots a flustered and unsettled look over his shoulder. He’s lugging the rifles and extra equipment on both his shoulders so you know he’s truly baffled because to even attempt a look over… well, that required real effort. He doesn’t answer, however; he continues upward. 

Bucky and Clint are following close behind. They’re tired, huffing every few steps and grunting while doing so. Finally, Bucky whines and throws himself against the wall dramatically. “Remind me why we couldn’t just get Wanda and Sam to lift us up there?”

Steve readjusts one of the rifle straps while he replies, “Buck, I told you not to skip leg day.”

“I skip ‘everything’ day. I’m just now employed as a superhero, thank you very much. The serum should be enough.”

“Are we even close?” Clint asks and passes Bucky on a few steps. Bucky takes that as a challenge though and hoists himself more steps before giving up again. 

You just watch in pure amusement. Makes you really proud that your thighs are stronger than theirs. “Just a few more flights.”

They both groan in unison. Steve has already rounded the next flight, no longer waiting on the three of you. It takes several more minutes until you kick open the roof door Steve had left slightly ajar. It’s cold outside, wind howling with icy droplets whipping through your hair. It’s only fifty stories up but it’s pretty high - you can see the tops of the trees, or branches really. It’s winter in Utah and most of the trees are naked and covered in snow. You hope Bucky and Clint, the dynamic duo no one saw coming, still have good aim in this wind after a year of vacation. 

“Alright. Buck - Clint, set up over there. Y/N, you’re over there.” 

“Aye Aye, Captain.”

You set up where Steve instructed. You’ve got a simple magnifier and some binoculars - you won’t have to do any shooting today, thank the Gods. Clint’s got his arrows and Bucky’s got his sniper. Steve’s waiting for a signal from Sam if need be - he won’t need to shoot today either. 

“Wanda and Sam will let us know when the cars pass the barrier. The tech cannot, under any circumstances, pass through the gate right over there.” Steve points to the giant, black coated metal gate. There’s no one on duty. You made sure to evacuate the area and any staff before. The tech these goons are bringing in is all stolen Stark Tech. And according to Happy, strict instructions are to ‘blow it to Hell’.  

“And if it does?” Bucky asks, grinning mischievously at Steve’s pointed look. 

“What’d I just say?”

Bucky laughs and puts his hands up in surrender. “Damn, Stevie. Calm thyne tits.” He goes back to fiddling with his rifle. “Blow the tires before they reach the gates but after they pass the barrier. Got it.”

“Peter, you in position?” Steve asks and adjusts his earpiece. 

You can hear Peter over your own mic. “Seatbelts look easy enough to break. I’m in position, I can easily pull them from the trucks.”

“Five minutes then.”

You all settle in. The cold has passed through the leather of your boots and your toes are paying the price. It makes you miss the rain of spring and the sprinkles of fall, when everything is drenched rather than frozen and your toes still have mobility. Your jacket is big enough but it scratches your neck every time you lean down to look through the magnifier. As the minutes tick by, you brave the cold and take it off. You’d rather conduct your part efficiently and without the constant distraction. 

“It’s almost forty degrees out,” Steve mumbles beside you. He’s looking over the roof balcony and into the trees. He’s squints and refuses your offer of binoculars. 

“So I get a sore throat.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Tony put a heater in all our suits. You should have worn yours.”

“My suit is half nano. It’s excessive for a stakeout.”

He huffs but you ignore him, choosing to look through the rejected binoculars instead. He shuffles, and then there’s a warm weight enveloping your shoulders. It’s his sweater, cotton and baby blue, and he lifts the hood to cover your cheeks and ears. Your stomach flip-flops.

“Uh, thank you,” you say and zip it closed.

Steve shrugs lightly, “Don’t mention it.”

So you don’t. He doesn’t look cold besides or he’s just really good at masking it. It’s quiet now; you can’t really hear the quiet mutters of Clint and Bucky enough to join in and to not mention the jacket is eating at you. You opt for a casual conversation instead while you wait. 

“Soooo… how’d your date go last week?”

Steve clears his throat and turns to you, a forced grin on his face. “They, uh, they were sweet.”

“Sweet,” you repeat, nodding at nothing and cursing yourself for creating such an awkward moment. “Going on a second one?”

He sighs and his expression actually turns truthful. “No, don’t see that happening.”

For a second, you’re appalled. Who wouldn’t give Steve a second date? He’s an absolute catch and being a famous superhero wasn’t exactly a dealbreaker for many. Or maybe it was and Steve was blaming his alias once again for no fairytale ending. “Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t want you?”

The words leave your mouth too quickly to reel them back in. Steve’s cheeks turn pinker, both from your words and the chill, and he ducks his head low as he answers. “It’s my fault, really. They were sweet but I wasn’t paying much attention.”

“Mm, on your phone? Daydreaming? Were they a bore?”

Steve chuckles, “I pulled out my phone, like, once to answer a text but I was a proper gentleman!”

The tension is slowly melting and there’s a soft twinkle in his eye as he laughs. It’s been so long since he’s looked at you this way: on his own accord and not on order. “Bucky said they were, and I quote,” you lower your voice and look over at Bucky to make sure he’s distracted. “‘Cute as hell’.”

Steve gives Bucky a warm look. “Eh, it’s fine. Wasn’t the one.”

“The one,” you mock in a deep voice. “Who texted you that it was so important to ignore someone cute as hell?”

Steve hesitates and looks over the balcony as if wishing for an interruption. But the trucks aren’t near yet and Sam hasn’t given the signal. “Uh, it was Peter.”

“Oh, don’t tell him that. He’ll feel incredibly guilty if he ruined your chances at getting laid.”

Steve shoves your shoulder a bit harder than he intended and it makes you stumble back. He quickly catches you by the arm and holds you still, a sheepish smile painting his pink face. He mumbles a quick ‘sorry’, and goes back to lean over the railing. “It’s cool, he knew.”

You fake a surprised gasp, “Even worse!”

“He needed me to stop by the compound and I did. Really, it’s okay,” Steve assures and he’s speaking a little quicker. He fidgets with his thumbs and it looks like he wants to wrap up that portion of the conversation. But he looks over at you and sighs deeply, and he rolls his eyes as his upper lip tilts upward. “Ask.”

“What’d he want?” It makes your belly all warm to know he expects this enthusiasm from you.

“Wanted me around. Buck and Wanda were out getting dinner.”

“Yeah, but like, what for?”

He gives you a knowing smile, like you walked right into that trap. “You made dinner but Peter was too nice to say he didn’t enjoy it, so he texted me knowing I would like it. Knowing I had it before. He didn’t want there to be leftovers because then you’d be sad.”

You step back and shake your head like there’s a fly swarming around. It startles you. “You left your date… during dinner… to come to the compound to eat the dinner I made instead?”

“Don’t think too much about it.”

“How not?”

It’s five minutes when Sam calls it in. You groan in frustration and give Steve a look that says the conversation isn’t over. 

There are four armored vehicles and the magnifier illuminates three bodies per car. The targets will be hit starting from the last to keep the explosions out of each driver’s line of sight. 

“Target acquired,” Bucky mumbles and clicks off his safety. He closes one eye and settles comfortably as he awaits Steve’s signal.         

Clint tugs back an arrow, “Same here, Cap.”

“Wanda, you ready?” Steve’s voice is lower when he’s focused. He looks over at you, your hand up with an index finger raised, and waits. Wanda answers that she’s ready and Sam counts it down. The first truck crosses the barrier, then the next, next, and finally the fourth and you drop your hand in a fast swipe. 

“Fire! Go Parker!”

Bucky shoots the back tires of all four vehicles and Clint shoots his arrows to penetrate through the passenger doors. Peter works fast, webs slinging from side to side grabbing one passenger right after the other. Once the trucks are empty, Clint activates the arrows and you all prepare for the explosions. The fourth car catches flame first and Wanda contains the explosion perfectly, balling it up into a weak bundle of light and string. She does the same to the third and second, bundles extinguishing just as quickly as they burst. But the first car swings out of control on manual and the explosion is delayed.

“Clint?”

Clint leans over the balcony and squints, as if it would help. “I don’t know. It’s not going off.” He’s clicking the detonator repeatedly, holding it up for all of you to see. 

“Wanda, the truck! The truck! Sam!” You scream as the truck crashes through the gate and hurls closer to the hotel. The commotion is enough for Bucky to pop out from his cover and the four of you watch in horror as the truck still doesn’t stop. Clint has stopped clicking the button, but it’s no use. The truck finally explodes in an outbreak of debris and electricity. The Stark Tech reacts poorly to the strain, electric gusts of smoke fire left and right and rattle the building. It feels like an earthquake, shaking the already weak foundations and old brick. Wanda catches the bottom to better contain it and tries desperately to smother it. But the shaking doesn’t stop and the corners of the roof are collapsing. 

Steve leaps to grab and pull you away and just as quickly to catch Clint’s leg before he falls over the edge. Clint is thrown back rather harshly but Steve isn’t thinking about the abuse of strength right now - no, not while Bucky slips and hangs on to a rogue pipe. Steve crawls and latches onto his hand before the pipe gives way. He yells as he tugs Bucky up with only one arm, the other having to hold onto undisturbed brick. He won't let Bucky fall. Not again.

Bucky throws his leg up and over solid ground, and you go to help Steve pull him up. Bucky’s heavy and his metal hand pinches your skin bad but he’s safe. Wanda struggles to contain the electricity but she’s succeeding. The rumbling slows until nothing moves anymore. You collapse back in exhaustion.

“Well, that didn’t go as planned,” Bucky gasps as he rubs his face. 

“Is Wanda okay?” You mumble more to yourself and struggle to pull yourself back up. But the sudden weight of your body proves too much for the edge and in a horrible wave, you’re falling through. You practically file your nails as you try to latch onto falling brick.

“No!” You feel the scratch of someone’s fingers along your forearm and soon they’re digging into your skin, and it hurts but you figure it’s better than splitting your skull open. Pebbles of concrete are falling down onto your face and the smoke from the explosion is clogging your nostrils. You hang for a few seconds, like the person can’t believe they actually caught you. Then they begin pulling you up, lifting you to safety, and you claw the rest of the way only to tumble into Steve’s chest, shaking. 

He pulls you into his arms but they’re restless, roaming over your shoulders and through your knotted hair clumsily. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” His voice wavers and he’s on the verge of tears, it seems. His waterline is glossy and his lips are quivering. “Answer me.”

“I’m fine, hey. Steve? I’m good.”

He pulls away and his hands hover you like he doesn’t know what else to do with them. “I’m sorry. I should have kept you close. I-” His voice cracks and he swallows hard. “You sure you’re okay?”

Disregarding his words is difficult, especially when you feel a second meaning to them, but you force yourself to do so. It’s been such a long time since you’ve seen him like this. And each time you have, it was never because of anything good. “Y-yeah. I’m good, Rogers.”

Bucky and Clint look at each other, they look at Steve, to you, and back to each other. Finally, Clint breaks the silence and huffs a light chuckle. “Are we really THAT rusty?”

Present Day, 2025, 11:45pm

    The Montana skies are clear and free of passenger planes, allowing the Quinjet to swift easily on autopilot. You could never drive this thing and the building anxiety of that reality bubbles each time it makes an unsteady bounce. 

Steve’s laying in the makeshift medical wing and though it’s against protocol, he’s on a secure line with Dr. Cho. She takes her time, albeit working as fast as possible too, and her light voice is fairly calm. It settles you to hear her speak this way. 

‘I need you to use this disinfectant, Captain Rogers. Do not pour it on all at once… Good, now dig through gently and make sure the pliers are sanitized.’

Steve digs out the bullets himself and bites down on a clean towel. He’s biting down hard enough that his teeth make a squeaking sound against it. It takes every ounce of your willpower to not do it for him. The Montana skies are beautiful, at least. It’s a good distraction. 

Steve gives a rather painful yell as he finally plucks the second bullet, cursing as a stream of blood drips onto the table. He’s got such tough skin - miracle or serum - that the bullets didn’t pass all the way through. Dr. Cho moves on to how to properly bandage the wound but Steve begins to tune her out. 

Two years mucking through mud and bodies and getting patched up every other day has prepared him for whatever life may throw during this new century. Not much has changed, it seems. 

When the line disconnects, Steve can finally just relax. He focuses on the soft rumble of the engine and your steady breaths. 

     You hold your breath as you settle the Quinjet on the open field, only half of you actually trusting automatic tech. Steve coaches you the whole time too, the little shit, and promises you’ll never be doing that again. 

Steve stumbles and teeters and falls on the porch steps with a low groan. You let him fall because you know you’d only fall with him. He catches himself with the hand he’s been pressing over the bandage while the other still holds on to you. You fight the urge to crash down with him and bite your lip as you look up to the night sky. 

“C’mon, Rogers,” you swallow down the increasing worry, “We’re almost inside.”

Steve huffs a pained laugh and nods. He grabs your arm again and with his remaining strength, pulls himself up,

The inside of the cabin looks comfier than the outside. You help Steve to the couch closest to the unlit fireplace before going out back to turn on the power. There’s a thin layer of ice in the grass so just in case, you scope out the garage and make sure there are snow supplies. Not that you really know what the hell snow supplies actually look like, but there’s a shovel and you figure that’s as much as your brain is going to piece together. 

When you get back inside, Steve’s fumbling with the coffee maker and leaving tiny fingerprints of blood over every surface he touches. You don’t comment on them, just step back and discreetly wipe the counters each time he passes. 

“Figured you’d like a pot,” Steve says. 

It damn near breaks your heart how small his voice sounds. The fact he’s stumbling around the cabin making sure you’ve got your coffee fix while he’s nursing two bullet wounds damn near snaps it in two.

“Thank you,” you respond and go to lead him back to the couch. He moans quietly when he sits and again as you lay him down. “I hope you don’t think I’m sleeping here,” Steve laughs and tries to hide his wince due the uncomfortable rumble. 

You smile and touch your hand to his hot cheek. His body is working overtime fighting off infection and regenerating tissue. His cheeks are a lovely scarlet red and so is the beautiful bulb of his crooked nose. He’s a little shiny, like varnish over light paint strokes, and taking the fever like a champ. “I’ll help you to the bed in a little bit. Let’s get that fever down first.”

Steve sighs, defeated, but nods. He lays his head back on the pillow and once he shuts his eyes, you get to work. The bathroom is stocked with the simple necessities: aloe vera, vapor rub, heating and cold pads, dozens of towels, and painkillers. You pop two painkillers yourself before gathering everything and dropping it on a nearby table in the kitchen. The coffee is about done brewing so you fill up a mug with bottled water and set it in the microwave for two minutes. You dip a chamomile tea bag a few times once the water is heated. There’s no teapot - you’ll apologize to Steve later. 

Once Steve’s happily sipping his tea, you start on the medicine. You wet the small towels and lay them over his forehead and bare chest. You rub aloe vera on the other cuts he obtained from hand-to-hand and finally rub the vapor rub in the dip of his neck and just below his nose. Steve gives you this funny smile as you do so, scrunching his nose and wiggling it back and forth. 

“Vicks,” you say as you show him the small container. “Heal you right up.”

“I bet,” he laughs. “Stuff smells like what I think liquid morphine would taste.” A laugh bursts from your chest, your first real instance of calm during these last few hours. You ignore his protests and smother more across his chest. 

Steve settles deeper into the couch and returns to his tea. He’s got less sweat on his skin now but he’s still red. You go to pour yourself that coffee and return to his side. The nanotech is growing stiffer and scratching your skin but you refuse to get comfortable until Steve’s fever breaks. You’re still covered in Ernesto’s blood, the red now a hellish brown, and you try not to move your face much for risk of feeling the dry pull of it. 

“Steve,” you try, but Steve shakes his head and makes sure to meet your gaze before he speaks. 

“No. The less I know the better.”

It surprises you, makes you feel more guilty, but you understand. Not telling him the full truth would be beneficial in the long run. Still, your hands hug the mug closer to your chest. “Do you think I did something bad?”

