#but i peeled the polish off of one of my nails and it’s already happening again

[danothan]

the thing abt painting my nails is that is that if i don’t, i’m guaranteed to find blood under them. sigh. is it this hard for everyone else too

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Medical Emergency

Summary: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Fe!Reader -> When Jake gets a call asking to pick you up from the hospital, it's safe to say he's confused. Especially considering neither of you were known for getting along with the other.

Disclaimer: Enemies to lovers, brother's best friend, descriptions of being ill (nothing fully specified, just fainting a lot, low blood sugar and hormones), swearing, fluff, steamy moments, he takes care of you. This has been in my w.i.p for a while now so it's kinda a long one. Not Proof Read.

It was safe to say Jake was confused to find out he was your emergency contact. 

It was known to most people in the town that you and Jake weren’t exactly the best of friends. The hatred started all back when he was brought into Top Gun the first time round. Before he suddenly became the best, of the best of the best. And each year he came back, it only got worse. 

Neither of you would be surprised if everyone in San Diego knew about how much you and Jake didn’t get along. 

So, yeah. Getting a call from a Nurse called Emma telling him he needed to come and pick you up from the hospital…he was confused. 

He’d spent most of the day training the new recruits at Top Gun. He was on base when he got the call, but twenty minutes later, he was parked outside the hospital and was being shown to your room. 

“She’s to take two of these every six hours for the next three days. If she has any drastic changes; dizziness, nausea, vomiting, etc. Bring her back. But she should be okay.”

He hadn’t even been told what had happened. 

Then he saw you. 

On a typical day, your hair was either up or down. You typically wore bright colours since the kids in your class like to point them out and name them. And even at the end of the week when you’d walk into the Hard Deck, Penny already having your drink waiting for you, and you’d look tired and ready to go to bed, you were still…bright. Put together. 

But from where he was standing, you were dressed in grey sweats and a Top-Gun hoodie. Most likely, you thought it was your brother’s. But from the worn hole around the edge of it let Jake know it was his. One your brother had never returned to him. 

You looked…like you needed to be comforted. 

Your hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail at the base of your skull. Any hints of make-up had been long washed away. Your nail polish was chipped, if not already peeled from your nails. 

Finally slipping your shoes on, you stood slowly. You looked like you needed to sleep for a year, and maybe take another nap for eight months. 

“Just sign here and here and then you’re free to go.”

Jake watched as the nurse’s words just about registered in your ears before you slowly picked the pen up from her hand and signed your name at the bottom of the paper. 

Reaching to grab the rest of your stuff, Jake almost swooped forwards. “I’ve got it.”

You just nodded. “Thanks.”

Any other day, you would have told him you could do it yourself and tell him to fuck off. 

He picked up your overnight bag and, with a hand at the bottom of your back, led you out of the hospital. 

“This way.”

You followed him back to his car and once he knew you were safe inside the passenger seat, he rounded the car and got into his seat. 

“I did tell them just to call me a cab. You can just drop me off down the road. You don’t need to-”

“I’m not letting you walk home.” He told you. “What’s your address?”

Part of Jake wished you’d fight him more about walking home. At least that way he’d know you were actually okay. He still would have driven you home, but…he wanted you back. 

Typing your address into his phone, he followed the sat-nav. 

By the time he pulled up outside your house, you were asleep. He waited for five minutes, letting you sleep whilst he researched and read the prescription you’d been given. 

Then he looked up at your house. You had to have a spare key. 

Carefully, he left his car and walked up your path. He looked in all the typical places until he found a small patch of wood from your porch coming loose. Inside was your key. 

So, opening your door and carrying your things inside, he came back for you. 

Unbuckling your seatbelt, he placed one of your arms around his neck before placing his own arms around your back and under your legs. 

“It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

And you did. 

Shutting the door to his car with his back, he carried you into your house, shutting your front door with his foot before taking you into your bedroom and laying you on top of your sheets. Looking around, he found a basket of blankets just under your window. 

However, as he covered you up, he checked your temp with the back of his hand. You seemed okay. 

Then you reached for him. 

It was only for a few seconds, but you held his hand before your body fell back to sleep. 

Before he left your room, Jake got you a glass of water and left your window on a latch. And then he stayed. 

Kicking off his boots by the door, he locked everything up around your home before laying down on top of the guest bed with a million and one questions circling around his head. 

Why was he your emergency contact? What had happened? Why didn’t anyone else tell him you were in the hospital for, clearly, more than a couple of hours? 

You spent the next two days in and out of consciousness. The hospital told Jake not to worry and that it was a good sign you were sleeping. He’d wake you every couple of hours and give you your tablets. 

And each time, you’d wake up with the same confusion of how and why he was in your house. And then you’d remember. And apologise. And thank him. Before he’d tell you to lay back down and get some rest. 

By the time you came round, you woke up to texts pinging on your phone. 

How could you not tell me you were dating someone?

We SERIOUSLY need to catch up about this when you’re back in. 

Your boyfriend called the school. Why is this how I’m finding out you’re sick?

Get better soon, honey xoxo

Also, don’t worry about the kids. I’ve got your class covered. 

One of your fellow-teacher best friends. You and her had joined the school as teachers in the same year. She had been away on a cruise for the last two weeks. 

Slowly, everything that had happened over the last two days came flooding back to you. They had called Jake. He had come to get you at the hospital. He kept waking you up. Had he stayed that whole time? Was he the one to call your school?

Pulling yourself from your bed and heading to the bathroom, you caught a look of yourself in the mirror. You looked…rough. And also the exact same as you had when you’d left the hospital. Maybe there was a little more colour in your cheeks. 

And you did feel better. 

The room felt still and you didn’t feel like throwing up all your insides out, despite being unable to do so. 

Drying your hands on the towel, you made your way through your home. Things were…tidy. Militarily so. The last time your place, although tidy, had looked militarily tidy had been when your brother had visited you before he got deployed again. 

So, either, he was here now. Jake was still here. Or you had a ghost haunting your house that just so happened to be in the Navy. 

Walking down the stairs, you found a pair of boots at the bottom of your stairs. They definitely weren’t yours. 

Then you heard someone in the kitchen. The smell of fresh bread and chicken noodle soup wafted through your home. 

It was a minute or two before Jake spotted you. It felt like a fever dream, watching him in your kitchen, dressed normally, a towel slung over his shoulder as he slid the bread buns from the tray to a cooling rack. 

“Oh, hey. You’re awake.”

You nodded. “Did you cook?”

“How are you feeling?” Jake made his way over to you, his hand coming to touch your forehead and cheeks. You swatted his hands away. You could have sworn you saw him smile after you did it. 

“Get off me, I’m fine.”

Jake smiled as he watched you make your way to sit down on the opposite side of the kitchen island. You looked way better than you had done when he saw you in the hospital. 

“What day is it?”

“Tuesday.” He told you, continuing to slide all but one of the bread buns onto the cooling back. The final one, he dropped onto a plate before dishing out a bowl of the soup. 

“Eat up. You’re gonna need your strength.”

You looked at the food in front of you. “You made this?”

“I made it.”

You looked at him sceptically. “Is this how you plan to kill me? She was weak, your honour. I just wanted to help her.”

“Why would I take care of you for three days and then kill you? It’d be easier if I did it in three days.”

“So you did think about it.”

Jake rolled his eyes and handed you a fork. “Just eat.”

You couldn’t lie, it was one of the best meal’s you’d had in a long time. And as you ate, you looked around your home. Your books had been tidied away and back onto your shelves. All except two. One you were part way through reading and one that was…almost finished. But not by you. 

You didn’t notice as Jake watched you take everything in. Your books, your pots of pens. You dish towels, your spices and other baking ingredients. Some had even been put into the jars you had been meaning to fill back up. Then you noticed the smaller things. Like how he’d put up the wooden signs in your kitchen you’d been planning to do for months, and how he’d cleaned…everything. 

It looked like he’d done a complete renovation of your place whilst you’d been knocked out. 

Then you noticed the pile of papers on your kitchen counter. 

The English and maths tests you’d given to your class a few weeks ago. You hadn’t finished marking them. 

But Jake had. 

You took the top paper and looked it over. 

“Did you mark these?” You flipped through the pages. Not only were they marked, but they were marked correctly. They even had a sticker on each of “well done” or “great stuff”. 

You heard Jake chuckle. “I am a teacher, too, you know.”

“You’re a…Top Gun instructor. Not a third-grade teacher.”

“I do suppose I am over qualified to help but-”

You shook your head. You hadn’t meant for it to sound so insulting.

“No, I-I mean, thank you. But you didn’t have to do this. Any of this.” You gestured around your home. “You already did enough bringing me home.”

“I wanted to ask you about that. Why was it me that brought you home? Surely you have people who you actually like, to be your emergency contact?”

Tyler watched as you fell silent and searched for the words to tell him. 

“You’re…not.” Taking a breath, you looked up at him. “They…they tried a couple of people. They couldn’t make it. One of the nurses knows Penny so called and asked if she had anyone’s number who I knew. I did try and tell them to just call me a cab.”

He let your words settle over him. 

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who else did you call? Who didn’t pick up?”

You listed them off. Most were people in your family and a couple of friends. 

“I would have fought them on it but-”

“I’m glad you called me.” Jake admitted you. And it struck you. “Give me your phone.”

You slid it over to him. And he called his number from your phone. 

“If anything like that happens again, I want you to call me.”

“Jake-”

He shook his head. “You’re not fighting me on this. Fight me on everything else. Anything else. But not this. Call me.”

So you just nodded. “Okay.”

“Good. And eat up, too.”

You did. “You say that as if we’ve got some place to be.”

“We do.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see.”

Twenty minutes later he practically shoved you into your bathroom en-suit telling you to shower and get changed. 

“I thought my nurse was meant to be kind.”

“I am kind!” He said. “And I’m not a nurse. And I’m a friend.”

You laughed a little at that one. 

“I’ve seen the inside of your junk drawer. I’m your friend. I have to be, or else I don’t have a word for it.”

He did have a point on that. Your junk drawer…even you hadn’t seen the inside of that thing in at least a year. 