His upper lip tugs upward, “Do you think you did something bad?”

You don’t think for long. There’s not much need to. “No.”

He nods, “But you care what I think?”

“Of course I do. You’re not just my Captain anymore - you’re my friend. I care even when I’m asking you if my eggs need more salt.”

“You trust me enough to correct your cooking?” He teases, but it’s a question disguised as another. 

“I trust you enough to tell me if I need more salt. You’re not correcting it.” He laughs and dips deeper into the couch. The bandage is bleeding through, only slightly, so you move to find the first-aid kit. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’ll stop bleeding soon.”

You hum your disagreement. “I’m gonna keep it clean until you’re strong enough to shower.”

“You can always help me shower,” he mumbles into his tea. 

Rolling your eyes, you gently nudge his shoulder as you sit back down with the kit. “If you fall, I can’t catch you, you big lug. We’d have to tell everyone we screwed in there because you falling on top of me, injured, is somehow more embarrassing.”

He allows you to remove the soiled bandage and dab around the healing wounds. He’s bruising around the sides, multiple shades of green and yellow already, and the holes are stitched rather poorly. It makes you feel a little better about your own criss-cross work - even Steve sucks at it. 

“I’m sorry I had to go and get myself shot,” Steve apologizes and sucks in a deep breath when the towel drags a little too roughly. 

“Yeah, what the hell happened there?”

He almost mimics you in the way he shrugs his shoulders and lifts his arms in that ‘well, fuck if I know’ position, pursing his lips and expelling a chuckle. “Had my gun trained on Ernesto. Ernesto had his own on Ramirez. Then Seda came in and Ernesto ordered Ramirez to hand his over to Seda. Played right into Seda’s hands.”

You process the explanation slowly and dab his wound a few more times before unwrapping the clean bandage. “And the damn shield?”

Steve’s embarrassed by that small detail, he’ll admit it, because he truly was blindsided by Seda’s appearance. You were supposed to be holding him down after all. “In my defense! When it’s shrunk down and in your pocket rather than latched onto one’s arm, it’s easily forgettable.”

You clean around the wound softly before placing and taping the new bandage. The conversation settles and you’re both quiet for a long, long minute. He thanks you for cleaning him up by rubbing sweet circles into the knuckles of your right hand. Finally, you can’t take it anymore. It’s like a wave of irrefutable worry and rage, all bunched together with each emotion trying to outweigh the other. That goddamn riptide, sucking you in and keeping your head below water just for the hell of it. Breathing in harshly, you fail to keep yourself from stuttering over your words. “I’m sorry.”

Steve bites back a groan of pain as he leans over to take your cheeks in his palms. The brush of his fingertips lets you know that you’ve already started crying. You don’t much care about the facade anymore. “Doll, listen to me. Listen.”

“I never meant to leave you alone.”

“You never did.”

You bark out a wet laugh, sarcastic. “I should have run faster. I should have killed him all those years ago. I should have never brought you into this.”

“You did what you had to do,” he says, fiercely. He forgets his own strength for a second, only slightly diminished from the healing process, and loosens his tight grip against your cheeks. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

“I wanted to hate you,” you admit. Your bottom lip is trembling and your hands clench together over your thighs. “I wanted to hate you so much. If I did, then you getting hurt or killed on this mission wouldn’t hurt so bad. I hated you for what you did. Because it made me realize that I could never hate you at all.”

“Hey,” he tries, hands now lowering to clutch at your own. “Stop apologizing for having a heart. Stop thinking you’re not worthy of even having one.”

Your face crumbles and Steve realizes for the first time in a long time just how much you’ve been holding in. “Why didn’t you use the stones?”

Steve’s heart clenches at the sound of the crack in your voice. He hasn’t heard that crack since Clint fell to his knees without Natasha by his side. He holds onto you tighter and prepares himself for an admission he never thought he would ever have to give. “Because Peggy told me not to.”

Something confusing happens in the middle of your chest. It clenches with anger but understanding. The answer to your question was always this simple but it looks like it’s tearing Steve apart from the inside-out.

    She’s as beautiful as the day he went into the ice. All he has to do is whisper her name so sweetly, delicately, and she turns her head like she’s answering the prayer. First her knees buckle, eyes watering and blotching her vision, and she collapses on the soft grass of her backyard. Steve’s holding her the very next second, repeating that he’s real, he’s here. 

“Steve,” Peggy gasps, hands shaking as she brings them to his wet cheeks. She grips and pokes and does everything so comically that Steve laughs a wet laugh when she starts smacking him. “What is going on?”

And he tells her. Everything he can remember: the good, the bad, the wretched. He spills everything, and he spills the most delicate information of their time: he’s alive, just frozen; Bucky’s alive, just hurt; the world is saved, just broken. Whether she believes it or not Steve’s not sure, but he’s so goddamn happy to see her again that he chokes every other word. 

“And you? You’re happy?”

His eyebrows come together and he looks at Peggy like she’s speaking another language. She’s got the same red lipstick, same curl in her hair even if it’s longer now, and she’s filling out her dresses more. “Pegs, don’t ask me that.”

She detaches herself slowly from his arms, pausing their dance as she speaks. “Why not? You can’t expect me to accept that you stopped by to see me all willy-nilly after saving the universe.” Her lips twitch into a knowing smile and Steve melts. Her voice is sending him into a spiral, a world he never thought he would see again, and he realizes just how much he loves accents on women  - especially this woman. 

“I just,” he chokes out, and brushes his index finger down her cheek. “I had to see you again.”

“I get that,” Peggy says and pays no mind that the record player has stopped; she still sways gently with Steve. “But you’ve just mentioned a whole other world you’ve been a part of. You’ve got your best guy back, that Wilson fellow sounds like the life of the party, and this Agent Y/N certainly sounds like she’s been by your side through it all.”

Steve stutters in his step and holds her closer. Her stomach presses against his, and he stops abruptly. He looks down between them and runs his hand from her shoulder, down, to lay across her growing belly. “Pegs.”

She gives him the same wide and proud smile she gave him when he returned with the 107th. She lays her hand over his. “I know.” She laughs and tilts her head lovingly. “I’m happy, too.”

Steve bites his lip to keep from sobbing. He was so stupid for coming to this timeline, for ruining Peggy’s chance at happiness, for interrupting the life he already knew she created for herself. He inputted the wrong year, he suddenly realizes, and steps back arms-length from her. “I’m sorry, I was stupid to come here. I just wanted to see you and then I did, and I… I still love you, Pegs.”

“Oh,” Peggy gasps, bottom lip trembling. “Darling, do not mistake yourself, even for a second, into thinking that I do not love you too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for having a heart.”

He wants to argue, say he’s stupid a million more times, but he finds himself listening to her gentle words. It’s Peggy, Steve thinks. She’s always been right.

“In this world you live in, you have James?” He nods. She continues, “In this world you live in, you just lost two of your most loved friends?” He nods again. He wipes his face from forehead to chin. “In this world you live in, you have met a woman who has the same stubbornness as you; has the same self-sacrificing streak, who has your heart in such shambles that you dare call her one of your best friends?”

Steve thinks of you and how broken your smile was as you waved him goodbye, hand clenching Sam’s as Steve gathered the stones and Mjolnir. He thinks of the times you’d leap onto his back and demand a ride; the times he’s saved your ass in a firefight; how his sleep has definitely improved ever since he started calming you from nightmares - he hasn’t slept so well since before the war. He nods again.

Her eyes go soft. “Steve,” she starts and Steve knows. He doesn’t want to know. “Don’t abandon the world you’ve built for yourself. Surround yourself with the people you love. Do this for me.”

“There’s so much hate and blood waiting for me when I get back, Pegs. I don’t want to-”

“There is a difference between you not wanting to and you having to.” He drops his head and focuses on the floor. Peggy isn’t done grilling him, however, and he looks back up to grant her the respect. “You must not abandon the world you helped create. I’m not saying this to be mean. I’m saying this because I know you don’t want to.”

“Pegs.”

“I see right through you, Steve. We marched together through mud and blood before. We’ve got two years of fighting side by side under our belts. I’ve seen you at your worst, and you I. I know that face anywhere.”

“I missed you, Pegs,” Steve breathes. She cups his face with her hands and draws their foreheads together.

“The stars weren’t written in our favor. But to know that you’re alive, and that you make it, and that you actually get to live,” she bites back a sob. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“It isn’t my world to begin with.”

“No, you’re a man out of time. But so is James. You won’t abandon him now, will you?”

He chuckles low and their noses touch. “Stop making me feel guilty for wanting to find you, Peggy.”

She presses a soft kiss to the side of his mouth and finally breaks away. “And you won’t abandon that sweet girl who has put up with your nonsense for the last five years, you say?”

Steve shakes his head and meets Peggy’s gaze. “I’m just tired.”

“They are too, I bet.” He turns to the door and to Peggy, and she figures it’s almost time for him to leave. “You have been the archer and the brave, Steve. I’m absolutely certain you’ve been more. You will be more.”

Steve says his final goodbyes and stops to remember the fine details of Peggy’s face. The fifties are treating her well. Steve expected nothing less. Bright lights flash around him and he’s back to the world he wanted to leave, to hide from, and he sees you - and your mouth parts in shock.

     “And you listened to her?” you ask. 

Steve smiles, although it’s hard for him to remember that conversation. “I came back. I didn’t listen to her when she said to surround myself with people who love me, and who I love in return.”

“No, you made damn sure of that.”

“Hey,” Steve chuckles. “Don’t take smacks at me when you’re down.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Sorry, it’s just too easy sometimes.” Laughing about the two years of missed chances and spoiled friendship was not on your bingo card for this week. 

“I don’t know how this is going to play out,” you admit. Steve looks so young with a somber expression: his eyebrow creases gently without wrinkling the rest of his forehead, the side of his mouth tilts downward, and his eyelashes kiss the pink of cheeks. “I decided in the moment. So I’m fuck all out of ideas on how to proceed.”

He nods in understanding. “Guess we just have to look over our shoulders three times instead of two now.”

“Simple like that?” You scrub a hand over your face and curse inwardly when you smudge your lipstick down to your chin. You ignore it. “I know we’re Avengers, but.”

“No buts,” Steve says and moves to sit up. You help him by pushing his shoulders and he accepts your help as you struggle to the bathroom. “You helped the guy and his daughter. I’m sure he’s going to be watching our backs from now on.”

You help Steve strip from his dress pants and shoes and finally remove your suit as well. The graze on your arm is covered in brown, dried blood but the wound isn’t deep. It’ll sting like a sunburn, you know that, but it’s better than being shot through. You watch Steve enter the shower and leave the curtain drawn. His bandage is soaked again but thankfully it’s from the water and not more blood. You grab a spare towel and soak it with water and soap, and rub it across your lips and chin. 

“Let me do that,” Steve calls. You strip bare and bring the towel with you into the shower. Steve takes it and scrubs over your face, gently but more rough as he gets to your eyes. It’s an innocent moment of ‘ouch, scrub softer!’ and ‘surprised I didn’t take all your lashes off’. He helps clean your wound as well and once you’re both clean, he bandages you up and you him. 

The master bedroom is the only room without electricity so you gather some candles. It’s like the two of you won’t admit you’re currently afraid of the dark or what may lie in it. They illuminate the room in a delicate orange and it’s such a peaceful color to briefly see before falling asleep, head tucked into Steve’s chest and his heartbeat thrumming gently with your breath. 

     It’s a wonder what a night’s sleep can do. Steve’s wounds are sealed and his fever is gone, but there’s a signature left behind. A pink and white patch of skin as tender as a newborn’s, a memory. Steve pours your coffee and his tea while you trace your fingers over it.

Two hours after eating a small breakfast and securing the perimeter, a soft ding startles you from the random book you’re reading. Steve’s phone shines with a message from Sam. It simply reads: ‘Clear’. Grabbing the phone and walking out onto the porch, you find Steve sitting on one of the steps he tripped over just yesterday. He’s sketching the sky and the trees, taking his time on the lines of the branches, the strokes of the leaves, and the frost over them. He looks up, studies his surroundings, and looks back down to add a detail he previously missed. He sniffs, rubs his nose, and finally notices you leaning against the doorframe. 

“Hey,” he says, soft. “Any news?”

You hold up his phone and nod. “Sam says we’re clear to fly in.”

Steve looks back to his drawing. You hesitate before speaking, knowing damn well an all clear means get your ass back as soon as possible. “Finish your drawing. I’ll pack whatever we need to.” Steve’s mouth parts but he shuts it just as quickly. Slowly, he nods. 

     There isn’t much to pack since you brought nothing but the clothes on your backs. Everything at the hotel was collected before the wedding and should have flown back with Scott and the others. It feels awkward stealing bottled water and processed foods to hoard on the quinjet, but it’s a necessity. Steve meets you at the quinjet doors, shows you his drawing, and volunteers to take the wheel. 

“You’re not volunteering. You’re ordering.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “No license, no drive.”

“What are you? A cop?”

“Don’t think for one second I won’t actually hand the wheels over and happily crash while screaming ‘I told you so’.” 

Steve steers for the duration of your flight. The next few hours are spent just enjoying each other’s company, speaking of all things and simply catching up. It’s amazing how much you two missed from one another’s lives those two years.

      The landing base is clear and it’s Sam who’s waiting for you as the Quinjet manually lands itself. He shoots you a gap-toothed smile and extends his arms, pulling the two of you in at the same time for a strong hug. He’s talking a mile a minute about how successful the mission was, how Fury is over the moon that it’s finally over, how the DEA is thinking of congratulating everyone one by one. It’s enough to distract Steve, who’s just happy to see his best friend again, but it isn’t enough for you. The large metal doors sealing the storage facility from the rest of the compound are thrown open. Bucky stumbles through and practically sprints over to the three of you. 

“Get back on the jet,” he orders, already pulling you by the arm. You all look at one another like he’s gone mad but that’s impossible. Bucky’s paranoia isn’t something to take lightly; he’s right nine out of ten times. 

“Buck, what-?”

“Rhodes couldn’t hold them. They have warrants, Steve.”

Steve hauls Sam onto the jet as well. “Warrants for who?”

“Get down from the jet without a fight and this will all go smoothly.”

There are about twenty uniformed officers surrounding the jet. They spread out in case anyone decides to run but it seems pointless to even try. Secretary Ross points his gun directly at you, proud and tall and looking just the same as you remember him. Last time you saw him was at Tony’s funeral. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you bite, and raise your hands in cooperation. Ross shakes his head and his expression contorts into one of disgust. There are red beams coming from each gun but your friends are clean - the beams are only pointed at you.

“Agent Y/N Y/LN, you’re under arrest for multiple charges of drug smuggling, trafficking of illegal goods, the murder of Ernesto Vega and Daniel Seda, aiding and abetting drug-lord Omar Ramirez, and for conspiracy against the United States of America. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a federal court of law...”

You drone out half way through. Ross finishes up the speech but no one is listening. Sam is already yelling over your Miranda Rights and Bucky’s frozen in place. Steve’s fighting his way through to Ross, pushing through the muscle until he’s face to face with him. But Ross isn’t fazed. There’s nothing left to do but exit the jet. 

Immediately there are handcuffs slapped to your wrists. Two men drag you over to the containment car that’s enforced with so much indestructible material it’s almost insulting. You weren’t enhanced - they were doing this for fun.

“You’ve got it all wrong! Y/N! Y/N!”

You don’t fight. Conspiracy… you’re surprised they didn’t just shoot you dead. Steve’s still yelling, begging to be heard, but you try to block him out. It’s not your first time being arrested but it is your first time being charged with something you didn’t do. As funny as that sounds, it’s terrifying. 

“Steve,” you say, and Steve breaks through some more hired muscle so he’s within earshot. “It’s okay.”

His face pulls up in pain, “No, you didn’t do this! They’re not listening!”

One of the officers pushes your head down roughly and tries to shove you in the backseat. You’re still looking at Steve. And those eyes, wounded and vulnerable, haunt him even after the door shuts and the car drives away.

     There’s a privilege attached to the mantle of Captain America. Perhaps he was too blind to see it during the war or just too proud he was finally being heard and respected, but now he sees it for what it really is. It’s a mantle this country has never truly associated with the person but with the purpose. Steve was manufactured to help protect this country under government orders and when he defied that purpose, he disgraced the mantle. Seems like some people idolize the role a little too much. 

But he’s still Captain America. This reality has continued to clear his name from stunts he pulls and laws he breaks. And once Steve is able to walk away without so much as a scratch, he leaves bodies behind.

Sharon. Sam. Bucky. Wanda. And now you. All people who fought his fight and weren’t granted the quick privilege of that perceived pureness and holiness. He was always ready for combat, he was built for it, but he didn’t really want it. 

Did he?

Ripping that star off his chest was one thing. Accepting his new shield cemented his continual legacy as the Star-Spangled Man. He deserved to be in that cell with you. But if he learned anything about how the world works, it’s that cruelty doesn’t just win in the movies. All of his enemies started out friends and if he had to bet, he’d bet the reason they’re labeled as such is partially because of him. 

So he sits and listens to everyone’s ideas and plans, vetoing and dismissing one right after the other, his mind doing jumping jacks. He’s both there and not, drowning in the fact that he made it home and you didn’t. He doesn’t know how to sleep without the sound of your snoring anymore. 

He sits and listens. 

    The cell isn’t one you would expect for someone who has been charged for betraying her country. It’s modestly furnished: a black cot in the far right corner with a mini table beside it, a desk with some paper, and a door that leads to the private bathroom. All in all, the room’s size is that of a child’s bedroom; there’s no actual pens and pencils for risk of violent behavior and there’s a bulb camera that moves when you move. 

You’ve been trapped in worse. 

Countless detectives and investigators have visited already. They all ask the same questions: Why did you do it? Did Captain Rogers know? Who are you, really? 

You give the same answers: I didn’t do it. Of course, every single person knows. Who do you think I am?

Every time they leave more discouraged than the one before them, refusing to compare notes with one another in case they were in possession of gold. They all ignore you when you try to ask for Steve and his wellbeing. Their faces contort, they whisper to their partners, and they shake their heads in disappointment. One even goes as far as to threaten you, warning you to keep Captain Roger’s name out of your wetback mouth or else, until he’s escorted from the cell. Not that it really matters - the manipulated ideals of these people will always blur their search for the truth. And when the truth fails to satisfy such greedy manipulations, they choose to create their own.

There is one agent who peaks your interest. He offers you gum when he settles in the chair near the door. His name badge reads ‘Kavert’; it glares in the bright lights overhead and he makes no other attempt at small talk once he gets comfortable and opens his little notepad. 

That goddamn notepad, you think. Every single person before has prided themselves over it, scribbling little notes about your tone of voice, body movement, and vague answers. You never give much, Natasha had taught you better, so they always end up writing less than two bullet points before giving up. 

But Agent Kavert surprises you by opening up to a blank page, spitting his chewed gum in the middle, and then he shuts it closed. He offers you a real smile, one that doesn’t look practiced or forced. It lets you study him without being so guarded or uncomfortable. He seems young, not really a rookie but it’s obvious he’s spent more time behind a desk than out in the field. His dark hair is short, sprinkled grays near his temples, and his attire screams upper level. His build is lean, his gun is in the holster on his right hip, and a part of you knows he’d put up a hell of a fight if you tried to escape. 

“I was gonna comment on what lovely weather we’re having, but I don’t think you get out much.” 

You’re startled into a real laugh. Satisfaction washes over his face. 

“I think you’re wasting your time, Agent Kavert.”

He grins and moves to proudly pull at his jacket and present his badge. He sets the notebook to the side and leans forward to cup his hands together on his knees. 

You squint at him. There’s nothing interesting about you right now: back against the wall as you sit criss-crossed on the cot, sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, hair brushed but a little greasy. Your last shower was two days ago and you figure they’ll let you have one tonight. 

“Yeah, you’re right. There’s no point in hoping you’ll tell me anything you haven’t shared yet.”

“Nope.”

He hums low in his throat and tilts his head to the left. Now, he squints at you. “I just don’t get it. How did you do it? Not show up on our radar, I mean?”

It doesn’t seem like he’s calling you guilty or innocent. Already he’s one-hundred percent different from the other agents. “I wasn’t exactly hiding.”

He sits up to lean back in the chair, “Different last name, government and Avenger protection, covering your tracks so carefully even the DEA missed you.”

“You’ve done your homework.”

“Yes, but,” he starts. He acts like he’s having a normal conversation on his front porch. “It still doesn’t make sense. How could Nick Fury miss this? Tony Stark? After the whole Obadiah situation, I expected him to-”

“It’s simple, really. Do you want to know or do you want to keep making assumptions?”

He’s watched the other agents leave by this point. Some couldn’t even make you talk. So he shuts up and waves his hand for you to continue. 

“Cool,” you breathe out. “First of all, I’m literally only telling you this because I’ve already been refused a lawyer or some crap like that and I highly doubt this is going to actual court. The publicity would be horrible.” 

He bites his lip but you catch the little smile forming. You continue, “And I have nothing to hide. I’m sure my Captain, my teammates, and Fury himself have given their sides. Am I right?”

Agent Kavert adjusts himself in the seat and nods in response. He doesn’t dare interrupt you now. 

“Good, then I’ll keep it sweet. They knew who I was. I was recruited to be an inside source, a double agent, and this wedding was the perfect chance to corner those men,” you declare, turning your hands palm up and shrugging your shoulders. “There, happy?”

“Double agent.” Agent Kavert chews over the words, rolling them around on his tongue a few more times. He’s squinting harder and you can see his brain working. The next sound to leave his lips is a heavy sigh and a feeling of immense irritation washes over you. It wasn’t enough.  “Are we going to be truthful yet, Agent?”

Chuckling lightly, you rest the back of your skull on the wall. It was wrong to assume he’d be any different from the others. “Of course you don’t believe me. You want more, they all do. I don’t suppose I have anything better to do.”

He claps his hands on his thighs and leans forward again, loud and restless. “Then let’s get started, really: Did you or did you not let Omar Ramirez, Mexican drug-lord involved with Ernesto Vega, your father... imagine that, run away from a crime scene, evade arrest, and possibly leave the country?”

“You expect me to follow all those questions?”

“It’s not the time to be funny.”

“You were enjoying it just a second ago,” you mumble. He raises his eyebrows, still waiting for an answer.  “Then let me put it simply: no, I did not.”

“Did you or did you not assassinate Ernesto Vega?”

“I would have remembered such a brilliant kill if it came from my gun.”

“So that’s a no… Daniel Seda?”

“His gun was pointed at my Captain. Yes.”

“Against orders, then?”

Confusion is written all over your face and you make sure the camera knows it too. There are only so many times you can repeat yourself. “Don’t you have Steve’s report? Scott’s?”

“We have to hear the story from you, Agent.”

“But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? You don’t believe me.”

He shrugs and quickly scans you up and down. Even if he doesn’t have the tangible notepad in his hands, he’s getting away with making mental notes. “The story just isn’t piecing together the way it should be. Why would Daniel Seda murder his greatest ally and friend?”

“Our mics have already transcribed that answer for you, sir. I’m sure of it. And I’ve got sources outside of the DEA and Avengers-”

“Like Maribel Rodrigo? Another smuggler who has operated inside the cartel, HYDRA, Madripoor…”

You cut him off, angry. “Not the full story.” 

Tone of voice: defensive.

“Then that leads me to my next question.”

“Oh, fun.”

Tone of voice: sarcastic.

He speaks with a tinge of astonishment hidden in every syllable. “Why didn’t you do it? Kill Ernesto, I mean.”

“I was disarmed at the time. The Captain and I both were,” you answer, growing more impatient by the second.

He uses his hands to speak now, finger pointing along an invisible timeline detailing the order of events. “So you admit you were going to kill him if you had your weapon.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Body movement: rigid.

“Or maybe you weren’t. Maybe my boss is right, maybe the FBI is right in thinking that you are a double agent leaning more towards your roots than our boys in blue.” He says this like its scripture; like it’s some holy conspiracy he’s just found evidence for. He wants you to plant words in your mouth and in this discussion so he can pluck the evidence from the ground and water it with fire.

You scoff hard, “I hardly ever wear blue when doing your job for you.”

“Was letting Omar Ramirez escape our job or just yours?”

Telling him the truth would mean losing all credibility, all titles, all trust in your work. You know what you’ve done and you don’t regret it. Ramirez was never the biggest fish and if you spun this right, then he was simply a fish who got his meal and promptly swam away. “You assume I let him go. What evidence tells you that?”

He ignores the question and instead asks another of his. “Why were your relations kept hidden from SHIELD and the FBI?”

“That’s a question for you know who.”

He shakes his head in disappointment. “You’re in a lot of trouble.”

“I bet I am. But this is not some precinct where you can get my team to turn on me so easily. And this is not a situation in which they’re lying for me. I trust that whatever the Captain has said is the answer to all your questions.”

“We’re gonna unravel this case. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

You’re suddenly overcome with a wave of sleepiness. These past two weeks have been exhausting even if you haven’t moved more than five feet from wall to wall. Having to repeat yourself to people who have already written the story for themselves is tiring. “I don’t know why you guys can’t just believe the words of myself and everyone vouching for me. We got you all the evidence. We have given you more names and connections that you’ll ever know what to do with. You don’t need to unravel anything; it’s all there! But because we weren’t able to arrest the one person you wanted, that being Ernesto, you go after me. You have White but I guess he’s not talking. And you’ll believe what you want to believe.”

“I trust my gut.”

“As simple as that, huh?” You sigh deeply and cross your arms over your chest. “You know, there’s a saying the late Agent Carter used to tell all SHIELD agents when they first started out and when they came back from missions. When she retired, it was Fury who then eased our minds.” 

Agent Kavert has a harsh line creasing through the middle of his forehead and he looks deeply interested. 

“There are three sides to every story,” you recite. “Your side, my side, and the truth.” A gentle shrug of the shoulders feels like all you’re allowed to give him. “I’m not lying to you but I’m not telling you the full truth either. Just my side.”

Agent Kavert shuts his eyes and bounces his left leg. He looks conflicted and unable to formulate a response at all. He’s shaking like he’s at war with himself or with the suits on the other side of the door, but no one has come knocking yet. “Let’s say I believe you. Just for a second.”

You nod. 

“Daniel Seda murders Vega at his own daughter’s wedding. We managed to catch Marcus White and because of fault entirely, Omar Ramirez gets away. Because from what I heard, Ramirez was working with you.” He paints the picture rather mundane, but you shoot him a smile that tells him he’s on the right track. “And you and all the other Avengers were blindsided by Ramirez. You gathered all the evidence you were told to gather, worked together and played your cards right, infiltrated one of the most secure estates in the country, and fucked up so badly that you managed to let two of your biggest giants die?”

“I really think you got it spot on.”

He laughs dryly, “But it still doesn’t make sense. Once Vega was gone and Seda survived, where would you have fallen in this tree?”

He wants to retract his question the moment he sees your face fall with such a sincerity he wasn’t ready for. “That’s just it, Agent Kavert. I would have fallen.”

“And the other two? How would business work? Would Daniel Seda have been the head of it now?”

“Your answers are in the evidence we gathered. I know you guys aren’t touching it because you think I’m compromised.”

He stands from the chair and dusts off his jacket. “Your side, my side, and the truth,” he repeats. He goes to open the door but you speak quickly before he can leave. 

“They think I infiltrated SHIELD, the Avengers, and am in bed with HYDRA because they’ve been helping Ernesto’s vision all along.” Agent Kavert stops and turns back to you. “I am a double agent whose identity was kept secret to aid this country and not raise suspicions from your part. I have seen a lot of things, have done things I’m not proud of, but I’ve done it all for a reason.”

Agent Kavert looks almost ashamed. Tone of voice: sincere.

“Me and my Captain saved lives, our own as well, and we stopped three of the most notorious drug-lords who have been at large since the eighties. We got your giants for you. And the truth is, I have discovered: through all my pain and experience... that it’s excellent to have a giant’s strength; but it is tyrannous to use it like a giant.”

Agent Kavert doesn’t know if you’re talking about Ernesto, the U.S Government, yourself, or him. His eyebrows pinch together and he slowly moves to leave the room.

    It’s another week before you’re visited by someone who isn’t bringing you food or extra toilet paper. You’re picking at your cuticles when the vents above your cell begin rattling with the obvious weight of a human being. You sit dumbly on the bed, straining your ears and trying hard not to laugh as each rattle is returned with a muffled curse. The vent on the ceiling right outside your cell drops to the concrete floor. 

Ernesto’s men wouldn’t go through all that trouble to kill you James Bond style. They would have just bribed a guard. So it’s a treat when the door swings open quickly and in comes a staggering Clint, keys in one hand and his phone in the other. The screen is illuminated, showcasing what looks to be blueprints. He’s got a bandaid over his left eyebrow and dust all over his clothes.

Your upper lip twitches into a silly smile. “You’re ridiculous if you thought you wouldn’t be heard in those damn vents.”

Clint makes a noise that sounds like he’s saying ‘maaaf’ and he plops down beside you on the cot. It’s absolutely hilarious he traveled in the vents and that the team approved this when in reality, they could have just sent Scott. “Just had to get past the first line of security. Plus, the blueprints said they were wider... I figure we’ve got a good three minutes before they check the cameras.”

It’s not the first time you sit in a cell with a time crunch. 

     The Raft is nothing special. They have you all separated by rank, meaning you were in the same vicinity as Clint, Sam, and Scott. Wanda was moved to a more secure location and you haven’t seen her since they brought you in. 

There isn’t much to do in a place like this. You tried counting how many strands of hair you had but gave up once you counted two hundred; you tried seeing if the others could hear you when you yelled out to them but the cells were soundproof; you even tried filing your nails against the uneven paint on the wall. It’s like they made life in these cells purposefully horrible - like you didn’t save the world a couple times over, c’mon. 

The camera fidgets over your head where you’re laying down and after a few seconds, it stops. The red light slowly fades and turns a bright yellow. You move to stand on the bed and reach for it, but a voice startles you from doing so. 

“Don’t mess with my magic!”

You topple over the single pillow you were given and fall flat on the bed, scrambling to shield yourself from whoever intruded. “Jesus!”

“Oh, I met him. Strange lad, didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

There’s a moment where you think you must be dreaming. His hair is longer and hits his shoulders and he’s added some blue and yellow to his usual attire. But other than that, he’s alive. Truly, brilliantly, really alive. 

“Loki, what the fuck?”

“Right!” Loki claps his hands and extends them outwards, smiling.  “Ta-da!”

A few beats pass. You blink a few times just in case you’re hallucinating. Barely a week in containment… 

“I’m sorry… I’m still trying to process the fact that you’re still alive!”

He scoffs low and goes to sit at the edge of the bed. “A God never truly dies, darling.”

“Well in Greek mythology-”

“Greek mythology and I have this unsettled beef that’s been going on for about five hundred years. Do not mention Greek mythology to me.”

“Excuse me, right, I should have known that was a sensitive topic.”

Loki swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and expels a laugh. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your restraint is gone and you lunge forward to envelope him in the tightest hug you’ve ever given anyone. He returns it, sighing into your shoulder and holding you close. You pull away just to stare at him, watching his features as they move ever so slightly. It’s really him. 

“I-” Loki tries but stutters. He’s studying you too and he almost looks sad. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Does Thor know?” Loki shakes his head at your question and winces when you smack his shoulder. “Loki, Thor has been grieving you for months!”

“I’m planning on it!” You don’t believe him. He goes to rub his shoulder. “Gods, I forgot you had excellent aim.”