So, after getting dressed, taking the last of your antibiotic and forcing some kind of health smoothie Hangman had made you with the blender he found at the back of your cupboard, you found yourself back in the passenger seat of his car. 

“Where are we going?”

He said nothing, just smiled and pulled the aviators from his collar and put them on before starting his engine and for a moment you wondered if that was what he did when he got into his jet. Flash his million-dollar smile before starting his jet engine and taking off into the sky. For a moment you wondered what it would be like to watch him land and look over at you just like he did. 

But then you forced yourself back to reality. 

This was Jake Seresin, aka Hangman. Given that name because he hangs his team out to dry. 

But he didn’t leave you. 

In fact, he was the only one to show up. 

And the first to stay. 

You read the road signs as best as you could until you realised where he was taking you. 

“You know there is a beach like ten minutes from my house.”

He nodded. “I know. But you’re there all the time. You’ve seen that patch a thousand times. This is different.”

“How? Isn’t all sand the same?”

He shrugged, still smiling. “Maybe. But they always say the beach can work a thousand miracles. Come on.”

It was a five minute walk to the bottom. 

“Is it usually this empty?”

He looked around. “There’s usually a couple more people, but yeah. This is usually it. Not many people drive this far down. They think it’s not the best but to me…couldn’t be more perfect.”

“Huh.”

“What?” Jake asked, looking at you. 

You continued looking out to the water. You shook your head. “No, nothing. Just…never thought you’d be the sentimental type.”

“Well…I’m not.” 

You looked at him. 

“To most people.”

It was at that moment you felt a small crackle. Either in your chest or your gut, something crackled. And you felt the blanket of hatred you had for Jake Seresin start to fade. 

His call sign might be ‘Hangman’, but you had a strong feeling that when it came to those he cared about…he tried his best to stick around. And even if he couldn’t, he’d make a memory of them to last a lifetime. 

 For the rest of the day, you spent most of your time lying on the beach watching the waves or reading your book, which he had packed. And it was…one of the best days you’d had in a long time. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“What?” Moving the book from his face, Jake looked at you from beneath his shades as you lay on your stomach beside him. 

“This? Less than a week ago I’m pretty sure people would have made money on you and I killing each other. Why are you helping me?”

“Because you need it. And I’m pretty sure anyone else would believe you when you say that you don’t.”

“And you don’t believe me?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know you.”

You scoffed. “What do you mean you know me?”

You watched as he smiled and tried to kill the butterflies in your stomach. 

“Y/n.”

You were still getting used to the fact he was using your first name. Usually it was your last, or some sweet nickname like ‘Sweetheart’ that would grate through your entire body. 

“You spend most of your time making sure everyone feels okay and is doing okay. The only time you actually let your feelings know is when you’re taking shit to me. You deserve a break. You deserve to take one before your body forces you to have one.”

Hearing his words as he spoke, you slowly sat up until your back was to the water and you were fully facing him. 

“Plus, your brother asked me to look out for you. And I’d rather not suffer his wrath again.”

Okay, that had to be complete bull. Your brother’s wrath when it came to protecting you, that was true. But why ask Jake of all people given he knew your history and track record with him. 

And what did he mean by again?

You barely had time to ask all of your questions before you watched him stand up, throwing his book closed to the ground. You mentally scolded yourself for letting your eyes wander all over him. 

You weren’t blind to the fact Hangman looked, well, like him. A daring smile, enough charm to charm even the most sourest of people and the body to go with it. But before today, you had been immune. At least, you considered yourself immune since the blanket of hatred that you held for him seemed to block plenty out. 

Worst of all, he caught you. 

You knew he caught you because of the smirk on his face and the chuckle that escaped his broad chest. 

“Shut up.” You groaned, forcing yourself to stand. “I’ve been in the hospital. My immune system is temporarily weakened.”

“It isn’t the first time I’ve caught you, Sweetheart.” Seresin drawled just as you looked at him both annoyed and confused. And maybe slightly offended that he thought you had, before today, purposefully checked him out. 

But he just laughed. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

“But what about our stuff?”

“It’ll be safe. I know most of the people on this beach, they’ll make sure nothing happens to it.”

Taking your hand in his, he led you down the beach, under a small cove and through to the otherside where some rocks were covered in seaweed and sand. 

And for a while, you and Jake explored the place. You’d never been this far down the beach so finding out it existed was a bonus. Finding seaweed to pop and watching the crabs crawl across some of the rocks was fun. 

You’d never stop to take a break. Straight out of college, you’d begun teaching. It had been in your home town until your brother got accepted into Top Gun. And, with an internalised fear of losing him, you moved out to San Diego. You knew after a while he’d be stationed somewhere else, but you’d managed to find a home there. And when your brother was stationed not too far from his Top Gun base, the rest of your family moved closer. 

Since then, it has been helping them get settled, tutoring their children after spending all day teaching. It was sleepless nights spent alone at home, living off the quickest food you could make because you simply didn’t have time to cook. It was running yourself so far into the ground that the one person who you never thought would even step foot into your home was the only one to show up and give you enough space to actually relax. 

So watching crabs walk along the rocks was fun. 

And hearing your name, and calling out his name above the waves, without hatred or malice behind it, was fun, too. 

“Come and look at this.”

Carefully, you made your way over the rocks, trying your best not to slip and hit your head. And you did so, until the last rock before you joined him. 

Letting out a small yell as you reached out to try and catch yourself, he threw out his hand and caught you. 

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Can you stand?”

You lowered yourself to a lower rock, still holding onto his arms before letting go and allowing yourself to take his hand and help you up the rest of the way. 

“What am I looking at?”

It was a starfish. 

The rest of the day, you and Jake explored the shore, skipped rocks on the calming water, sunbathed and even took a swim in the water. 

By the time the sun had set, you found yourself sitting with him on the hood of his car, a pizza box between you both, watching the planes fly from the airport. 

A week ago, if anyone had told you that you would have done any of this, especially with Hangman, you would never have believed them. 

“Thank you, for your help.” You blurted out as you watched another plane fly into the sky. 

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Yes, I do.” You wanted him to listen to you. “Given our track record for being nice to each other, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you didn’t turn up at the hospital to bring me home. But you did. And you made sure I didn’t fall into some kind of coma after it. And today you gave me the first day, I think, ever, where I’ve not done a thousand things for somebody else and enjoyed what I was doing. So, I do need to thank you for that.”

“Are you saying…you…like me?”

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face, but you tried to force it away. “Okay.”

“No, no. I mean, this is a miracle.”

“You’re tolerable.” You corrected him. 

Smiling, he took another slice of pizza. “You like me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You like me. I am now your friend. We are now friends.”

You shook your head, holding in a laugh. “Just shut up and eat your pizza.”

It was safe to say after that, that everyone was shocked at the dynamic between both you and Hangman. 

They had all gotten so used to the insults and borderline flirty comments you’d both sling each other's way, it had become like white noise. So, when it was gone and replaced with laughter and smiling, it gave everyone a terrified feeling. 

“I’m guessing they’re not here yet.”

Penny shook her head as she poured another pint. With a smile, she nodded over to the other end of the bar. “They’re over there.”

Twenty minutes later, it had become like a social study for everyone in the bar to watch you and Jake. 

“Do you think they fucked? Got all that pent up energy out?”

Coyote shook his head. “No, he would have told me. How long have they been like this? Maybe they’ve been hypnotised into liking each other?”

Rooster shook his head. “The hypnotist left like three months ago. Maybe they’re…faking it. Do you think they heard us talking about them last week? About who would kill who first? Maybe they’re teaming up so nobody wins?”

Penny shook her head as she wiped down the bar. “Well, whatever it is, it’s a nice change. She looks a lot happier. They both do. Who knows, maybe next we’ll be holding a wedding here.”

“Not their wedding?” Rooster seemed shocked. “Penny, they were about three insults away from killing each other three weeks ago.”

“Love is blind, as they say.”

For the rest of the night, people watched you and Jake sat together. Seresin and Y/l/n. Hangman and Sweetheart. 

And then they watched as you walked home. 

Together. 

It was safe to say everyone was shocked to their core. For the first time ever, there had been a night where both you and Jake had not only been in the bar at the same time but had also sat together for the whole night, and not once killed each other. 

Verbally or otherwise. 

“You know, you’re not as big of a dick as I thought you were Seresin. Tonight was a nice change.”

“I have been known to be kind once in a while.”

“Keep this up, you might be fit to see another day.”

“So might you.” Jake replied as he watched you climb the steps of your front porch. “I meant what I said, about taking a break. You deserve one, Y/n.”

You took in what he said with a small nod before adding. “You know, it’s still freaking me out, you even know my first name.”

“If it helps, the nurse had to tell me.” He said. “Guess I’ve called you by your last name so much, I forgot your first.”

“Is that why you keep saying it? So you don’t forget?”

He shrugged, a slight smirk on his face. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“You know, it is okay if you forget it once in a while.”

Jake smiled a little at that. “How could I forget the name of the woman who once dumped three shots of tabasco sauce into my drink?”

“Hey, you can’t prove that was me.”

“Hey, the bottle was in your hand.”

You unlocked your door. “I still plead not guilty.”

“Whatever you say, Sweetheart. Sure you’re okay on your own?”

You nodded. “I’ll be fine. Besides, don’t you have an early start in the morning?”

He nodded. “Even so. Call me.”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

“Night, Sweetheart.”

He waited for you to lock your doors before he got into his car and drove back home. 

The following weeks continued the same way. If anybody who was anybody saw you and Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin together, in the same room, talking. They would stop and watch. 

Never in a million years did anyone expect you and Jake to talk, never mind actually become friends. 

Each Friday, you met each other at the bar. You both have a drink. You’d both sit and talk. Maybe some of your old ways were still there with each other, but there was less “25 to life” about it and more “affection” in the words you both said. 

However, it nearly gave people an aneurysm when they thought you were both actually dating. 

Two people who were thirty seconds away from physically fighting each other every day had gone from, well, that, to…to…to dating?

It couldn’t be…could it?

And the rumours that had been spread by one of the bar regulars, after she’d spotted both of you grocery shopping together before spotting Jake’s car leave from the top of your road hours later, were only fueled when they heard about what happened at the school. 

It had been months since you fainted and you had been getting better. You felt better, you felt like you had more energy. And with Jake’s help you started to feel like a person again. A person who wasn’t wholly consumed by their work constantly, whether they were ten miles from the building or not. 

Except, one morning, you woke up and felt…off. 

Something wasn’t right. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something didn’t feel right. Maybe your period was coming early. It has been doing that lately. Surprising you when you least expected or wanted it. 

Just a few weeks ago, it had arrived early once again. And the pain you’d felt in the days before nearly floored you. And when you hadn’t showed up at the bar like you’d agreed to with Jake, he came looking for you. That night he’d taken a quick trip to the grocery store after you told him what happened. He looked after you. Made sure you were okay. The next day, he drove you back to the store and you stocked up on supplies and snacks. 

It was also later that night when he surprised you by making dinner. 

Opening up your fridge, you took one of the healthy smoothies that Jake had left you the last time he’d come round, before packing it into your bag and heading to work. 

Your queasy feelings only got worse. And then…you felt it. 

Sticking on a documentary for your class, you took your phone and slowly made your way towards the teachers bathroom, stopping off at the next class. 

“Can you keep an eye on them for a couple of minutes?” 

Your best friend nodded. “Course’ honey.” Before asking her TA to go next door. 

“You okay?”

You tried your best to look okay, despite everything you were feeling inside. 

“Yeah. Yeah. I will be.”

As the TA headed next door, you made your way towards the bathroom, then dialled his number. 

“Hey,” Jake said as he answered. “Just about to call you. They’ve got a showing of The Wizard of Oz tonight at the theatre, if you wanted to go-”

“Jake.”

“Are you okay? What’s happened? Is everything okay? Is it your brother-”

“Every…” You swallowed thickly before carefully lowering yourself onto the floor with your back against the wall, and unlocking the door. “Everything’s okay, it’s just…”

Jake had a strong feeling he knew what was happening. “I’m on my way. Where are you?”

“School bathroom. Teacher’s.”

“Okay.” You could hear him leaving his office and getting into his car. “Is the door unlocked?”

You didn’t answer. 

“Y/n.”

“I’m here.”

Jake breathed. “Y/n, Sweetheart. Is the door unlocked to the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“Does anyone else know you’re there?”

You explained what happened as best as you could. 

“Just, please get here soon?”

“I will, Sweetheart. I promise. I’m almost there.”

You didn’t know how long had passed but it wasn’t long before you heard your name being called out by Jake. 

Pulling the door open a little from the floor, Jake ran towards it and peeked inside. There you were, sat with your knees close to your chest, against the wall. 

He stepped inside before crouching down. 

“I-I’m sorry I called. I just-”

Checking you over, Jake cupped your face. “Hey, no. No. I’m glad you called me. You can always call me. How are you feeling?”

“Dizzy. It’s better now but still like the room is spinning. And I’m not harnessed in.”

“Okay. Do you think you can stand?”

You gave a small nod. “Maybe.”

Helping you up, Jake took your hands in his and you stood up. 

“Come on, we’re getting you checked out at the ER.”

You would have fought him on it but considering the last time it happened they kept you in overnight, you went willingly. 

Thankfully, you didn’t pass out even when the dizziness and the nausea felt like they were getting worse. 

By the time the doctor saw you, she did all of the routine checks before turning and looking at Jake and back to you. 

“Is there a possibility you could be pregnant? I’ve seen a lot of couples come in here with similar symptoms and-”

Oh shit. 

“Oh, no. I-I’m not. And he’s not-”

“We’re- We’re not together.”

A few more awkward moments like that filled the next couple of hours until both yourself and Jake seemed to give up on correcting people. 

By the time they discharged you, they told you your blood sugar levels had dropped and your hormones were beginning to change with your cycle. Along with the advice to try and reduce stress. 

Driving you home that night, Jake made a detour. Towards the diner and then towards the beach along The Hard Deck. 

It was quiet for a Tuesday evening, but yourself and Jake just sat and ate dinner whilst watching the water push in and pull out constantly across the sand until eventually, laying your head on his shoulder, he placed his arm around your own. 

“Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.”

“Thank you for calling me. Are you feeling any better?”

You nodded, gratefully. “Just a little tired, that's all.”

“I’ll drop you off at home, soon, if you’d like.”

You nodded then looked at him. And before you could stop yourself, you asked him; “Would you stay with me? Tonight? If you can’t- or if you don’t want to-”

“I’ll stay.”

“A-are you…sure?”

Jake nodded, a faint smile on his lips. “I’ll stay with you.”

You didn’t know what else to say other than thank you, so pressing a light kiss to his cheek, you said as much. “Thank you.”

You could have sworn you saw him blush as he smiled and looked down. “Anytime.”

It was odd really, laying beside the man you thought you’d be telling your kids about when you were older. About how much you hated him and how much he hated you, and why neither of you could sit next to each other at the Thanksgiving table every year. 

Jake had decided to stay in your guest bedroom, but the minute you heard him lay down in his bed, you felt…awake. Not wide awake. You were still tired. But you weren’t settled. Something inside of you wanted to be closer to him. 

So, after an hour of laying on your back, staring at your ceiling and listening to the distant shore line, with the odd rumble of a car’s engine running up and down the road every now and again, you got up. 

Jake had left his door open. If you shouted for him, or needed him, he would be able to hear you. Usually, he’d be out like a light, waking up at the smallest of noises. But this time, he couldn’t sleep. 

Instead, his mind was going over the fact you had called him when you were at work. And the fact that he enjoyed it when you were with him. That he was the one you chose to lean on. And the fact that he wished he was down the hall with you at that moment, then lay alone in the dark in your guest bedroom. 

Then he heard you. 

From the dim, moonlit hallway, he saw you. 

“Hey, everything-”

“Can I stay with you?”

Already half way up, Jake paused for a second. Then nodded. “‘Course. Come ‘ere.”

Walking over, Jake pulled the covers back and you climbed under them before feeling his arm wrap around you. And your arms came around him, one over his shoulder and round his neck, the other by his side. 

Instinctively, he pulled one of your legs across him and held it there whilst his other arm remained securely around your back, holding you to him. 

“Is this okay?”

He felt you nod and he nervously swallowed. 

“Are you okay, Sweetheart?”

In a quiet voice, your breath against his neck, you answered. “Better now.”

Pressing a kiss to your head, you nuzzled into each other. 

“Good.”

Not too long after that, you both fell asleep. 

And when you both woke up, neither of you wanted to move. 

If this had somehow happened six months ago, you probably would have thrown each other to the other side of the room. But it wasn’t six months ago. And you’d come to know Jake as…Jake. Who took care of his friends, and made sure everyone was okay and was kind and caring and…a lot of other things you didn’t want to think about at six o’clock in the morning. 

And the way he was looking at you at that moment made you think about other things that you didn’t want to think about. 

“What are you thinking about?” Jake asked after a few moments of watching you study him. 

“That you need to stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you…like me.”

Jake smiled. “I do like you, Sweetheart.”

“Jake.”

Then, for a moment, everything felt…serious. His tired smile dropped a little from his lips as he looked at you. 

“Do you trust me?”

You felt your heartbeat pick up in your chest and for a moment, you wondered if he could hear it. 

“Yes.”

Tucking your hair behind your ear, you felt him cup your cheek. “Y/n…”

He seemed nervous. 

“Can I kiss you?”

If you had let yourself think about it long enough, you never would have guessed Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, who went after whatever, and usually whoever he wanted, would ask if he could kiss. You’d always assumed that he was so confident in life and with women that he’d know. That he’d see the small signals. Or even the loud ones. And just…kiss a girl. 

But no. 

He asked. 

And something in your gut jumped. 

So you answered; “Yes.”

Nervously, he licked his lips before he leaned in. And kissing him felt…weird. Because it felt…normal. Unlike anything else you’d felt in your life. 

You managed to pull him closer, until he was leaning above you. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

From there, the softer, searching kisses slowly faded away and turned into something more. More wanting, more needing. Feeling his hands move down your body before he gripped your hips, and pulled you closer to him and carefully slid them back up until the fabric of your t-shirt began to bunch together. 

Feeling him press into your thigh, you let out a small noise that was only swallowed by his kiss. Swiftly, he pulled you across him, your legs straddling his lap before he sat up. Once more, he pushed the hair from your face and took you in, in the rising daylight. 

No words were spoken out loud, but everything was said. 

Leaning down, you kissed him again before letting your own hands move down his chest and towards the hem of his t-shirt. Except, just as he pulled you closer by your waist, his hips rocking into you, you both jolted at the sound of his alarm. 

“Sorry.” Jake quickly turned and switched it off. You were both going to be late for work. 

“If we don’t get ready now, we’re gonna be late.”

Looking at him, you didn’t know fully what to say. It had just been the hottest make out session of your life, with a guy six months ago people would have bet money on you killing. And you’d both been cock-blocked by his alarm. 

“I’ll meet you here, after work?”

That made you smile. “Okay.”

Then he did, too. “Okay.” Before throwing his phone to the side and pulling you down to kiss him. But as you pulled away, he groaned, trying to pull you back to continue but you walked a good three feet away from the bed. 

“Can’t be late, Hangman. You’ve got pilots to teach.”

With a coy smile, he was standing in front of you within seconds before lifting you onto the dresser behind you. This time, it was you trying to pull him back when he stopped kissing you. But he just stood back and let out a small chuckle. 

“We’ve both got students to teach, Sweetheart. We stay here any longer, they’re both gonna miss us.”

One final kiss to your lips, he stood back and practically ran away before you could grab hold of him. 

Twenty minutes later, he was showered and dressed for the day and had poured you a coffee to-go as well as packed you another smoothie and grabbed your lunch for you before you’d come downstairs, dressed and began loading the last of the exam papers into your bags. 

He dropped you back off at work, however, when you realised he was waiting in the parking lot for you to enter, you left your bags by the pillar and walked back. With his window already being down, you leaned in and kissed him, feeling his hand cup the back of your head. 

“See you tonight?”

“See you tonight.”

The day for either of you couldn’t have felt longer. And by the time Jake came walking through your back door, dropping his bag onto one of the pantry hooks, he couldn’t have been more relieved to see you. 