You look back at the camera and find that the yellow light is still glowing, dim. Loki’s magic is blocking footage out or putting footage in, you really don’t know. But it’s allowing you a few moments with the man you thought you’d never see again. “Spontaneous reincarnation aside, what are you doing here? How did you even know I was here?”

“I’m on this planet for five-FIVE minutes, and the television has all these reports about you and everyone fighting each other?”

“Mm, right, right.”

Loki stares at you, amused. “... Care to explain?”

Your face contorts into a hundred different expressions until you finally settle on one of gentle guilt. “The person we were after was a friend of a friend. I made a judgement call and let him go.”

“You went against orders?”

“I went against the law.”

“Even better.”

With an eyebrow cocked, you give him a judging look. “Loki.”

His eyes crinkle from the intensity of his smile and you’ve missed him, you missed him so much. “That’s what I love about you. Barely starting out as an Avenger and you’re already realizing you can do more good in your own way.”

You groan quietly and rest your head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist and tugs you closer. “I mainly did it for Steve. Wasn’t like it was a big ‘fuck you’ to one-hundred and seventeen nations for the hell of it.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.”

“Spoken like a true anti-hero.”

“You comparing me to yourself?”

Loki chuckles and runs his fingers through the strands of hair closest to your cheek. “Darling, I’m a God. No one comes close.” He sighs, serious again. “All I’m saying is that it’s refreshing to see the young break the rules.”

“I missed you,” you softly say. You can feel the nudge of his cheek turning upward against your head. 

“Always nice to hear.”

Rolling your eyes, you move to meet his gaze. “So, no reason why you came to visit me specifically?”

Loki takes one cautious look at the camera, to outside your cell, and back to you. “I too do things for your lovely Captain.” His smile grows wider. 

“What?”

He winks and tilts his head over to the giant metal doors that are starting to pry open. “See you in a minute.” 

The alarms begin blazing; there is fog filling the room, and Steve emerges from that fog with a winning smirk.

     You look over at Clint, half selfishly wishing he was Loki on another one of his midnight visits, and quickly do away with the thought. “So how’s life without me?”

“Oh, it’s great! The flowers are in bloom, the kitchen isn’t always a mess, and my bow and arrow aren’t misplaced because you wanted to have some fun with it,” he jokes, stretching far enough that his feet dig into your thigh like he’s trying to make more room for himself.  

“Not like it’s your only bow and arrow.”

He chuckles and sits up. He does a once over of the room and adjusts the frequency on his hearing aid. “They read you your rights at least?”

You wait to respond until he finishes fixing it. You speak and sign the words slowly,  “I don’t think any lawyer in America will want to take this case anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s a career killer.”

Trying to refrain from smiling around Clint was nearly impossible. You look to the door quickly, “Two minutes?”

He shoots up straighter as he watches your hands, “Right! So we’re currently tracking down your sister-”

“My sister?”

“Steve thinks she’s our only hope at clearing your name.”

“Why is that? I told her to get as far away as possible.”

Clint sighs and scratches the skin just above the bandaid. “She stayed in Mexico all those years you were gone. By all accounts, Ernesto adored her. Because of that, her influence might clear your name.”

“But she stayed. All the more reason to believe she was involved as well,” you say, shaking your head.

“She’s barely out of her teens. Everything that happened, happened when she was a minor. She has a first hand account of the abuse Ernesto caused you. And Steve thinks that the Julian fellow might even come clean and admit to the arranged marriage. Shows a pattern of abuse by Ernesto to his own children. Could spin it to make it seem like you had no other choice but to follow his orders.”

You follow his hands slowly, some signs difficult to read but you latch onto the gist of his argument. You groan and lean your head back on the wall with a small thump. “They go against Ernesto and they have targets on their backs. Even my other siblings who are still involved with all of this won’t let it go.”

“Y/N… Ernesto’s dead. You know that.”

“His influence isn’t.”

There’s minimal commotion a few doors down. Clint realizes it’s time to leave. “It might never be. But we don’t get to live in the future.” He stands with another small groan and stretches as he prepares to lift himself back into the vent. “We’re living now, and it’s all any of us can do.”

“Clint?” You also stand and have to wave in his peripheral to get his attention. He turns and knows what you’re about to say even without the hand gestures. “They won’t answer me when I ask.”

His lips pull into a perceptive smile, “He’s okay. Doing what he does best - blaming himself.”

“Oh, okay, good.”

He’s had enough practice reading your lips to notice the sarcasm that drips from them. He hurries to lift himself up. “We’ve got about a million tricks up our sleeve. If Jackeline’s word or the evidence isn’t enough, we’ve always got Fury and his blackmail.”

“Yeah, half the guys who interviewed me look like they cheat on their wives, so.”

He genuinely laughs and jumps high, muttering more to himself than to you. “Up we go…”

     The team locates Jackeline just a few days after your run-in with Clint. The building saw a triple rise in security but even then it didn’t prevent undercover agents passing all the checkpoints and sliding notes with your meals. They’d leave the tray, tip their hats, and smile like they knew the cameras wouldn’t suspect a thing. 

The first note is from Bucky, with the simple message of ‘I watched a few episodes of The Crown without you… I’m sorry.’

The second comes on the same day at dinner time, this one from Wanda. ‘I think Peter is trying to flirt with your sister.’

The third isn’t slipped through with any meal, but rather through the tiny opening beneath the door. ‘Surprised we did this the legal way this time! See you soon! - Rhodey’

The final one is actually hand delivered when several guards come in to tell you you’re free to go. They’re mumbling amongst themselves, cursing the system and the privileges Avengers always get, when the smallest of the five turns to you and hands you the note. ‘I owe you one. You owe me one. Who’s counting anymore? - Joaquin’

Jackeline had been able to track down Maribel and the two of them, with such accuracy in their stories and their timelines, constructed your defense perfectly. They showed them phone records, all of the recordings from that week, had proof that you never signed a thing, and made several special deals. Jackeline promised to reveal where bodies were buried, where business was dealt with, who else was involved with Ernesto and Seda. Maribel managed to get a message to them from Ramirez, which basically cleared you from the crime they were trying to stick. Ramirez was a damn good liar, you’ll give him that, and it made you the tiniest bit sad that you’d probably never see him again. 

The tipping point was when Steve turned himself in. There was no evidence that you did anything, never signed anything, never conspired behind your teammates backs. Fury made sure not to keep a paper or electronic trail. But there was evidence that implicated Steve - the contract. No matter how badly the FBI and CIA tried to make it go away, to absolve Steve from it, he didn’t back down. It was like the story they originally wanted toppled in on itself and it was actually Steve who forced you into all of this - playing your connections and forcing your hand. The contract hadn’t been voided, still hasn’t, and they really couldn’t risk another SHIELD fiasco. So it was destroyed to protect the Stars and Stripes, and in return they promised to let you go if you didn’t tell a soul. The image you’d come to despise, that tacky red, white and blue, is starting to grow on you.

‘Let me think about that and get back to you,’ you had joked. You think they let you go sooner because they feared the truth in your joke. 

But there wasn’t anything to think about, ever, still isn’t. Steve pulled another sacrifice play and you wanted to get out as soon as possible to kick his ass. 

You leave the prison with the same clothes you had on when you entered. They smell washed and you’re thankful they allowed you to shower before you left. You ignore the looks guards and prisoners aim at you, each trying to somehow get their hits in without actually pulling their punches. This would be a media disaster either way, didn’t matter the outcome of a supposed trial, and PR was most likely struggling to prepare their defense. 

You resist the embarrassing urge to run into his arms. He’s standing right outside the gates, leaning back on the passenger side of his rusty old blue pickup, positively glowing underneath the blazing sun. You’re blinded by it, skin thanking the dangerous rays for its first touch in weeks, but it only takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. He still hasn’t shaved and his hair is getting longer, and instead of his usual tucked-in dress shirt, he’s wearing a brown leather jacket over a faded graphic tee that reads AC/DC. It was Tony’s.

You’ve only got the broken burner phone and a hair tie in your possession; it’s what was on you when you were arrested. You drop the burner in a nearby trashcan and head on over to the truck. Steve’s wide smile buckles your knees and it damn near breaks your heart. Even when the two of you weren’t on speaking terms, you still saw each other at least twice a week. Going two weeks without seeing him feels like a lifetime. 

Once you're a few feet away, you stop in front of him. There are no immediate words you know to say, so you simply shrug your shoulders and give him a look that asks ‘What now?’

“Home.”

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer​ @justab-eautifulmess​ @supraveng​ @mycosmicparadise​ @missnighttigress​

[plush-rabbit]

I Want To Hear You Say It

Chapter 4: Missed Comfort

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: I just realized that this is my story and I can choose what happens

Prev.

Memories are fragmented, pieces of glass that has broken and shards that escape him and hide elsewhere, leaving his past broken, blurry and incomplete, painful to pick at and there has to be a reason why, there has to be a reason why whenever he thinks about who he was before he was found by All For One, that he scratches at his skin, tearing the flesh off from body, dirty blood that covers his hands and leaves him gasping for air, making him fear that he’ll suffocate before the memory grows clear. He can remember kind words, he can remember breakfast and playing, he can remember something soft under his chin, he can remember love for a moment, a moment that leaves him sick and broken, clasping his hands around his neck and hoping that he’ll die. He can remember the harsh stare, eyes that belong to a monster, eyes that are unforgiving with a hand that is merciless, the harsh feeling of the ground and the eyes that can only look away until he’s forced to face the monster in front of him, the monster that strikes over and over again and it fills him with hatred, it fills him clarity, the one moment where he can breathe and he stares into his reflection, covered in his own blood with red rimmed eyes, and he’s home.

Tomura Shigaraki stands in a room with few possessions, his body cold as he lays above the worn out bed, springs that dig into his back and a pillow that is far too flat to bring any sort of comfort. 

He grew up in the care of All For One, molded and cared for, the embrace clear in his head and there are flashes of memories that are clear, ripe for the picking and allowing him to view who he is now. But he brushes past them. He brushes past the dust on the floor and the tantrums, past the cold wooden floorboards under his feet, the weight of the hands on him are lighter and heavier all at once, lifting him into the air with the promise of love. The hands pinch around his body and threaten to drag him into the depths of hell, moaning out to him, his name broken and unsure, calling him something too different and too similar that leaves him retching and covering his mouth with his hand.

Tomura Shigaraki can remember Kurogiri. He can remember the wisp of a man, purple and black mixing, shades light in certain areas, mixing and swirling with the darker colors, creating a beautiful shade that disappears and is never shown, a shade that was never meant to be seen hides deep within the man. He can remember the apprehension, the choked up feeling, like something small was lodged in the base of his throat, uncomfortable and manageable. He can remember the soft words, the hands that touched him, defying physics and the vapor having actual feeling to it, actual touch that moves the hair across his face. He can remember the shared meals, proper and simple, the hatred in his eyes that soon turned into acceptance and silent compliance with every meal. 

People come into his life and they leave. So far, the League of Villains has remained whole. Kurogiri separated but for the good of the mission. For the good of the plan. For the good of him- Tomura Shigaraki. People separate and they come together. 

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s developed a kinship with the team. He’s developed genuine emotions towards them. He doesn’t want to call them friends. It feels odd- heavy and foregin, the word unspoken of, even when he was just a child, he never spoke the word, flinching when he thought of it because he knew that he was alone. All For One was his sensei, his master, a father-like figure to him but never a friend. Kurogiri was … something. Kurogiri was something else, heavy and comforting, wanted and pushed away. The team right now, they are his comrades. They are the people that he cares about- their wishes and likes, their desires and wants- that’s what he cares for. He’ll spit at the idea of caring, deny it with a wave of his hand, but he cares.

He’s lived a lonely life. And in the blink of an eye, it became filled with people. And he was accepting of that, he can handle people following his bidding, he can handle people if they’re there to serve his cause. But then you come along.

You aren’t there to serve anything. You are nothing to him. And yet, you still fill his mind. He lets it wander and you come into view, the way you brushed his hair and dried it for him, offering to pick something that he’d like to eat. You called him a friend. You were lying. You told a lie to save your skin from a prying neighbor. It’s easy for him to believe that you told a lie. You did. You lied only to protect yourself. But then he can feel your hands again and the touch has faded, it’s nothing more than a ghost that caresses his skin when he’s falling asleep, his own hands crawling to hold the place where you held and his sleep ruined when his hands are not like yours. They don’t hold the same delicacy, the gentleness that made him feel at ease- they aren’t your hands. Your touch is fading and he hates it. He hates that he misses the way you cared for him, the way you let him into your home and cared for him. He is a wounded man, alone in a world with only a few companions, and it’s been so long since he’s felt a touch that wasn’t filled with malice, that wasn’t a rough, teasing punch or a reassuring squeeze of a shoulder, but one where it was focused on him and being gentle, treating him like he were glass. 

He doesn’t want to admit it to himself but he wants to see you. He needs to feel your touch again. He needs a moment where your hands are on him and then he can be satisfied, he can be fine without your touch that haunts him.

-

Learning your schedule is relatively easy. People don’t want to admit that they’re predictable, they want to remain a mystery, they want to be hidden from view and open up when they feel like it and you are no different. You stick to yourself. You don’t talk to people in your apartment complex- minus a few people who stop to chat, a forced smile that takes place on your face. Even at work, you give polite smiles, you eat alone in your car, watching a video on your phone and always peering outside the window, like you’re scared that someone is watching your every movement. You’re polite and you stick to a routine, you treat yourself to the bakery and leave with a white bag curled in your hand and you pass by the alleyway where you first met. And there’s a leap in his heart when you pause, and he can see your hand tighten around the paper bag and then you move on. You continue to walk, faster, a pace that catches the eyes of a few pedestrians and before you can reach the stairs, your keys are in your hands, and you’re inside your home and you’re out of view. 

It has to be a sickness that he has.  He has to be sick with the way that he always finds himself wandering into the alleyway, crouched where you found him and he hates that he can’t remember your scent, hates that he was too disorientated to focus on the important details that you had. He hates that he only realized that he wanted- that he craved and desired your touch when you were gone. He doesn’t bother lying to himself, he’s not in the area to clean any loose ends, the blood that had fallen from him has long since dried, fallen into the crevices of the ground, weeds that have bloomed and raised where he had squashed them. He’s here filled with hope, hope that diminishes whenever you don’t arrive at the same time that you once did. And he hates himself when he feels disappointment, the feeling coursing through his body and leaving him empty, leaving him with acid in his mouth and blood on his neck. 

It was fate then. You worked a late shift and you came to him. You had saved him because he was meant to continue on. You pushed him to live another day. He wonders if you know who he is. How would you react? Would you accept his views? Do you believe that society is damned? That everything within hero society is corrupted and needs to be changed? Would you accept him? 

He laughs to himself. It’s a short burst of laughter, bubbling past his lips and it’s short until he presses himself further into the brick. Of course, you’d accept him. Of course you would accept him. You did it once. You let a stranger into your home, welcomed him and brushed his hair, held him in your hands and let him live in your life for a moment- you’d accept him with open arms. 

-

It was a miscalculated risk. Heroes that were unaccounted for due to how close they were. He’s injured, face trickling with blood that mixes with his sweat and he’s unsure of where the wound is. His clothes are singed at the end, fabric crumbling and fingers painted in soot as he runs through the night, gasping for air. It’s cold and sharp, entering his lungs and chilling his throat, every breath painful and heavier, as he runs. Red ruins his vision and he swipes it away with the back of his hand, blood flickering onto the pavement, seeping into the cracks and leaving nothing but dark spots. He runs and he runs. His legs hurt, aching at the joints, muscles pulled taut, and he knows that if he stumbles, he’ll collapse. Father is held tight against his face, piercing at his skull, hands pulled taut around him, pulling him back and the hands on his neck choke him.