And for a moment, he just watched you as you sat on the sofa with crossed legs, flipping through a textbook and making notes. Softly, he approached you from behind before wrapping his arms around your shoulders. 

You smiled. 

“Hey, Sweetheart.”

“You’re back.”

You felt him relax against you. “Finally.”

“There’s some food. I made you a plate in the oven.”

He pressed a kiss to your head before walking towards the kitchen. “I would have cooked.”

“I know, but I needed the distraction.”

Waltzing back inside holding onto the warm plate, he smirked as he popped a fork-full of veg into his mouth. You could already feel your cheeks heating and from the look on his face, he could see it clear as day. 

“Distraction from what?”

“Nothing in particular.”

“Nothing, huh?”

At some point, he put down his plate and rounded back to the sofa, standing behind you before pressing soft kisses into the side of your neck. 

“Jake.”

The way you said his name went straight to his dick. 

As he moved your hair, you leaned to grant him more access. A satisfied smirk came to his lips as he watched your legs move to straighten out. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, Sweetheart.”

Eventually, you felt Jake move away but he appeared again, lowering himself in front of you. Taking the textbooks and notes from you and placing them on the coffee table behind him, he leaned forward and pulled you in to kiss him. 

“Have you been thinking about me?”

Feeling his hand move up your thigh and towards your shorts, you leaned in closer. “Have you, Sweetheart?”

“Yes,” your voice came out breathy. 

“Is this okay?”

You nodded. 

“I need words, darlin’.”

“Yes. Yes, it’s okay.”

As time passed, the small part of you that was still able to function started to ask questions. Like why you had hated him so much in the first place? And how you almost missed…him. 

And by the time you woke up in the morning, Jake practically wrapped around you like a boa constrictor, you had come to a new conclusion. 

You didn’t hate him anymore. 

You hadn’t hated him for a long time. 

All opinions you had of him, especially after a night of mindblowing sex, had been shot out of the water. 

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was no longer the man you thought he was. The man you had come to know and lo- 

The man you had come to know was a man that showed up. And stayed. He was someone that took care of the people he cared about. He was someone that would fix things in your home without you asking. He was someone that cooked meals, even if it was almost one o’clock in the morning and you were craving a grilled cheese. He was someone that, even after sex, took care of you in a way nobody had ever even thought about doing before. He was someone that you could trust and respect, and did so. 

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was a man that had proved your theories wrong and he was a man that you realised you were falling for. 

And in some ways, that scared you. And in some ways, it didn’t. 

Because, for as much as he could be so sure of himself. So bold. So confident, it bordered on cocky. You were also sure of him. Sure that, if he was feeling the same things you felt, that he wouldn’t let you hurt yourself when you fell, but rather he’d catch you. 

And it, surprisingly, didn’t take him very long. 

By the time you woke up in the morning and headed downstairs, freshly dressed in a worn Top Gun hoodie and a pair of sleep shorts, you started making breakfast. However, as you stood at the stove, flipping the bacon, you felt a newly familiar pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind. 

Dropping his chin to your shoulder, Jake pulled you close to his chest. 

“Good morning.”

“Morning’.” He drawled. “Whatcha’ cookin’?”

“Bacon and eggs. There’s also toast in the toaster.”

With a smile, Jake pressed a kiss to your exposed collar which caused you to let out a small giggle before quickly turning the stove off. 

“You’ve gotta be careful, Hangman. You’ll make me burn breakfast.”

He hummed a response. “I had a couple other meals in mind.”

“Oh really? Like what?”

With his hands on your hips and his lips on your neck where you suspected he’d just left another hickey, he slowly turned you around. “I can think of one.”

Finally facing him, he kissed you as you fumbled with the last temperature gauge and turned it off. Picking you up, he carried you away from the counter near the stove to the one complete opposite. 

“You’re driving me insane dressed like this.” He mumbled against your kiss. “Wearing my shirt.”

“Your shirt?” You asked as his lips moved to your neck. 

Looking at you for a moment, half drunk on your kiss, he nodded. “Didn’t you know, Sweetheart? This here is mine.” Pinching some of the fabric between his fingers he shook it as he told you so. 

You laughed. “No it’s not.”

He nodded. “God's honest truth. Your brother stayed at mine one night after he’d gone out drinking. Lost his shirt, don’t ask me how. Stole one of my hoodies. Never got it back.”

“How do you know this is yours?”

With a smile, Jake showed you the small hole that you’d made a little bigger over the years from when you’d get nervous. “This right here. Loose thread got caught in a cabinet I was fixing in my room. Pulled at it too hard. And…”

Jake watched as your expression changed a little, hungry for more of his touches, as he pushed his hand slowly up the inside of your- his hoodie. 

A slight smirk, he pulled at the side tag and showed you. And it baffled you how you’d never noticed before. 

J.H.S

“See. But, I have to say, Sweetheart. It looks better on you than it ever did me.”

And as he was looking at you, he asked you something else. “Let me take you out on a date. A real one. You know, seeing you like this…I never want to see anyone else like this but you.”

“Jake…”

“I’m being serious. Sweetheart, I want you. And not just temporarily.” Then he looked away as he said the next part. “I’d get it…if you didn’t want that. God knows you and I don’t have the best history when it comes to even getting along but-”

“I want to date you.”

He looked up at you. 

“I want to date you,” you repeated. “Believe me, half of the time I don’t get it myself. How we’ve gone from one extreme to the other, but I know…I know I want you around.”

“I want you around, too.”

“So, yes.”

Jake smiled. “Yes?”

You smiled back. “Yes. Take me out on a date, Jake Seresin.”

Leaning forwards, he kissed you. And before long, your hands started to feel for the hem of his shirt before pulling it over his head. 

It was safe to say, when you and Jake walked into The Hard Deck in the evening after your official first date, hand in hand before he pressed a kiss to your lips, a lot of people were shocked. 

And lost a lot of money. 

But Penny won it all. 

She knew the minute Jake saw you, and your brother scolded him, that something would happen. After all, Hangman was known for going after what he wanted. She just never expected to have to be the one to force you to be in the same room and for that room to be a hospital.

[luveline]

as a kid i was so scared of my parents splitting up, what if roan learns someone in her class’ parents are divorcing and it sends her spiralling thinking she’d never see reader again?

thank you jade 💛

thank you for requesting lovely ♡ eddie and roan (almost) stepmom!reader, 2k

"Yeah, I got the expensive kind," you're saying, phone sandwiched between your ear and your shoulder, a knife held loosely in your hand. "I don't wanna make it wrong." 

Roan can vaguely hear the rumble of her Uncle's voice on the other side giving reassurances. 

You scrape the blade of the knife against the cutting board. "I know. I know, Wayne, I swear, just… I hardly ever make him dinner and this is our last anniversary before we get married, and– I know. Sorry, that's– I know, you don't mind, it's just–" 

Roan attaches herself to your hip like an octopus, looking up at you as you look down. You smile at her, putting your knife flat to stroke her hair. 

"She's right here," you say, "she's helping me… okay. Thanks, Wayne, you're the best. See you tomorrow. Alright, I will. Bye." 

You put your hand behind Roan's shoulder and walk her with you to the phone. As soon as you've hung it back on the hook, you scoop her up to hold against your chest, even if she's getting longer and longer every day. "Hey, babe. Uncle Wayne says he loves you and he missed you today. He wants to make you dinner tomorrow, so we'll find your nice blue dress tonight and put it in the wash." 

Roan flops her face against your neck. "I love him too." 

"He knows." You press your cheek to hers briefly. "Okay, you wanna sit on the top with me and I'll finish making today's dinner?" 

Roan's happy to sit on the counter and swing her legs as you finish making the pot pie. It's one of Eddie's favourites because his mom used to make it a couple of times a month, and so it's one of Roan's favourites, her lips quirked with excitement as you chop onions, carrots and celery into small pieces for the frying pan. 

"I love the carrots," she says. 

"Yeah?" You uncap the cooking oil to pour a generous splash into the pan. "Want me to put extra in? I don't mind." 

Roan nods enthusiastically. "Yes!" 

She's happy watching you cook at first, but she gets quieter as you finish up. By the time the pie is in the oven she's picking at her little nails, shards of polish in her lap like powdered sugar. 

"You okay?" you ask, wiping your hands clean. She shrugs. You shrug back. "What's that mean?" 

"I'm thinking." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." Roan pokes her toes into your thigh. 

"Well, daddy's home soon, but you know you can tell me." 

"Mm," she hums, holding out her hand. You don't take it, folding her into your arms for a hug instead. 

It would usually make her feel better, but Roan feels ten times worse as you soften your tone to a less cheerful murmur, "Got another tummy ache?" 

"Not that." 

"What is it?" you ask. 

She hides her face in your shoulder, pert nose to your soft shirt. 

"You don't have to tell me," you whisper. "Sorry. I'm not trying to pressure you, I promise, I just love you." You turn saccharine again, patting her back as you dote excitedly into the top of her head. "Love you love you love you!" You punctuate with a kiss, and Roan starts crying. 

—

Eddie's startled but not too worried to get home to the sound of Roan crying. She certainly cries less and less now that she's getting older, but children cry so often that he doesn't think it's worth panicking over. 

He can hear you already on the case as he peels out of his sweaty coat and boots. "That's not going to happen," you comfort, voice bouncing off of kitchen tile, the hum of the oven like a baseboard. "It's hard to believe me, but it won't. Me and daddy are super happy." 

His eyebrows rise of their own accord. "Hello?" he asks, moving down the hallway and into your bright kitchen. 

Roan sits in the shadow of a corner cabinet, hunched over her knees with her face held up by defeated hands, tears wetting her rosy cheeks. You stand in front of her with your hand on shoulder, bent to her eye-level, glancing sideways at him momentarily before you say, "Look, dad's home. He's gonna say the exact same thing as me, I swear. Should we ask him?" 

Eddie takes the mantle by your side, quick to rub the tears from Roan's cheek with his pinky. His hands aren't clean enough for anything more. "What's wrong?" he asks. 

"Nothing," Roan says, her voice strangled by a big sob. 

"Babe!" Eddie laughs, half-hearted. "I can see something's super wrong. I might be a dumb boy, but I know when my girl's upset, don't I?" 

"You're not a dumb boy," Roan says. 

"Oh. Thank you, Ro." 

"You're a dumb man." 

"Very funny." He combs unruly coils of dark hair behind her ear, finger following down the curve to her shoulder. "Quick, tell me what's wrong. Just tell me. Rip it off like a bandaid." 

"It's silly," Roan murmurs. 

"Says who?" 

"Says me." 

"Oh," Eddie says, giving you a look to make sure it's alright before he monopolises her attention. You raise your hands with a small smile, as if to say, Please. "Come here, me. I'm gonna have to squeeze this out of you, huh?"

He leans back, shifting her weight against his hip, arm stretched over the breadth of her back. He's not smug, but it does bring a satisfaction to see how swiftly she calms down once he's holding her. It's a familiar picture, Eddie with his lips to her forehead, a crease between his brow just like Uncle Wayne's as he rubs her back, and Roan, a mirror image of her father, palpable relief in her hands as they tangle in his hair. Less familiar but getting there is you at their side, your cheek on Eddie's shoulder and your hand on his elbow.

"What's it gonna take to let me in on the secret?" he asks. He's making a spoiled child accidentally, always bribing and bartering for good behaviour. 

"Nothing…" Her mumbling tickles his cheek as she shifts around. "I'm worry‐ing," —her voice skips over the word, like a hiccup— "about something because of Stacy." 

"Oh yeah? What did Stacy do?" 

"She said her mom, um, her mom said she's getting a divorce. That Stacy won't see her dad again, and it'll just be her and her mom." 

Eddie doesn't judge people much. He can't imagine caring about other people's divorces when Roan was born from a fling and pretty much left on his doorstep —circumstances don't determine your kid's happiness alone. He does worry for Stacy, and his poor empathetic little girl. 

"That's terrible, bubby," Eddie placates, patting her back. 

"It's– well, it's– I'm…" Roan huffs. 

"Whatever you tell me is fine, promise. No grounding, no telling off."

"I know, daddy, it's just hard to say." 

Eddie feels himself physically melt. 

He leans back against the kitchen counter and shifts her against his stomach. His arms burn with the effort of keeping her secured to him, and he's not loving her sad tone —the quicker he finds out what's wrong, the better. He peeks over her head at you for hints. 

You're uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the other like your feet hurt. 

"What?" he asks you. 

You clear your throat. "I think she's worried about me. If something happened between us, she's worried she won't see me again." 

Eddie would like to think after two years of loving his daughter, watching her grow, and all together being a cherished and irreplaceable part of her life and her support system, that you'd find it impossible to leave her. Even if you left Eddie, you wouldn't leave Ro. He knows that. But only two years… he knows you'd love Roan even if he screws things up, but he can't promise her that things would be the same, because they wouldn't be. 

That's not what she's asking, though.

"What, you think you won't see Y/N anymore?' Eddie murmurs, rubbing her back. 

"She's not my full mom," Roan whispers. 

Eddie reaches past Roan to squeeze your elbow. "You know, that doesn't matter, honey. And after the wedding–" 

"You call me mom for a reason, right?" you cut him off. 

Roan lifts her head from Eddie's. "Yeah." 

"Okay, so, say me and dad get married, and then by some impossibility we realise we can't stay married, will you love me less?" 

"No," Roan says with a pout. 

"I wouldn't love you any less, either. I didn't know I could love someone this much 'til I met you," you say, voice scratchy like you're talking past gravel. "So things would change, but not how much I love you. I'd still see you." 

You sound tentative. Eddie's way less hesitant. "Of course you'd still see each other. Babe, if me and mom break up it'll be because I did something stupid, so you'd see her every time I tried to apologise." He grins at you. "How long do you think it would take you to forgive me?" 

"Depends on what you did." You smile fondly. "Probably not long, Munson." 

"I have a weird feeling we're gonna last." 

Roan sniffles. "I just don't want mom to move away," she says. 

You and Eddie have already spoken about this. Serious but not sombre, on your backs in bed. You're not just marrying me, Eddie'd said, terrified of how much he wanted you to say certain things, and how you might not say them at all. This isn't just a promise to me. I know how much I'm asking from you, it's not a small thing. I won't blame you if you can't say yes, but this is… she's my world. 

I already said yes. And I knew what I was saying yes to, you'd replied, holding your hand up above you, the two of you staring in wonder at the ring on your marriage finger. I promise, Eds. I won't let either of you down. 

"Where do you think I'm going, princess? Me and dad are so happy. I'm staying right here stuck to his hip for the rest of time, but only if you're gonna stick to mine." You duck your head to touch your noses together briefly. "I'm not going anywhere." 

"Promise?" 

"Promise you." He swears you're twisting your engagement ring, but he can't quite see. "Can I have her?" you ask. 

"Sure. My noodle arms are about to snap anyway." 

"Noodle arms," you repeat, stealing Ro from him smoothly. "Yeah, right." 

He flexes appreciatively at your comment. 

Roan snuggles up to your neck, little face in the curve of it, her arms curling around you. You hold her tight and bend back under her weight, an arm against her thighs and another behind the small of her back, hand twisted up to brush her curls. 

"Love you," you say softly. You're smiling like you've got everything you ever wanted. "Maybe if me and daddy break up I can just take you with me." 

"Yeah!" Roan says with a gasp. 

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Whatever, girls. Neither of you can cook, you know that? Maybe tonight you guys can practise your new life together by not eating the dinner I'm gonna cook." Time to lighten the mood, lest Roan spend a special night lethargic. 

You beam at him. "I already made dinner. Happy anniversary, handsome." 

You exchanged gifts and kisses already that morning before work, but Eddie's happy to accept another quick kiss over Ro's shoulder. He dots one on his daughter's cheek to keep things fair. 

"Lucky us, huh?" he says to Ro. 

He's not strictly talking about dinner, and it's cheesy, but you light up like a Christmas tree. "Lucky me." 

[estellan0vella]

Love In Print│Bang Chan

Chapter Twenty Three: Being Human Fucking Sucks SS: 5 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 2.2K Content Warnings:

Previous Next Masterlist

Ayame steps into the office early the next day, her heels echoing sharply against the polished floors. The usual hum of the office is absent this early, leaving only the faint buzz of the overhead lights and the soft thud of her bag as she sets it down. Her gaze lands immediately on the small, unmarked box sitting squarely in the middle of her desk.

Frowning, she carefully inspects it, her fingers grazing the edges. It's plain, no markings or notes to identify the sender. She tugs at the tape, peeling it back slowly, and lifts the lid. Her breath catches when she sees what's inside. A tiny red collectable car. One of Chan's. The same type she'd teased him about during her snooping at his penthouse.

Her lips press together, her emotions swirling somewhere between confusion, amusement, and something softer she doesn't dare name. She picks up the car, its smooth metal cool against her fingertips, and sets it on her desk, angling it toward her monitor like a new desk companion. "Subtle, Bang Chan," she mutters, shaking her head. A small smile escapes before she can stop it.

Reaching into her bag, she pulls out a small box of her own, one she'd brought on impulse that morning. Inside is a tiny Smurf figurine. One of the many duplicates she kept around. She takes it over to Chan's desk, placing it dead centre, and leans back to admire her handiwork.

"Your move, Care Bear," she whispers, her smirk growing.

As she turns to head back to her desk, faint voices from Haechul's office catch her attention. She slows her steps, her ears straining to pick up the words. Haechul's voice, booming and unmistakable, carries easily through the slightly ajar door.

"It's a dangerous time for men these days, Chan," Haechul says, his tone dripping with condescension. "If we don't stick together, then pixie twigs like Lim are going to be running the world on lipstick and feelings. I can tell you, I didn't start this company to have my balls crushed by some idiot in a push-up bra. Do you hear me?"

Ayame's stomach twists violently. Her nails dig into the palms of her hands as she steps closer to the door, her breath caught in her throat.

"Loud and clear," comes Chan's voice. It's calm, smooth, and utterly unreadable.

Haechul's laughter is low and self-satisfied. "I have a vision for this company, and I'm counting on you to make it happen. Do you have a strategy? A plan?"

"I do," Chan replies evenly. "It's already underway."

"Good," Haechul says, clearly pleased. "I told you she'd back off if you let her think she had a chance with you. Glad you took my advice."

Ayame freezes, her body going cold. Her head swims as the words hit her like a slap across the face. Her mind races, replaying every interaction, every touch, every word between them. It all crashes into her like a wave, dragging her under.

"Let me know if you need anything to help you cinch this thing," Haechul adds, his voice dismissive, as though sealing a deal.

Chan's response is clipped, his tone unbothered. "I don't need any help beating her."

Ayame stumbles back, her heel catching on the corner of a nearby plant stand. She catches herself just in time, her hand shaking as she steadies the wobbling pot. Her breath comes in short, sharp bursts as she clamps a hand over her mouth, stifling the nausea clawing its way up her throat.

She doesn't wait to hear more. She walks briskly to her desk, grabs her bag with trembling hands, and heads for the door. Each click of her heels against the floor echoes like a drumbeat in her ears. She doesn't look back, doesn't pause. The only thing she knows is that she needs to get out of there before the weight of the betrayal crushes her completely.

Minho looks up from his laptop when Ayame bursts into his office like a storm breaking through a calm sky. His usual cheeky smirk vanishes, replaced by immediate concern when he sees the redness around her eyes, the way her chest rises and falls like she's trying to catch her breath, and how tightly she's clutching her bag, as if it's the only thing keeping her grounded.

"Maknae?" he says softly, rising from his chair. His voice is uncharacteristically serious. "What happened? Who do I need to kill?"

Ayame tries to speak, but her voice cracks, and she shakes her head violently, fresh tears spilling over. She scrubs at her face with the sleeve of her blazer, but it's no use. Her hands are trembling, and her breaths come in sharp, uneven gasps.

Minho doesn't hesitate. He moves around his desk in two quick strides and places his hands gently on her shoulders. "Hey. Breathe. Just breathe, okay? Slow down, Ayame."

"I—" Her voice falters, and she chokes on the words. "I can't—"

Minho cuts her off, his tone firm but gentle. "You don't have to talk right now. Come on, let's get out of here. You need coffee—or vodka. Or both."