He knows where he’s going. He’ll deny it to himself, lie and say that it was his own moving on it’s own accord, leading him past the convenience store, hands ripped from his body and shoved into pockets, bulging and pale gray fingertips that peek beneath the pockets, stiff fingers intertwined with each other and he’s lying to himself, telling weak lies that even he can’t believe. He runs towards you, running and gasping, a burst of adrenaline spiking through his body and sirens are ringing through the air, colors flashing and you’re so close. He runs, sweat mixing with blood, a heavy red color that reminds him he is only human, he’s covered in his blood, he’s covered in people’s blood and ash, weighing him down and clinging to his ankles, dragging him to hell as the devils rush behind him. His steps are heavy, slapping against the stairs and he’s knocking at your door, pounding and there’s a moment of fear where he thinks someone else will awaken before you do and he’s begging, calling your name in a whisper that cracks and cuts through his alreadys scarred lips and he’s begging for you to open the door, a silent prayer that is echoed into the night and there’s nothing more than he wants to do than to touch you.  He’s close to touching the doorknob, desperate to find safety inside until the light turns on underneath he’s cursing you in his mind for being so careless, for letting the person outside- letting him know that you are home- and he steps away and the door opens and you stand him front of him with heavy eyes, a disheveled appearance with an annoyed expression that only lasts for a second, a moment where he has you entire attention and then you break and you call his name and he stumbles inside and he’s safe.

The door is closed behind him and the ringing stops. He’s inside your home, leaning against the wall, and he’s filthy, coated in grime and sweat, blood that runs down his face from an unknown wound, legs heavy and he slides down the wall and he can see you, standing away from him, a horrified look on your face and maybe this was a mistake. That you didn’t feel whatever he felt. That you were just trying to be nice. A hand reaches, fingers outstretched and he can imagine how soft you’d be, the look of horror frozen on your face as he’s the last thing you see and then you kneel down, and you’re shaking and your words are stuck in your throat.

Your hands are soft. Softer than he remembered, cusping his face and he’s grateful for it, leans into your touch until you grab at something foreign on his face, and Father is removed and held so tenderly in your hand. His eyes widen. He forgot to remove Father. Sirens grow closer and you look out the door and he’s weak and unable to stand as you lift and walk towards the door and there’s a shake of your hands, you clasp around the door knob and you seem to struggle with yourself internally before you latch on the locks and turn back to him. You call his name and he calls yours and he wants to lean in but he’s bloody and you are clean, and he sits against your wall as you hold Father and walk away. 

He sits on the floor and closes his eyes for a second and when he opens them, you’re crouched in front of him, Father beside him and he watches as you bring up a wet rag and whisper to him. “I’m just going to clean you up, okay?” Your voice is shaky, hands matching as they dab against his forehead, your other hand pushing his pale blue hair upwards. “Tomura?” He grunts in response. You pause, your lip is bitten and he wants to know what you’re thinking. “Why are you here?” You dab and the pale blue cloth in your hand turns into a horrible shade, sweat, blood and dirt standing the ruined piece of fabric. Realization has set into your eyes, the fear leaking off of you and yet your hands are nothing but gentle. 

“I wanted you to touch me,” he mutters and your hands still. “I needed it.” He lets his words hang in the air. He can feel the press of your palm against him, and you don’t respond. You clean him, cleaning the sin from him. “Do you know who I am?” 

“I think I can take a guess.” Your hands leave him and you turn from him, pulling out a pack of wipes, the white bright against your palm and then you’re cleaning at him again, discarding the wipe after wipe, the pack becoming thin as you clean him. “Are you going to-” you swallow nervously and you meet his eyes, unsteady and glistening with unshed tears- “you know.” Your eyes dart to his hands and then back to his eyes.

He laughs. It’s rich and filled with something indescribable and he leans towards you, peeling himself away from the wall and you stiffen when his forehead rests against your shoulder. Father has slipped and is on the floor. You’re still, faltering against him and he wants nothing more than to touch you. His lips brush against your neck and he can hear a sharp intake of breath, hands that react and grip the sides of his shirt, pulling him closer to you, and he wonders if you’re crying as he’s pressed against you. 

“I could never hurt you,” he whispers against your neck, nuzzling closer, feeling your pulse quicken. “You were so nice to me-” his hands are unsteady as they brush up your shirt and he hears you whine, and his fingers are pressed against the soft side of you, and he smiles, hidden from you- “I will never hurt you.” It’s the truth- a wholehearted truth that he will never use his quirk against you, he’ll protect you, watch over you and dig his nails into you. He won't ever hurt you, he won’t have you bleed because of him, he’ll keep you with him and protect you, have his hands wrap around you in the loving way that his do, remind you that he’s letting you live and giving you all his love- whole and innocent, twisted and pure. “I love you,” he murmurs and there’s a swell in his chest when you twist his shirt in your hands and your pulse beats against him. “Perhaps it’s too quick to tell each other that-” he hums into you, smelling the sweet scent of vanilla on you- “but I love you. And I’ll protect you.” His nails dig into your skin, red appearing, a pale shade that stings and doesn’t stain his fingertips.

Perhaps it was too quick to give each other your love. But when he pulls away and he sees you crying, hands still gripped against his shirt, a rise and fall of your chest and he smiles. His hands leave you and your shirt flutters and it’s covered in grime, sticking to your chest and it’s wrinkled. Tears fall from your eyes, tracing down the curve of your face, polling and dripping off your chin and you can only look at him with wide eyes and you’re doubling over, gasping for breath, your hands wrapped around you, trying so desperately to control your breathing and you look over, watching the door with hope that vanishes in a second. It’s quiet outside. There are no heroes around. You look back at him and he smiles at you.

“Shigaraki?” You ask him, and there’s a frown on his lips. You need to check if it’s really him, praying that this is a sick joke, exchanging your life for a moment of false reality, to be laughed at because this is some cruel, sick joke that doesn’t exist and isn’t happening before your eyes. “Tomura Shigaraki?”

“You can call me Tomura,” he coos, his hands bringing your face up, held so tenderly, so carefully, with poised and raised fingers, trying not to touch you and you’re crying and he’s shushing you. “You don’t have to cry,” he murmurs. “I mean it-” he leans in closer and your eyes shine with fear, colors mixing together to create a lovely shade of color that he has never seen before and when you cry, it glosses over and he tilts his head, smile stretching past his lips- “I would never hurt you.”

“Be-” your voice cracks and there's a soft pink that licks at your lips and he leans in. “Because I was nice to you?” You’re so hesitant and so scared, trembling under his palm and your tears pool onto him.

“Because you cared for me, yes.” He could never hurt you, never bring himself to cause you to cry. He’s so careful to pull away, hands fisted once he’s moved and he looks around and grabs at a wipe, brings it under your eyes and he shushes you when you flinch from him, his hand gripping at the side of your face, string and firm. “I hate seeing you cry,” he murmurs. You’re scared and new to these feelings. He won’t push you. He’ll stay by your side, faithful and patient, wait for you to come to him and profess your love, and he’ll wipe away your tears. “I love you,” he repeats.

He rises and pulls you up and you stand in the entrance, you stumbling into his chest, and his arms holding you up and he’s nuzzling into the crown of your head, and when you start to sob, shaking into his chest and clinging to the back of his coat, hands threatening to spill from the pockets, he pats your back carefully, run the side of his hand down your back in a comforting motion, slowly turning until his palm is against you and your sobs are muffled into his chest, with your tears staining his shirt. Your name is whispered into the room and you cry until you pull away and he stares at you patiently and you can hardly meet his eyes when you tell him he can use the shower and he stands alone, as you walk into your room, letting the door remain open.

He showers and he lets the water fall from him, dries himself with the same towel he had used from the other day. He washes himself free from grime and wears the same clothes, filthy and hanging from his body, sticking uncomfortably and he wears clothes that are his and he smells like you. His hair is wet and tangled and he brushes at the knots, and makes himself look presentable. He won’t have the first night that he sleeps here cognitive sullied by the outside world. He sits on the chair in your room, watches as you pull the blankets up to your chin and have your back turned to him. He comes to sit at the edge, his hand slowly coming down until he’s holding onto your neck, stroking it, feeling the way that you jerk and go painfully still, and he whispers your name. It's a gentle call, feeling you brush against his fingertips, calling out to you because he knows you’re still awake. 

“Yes, Tomura?” You respond and there’s a level of politeness that sticks to your words and makes him frown. 

“I’ll be back to see you soon, okay?” He has to leave for now. He needs to go before he can give in to his wants and touch you, to let himself bury into your chest and hold you, and sleep beside you. “But I’ll be back, okay?” He pulls away and the bed creaks as the weight shifts. He’s closing your door, and his eyes are on your body and he’s smiling to himself. “Don’t try anything dumb, okay?” He doesn’t wait for an answer- you’re smart, you know who he is. It isn’t a threat, it’s just a phrase that he knows will keep you in line from trying anything reckless- he’s viewed you, watched you and he knows that an empty threat will keep you in check. “I love you.” He whispers your name and it’s filled with love, enough to make him sigh and close the door, lean against it for a moment and let his imagination wander on how you’d welcome him into bed and hold him. The door to your apartment clicks shut and he’s walking out, Father holding tight against his face, and a strange calmness flooding throughout his body.

taglist:

@dillybuggg @gladiatorandroid @mrgorewhore @justanotherlifeff

[forbidding-souda]

I love your blog sm and my birthday is in 2 days, so i wanted to know if i could get gundham with a reader (whatever is easy for you to write) and them spending time together for the readers birthday. If you want you can put NSFW but its whatever is easier for you. Also YOUR SO AMAZING, LIKE, YOUR WONDERFUL AND ILYSM AHHHH

Gundham Tanaka having a surprise for his S/O on their birthday

Hi the day is april 23rd at 23:51 and I have no idea when this ask came in but hi I’m here for it happy birthday dear I love you too

update : what the fuck is the word for when you call a restaruant like “hey I’m coming here” god damn I’m writing the first sentence and I’m already struggling with english. registration?!??! girl let me register for a restaurant 

currently playing: whispering gallows by nicole dollanganger

-Mod Souda

◙ He’s not the type to bring flowers, nor is he the type to take you to a fancy restaurant.

◙ It's all just obscene scenarios that romance movies play out.

◙ There's no part of him that wants to play into it, too.

◙ You don't exactly know what your birthday entails; you hadn't exactly planned it out. Simply enough, all you wanted to do what hang out with him. And since he is very picky about what activities he finds entertaining... he got to choose.

◙ The first eventful thing of the day was getting waken up by hampsters pressing against your nose.

◙ Sharing a room with Gundham has taught you to not instinctively swat at things that touch you while you're unconscious.

◙ You flinch a little, looking through the slit of one eye, and staring at the beady ones looking back at you.

◙ "Morning to you too..." you whisper.

◙ The space next to you is empty, but made.

◙ It reminds you of when you first moved in together. It was very entertaining to watch him clean up after himself. You had assumed - since, well, he is a man, that he would have trouble being proper.

◙ Time has passed since then, and it has been many years.

◙ The idea is still rather amusing.

◙ Maybe it's the number of animals he busies himself with that has taught him how to be neat.

◙ There is a polite knock interrupting your thoughts.

◙ The door opens carefully, and the figure of the half-clothed dork peeks through. He is too cautious to address you, though, and his concentration is glued to the steaming up in his hand.

◙ You sit up.

◙ "You don't have to knock. We live together," you remind him as he sets the cup down by your bed.

◙ "I was not wishing to disturb you."

◙ There's no response that you could offer. Instead, you give him a smile and shaking your head.

◙ He sits next to you and the hampsters find their way back to their owner while you sit from the drink.

◙ "Happy birthday," he finally says. You find yourself leaning against him. Shoulder touching shoulder.

◙ His head leans down against yours. And you sit there for the time being.

◙ Standing up and putting on clothes was the hard part. You and Gundham took turns getting changed, as you always do.

◙ "Are you going to tell me where we are going?" You ask once he slips on his outside shoes.

◙ "Not yet, my dear."

◙ You grab his scarf, wrapping it around his neck with a small smile. "Of course not, silly me."

◙ He escorts you down the first few couple of blocks. You recognize this route.

◙ There are wires connecting buildings to the high-standing poles that break the sidewalk from the street. House plants in cute white pots leave red petals in your path. No matter the uphill walk, this stroll has always been beautiful to you.

◙ An innocent grin covers your face. It's like a daydream.

◙ The sun hits in your eyes directly, no longer covered by raised roofs and adult trees. You have to lift your hand to block it out. When your eyes settle, you realize where you landed.

◙ It's a park, scenic and comfortable, looking over the ocean. Trees are ample in the area and their roots overflow from the dirt. You have to watch your step as you walk.

◙ "Sweetened one, there is a mystery that I need your assistance in solving." He announces after you take a few steps toward the view.

◙ Sweetened one. The phrase of endearment came after you had to explain to him that some couples called each other kind names like sweetie.

◙ "A mystery? How corrupt."

◙ "No need to fear. All I ask of you is your opinion on something."

◙ "What is it?" You ask. He steps closer to you, bringing one of his hands to touch your upper back. There was a moment of quietness as he reached his hand into his pocket. A small box comes into sight.

◙ "It appeared, mystifying, inside of our room. I am asking you to examine it for me. You possess the knowledge of more realms than I have ever discovered."

◙ A box? You have never seen it before. Or maybe he had simply put it in a box for this moment. "I"ll help you," you say absentmindedly while taking it from him.

◙ You turn it around, looking for a company name. There isn't any. Even inside of it is empty except for a smaller box. His hand slips from your back, but you hardly notice.

◙ Maybe it's something one of your friends had left over, or maybe one of the animals had brought it in. You know those crows love finding things...

◙ Opening the smaller box, however, surprised you. Maybe it was a crow.

◙ You had never seen this ring before in your life. It holds a unique-looking diamond connected to a band that gives off the appearance of twisting together.

◙ When you turn your head to look at him, you find that he is no longer standing next to you. Instead, he is on one knee. He is blushing but not concealing his face.

◙ "My love, I am greatly unsure of what words mortals utter when expressing their admiration. I only know of what an overlord can admit to his sweetened fiend:," his eyes fall from yours and to your hand, "this ring is a like contract. One that's formalities has been writing since the day you had caught my scarf from flying into the sky. I remember the look of kindness you gave me. No stranger had ever dared share contact with someone... like me." His voice trails off.

◙ "But you never acted befuddled over my peculiar actions. You accepted my other-worldliness as if I was your god to worship. It turns out, however, that you were mine to put my faith into."

◙ Your smile widens, and you nod your head. You whisper an affirmation; "Of course."

◙ "So I am asking you to let me sign myself over to you."

◙ With a hum, you follow, "I accept your declaration of love."

◙ This is exactly how you wanted it to go. With him sharing how he truly feels, after years of getting flustered at the mere thought of announcing his passion towards your person.

◙ The honesty and raw feelings are unforgettable.

◙ He stands. You wrap your hands around his waist, softly pulling him closer, pausing for consent. His fingers go to your jaw as he leans in for the kiss.

okay hi sorry but I thought this was funny

this fanfiction got me like:

I WAS READING ARTICLES AND SHIT HABEDLJH

[szivtalan]

love is in the words unspoken

all these moments are golden,

forever is mine with you

the blossoming of the cherry trees always puts hawks in a strange mood. he thinks they’re romantic, magical - reminds him of a time when he was more naive, more dreamy, didn’t know much about the world. it’s nostalgic, to see the carpet of sakura petals on the streets, reminding him of what is and what could’ve been.

‘hawks!’

it’s ironic that he runs into endeavor’s child just as the flowers begin to fall.

‘hey, it’s todoroki.’ he grins, glancing at the two heroes behind the one already rushing up to him: deku and dynamight. ah yes, the three musketeers, as they call themselves. it’s nice to see the top three teaming up that way. ‘where’s the honorific though, kiddo? i’m still much older than you.’

‘not that much.’ shoto replies, and it feels like a shot to the heart. that’s right... they’re both in their twenties now. ‘and i figured i’d drop the honorifics now that i’m above you on the hero ranking list.’

the tilt of his head would be adorable if he weren’t such an asshole. tokoyami was right when he said that his youngest was different than endeavor - hawks only wished to see such a playful side of him.