Ayame nods quickly, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip to keep from breaking down entirely. Minho grabs his coat from the back of his chair and slings it over his shoulder. Without a word, he guides her out of the office, his hand steady and warm against her back as they move down the hallway.

"Where are we going?" she mumbles, her voice barely audible over the pounding in her ears.

"Somewhere quiet," Minho replies. His tone is calm, but there's a dangerous edge lurking beneath it, the kind that promises retribution for whoever hurt her. "I don't care if it's a coffee shop or a fucking church. You need space to breathe."

Minho and Ayame sit tucked away in the back corner of the coffee shop, far from the bustling counter and the cheerful murmur of other patrons. The rich aroma of roasted beans fills the air, but it does little to soothe the tension radiating between them. Ayame stares at her untouched latte, her fingers absently picking at the paper sleeve, while Minho studies her intently, his dark eyes searching her face for answers.

"What happened?" Minho asks, his voice softer than she's used to. There's no teasing edge, no smirk, just genuine concern.

Ayame hesitates, swallowing hard as she gathers her thoughts. Finally, she takes a deep breath and starts recounting everything she overheard in Haechul's office. Her voice wavers at times, and her hands tremble as she describes the sneering tone Haechul used, the vile words he spat about her, and, worst of all, Chan's calm agreement.

By the time she's finished, Minho's jaw is tight, his knuckles white from gripping his mug like it's the only thing stopping him from flipping the table. He sets it down with a sharp clink that makes Ayame flinch.

"What the actual fuck?" he says, his voice low but vibrating with fury. "That slimy, misogynistic piece of shit. I mean, I knew Haechul was bad, but this? And Chan, what the fuck is wrong with him? Pretending to care about you just to get ahead? That's beyond fucked."

Ayame shrugs, her lips pressed tightly together as she stares down at her drink. "I feel stupid, oppa," she says quietly. "I mean, flirting is one thing, but pretending to have feelings? That's a whole other level. I let myself believe-" Her voice cracks, and she stops, biting her lip hard enough to hurt.

Minho leans forward, yanking a napkin from the dispenser and gently dabbing at her cheek. "Hey, don't you fucking dare," he says, his tone soft but firm. "Don't you let him make you feel stupid. You are not stupid, Ayame. You're human."

She sniffs, snatching the napkin from his hand. "Yeah, well, being human fucking sucks right now."

"I'm not arguing with that," Minho says. "But you didn't get played because you're dumb. You got played because you have a goddamn heart, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for him or Haechul."

Ayame takes a shaky sip of her latte, her hands still trembling slightly. "I let my guard down. He's such a good actor, oppa. It was all just a fucking game to him."

Minho exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Fear not, my sweet maknae. You're going to walk into that boardroom, nail that interview, and take that job right out from under his smug, lying ass. Then you're going to make him watch as you crush it every single fucking day until he regrets the day he ever tried to play you."

Ayame's lips twitch into a small, bitter smile. "And what about Haechul?"

Minho leans back, crossing his arms. "Oh, don't worry about him. I'll handle Haechul. I'm thinking of a well-timed HR investigation into his extracurricular activities, maybe a few anonymous tips about workplace harassment. Let's see how long he keeps that slimy grin on his face."

Ayame chuckles weakly, wiping at her eyes. "And Chan?"

Minho grins darkly. "Justice demands that Chan lives a long, lonely life sucking on Haechul's nasty, small dick. It's poetic, really."

Ayame chuckles weakly, taking a tentative sip of her latte. Just as she sets the cup down, the bell over the door chimes, and a familiar figure steps into the café. Ayame freezes, her heart skipping a beat as Chan spots her and walks over.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, her tone colder than ice.

"I was looking for you," Chan says cautiously, his hands shoved into his pockets. "Thought I'd join you for a coffee."

Ayame stares at him, her eyes hard. "I don't like you enough to get coffee with you."

Minho arches an eyebrow, looking between them as Chan's face falters. For a split second, there's something vulnerable in his expression, but he quickly masks it. "My mistake," he says quietly before turning on his heel and leaving the café.

Minho smirks as he watches Chan walk away. "I taught you well, my sweet Aya."

Ayame smiles weakly, the pain still etched in her features. "I've got to go back to work soon."

Minho reaches across the table, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Well, now you won't fall for his shit again."

"Not making that mistake twice," Ayame says firmly, draining the rest of her latte before standing. Despite her resolve, her heart feels heavy as she gathers her things and heads back to the office.

The office is a minefield of tension that afternoon. Ayame sits at her desk, glaring at her laptop screen, her fingers flying over the keyboard. She finally looks up and calls across to Chan, who is engrossed in his paperwork.

"Do we have confirmation on that blog running Stripping Time?" she asks, her tone clipped.

Chan doesn't look up. "CC'd you on the email," he says dismissively, jotting something down with his pen.

Ayame narrows her eyes, turning back to her screen. "Well, the email isn't in my inbox that I am literally looking at right now on my laptop, you sociopath."

Chan exhales sharply, finally glancing her way. "Then you're either blind or lying. As usual."

Her jaw tightens, and she slams her laptop shut. "I don't lie."

"You lie all the time," Chan retorts, his voice calm but cutting. "You just don't see it as lying because you're telling people what they want to hear."

Ayame scoffs, crossing her arms. "Name one time I've done that."

Chan leans back in his chair, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "You told me you were in this too. That you were in us."

The words hit her like a slap. For a moment, she can only gape at him. Then her anger boils over. "Holy shit, you are actually going to play this game the whole way through, aren't you?" she laughs, standing up. "That's what I don't get! Throw me off my game, fine. Flirt with me, mess with my head, whatever. But you- You're—"

"Not nice?" Chan finishes dryly.

"I thought you were, somewhere under the layers of psychological damage," Ayame spits. "But it turns out you'll just do whatever it takes to win and make your daddy proud. You know what? I'm so glad I puked all over you because I am this close to doing it again!" She holds her fingers inches apart, trembling with fury.

Chan pushes back from his desk, rising to meet her glare. "What is wrong with you?!"

"I heard you with Haechul," Ayame says, her voice dangerously low.

Chan falters, the mask slipping for a fraction of a second. "And?"

Ayame's lips curl into a bitter smile. "I think if he found out you'd slept with me, he'd throw a fucking parade in your honour."

"That's not what-" Chan starts, but the door swings open, and Haechul strides in like he owns the place.

"Chan," Haechul barks. "I'm gonna need those projections on my desk by Friday."

Chan straightens, his voice clipped. "I don't have time. Ayame can do it."

Haechul smirks, his eyes flicking to Ayame. "Lim, care to grow some hair on your balls and step up?"

Ayame's breath catches, but she quickly recovers, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You know, Haechul, I would love to, but I doubt an idiot in a push-up bra would be much help to you."

Haechul shrugs carelessly. "Fine. Chan, projections. My desk. Friday."

He turns and walks out, leaving a tense silence in his wake. Ayame grabs her coat and bag, her movements sharp and deliberate. She strides over to Chan's desk, her expression blazing with defiance.

"There is no way in hell I'm letting you and Haechul destroy this place," she says firmly. Her voice is low, but every word is sharp as a knife.

Before Chan can respond, she spins on her heel and storms out of the office, leaving him standing there, stunned and silent.

Taglist: @fackeraccount @ot8girlfie @nightmarenyxx @reimaybeidk

@ismelllikechlorine247 @drewsandsebastianswife @my-neurodivergent-world @rhonnie23 @hanji-coffee

@skzleeknowcore

[quanticowrites]

Surf (Kate Whistler x Reader)

•• First Whistler fic! For anon, I hope you enjoy! ••

“Ow! God damn it!”

“If you’d stop moving, this would be less painful!”

“You’re putting too much pressure! It’s going to start bleeding again!”

“I’m certified in this shit, (y/n).” She said, tightening the bandage some more around your waist. “I know what I’m doing.” You winced. Well, you had no one to blame but yourself for getting shot. You’d hesitated because the shooter was so young. Kate leaned back on her knees and sighed. “You never should have been there in the first place.”

“I was doing just fine until-!” You stopped and took a sharp intake of breath through your teeth. Yelling did not help the pain that blossomed from your torso. “Fuck.”

“Don't strain yourself.” She stated, getting off the bed and helping you get leaned up against some pillows at the headboard. “Tennant knew I would object to this. That's why she was sure to get you out there before I could say anything.” She paused as if she wanted you to say something. Maybe tell her she was wrong. Unfortunately…she wasn't. Jane knew how Kate would feel about you going into deep cover, so she rushed you out of the building as fast as possible before Kate’s FBI team could catch wind of her plan. There was a new chain of dry cleaners popping up on the island, but it was a front for a drug ring trying to establish itself here. Jane wanted to nip it in the bud before it could get out of control. So, she put you on the inside. You'd been under for two weeks before this incident. Meaning you had two weeks of Kate ranting to go before she got over it. “Are you going to object?” She asked, crossing her arms. You scoffed.

“No, I'm not. I agreed with Tennant’s decision.” You saw her jaw clench. She wasn't happy about this new revelation.

“You what?”

“I chose to go undercover.”

“Why would you do that?” You blinked. She hadn't been informed of that part?

“Kate, I'm more than capable of taking care of myself. I've been with NCIS just as long as you've been with the FBI.”

“It's not that-.” She huffed. “I just…you couldn't find two minutes to tell me about it?”

“Not really.” You start, already not liking the answer you had to give. “With helping Ernie make the fake background and social media to Tennant running me out of there…my mind was scrambling.” Kate sighed again. But this one seemed more understanding. If that made sense. She gently sat on the other side of the bed. Doing her best not to jostle you.

“FBI Agents go dark in the field all the time.” She started to fidget with her fingers. Picking at her nails and peeling the nail polish off in chunks. “I'm used to that at work. But…I never thought that might happen with you.” She laughed. “I don't know why, you're an agent just like I am. It could happen to us at any moment.”

“Come on, Kate. It's late. Lay down.” You lifted the blanket and Kate sent you a smile before snuggling underneath and curling up close to you. “How about…we have a secret word.” She blinked, her lips twitching upwards.