‘the disrespect.’ hawks laughs, slapping shoto on the shoulder. he hits harder than what would be necessary, but the boy doesn’t even bat an eye. sturdy. and tall. holy shit, is he taller than hawks now? ‘anyway, i really don’t mind. are you guys patrolling around here?’

‘GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE HALF-AND-HALF, BEFORE I GO THERE AND BEAT IT!’ one youngster yells at them.

‘kacchan, don’t be so rude! he’s talking to hawks-san!’

‘friendly bunch.’ hawks snorts, and shoto just shakes his head with a smile.

‘they’re the best. i’m just trying to catch up.’ he admits, sounding sincere.

‘DON’T IGNORE ME, FUCKFACE!’

‘what are you doing around here anyway?’ shoto asks. ‘isn’t your office in a different city?’

‘yeah, i just came here to stretch my wings, take a walk.’ hawks says, ruffling his feathers a little for emphasis.

‘are you walking on your wings?’

‘n-no...?’

‘then how-’

‘WRAP IT UP NOW!’ at dynamight’s next shout, shoto visibly flinches. he seems more irritated than scared, at least to hawks.

‘i just wanted to thank you for helping my dad all those years ago.’ shoto says then, bowing his head a little. hawks takes it back, he doesn’t have an ounce of disrespect in his body. he’s just a little warped in the social area, and hawks has a fairly good guess where he gets that from. ‘i’ll be going now.’

‘wait, ah- how, how’s the old man?’ hawks tries to aim for anything but desperate. ‘i haven’t heard from him since the retirement.’

shoto looks at him thoughtfully, and those dual-colored eyes make hawks immeasurably nervous. he feels like he’s staring into his soul, opening up the secrets he’s got locked inside.

‘he’s well. i go home on weekends.’ shoto says, pulling up a notebook and a pen. ‘here’s the address. i think he’d appreciate the visit.’

the road to the todoroki estate was the most tiring one hawks had taken in a while. it’s not like it was far from where they met with shoto, but he spent the entire time worrying if he’s dressed well for the occasion, if he should just walk instead of flying to not get gross and sweaty - if endeavor will even let him in, or he’ll just pass by and get told off.

the house is huge, traditional, designed in classic enji taste. hawks could see the roof from a street away, almost walks into a lamppost while staring, his heart picking up the speed both from the scare and the nerves. his feet feel heavier with every step, walking down the street, finally getting to the gate-

and seeing todoroki enji, former number one hero, the feared endeavor sweep the walkway to his door, the scene way too casual to not send an already spring-up hawks into hysterics.

‘what the hell is that?’ hawks spits, laughter erupting from deep in his belly. the look on endeavor’s face just makes him shriek louder, his abs clenching with it. ‘is that- a fucking broom for ants, endeavor, you look so funny-’

‘can’t a man just do his chores in peace?!’ endeavor’s yelling now; sparks fly on his heated skin, and then they burst into flames.

‘now that’s the endeavor-san i know and love.’ he laughs, holding onto his own stomach, wiping his tears. endeavor’s face appears red under all that fire, he walks up to the gate to let him in.

‘what are you doing here, anyway?’ he mumbles, extinguishing himself as hawks walked in. he holds his broom under his armpit rather awkwardly, with the gracelessness of a man not quite used to doing the cleaning. hawks looks at him, observes: the slouch in his shoulders, the specks of grey in his stubble, the blush high on his cheek, the early wrinkles. he smiles to himself, reasons unknown, buried deep in a secluded part of his heart.

‘ran into your kid downtown, he said i should drop by and say hello.’ hawks lifts the nylon bags he’s been carrying, offers a lopsided grin. ‘i brought takeout.’

‘hmpft.’ endeavor is elaborate, as always. a man of few words and plenty actions, something hawks has always admired in him. ‘you can stay. only for the food.’

‘so you’re still very much hopeless in the kitchen, eh?’

‘don’t make me change my mind, brat!’

the house is huge on the inside, at least five bedrooms, two bathrooms, a big kitchen and dining room, and one living room all fit into one floor. all of it echoes from their steps, empty and lonely.

‘your boy said that he’s visiting you on weekend.’ hawks pries, shrugging his coat off as he hands over the bag. his fingers brush against endeavor’s fight-hardened, calloused ones and his heart feels like it could jump out of his chest again.

‘whenever he has the time. shoto’s a busy man.’ endeavor nods, his voice dripping with pride. hawks doesn’t need him to say any more to know how fond he is of his son. it makes him smile, actually. ‘why?’

‘and the rest of your family?’ he asks, a little more cautious.

‘i see rei and natsuo on holidays, and fuyumi usually spends her school breaks here.’ enji sets down the bag at the low table, grabs a pair of chopsticks from the dish rack. there are plates piled high there: it seems like he can clean up after himself, but refuses to put things away. hawks figures it’s pretty comfortable, considers that for a second before he realizes how much he can see into endeavor’s private life.

they sit down at the same time, and their eyes meet. ‘i’m not lonely.’ enji immediately turns defensive. there’s probably pity or sadness in hawks’ eyes, he wasn’t paying attention to his expression for a second.

‘i wasn’t suggesting you were.’

‘being alone is something i deserve. so i take my punishment with pride and strength.’ enji squares his shoulder, sitting up impossibly straight at his uncomfortable seat. he takes the boxes out, scatters them across the table for them to reach. no plates, though. ‘itadakimasu.’

they eat mostly in silence, warm, comfortable, and hawks can’t take his eyes off him. endeavor looks so casual, so approachable like this. he looks soft, in the slightly frayed sweatpants, a little weary from use, and the soft cotton shirt hugging his bulging muscles, stretching across his enormous shoulders. his face is a little thin, the wrinkles obvious on its unharmed half. from this close, hawks can see the grey hairs on his temple, too.

‘i’m looking for a place to stay.’ hawks announces once they’re finished eating. the look of surprise and something else - hope? no, it can’t be... - flashing across endeavor’s face startles him, but he’s not about to back down, now. ‘what-... ugh, how much do you think you’d rent out a room for?’

‘what?’ endeavor appears shell-shocked. ‘wh- why?’

‘well, because my apartment building is remodeling, and i’m pretty sick of living in the busier side of the city anyway. figured i’d change it up, move into the suburbs-’

‘that’s not what i’m asking.’ he snaps. ‘why me? don’t you have friends who’d let you stay with them?’

‘not anyone i’d like to move in with.’ hawks shrugs, playing with a few leftover grains of rice. ‘you know, i can cook, and i’m also willing to dry off and put away your damn dishes.’

‘hawks...’

‘c’mon, we can have sleepovers! i can braid your hair and you can braid mine. it will be fun!’

‘i can’t let you do that, hawks.’

‘okay, yes, i admit, your mane’s a little short for a proper french braid, but i can make do-’

‘hawks.’ enji’s voice booms. ‘no.’

‘you’ve known me for almost a decade, old man.’ hawks is talking back, suddenly fired up. ‘why won’t you just let me take care of you?’

‘because i’m a perfectly capable person who doesn’t need anyone to take care of them.’ he huffs, steam seeping from his nose. ‘and because i can’t let you do that to yourself.’

‘what, enji?’ he’s loud. is he shouting? he can’t tell.

‘waste your time on a bitter old man who isn’t worthy of you.’

now they’re pulling up the big guns. hawks deflates, props his head up on his elbows.

‘retired, but still on your self-deprecating bullshit.’ he sighs. ‘will you take it to the grave?’

‘hawks, i’m serious-’

‘and i’ve been serious, too. my entire life, about my feelings for you. you kept shaking me off, saying it wasn’t appropriate for someone your age dating someone so young, saying you were married, but all this time, i kept getting refused because you hate yourself too much to allow yourself to be loved?’

hawks doesn’t know when he stood up, but he’s falling to his knees beside enji now.

‘what kind of an asshole does that...?’ he whispers, staring right into enji’s fearful eyes.

‘an asshole who cares about you.’ enji murmurs, letting hawks hit him in the chest.

‘this isn’t “caring” about someone! this is just lying to yourself and keeping yourself from being happy!’ his fingers tangle in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

‘keigo-’ enji hisses, losing his balance and gripping the edge of the table so he doesn’t fall against the other man.

‘tell me no.’ hawks proposes, his free hand coming up to cradle his jaw, so prickly and manly and strong, the shudder that ripples through him from the gentle touch, making him so weak and vulnerable. ‘no more running away, enji, no more games. tell me no right now, and i won’t ever bother you again.’

endeavor furrows his brows, the skin around his scar pulling grotesquely over his face with the struggle. he takes a deep breath, and hawks gets goosebumps as the hot air from the exhale hits his skin.

‘i can’t...’ enji whispers, and hawks can barely hear over the sound of his heart shattering. he starts to let go, but he forgets to breathe and move altogether as enji leans in instead, hand coming up to hold him close by the back of his head. ‘i can’t say no, not anymore...’

the first touch of lips against his have his insides flutter, almost working him into a panicked frenzy. he can only hope that enji can’t feel his heart beating in his throat as he kisses him, deep and desperate and oh so careful. hawks clings into him, lets him chase him for a change, holds on for the ride.

when they separate, hawks feels dizzy, drunk with heat and pleasure. enji looks just about as much present, he seems dumbfounded.

‘well, uh.’ he says, and hawks would kick anyone who says he doesn’t have a way with words.

‘i can come on thursdays and fridays.’ he offers, for now. ‘that way your kids can still have you on weekends.’

‘thanks.’ that’s all endeavor says before he pushes a few stray strands of hair back from hawks’ face, leans in for another kiss.

it’s a date, then.

[baecvlt]

First Love

Pairing: Sougami (Byakuya Togami x Kazuichi Soda)

Warnings: Smut (all wholesome tho bc they barely met in this one)

A/N: Decided to write this up for the bestie (komaedanovio on TikTok; follow them). Azul would die for them and there are 0 fics abt them sooo. Yeah.

“So you’re part of the Future Foundation, huh?”

Byakuya pushes his glasses back as they were falling off his nose, then turning around to see the person who spoke. “Uh, yes,” he answered the pink haired man behind him, he stuck out his hand that he’d covered with a handkerchief,“Byakuya Togami”. They shook hands.

“Name’s Kazuichi Soda”

“I know. The ‘Ultimate Mechanic’, is it not?”

“Yeah! You look really rich. Valentino Couture?”

“Yeah—,” Byakuya answered, then looked down at his suit,“How did you know?”. “My mom was somewhat a tailor. She’d help fix and sew up suits such as yours, so I obviously had to recognize Italian threads,” he explained,“Made sure I washed my hands before approaching you, can’t stain a fine suit like that”. Byakuya was somewhat impressed. No one has ever appreciated his attire, he looked like a snob to most people.

Then again, Kazuichi isn’t most people.

“She taught me to sew, never let me handle suits,” Kazuichi added,“But I’d always see them in the closet hung up nicely”. He had a warm smile on his face, reminiscing tends to bring a little joy to him. “I think that’s just honorable,” Byakuya said warmly. “You think so?”. Byakuya nodded, the smile on Kazuichi’s face spreading. “Thanks,” he mumbled, but spoke up,“We should keep in touch, y’know?”. Byakuya began to think. He wasn’t really one for friends, Kazuichi was extremely beneath him. On the other hand, he was interesting to talk to and didn’t seem like a pest, right?

“That’s fine”

“Alright! How about we meet up during the island celebration? Tonight?”

Byakuya nodded, he didn’t know why, but he nodded. “Cool! See you later, Togami”. Kazuichi ran off, going to see if he can help with cleanup someway. As he ran, Byakuya had just realized he agreed to hang out with someone who he had just met. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, but it was just weird to him. I guess, he just seemed nice enough. Whatever. Now that the Tragedy is over, it’d be nice to return things to normal. Byakuya was ready to make new partnerships and if his first besides his classmates was to be Kazuichi, so be it.

Later that evening, Byakuya made sure to attend. He got there early, making it easier to spot Kazuichi. He was around Gundham and Sonia, who had begun warming up to him. Their eyes locked, Byakuya waved. Kazuichi waved back as he called for him,“Togami! Wait up—”. He ran from his two classmates and to Byakuya. Everyone had gotten dressed up, Kazuichi in a nice little suit that complimented his hair. He had glasses on this time. “What a surprise!,” he cheered,“I thought you would’ve bailed!”. That was sad to say the least. “How could I do such a thing? I had to come anyway,” Byakuya explained,“Makoto can’t drive...he’s also in the Future Foundation”.

“So I’ve heard. Can I offer you a drink?”

“Why not?”

Byakuya was a pessimist, this we know. He was as pessimistic as they come. Hanging out with Kazuichi was something he told himself wouldn’t be worth his time, but he agreed, so he had to suck it up. To his surprise, hanging out with him wasn’t so bad. In fact, he’ll never admit it, but Byakuya actually enjoyed Kazuichi’s company. They went for a glass of punch, enjoyed the feast, danced with friends till dawn. Around 4am (because damn, this party was just never gonna end), they took it upon themselves to walk along the beach. As they walked, conversations took place. Byakuya went off on a rant about his limousine life, riding in one everyday and how he feared for his life when doing so. His limo made a sound that sounded as if it were going to fall apart any time soon.

“It was a scratching noise against the asphalt and absolutely terrorized me as a child. To this day, I won’t enter a limousine. I just can’t”

“Scratching? Gee, only thing that comes to mind is the exhaust coming down. Wish I could’ve seen it and told you for sure”

“I still have it in a hidden garage. It’s that valuable”

“Oh, nice! Maybe, I can stop by and see what’s wrong. You’ll have to drive it though”

Byakuya raised a brow. “You’re the mechanic, are you not?,” he asked. Kazuichi laughed nervously, nodding. “See, thing is...I get terribly carsick”. Well, that was new. It was confusing to Byakuya, just as the confusion hit, Kazuichi added:

“Isn’t that funny? The rich guy who’s scared of limos and the mechanic with carsickness”

Byakuya snickered,“Yeah, I guess that’s unheard of”.

They laughed, finding a perfect place to sit down. It was late. Dark and late, the sand was cool against their hands. They took off their shoes, setting them aside. The waves crashes on the shore, “So, what next?,” Kazuichi asked. His voice was softer, Byakuya took notice. “What do you mean?,” he asked. Kazuichi pushed back his hair and shrugged. “I mean, now that we’re all free”. Byakuya took time to give a proper answer, he had a plan.

“Well, for starters, after we finish cleanup, do the very best to rebuild homes. Slowly as we become civilized again, I rebuild the Togami Conglomerate. It’s what my family would’ve wanted and for them, I’d do just about anything” “Wow” “And yourself?”

Kazuichi smiled, facing him. “I’ve been working on blueprints here and there to, get this, introduce new transportation for us all!”. Byakuya shrugged. “You haven’t heard the best part, though,” he added,“You’ll never guess what it is!”.

“Flying car?

“That sounds awesome— No! That’s not it at all!”

“What is it?”

Kazuichi bit back his smile and answered,“A monorail! One that goes super fast! I just know it’s possible! Average monorail? 70 miles per hour, but if I get it right, It could go 200 miles per hour...ore more!”. Now, Byakuya was smiling. “Impressive,” he responded,“It’d be very convenient for people to get around”.

“I’m glad you think so”

Kazuichi faced the ocean, sighing deeply. “I’ve just always wanted to build transportation, really fast ones,” he said,“My old man doubted me, though. He didn’t think it was realistic. He said cars I can do, but never anything past that. Something about cars is all the family knows, I dunno”.

“I think you can do it”

“You’re just saying things—”

“No, I know you can. You have something other geniuses lack. You have the heart. Where there’s heart, there is will”

“That means a lot coming from you”

“Why from me?”

Kazuichi explained that he knows about Byakuya’s family and they didn’t sound any easier, either. “We didn’t have good upbringings,” he said,“But you, you had it so hard. Yet, you overcame all of that shit. If you survived that and all of this, I know you can rebuild your conga line”

“Conglomerate?”