“Like…for sex?” You laughed, before biting your lip. Laughing that hard did not help the pain from your gunshot wound.

“N-no. Not for s-sex.” You waited until you regained your composure before telling her your actual idea. “For if one of us gets called to go undercover.” You saw her eyes moving through scenes in her mind. She ultimately nodded.

“That sounds like a good idea.”

“I have good ideas.”

“On occasion.”

“I have good ideas all the time!”

“Tell that to the last load of laundry you did.”

“I genuinely thought adding bleach and detergent at the same time would wash both white and regular clothes.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“No one! I just thought of it!” You reached your hand out and held a finger to the tip of her nose. “Anyway, you're getting off-topic. We still gotta pick a word.”

“Alright. Fine.”

“How about…Aristotle?”

“The Philosopher?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“Okay. Cheetos?”

“Cheetos?”

“They're my favorite junk food.”

“I already knew that.” You moved your finger to her forehead. “Let's pick a word that can be easily moved into a conversation. In case we have to be quick about it.”

“How can you be so smart and so dumb at the same time.”

“It baffles the mind.” You looked her over with a smile. “Come on, that brain of yours can think of something.”

“Then….how about surf?” You nodded. That was a practical word for two agents that worked in Hawaii. Surfing was one of the most popular things to do on the island. It could work.

“That's perfect.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Kate.” You sighed, feeling the constraints of your bandages. “Your bandage skills aren't perfect though.”

Tag list:

@stanathanxoox , @nikkiwierden , @malindacath , @havlindzk , @countrygal17a , @memyselfandmaddox , @octobersmog , @mizzezm , @diaryofafan17 , @emmitheacefangirl , @a-sad-excuse-of-everything , @marennnx

[llycaons]

okay starting ch2!

ohhh mq pov!

paperbird talismans, tiger tallies – what else?

oh we know about those 😏😏😏

I really love mq pov. he's so uncertain and tangled up about his next course of action, and his deep-seated insecurity is complicating things even further

dark and lustrous amber.

what a nice description

“I’ll see you later.” Feng Xin smiles crookedly at him, a dimple showing on his honest, sun-freckled face. Mu Qing slams the door before anything indecent happens.

consumed by lust indeed hehe

Haven’t killed yourselves yet, I see.”

“Seeing you, I’m already halfway there,” Mu Qing retorts.

“There’s still time to make my day,” Hua Cheng’s coquettish sneer doesn’t budge.

god, they're so bitchy. making hc's first line hearken back his suicide bait past is so good

also it's so good that they show up like 'um can you help' and hc is like 'lol, no' and then they're like WELL. we tried!

Feng Xin slides him a plate of peeled orange slices, but he ignores it for the moment. Can’t be too eager with things like these.

UNWELL

hc and xl not being super sappy is FASCINATING. what roadblocks has their perfect romance run into? god I hope they're fighting <- has issues with the tgcf romance

also, hc and mq's standoff is great. hc hates opening up and shields whatever sorrow or fear he has with contempt and confidence. mq is worried for xl and his happiness, but doesn't really like hc

But is everything alright?” Mu Qing suppresses his survival instincts. “You’re not as… insufferable as usual.”

very very funny line

also, hc's black nail polish!!

“No,” the revelation douses Mu Qing like ice water down his spine. He covers his slack-jawed face, unable to hold back. “You’re not fighting; that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

oh he is so smart. conflict avoidance and constantly ignoring your own needs to serve your partner's WILL strangle a relationship!!!!

also it's a shame that xl doesn't feel like he can talk to mq and fx, some of his only friends and his oldest. that's what friends are for! and hc has literally nobody - isn't he lonely?

All I’ll say is that he l–” Mu Qing turns his head, unable to form the word. “Hm. He lo… He l–”

oh my god he is so unwell <3

“You can’t see eye-to-eye? Get him off the pedestal and try again.”

WHAT a good line damn. idolatry and worship are hardly the foundations for a heatlhy dynamic. now THIS is the good h/l shit

hc using virgin as an insult as if he wasn't also one for 800 years because he's an absolute weirdo. god I hate him

Feng Xin’s cheer falters. “Oh. That’s–you don’t really think that, do you?”

he's taking it so seriously...sweetheart...

OH BOY DISCUSSION QUESTIONS!

1. there are two adages left unfootnoted in this chapter. one is a common russian saying (thought by mu qing), and the other is from an american general (said by feng xin). can you find them?

TEACHER TEACHER I KNOW ONE!!

“No plan survives contact with the enemy.”

that's the american one. as for the russian one....I can't find it...😔

2. what do you think hua cheng and xie lian aren't fighting about?

I think they disagreed about something semi-significant and hc is refusing to actually share his opinion and just wants to defer to xl but it's important enough that it's putting strain on him and by extension their relationship and xl can tell and it's stressing him out but he's also trying to hide his feelings. because they are not a functional couple

do we learn? 👀

3. did you see the foreshadowings? :)

mq...being reckless? and the little ghost girl? THE TREE FALLING?? HMMMMM

[ollie-olliebaby]

"Hello? This is Ollie!" Their voice was chipper as they answered the phone that aftertnoon. Balancing a box of files and a freshly made beverage in their grasp, they almost didn't catch the name that was being said on the other line.

"Uh..hello, my name is Clifton Malo. I'm looking for an Olivia Malo?"

Stopping dead in their tracks, it took them a moment to process what was being said. They hadn't heard their birth name in years. Dropping the box sending its contents scattering across the apartment floor, their drink going with it; Ollie's heart dropped.

"Hello? Hello?" The voice said again. "...please don't hang up." They begged.

"It's...uh....my name is Ollie Malo...can I help you with something?" They asked, the weariness of someone twice their age very evident.

"Oh, uh sorry, Ollie. I uh....jesus how do I say this.." He mumbled. "My name is Clifton...and I uh, well if what I've found to be correct.." There was a moment of poignent silence. Like he was trying to find the best way to break this news.

"I'm your father."

Stumbling back a bit into the nearst hard surface, in this case their hallway wall, Ollie couldn't bring themselves to speak. Frankly all they wanted to do was chuck their phone across the room and pretend it had never happened. But, they couldn't do that, could they? They still had an option to hang up.

"How did you find this number?" They asked after silence on both of their ends. Ollie was already starting to build up the needed walls to protect their heart. If anything, this wouldn't be a reapeat of what happened with their mother.

"I uh, well I've been searching for your moth-...well for Raina. For decades now, and when I finally hit a break through a few years ago she addmitted, albeit very reluctantly, that she had a child. And that the child was mine. Seems we both had the same intention. She mentioned meeting you and how that went."

The tears were starting to sting the back of their eyes. It was taking everything in them not to just let the flood gates open up. "Okay....I do-don't...what do you.." Words were hard. Thinking was hard.

This was hard.

Clifton let out a sigh, running his fingers through his salt and peppered hair. "I know...this is a lot to ask of you. This is a lot for anyone to go through. But, I would like to meet you. I want to explain myself? If that would help anything. I promise you if I had known you were in this world, I wouldn't have let her give you up."

"Please...can we meet? Anywhere that you are comfortable, I just...I'd like a chance. If you are willing to give me just once chance and then if you never want to see me again, I unders-" Clifton was starting to babble a little bit. A trait Ollie must have picked up from them.

"Enchanted Rose Cafe. Thirty minutes." And with that statement they hung up the phone.

Ollie wanted nothing more than in that moment to sink into the baseboards of that hallway floor. To let the all of the knots and cracks in the wood stain to swallow them up and make them disapper. But this was what they wanted, right? To find their family.

It took another ten or so minutes for OIlie to peel themselves off the chestnut polish on the ground and get ready to leave.

They tried their hardest to not think too hard as they went down to the cafe. "I wonder what he looks like? Is he old? Does have grey hair?I wonder if he chews at his nails like I do." Too many thoughts were spinning through their brain as they came up to the door. About to grab the handle, a tember voice stopped them.

"Ollie!" Clifton called out from his spot at one of the outside tables.

There he was. Standing in all is 6'2 glory. Clifton Malo.

Ollie's Father.

Ollie hated how much they looked like their parents. They could see it when they had met their mother, they could see it even more now meeting Clifton.

"Hi.." They said gently. Their usual bubbly personality locked and protected behind the wall they had newly constructed. Unsure of where to take things now. "Please, come sit." He said gesturing over toward a table that already had one of their favorite drinks sitting there.

"I uh wasn't sure what you liked, but someone that worked here seemed to know you, so they made this." Taking a seat, he waited patiently for Ollie to join him and when they finally did, a sort of relaztion settled into his shoulders.

"So...what did you want?" Ollie asked, wanting to get right to the point.

"A chance." He replied. "A chance to say that I'm sorry for what you have been through. To try and make up for lost time? I know it's probably a lost cause. So much time has been lost and I know I am partially at faul-"

"It's not your fault you didn't know about me." Ollie stepped in. "...it was my mo-...it was Raina's fault." Picking at the skin around their nails, Ollie couldn't bring themselves to meet his gaze quite yet. "You say that if you had known about me, you would have wanted me?" They questioned.

Clifton nodded his head. "If there is one thing I've always wanted, it was kids. I always wanted to have a family. I thought I would have had that with Raina, despite her having children from a previous relationship, I was ready to take on that responsiblity."

"How noble of you." Ollie almost sneered.

Licking at his lips, Clifton let out another sigh. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I can say outside of that. Just know that I did want you. I do want you, Ollie. If you'd give me the chance, I'd like to get to know you more. Introduce you to family. You've got aunts, uncles, cousins and a very lovely set of grandparents that want to meet you, whenever you are ready."

Ollie swallowed hard, there eyes glazed over with fresh tears. Again, it was something they had always wanted. To have a family of their own. One that looked like them, shared stories of family members long since gone. With the cheesy nicknames and the family love that just about every other family had.

"And what if I'm never ready? What if I've found a family that loves me and cares for me. Who calls me on my birthdays and invites me out for holidays. Who lets me call them at 2am because I had a bad day and I needed to talk to someone. What if I have that and I don't want anything to do with you?" There was a bit of venom in their words. Which was rightly justified. Clifton new that, which was why he took it in stride.