“Yeah, that”

They smiled. “Man to man,” Kazuichi added,“Is settling down in that plan?”. Byakuya hadn’t thought of that at all. Would he even want to settle down? Jesus. That was the last thing he expected to think about. “I’m going to be completely honest with you,” Byakuya answered,“I have no idea. That isn’t something that’s come to mind. While I’d like to have someone to continue my legacy, I just don’t know. Tell me about your plan?”. Kazuichi was confused now, he didn’t think Byakuya was gonna return the question. “I would like to, but who’d love me?,” he muttered. He continued.

“I never had the best luck with women, but then sometimes, I sit and wonder,’Do I really feel this way about women?’ I try to be such a people pleaser, I sometimes don’t even know if I genuinely like something or if I say I do because that’s what’s expected of me and I’ve never told anyone else that, wow”

Byakuya sucked at being comforting, we also know this, but he really wanted to be there for Kazuichi. “I think I’m gay,” Kazuichi blurted, covering his mouth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that”. Byakuya shook his head,“First of all, congratulations”. Kazuichi couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Second of all, don’t apologize for being truthful to yourself,” he said,“I’m not exactly of heterosexual persuasion either”.

“Oh, thank god. I though I was going to be killed and thrown into the ocean”

“Nah, because who on this island is straight? Absolutely no one”

“You might be right...wow. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gaaaayyy”

Byakuya laughed,“Let it out, I guess”. “I’ve just never said that out loud! It feels so freeing!”. Kazuichi stood up and ran to the ocean. At the top of his lungs, he professed his attraction to men. He ran back, only for them to hear someone say. “You love who you love, man, more power to ya!”. They laughed at that moment, laughed so hard their stomach cramped. “Who even was that?,” Kazuichi sobbed.

“I think that might’ve been Yasuhiro”

“O-Oh, at least you know him”

They calmed down, enjoying their time on the sand. “This was fun,” Kazuichi mumbled. “I agree”. He scoot closer to Byakuya, who unknowingly wrapped his arm around his waist. He caressed his sides, softly. Kazuichi lay his head on Byakuya’s shoulder, which he didn’t mind. There was just something really comforting about this. “What’s most important to you in a relationship?,” Kazuichi asked. His voice was still soft, but unlike before, it wasn’t stern or blue. “For both of us to have ambition and goals set,” he answered,“What’s important to you?”.

“I just wanna trust someone. It’s hard for me to trust anyone, really. So as long as I can trust them and they’re kind, that’s all I want”

“Well, I’m a brutally honest cunt”

“I love brutally honest cunts”

He laughed as he continued to rub down his sides. As the saying goes, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. Plus, tonight was going just great. “Look at me,” Byakuya said. “Hm?”. Kazuichi faced him, only to be grabbed and pulled to Byakuya’s lips. He gasped, a blush coming across his face as Byakuya kissed him ever so tenderly. They pulled away slowly. Kazuichi covered his face, Byakuya reaching for his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “No! Its okay!,” he blurted,“It was more than okay! I-I’ve just never kissed another dude before. Okay, I’ve never actually kissed anyone else”.

“Oh?”

“Well, I have, but not like this”

“I can tell. Your lips, they were so soft and inexperienced. Untouched, I’d say”

As Byakuya said this, he placed his thumb gently on Kazuichi’s lips, sliding it down soft and slowly; he shuddered before he spoke. “I want you to kiss me again,” he muttered against his sliding thumb. “Good”. Kazuichi’s breath hitched as Byakuya grabbed his jaw, gently kissed him. He kissed back now with more readiness, his hand digging into the sand. Byakuya’s hand moved from his jaw to his throat, gripping softly. A sweet moan escaped Kazuichi’s lips, making him bite Byakuya’s bottom lip. He winced, pulling away momentarily. “Sorry,” he whispered. Byakuya reassured him it was okay, but Kazuichi shook his head. “Let me kiss it better,” he cooed, pushing Togami on his back. Soda straddled him, pecking his lower lip.

Now, Byakuya was blushing.

“Ah, don’t hate me, but I kinda drew blood”

“You? Withdraw blood? With those teeth? Also unheard of”

“Hey! Shut up about my teeth”

“I like your teeth”

“I like you”

“Really? Prove yourself truthful”

“Say less”

“WHAT THE FUCK”

Soda quickly got off of Togami, who sat up just as fast. There stood Hiyoko, Mahiru, Ibuki, and Mikan. “Hey girls!,” Kazuichi waved,“Togami was just helping me find my glasses. We found them know, so there’s no need to worry”. “Oh don’t worry, we were just on our way to the cabins,” Mahiru explained. “What goes on in the cabins stays in the cabins! Wooho- ouch!”. Hiyoko acting as if she didn’t just nudge the fuck out of Ibuki. “Y-You know, if you two are going to, uhm, continue what you were d-doing here,” Mikan began to suggest,“Maybe you c-could go get a cabin too. The others are headed over here”. Kazuichi looked at Byakuya, who nodded. “Okay then! Let’s go!”.

So there they were, following the girls to the cabins. “I say we go to mine, just to be safe,” Kazuichi explained,“Besides, I got to clean up. It looks greats now”. Byakuya just nodded, he couldn’t utter a word. For some reason, his heart was pounding out of his chest. The girl’s split from them, giggling as they entered their room. “Home sweet home,” Kazuichi said as he opened the door. They stepped in, Kazuichi locking it. He had turned the lights on, but once he jumped on his bed, Byakuya turned them off. “Oh, you’re straight to the point, aren’t you?,” Kazuichi teased as he held his arms open for Byakuya to crawl in. He did just that, kissing him all over. He focused on his lips for about 30 seconds, before moving on to his neck, and finally he unbuttoned his shirt a little to kiss along his chest. Feeling his shirt unbutton, Kazuichi took it upon himself to do the same to Byakuya, except unbuttoning it all.

“Togami..

“Yeah?”

“Lay down”

“Alright”

Byakuya lay down as Kazuichi got between his legs, hands on his belt buckle. “Can I...?”. Byakuya nodded, giving Kazuichi permission to take it off. Carefully, he slid off his jeans and briefs, exposing his pale cock. At that point, it was quite obvious that Kazuichi had no idea as to what he was doing and supposed to do. He began by grabbing his cock, licking at his tip a little, stroking him. Byakuya snickered as Kazuichi’s eyes met his, but breathed deeply. He put his mouth over it, bobbing his head, accidentally hitting his throat. He gagged, but not loudly. Byakuya played with his hair, not yet grabbing it. “Take your time,” he comforted,“I want you to enjoy this as much as I am...Fuck~ you’re doing so well”.

Kazuichi was really, really struggling. He had to think back to the most realistic porno he’s ever seen. What were these people doing that he hasn’t? Try being sloppy maybe? Cursing himself for his lack of education in gay sex (well, actually, just sex in general), he worked with what he knew. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass himself. Little did he know, he was actually putting Byakuya on edge. Byakuya hardly cursed and when he did, it was for good reason. Like right now, Kazuichi was giving him the sloppiest head in that moment. He was doing so well, Byakuya became fixated his mouth. Something about his mouth drove him insane.

And then there was Kazuichi, still believing he was doing terrible. His thoughts were racing.

I know I’m doing something wrong...

Is he even enjoying it?

God, I’m so out of his league...

Maybe if I just spit...

What would my dad think of this? Wait, my dad’s dead—

Kazuichi allowed himself to drool all over his cock. Byakuya moaned, pushing his head back. “No more, I’m so close...,” he gasped,“I’d prefer to finish elsewhere...”. Kazuichi’s stomach sank. “O-Oh,” he stuttered,“Okay, I guess I’ll just lay down”. Byakuya got in between his legs now, removing his jeans amd boxers, examining him, realizing he’d look better completely nude. Kazuichi shivered, which he also took note of. “Let me pull a bedsheet over us,” he said,“You look cold”. “Thank you,” Kazuichi muttered as Byakuya fumbled for the covers.

“Better?”

“Still a little chilly”

“Okay, Uhm- how about now?”

Byakuya held Kazuichi with his arms wrapped around him, bare chests making contact. “Feels so nice,” he mumbled. Byakuya placed a kiss on his chest before warning him about prep.

“Please be gentle”

“I will be, just relax. Breathe”

Kazuichi was shaking at this point, he was so nervous and didn’t know why. Byakuya held him tightly, stopping himself from entering even a finger in the guy. “You’re shaking,” he noted,“Is everything okay?”. Kazuichi nodded, explaining,“This is my first time, I just want you to be gentle”. Byakuya helped him work on his breathing. He placed a warm hand on his chest, making sure his heart rate slows down. “There,” he whispered,“I’m gonna go slow”. Kazuichi nodded, bracing himself.

Prep wasn’t actually bad?

He took Byakuya’s first two fingers well, but then the third one made him whine (and cry a little). Nonetheless, he just wanted to get it over with. The pain had gone away once Byakuya had curled his fingers a few times. Kazuichi made small noises as he took his fingers, whining when pulled out. With his other hand, he cupped Kazuichi’s jaw, but slowly slit it down to his throat. Kazuichi gasped as he felt Byakuya’s grip tighten. “I’m going to ruin you ever so softly,” he whispered,“Understood?”.

“Yes...”

“Good”

Byakuya took his cock out, placing Kazuichi’s legs on his shoulders. Still tight, he groaned as he pushed in. “Ah! Fuck...”. Along with being filled by Byakuya’s cock, the grip on his throat remained, sending a wave of pleasure through him. Byakuya kept his thrusts slow, just like be promised. “I-Is this okay?,” Byakuya managed.

“Harder”

“I just started. D-Don’t you want to ease into it first”

“No, just— please. Also...”

Kazuichi moved his hand to Byakuya’s choking hand, pressing it down harder against him. “What you’re asking for could hurt you, um...Are you sure?,” Byakuya asked. Kazuichi nodded, fisting Byakuya’s hair and pulling him in for a heated kiss. In response, Byakuya only thrust harder into him. He knew he wouldn’t last long, seeing Kazuichi’s already fucked out face. Each thrust only made his blush deepen and his stomach acids find new ways to make him feel sick. Byakuya came to the realization that his cock already had the guy in shambles and in a trance, almost. He was making him feel good, but he knew that he wasn’t exactly fucking him the way he should be fucked, deserves to be fucked. He wasn’t hitting his sweet spot just right, Byakuya taking it upon himself to experiment with his thrusts.

“Ngh! Hey, why’d you stop doing that? It felt— Ah!”

Found it.

Byakuya tried thrusting with his cock in that angle, but realized it was harder in this position. “Ass up,” he sighed, slightly out of breath. Kazuichi didn’t hesitate whatsoever, immediately laying on his stomach with his ass in the air. Sure, he already felt weak in his knees, but that wouldn’t stop him from letting Byakuya do him the way he was about to.

It didn’t take long for Byakuya to rediscover this new spot, hitting it repeatedly. Kazuichi dug his face into the soft, white pillows; practically screaming as he was unraveling underneath Byakuya. His whines were perpetual and if you listened closely, you could hear exactly what he was saying in a quiet breath.

“Yesyesyes, oh! Please don’t stop now pleasepleaseplease I can’t take it anymore, Ah! I love you, I love you so much, I really love you, o-oh thank you..”

Byakuya smiled at his low, yet raspy words. I love you? “How cute,” he muttered, pulling his messy pink hair back. Kazuichi’s hand shook as he moved it too his leaking cock. “I’m close, Togami, please don’t stop”. Byakuya snickered,“I don’t plan on it”. Gently, he shoved his head back down onto the pillow, also nearing his high. Without warning, Byakuya came after a few thrusts. Feeling his warmth, Kazuichi came right after. He collapsed onto the mattress, head in the pillows and trying his very best to catch his breath. As he took deep breaths, Byakuya smiled as his fingers walked up the blushing boy’s back, tracing small circles and figure eights.

“You’re too kind”

“You deserve it,” Byakuya whispered, placing a hand on Kazuichi’s hip and kissing up and down his back (and to his neck). Kazuichi turned around, Byakuya getting to kiss his stomach a few times before being pulled up by Kazuichi. “Ah!”. He laughed as he held Byakuya tighter, nuzzling him. Byakuya may have been taller, but Kazuichi was definitely stronger.

“Gotcha”

Byakuya would be annoyed, but not when Kazuichi has the goofiest and most smug look on his face. Eventually he let him go, laying by him. Kazuichi’s hair was ruined by their little night Basically, he ended up with his tiny braid undone. Kazuichi twirled his excess hair in between his fingers. “Oh- Allow me,” Byakuya said, finding the rubber band used to fasten the hair, braiding. Kazuichi’s eyes stared at him lovingly, watching Byakuya put his glasses back on just to redo his braid. “Annnnnd...done”. Byakuya rubbed his chest before reaching for the the ground and picking up his briefs, putting them back on. He tossed Kazuichi his boxers.

“Thanks”

“Of course”

They lay next to each other, Kazuichi playing with Byakuya’s hair. “I’m so glad I met you,” Byakuya admitted. “Ditto”. Byakuya grabbed his chin, pulling him in for a slow, passionate kiss. Suddenly, the door creaked open, but two girls rush in, already fondling each other.

“Excited, aren��t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be when you look so—”

Kazuichi and Byakuya stared at the two women, who awkwardly stared back.

“Togami?”

“Fukawa?...WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH NAEGI’S SISTER?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THE MECHANIC?”

“I won’t say anything if you don’t”

“Sounds good to me! Come on, Komaru”

The girls ran out, thus allowing Kazuichi and Byakuya to finish their little makeout session. Eventually, it tired them out, sleeping in each other’s arms. Before sleep, Byakuya wondered something, but decided it could wait. The next morning, Kazuichi woke up first, planting a small kiss on Byakuya’s lips. As his eyes fluttered open, Kazuichi gasped. “My prince has finally awoken”.

“Silly”

“I know”

Byakuya kissed him properly, getting up to bathe. Upon entering the shower, he heard the door open. “Can I join?!”. Byakuya invited him in, closing the shower door. “Did you want something before we go?,” Byakuya asked, making Kazuichi blush. “Uh, no, um...did you?”. Byakuya shook his head.

“I just wanted to shower with you”

“I see. Help me with my hair, I’ll help you with yours”

Kazuichi nodded, grabbing the shampoo and lathering it into his hair. It didn’t take long to add in the conditioner in too since his hair was short. Now, Byakuya got to Kazuichi’s hair. He took care of Kazuichi, being less awkward about washing him up. It’s not that Kazuichi wasn’t into helping him, he was insecure about touching him. He wanted to do it right, sometimes doubting himself and what he was doing. Byakuya on the other hand, was confident in what he was doing as he massaged Kazuichi’s scalp whilst washing him. “Did you mean it?”.

“Mean what?”

“Last night while I was destroying you from the inside out—”

“Of course”

“—you said you loved me....well, did you mean it? I know people say things they don’t mean in a state of bliss, but-”

“Togami, I meant every word”

Byakuya’s heart skipped a beat as Kazuichi spoke. “If you mean it, tell me right now that you love me,” he ordered. “I love you, Togami. Do you love me?”. Byakuya held onto him, hugging him tightly. “Well, I guess this is my answer,” Kazuichi laughed,“Hey— Are you crying?”. Obviously crying, (because he was emotional for some reason) Byakuya backed away.

“Of course not! Me? Crying? No, never!”

“I love you”

“I love you too”

“Was this too fast?”

“What? You’re telling me you don’t believe in love at first sight?”

“I guess I do”

They finished up their shower and got dressed, heading out. Everyone had already met up at the dock. “Jesus, where the hell were you two?!,” Makoto asked, genuinely concerned. “Yeah, we were about to go search,” Hajime added. “I was helping Kazuichi pack something. I saw him struggle in his room with it,” Byakuya said, calmly. Kazuichi just went along with it. “Yeah, my tools wouldn’t pack well,” he explained,“Togami was just helping me stuff everything into my toolbox”. A low mutter was heard, but you’d have to be close enough to understand it.

“Yeah, right. That toolbox wasn’t the only thing Byakuya was stuffing...—”

“FUKAWA!”

“Alright! That does it for the headcount!,” Makoto announced,“Let’s get going. We have a rebuilt city to settle into!”. As everyone cheered on boarded the boat with their own individual classes, Byakuya rushed closer to Kazuichi. “Will I see you again?,” Kazuichi asked.

“Soon. May I kiss you goodbye, or would that be too much a cliche?”

“Yeah, but I love cliches. All the best movies have ‘em”

“So do I”

They kissed tenderly, Byakuya holding his waist. They pulled away, smiling. “See ya around,” Kazuichi mumbled. “Goodbye, Souda”.

[whispersafterdusk]

Prompt #5: Fool (pick your own)

"...may I ask you a personal question?"

At his words she had met his gaze, emerald eyes shining in the candle light.  Aymeric paused a moment, struggling to keep his expression pleasant - he'd already failed once this evening in letting his emotions get the better of him, and while he felt a bit embarrassed over that lapse that she in kind had shown equal amounts of joy, of excitement, at the thought of adventuring together...

"Now that the dust has settled, what will you do?  Not as a Scion, I mean, but...what do you want for yourself?"

She leaned back in her chair and a stray wisp of hair, as brown as the soil from the forests she'd been born in, fell forward over her shoulders.  Were the table not so wide Aymeric knew he would have been hard pressed to keep himself from reaching to sweep it back into place.  After a few breaths to think she had again met his gaze, and as her mouth opened to deliver her answer a Fortemps knight had entered the dining room, begging forgiveness.

Outwardly Aymeric was calm understanding.  Inwardly, he was ready to pitch the man through the nearest window.  Hearing the reason for the interruption only just barely tempered the desire, but at the very least she had not refused his offer to go with her back to Fortemps to see what new disaster loomed on the horizon.

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

She had returned to Ishgard - on Scion business, of course.  But the reason didn't matter; she was here, again, and he was damned if he'd let anything interrupt him this time.

Gaelle had looked exhausted...moreso than he'd ever seen her.  For a brief moment he hesitated, as surely she needed rest more than he needed to speak with her; but the smile...gods, the smile she'd given him upon seeing him.  It had sent his stomach into loops and heart racing (though he was much, much better prepared to keep his outward calm this time).  He would propose the question, and she would answer, and that really was that.

------------------------------------ ((Continued below cut))

"I really should keep spare sets of clothing for all occasions as Thancred constantly nags me to..." Gaelle muttered as she paced restlessly in her room within the Fortemps manor.

The last time she'd dined with Aymeric she had worn the single set of proper Ishgardian formal clothing that she'd managed to find in her size and of a color and cut she'd cared for -- it had been rushed but all had assured her that she looked radiant and ready for a meeting with the Lord Commander.  

She remembered how his eyes had lit up upon seeing her in her finery, sparking a shyness and warmth within her that not even seeing Alisaie injured had managed to extinguish; she'd had help choosing that outfit - Lord Fortemps had sent his wife's servant Trisselle with her to advise on what would be appropriate for the occasion.  She wouldn't have the woman this time, and there was even less time now to try and find something proper as she couldn't possibly wear the same clothing again without breaking some sort of social protocol (and there were just...so many of those here in Ishgard.  So many ways to look clumsy and crude).

"Well, pacing here won't solve anything," she said aloud, her voice seeming to echo within the room.  The thought of shopping alone was daunting but she had little choice and even less time to deal with it.

After a few more rounds within the room she composed herself and tugged open the door, only to nearly collide with Honoroit on the other side.

"Sorry, my lady.  I came to fetch you- Lord Fortemps has requested your presence."

Damn it.  Damn it damn it.  "Thank you, I shall go at once," she replied, managing a strained smile.  Honoroit gave her a quick half bow and led the way through the manor toward...not the parlor or the main hall but toward the living quarters of the family.

"...Honoroit, where are we going?"

"To the Lady's room," came the answer.

"Why?"

"Lord Fortemps learned of your formal meeting with the Lord Commander tonight, and wishes to assist you in readying to meet with him."

Gaelle blinked silently at the back of the boy's head - how had the Count already heard...? - and followed along until they came to the bedroom of Lady Fortemps; she was an older, stern woman that Gaelle had barely said three words to the entire time she'd been within the house.

The woman eyed her up and down and let out a curt sigh.  "Well, nothing I possess will fit something of your particular body size.  Honoroit, collect her cloak and meet us at the front door - Heribert will accompany us from there."

"I'm...I'm sorry, Lady.  What is going on?"

The woman bustled by her with a sharp gesture for her to follow.  "My husband became aware of your meeting this evening and is determined for you to dress appropriately.  I am assuming you did not bring formal wear with you?"

Of course she hadn't, and Gaelle knew the woman knew the answer as she'd been present in the hall when Gaelle had arrived with only a small travel pack and an intention to be in Ishgard for only a day or two.  "N-no, I'm afraid I haven't.  I wasn't expecting..."

"Come along then, we've not much time."

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

His face betrayed him when he caught sight of Gaelle in her gown; it was a deep green - almost as green as her eyes - with a corset in a rich brown laced with white-gold ties and an ivy pattern embroidered in golden thread that caught the firelight here and there as she moved and breathed.  

She saw the change in his expression and glanced down shyly as she greeted him.

Perhaps...perhaps this time, if there was no interruptions...

As each course went by without anyone barging through the door, Aymeric felt hopeful - almost lightheaded.  They'd finished dessert, they'd finished their tea, and now...now...

"Would you care to retire to the parlor?" he asked, smiling warmly.  "A far more comfortable place to sit and talk."

"Of course, Aymeric.  Lead the way."

He stood and came around the table as she rose from her chair and offered her his arm, heart skipping a beat as she placed her hand on it and walked with him through the door and into the hall beyond.  As they drew closer to the parlor he slowed, and she slowed with him, until they were standing before the parlor's closed door.

A quick glance showed that the servants had, wisely, made themselves scarce, leaving him alone in the hall with his Warrior of Light.

"I know when I last asked you what you wanted for yourself our evening was interrupted by crisis," he said into the silence.  "Have you given it any thought since then?"

"I have," came her answer.  He could see her swallow, see a slight pink tinge to her cheeks, and her fingers gently tightened on his forearm.  "Have you?  Ever thought about it, I mean."

"I have," he answered.  "And it would have me ask you yet another personal question, if you're willing."

She nodded, and Aymeric shifted himself to stand before her; her hand fell away from his arm as he raised his hand to gently place his fingers beneath her chin with his heart hammering in his own ears.

And then, he hesitated.  He was so close, and yet--

He closed his eyes a moment, and opened them to stare into hers.  After a few breaths she smiled at him.

"Whatever you must do or say, Aymeric, do it, you sweet brave fool."

Spurred on by her words he bent and pressed his lips to hers; to his utter delight she did not pull away but raised up a bit on her toes and slid a bit closer.  Those few brief seconds may well have lasted a lifetime but as he pulled away and rubbed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip she smiled at him again.

"I-I should think my answer to that is clear."

He slipped his hand to the small of her back and with his other pushed open the door to the parlor where they settled together on a couch before the fire, pressed against one another with his arm about her.  The conversation was easy and comfortable - he about his childhood and knighthood, her about the sun-dappled forests of the Shroud.  Soon she had her head nestled against his shoulder and he had his cheek resting atop her head; the conversation lulled after a time and he simply closed his eyes to enjoy the closeness of someone he adored.

At some point there was a knock at the door and for once Aymeric wasn't immediately annoyed; he knew it had to be getting late, and while there was a room ready for Gaelle to utilize here he knew that House Fortemps was hosting her and that whatever business had brought her back to Ishgard would be conducted there so to keep her here would only hinder her in the morning.

As he escorted her to the door she twined her fingers into his, and he received another sweet but brief kiss before she had to hurry off into the night.

Sweet, brave fool, she'd called him...HER sweet, brave fool, for sure.  Now and forever.

[kerie-prince]

the memory of you pt. 1

Gilderoy Lockhart x Healer!reader

requested: (anon) Omg thank you! If you want to write any kind of Lockhart scenario that suggests NSFW stuff then I'd totally be cool with whatever you come up with 😊 thanks again so much! ❤️

warnings: none

summary: After helping Gilderoy deal with his memory loss and get him out of St. Mungo's, you couldn't help but fall for his charm once more when he finds you on the streets of London.

a/n: I THOUGHT I QUEUED THIS 💀 i sat here at work thinking 'damn, no one liked my post? k 😭' anyways, i'm gonna break this into two parts before it gets too long lmao. bold italics are flashbacks

(gif not mine, cred to owner)

You worked with a certain celebrity for quite a while now. He was brought in one day without knowing who he was, where he came from, and how he ended up in a weird cave. His residence at St. Mungo’s where you worked lasted for a while. Other Healers declared that there was no way to recover his memory, but he didn’t seem to mind. Gilderoy was perfectly content with being happy and healthy even if he didn't know what was going on.

He was so sweet. Never gave you or any of your colleagues any trouble. He took his potions with ease, didn't make a fuss when bringing him from one room to another, and held conversations as normal. His family would visit him on occasion and it pained you to watch him not know them. But overall, he was happy.

After two years at St. Mungos, Gilderoy was let go considering that even though his memories were gone, he had enough mental stability to be out in public. Gilderoy had to go to a private academy to re-learn magic basics in adult classes. You remember the night before he left.

“So nice to start my life tomorrow,” Gilderoy had his signature smile on. He ate his dinner on his own without the help of Healers.

“Your life has already started, you just don't remember is all,” you corrected. You were preparing his bed for the last time. Since it's his last night, you were able to grab an extra pillow for him to be comfortable.

“Yes, but tomorrow I'll start a life I can remember. I'll make new memories.” Gilderoy stood up from his small table and walk to his hospital bed. He always loved the way you prepared his bed. How you fluffed the pillow, folded the blankets back neatly, and made sure the bed was warm. It wasn't special treatment as you did it for all patients, but he appreciated it all the same.

“Good night, Miss Y/L/N,” he said.

“Good night, Mr. Lockhart,” you replied.

Two years later, you're still working at St. Mungos. You've seen patients come and go since then. None quite as cooperative as Gilderoy, but they weren't all bad either.

The London streets were busy as usual today. It was slightly cloudy, but luckily it wasn't raining. And thank Merlin because you didn't have an umbrella with you. Cabs were driving right past you as you stood by the sidewalk trying to catch one. Once one stopped in front of you and you were about to climb in, another hand also grabbed for the handle. “Miss Y/L/N?”

Gilderoy stood next to you, eyes gleaming and wore his charming smile. He looked as happy as he always did. “Mr. Lockhart, hello.” It was a pleasant run in, and you'd love to chat but you had to be at work soon. It seemed that he noticed your uniform as well. “Oh, go ahead. I'll call for another one.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lockhart.” You opened the door but before you could close it, Gilderoy said one last thing. “I hope to see you again!” He waved at you as you left and kept at it until you were out of sight.

His wish was granted three months later; he was walking around the same street for probably the 4th time that week. He wasn't ashamed to admit that after that day he ran into you, he wanted to see you again. You were with a couple of friends at a pub one night celebrating a proper weekend off. Gilderoy followed you in, a bit of people that recognized him stopped him to say ‘hi’ but of course, he doesn't know them. They were fans of his before the memory loss. They took a few pictures and he went walking after you. You were seen sitting at a bar table by yourself waiting for your friends to come back from the restroom.

Gilderoy walked up to you slowly, “Hello, Miss Y/L/N.” You recognized him and by pure habit, you gave him your work smile and voice, “Good evening, Mr. Lockhart.”

“Please, call me Gilderoy,” he requested.

“Gilderoy,” you reached your hand out to shake his, “you can call me Y/N.” His smile changed, not one that you've seen in magazines and papers, but a more humble one. His cheeks became a bit rosy and he looked like he was flustered. “So, how have you been?” he asked. You took a quick sip of the water that was on the table before continuing the conversation, “I’ve been good! Just been working all the time. How about you? I bet so many great things have been going with you?”

“Not really. Since I didn't know much about my life before I was admitted in, I didn't know where to start. So I lived with my mother for a while, but now I’m on my own.” Seeing Gilderoy be so humble was a sight to see. A once self-centered, proud man has turned into a sweet, kind one. You almost wanted to thank whoever did this to him, not knowing it was actually Gilderoy who had accidentally done this to myself. “Well, are you working right now?” you asked him.

“No, I don’t really have anything to offer,” he looked down.

“That’s not true, you…” you stopped to think about what it was that Gilderoy could do. And unfortunately, it wasn't much. When word had gone out that he had actually stolen credit for all the things he had claimed to have done, people wondered if he was good at anything.

Gilderoy laughed at your blank expression. You felt bad. “Well, I’m sure you’re good at something.” You patted his shoulder gently across the table. Your friends came back from the restroom after what felt like twenty minutes. “Oh! It’s Gilderoy Lockhart, so nice to meet you,” each of them shook his hand. “What brings you here?”

Suddenly, he was embarrassed to say that he was spending weeks trying to find you. “Oh, I was just around. I walked inside and recognized Y/N. Thought I’d say hello,” he felt a bit nervous at that moment. “Well I best be going. I don't want to intrude. Have a good evening.” Gilderoy was about to leave until one of your friends called out for him, “No, stay! I’m sure Y/N would love to catch up with you, isn't that right?” You weren't sure if it would be appropriate to hang out with a former patient. Sure, it’s been a couple years since then, but you've never had any patients become even acquaintances, let alone friends. But the look in Gilderoy’s eyes that were basically begging you to say ‘yes’ hit something in you. “If you’re not doing anything else tonight, I'm sure we would like your company tonight.”

Gilderoy was funnier than he seemed to be. Being one of the Healers that worked with him for nearly four years, you never knew about this. He was telling the story of the first time he had used the levitation spell during his adult classes and he accidentally made his professor levitate and not the inanimate object on the table. Slightly tipsy, you and your friends laughed so hard trying to picture the situation. Gilderoy said he panicked and when he tried to let him down, the professor fell from ten feet in the air on his head and passed out. Luckily, he wasn't kicked out to the class but it was certainly something the professor never let him live down.

By the end of the night, your friends had gotten plastered and left for home. You were fine; your tipsy state was gone. You made sure your friends were set in the cab and told the cabbie their addresses. Gilderoy stood behind you and watched as you took care of your friends. It was different than when you worked, but it brought back memories when you took care of him.

When the cab drove off, you turned to look at the blond man. “Well, it was great seeing you, Mr. Lock– Gilderoy,” you quickly corrected yourself. You nodded and started walking down the street before he called for you again. “W-would you like to take a walk?” You thought about it, the same thought from earlier. But you've already shared a few drinks with him, so a walk wouldn't hurt. The sky was clear and although the stars were faint, there were a couple large ones that you could point out. You walked in silence for a couple minutes until you spoke up, “The weather’s nice.” He nodded quietly. It wasn't odd for him, but it was for you. It was odd to see him not as talkative as he used to be. You supposed that when you have your memories wiped, your personality could be affected as well. But he was still somewhat himself when he was a patient, so this change must have happened in the past two years. You hoped that nothing bad happened in that time.

It was getting later and later, but something about Gilderoy was different and you liked being around this sort of new him. He’s more inviting compared to how he was when he was a celebrity. The feeling of it being weird with him outside of work was gone, and something else started. You wanted to get to know him as a person again.

You checked the time on your wristwatch and decided that you should head home eventually. “It was nice seeing you tonight. I hope to see you again,” you grinned. His eyes lit up as he looked at you, “I would love that. Maybe we can have tea sometime?”

“I’d like that. Goodnight, Gilderoy.”

“Good night, Y/N.” He signaled a cab for you and like he did the last time, he waved until he couldn't see you anymore.

—

requests open!