"Then we will part ways after today, and I won't try and contact you." Watching him reach into his pocket, he pulled out a little business card. "This is my information. My personal cell phone, address and email. If...if you ever want to know more, I am ready to tell you anything."

"I've spent years! Searching for people who were mine. For people that were my blood. I understand that Raina fucked us both over, but you can't just waltz in here thinking things are going to be right as rain now." Ollie could feel themselves getting a little hysterical. "I've always wanted a father." They said after a brief pause to reflect. "Someone who would protect me..from everything in the world. To protect me from myself when the days got to rough. But, I didn't get that. I had to learn to protect myself. No thanks to you or Raina."

The tears had started to flow at this point, with little sign of stopping. Clifton picked up a napkain, reaching it out to them Ollie hissed and recolied. "I don't want anything from you." They murmured, finally meeting his eyes. "Right now, I don't want anything from you. You may have aided in my birth, but you are not my father." Getting up from the table, Ollie watched as the light in Clifton's eyes seemed to dim. He had been hoping for this moment as much as they had.

Eyes glancing down again to the business card, they picked it up off the table. Turning it over a few times in their grip, Ollie let out a shaky breath. "This....today was a mistake. I thought I would be ready...but I'm not."

"So...maybe one day?" Clifton ventured, a tinge of hope in his voice.

"Maybe." Ollie replied as they backed away.

"Just not today."

And with that, Ollie turned and left. Leaving a sad, yet hopeful Clifton in the dust as they ran back home.

[blackbird0blog]

Naruto Fanfic Recs

An amazing OC-insert that needs more love. The characterisation is great, and I'm really looking forward to seeing where the author will take us!

Summary: Itachi and Kisame pick up a strange boy from a primitive tribe who accidentally transported himself to the elemental nations... from another universe. These guys may call themselves ninja, but Mirya's pretty sure they're ultra badass gods, whom he has happily apprenticed himself to.

Preview:

The lonely crossroad inn is peaceful beneath the paling stars, the air cool and damp but holding the promise of another hot day once the sun rises. Itachi hesitates, staring up at the one lit window on the second floor. He’s trying to figure out why Kisame isn’t alone. 

There’s a second person there, on the opposite side of the room from Kisame, both of them holding still. The Sharingan can’t see chakra through walls very well; all he can tell of this second signature is that it’s child-sized and quiescent. That doesn’t guarantee it’s not a threat. He knows, much better than he wants to, how young killers can be. But considering Kisame’s love of battle, he supposes if there was going to be a fight it would already have happened. Try as he might, he can’t think of any reason why Kisame would’ve picked up a child. It’s too soon to collect jinchuuriki. Kisame isn’t the charitable type, nor is he a pervert. They haven’t taken any kidnapping missions. They’re not recruiting at the moment, not that he knows of. What can this possibly be about?

While paranoia has always served him well, at this point he’s just getting eaten by mosquitoes for no reason. He leaps lightly to the narrow balcony and slips in the window. 

His first glance tells him Kisame is genuinely relaxed, lounging at the low table with a nail clipper and a bottle of umeshu, so he can take his time studying the other person in the room: a skinny red-haired boy sprawled starfish-like on a futon, covers shoved aside and pillow soaked in drool, wearing nothing but — “Is that my underwear?”

“Well, mine would be too big,” Kisame says reasonably. “No need to whisper, he’s dead to the world.”

“Mine should be too big as well.” He’s fourteen, not… whatever this boy is, eight or nine.

“Safety pins.”

“Why do you have my underwear? What happened to his?” It’s a silly thing to get stuck on, but he can’t seem to let it go. His relationship with Kisame is not one that admits to underwear. There’s a professional distance. This is outside his comfort zone.

“It was in my laundry, no idea how long it’s been there. Have you eaten? I saved you nimono and a couple rice balls.”

Itachi doesn’t sigh, because he isn’t expressive like that, but the impression is there in the slow way he turns to the table. Still, he’s not angry, only confused, and Kisame is the most tolerable of his new colleagues. “Thank you, Kisame-san,” he says politely, and doesn’t speak again until he’s finished the cold stewed vegetables and rice. Kisame returns to his manicure, trimming rough callus and hangnails that might catch on clothing or be a distraction, touching up the lacquer. When he finishes eating, Itachi takes the bottle of remover and gets to scrubbing off the chipped black stuff he has on. “May I borrow your lacquer? I’ve run out of mine.”

“Are you sure you want to match?” the swordsman rumbles with gentle humor. “What if the other missing-nin make fun of us?” Itachi’s flat look only makes his smile wider, but he hands over the bottle of purple.

When he first joined Akatsuki, Itachi thought the nail polish part of the uniform was rather silly, but it actually does help keep his nails from peeling or splitting after exposure to harsh weather, fire jutsu, and so on. Even Konan can’t make him care what color he uses, though.

After fifteen minutes of silence, Kisame finally gets tired of waiting for him to ask, and says, “He walked up to me in the road and asked if I’m a god. He thinks he’s dead and this is the afterlife.”

“Why is he in our room?” That’s the thing that most needs explanation, in Itachi’s opinion.

Kisame ignores that. “Wait until you see what he was wearing. As far as I can gather — which isn’t very far, because he was drugged out of his tiny mind — his clan decked him in gold and drowned him in a bog. He was supposed to ask the gods to save them. He’s declared himself my servant in exchange for sending them good fishing.”

“Kisame.”

“If I hadn’t let Samehada have a snack, his chakra would be announcing us to the world right now. He’s got tons of it and no control at all. Didn’t seem to understand what I was talking about when I mentioned it, and his calluses look like boat work, not weapons, so I’m guessing he was raised civilian. He must have pulled some kind of instinctive teleportation jutsu on the verge of death.” 

“Kisame, are you saying a civilian child invented something like Senju Tobirama’s Hiraishin while drowning?”

“Why not? Red hair, blue eyes, outrageous chakra, sealing tattoos, comes from a lost clan starving by the sea somewhere? I honestly think ‘ignorant remnant of the Uzu diaspora instinctively teleports somewhere warm’ is more likely than — I don’t even know — someone dunking a kid in ice water and shoving him at us for kicks.” He finally turns to Itachi. Looks him in the eye, unafraid of the Sharingan, which Itachi has always appreciated. “He was hypothermic. Do you know how hot it was today?”

“I’m wearing the same thing you are,” Itachi says dryly.

“Exactly. He was wearing a fur coat, fur-lined boots, and thick wool clothes. Samehada says his chakra tastes like whale. They eat whale in Snow Country, don’t they?”

Itachi studies the boy again. Pale as paper, and thin in a way that says famine rather than growth spurt. There are blue-green geometric shapes tattooed around his bony wrists, and a series of dots, spaced in triangles, on top of one foot. It obviously means something, but the pattern is completely alien. Itachi supposes they could be primitive seals. Sections of his hair are kinked as if they were recently in braids. Itachi blinks at Kisame. “Did you brush his hair?”

Kisame shrugs. “Kid fell asleep in the bath,” he says, as if that’s an explanation.

Itachi is beginning to suspect that Hoshigaki ‘Sharks Eat Each Other In The Womb’ Kisame is not as heartless as he claims to be. Although maybe he just likes being called a god.

[bradtomlovesya]

In The End

Tom Holland x reader

Summary: You and Tom are triying to get to his parent's house for new year's.

Warnings: a little angsty but fluff in the end.

A/N: A little bit late but here you have a little imagine about new year's. Happy New Year Everybody. I hope you like it!

w/c: 1.5k +

"We promised we'd be with your parents for New Year's" you tear off your nail polish with your teeth. A horrible habit that pops up every time you feel anxious.

"And we will" Tom nods and looks out the train window at the white snow covering the once green pastures.

Just because it took a while doesn't mean you live far from Tom's parents' house. The problem was that you were at your parents' house and they do live a bit far away.

"The train is late and it's 9pm," you stress the obvious as your knee goes up and down rapidly.

You hated being late for the festivities. Especially because you didn't want to spend New Year's Eve on a train while Tom's family waited for you.

"Babe" Tom lets his hand rest on your leg so you stop moving it. "We'll be fine. There's not much travel left and we still have time. I've already warned them and they understand so don't worry."

"This wouldn't be happening if you hadn't left your shower until the last minute. Not to mention you couldn't find your shoes." You grumble still peeling off the polish.

"Uh uh." Your boyfriend shakes his head. "I know you. I know what you're doing and I'm not going along with it."

"And what am I doing according to you? Telling the truth?" You frown. "Because if you'd been ready earlier we wouldn't have missed a train only to wait for the next one only to find out it was late."

"You're looking for an argument because you're anxious. You're trying to find blame because your mind won't stop thinking about what would have been or what could have been." Chestnut carefully removes your hand from your mouth so you stop ruining your enamel.

You inhale deeply and look down at his hand in yours. It's true. Another of your many habits.

"Why do you know me so well?" You look him straight in the eye.

"Because I pay attention to detail and know how to save arguments" he kisses your hand and steals a faint smile.

"Thank you" you kiss his hand too and take a deep breath.

"Nothing to thank" he kisses your forehead on the table that separates them and takes your handbag. "You brought the nail polish, didn't you?" he asks as he reaches into it.

"Yep. It's right there" he nods and you watch him lick his lips as he searches.

"Bingo!" he smiles and places it on the table. "Lend me your hand, I'll fix what you ruined."

"You're a total prince charming," you hold out your hand and watch him paint two of your nails with concentration.

"I'm getting better and better at this, I should do this for a living," he adds mockingly.

"I won't deny that they look much better than the first time you did them." You nod.

"Hey, that wasn't so bad. Or was it?" He looks at you for a few seconds.

"You tried to clean the edges with your fingers and since you couldn't you did it with a t-shirt which by the way is now ruined" you laugh remembering him "plus you did it from the outside in, not from the front out." You laugh more.

"Well, maybe it was a bit of a disaster," he nods with a laugh and blows your nails.

You look at him in admiration. How could you have been so lucky in life that you ended up with someone like him?

"Thank you" you smile broadly as he puts a coat of glitter over the colour. "You always know how to calm me down.

"I do my best" he concentrates on coating your nails with product. "You've always done the same for me" he says matter-of-factly.

You're calmer and it's all thanks to him. The pre-occupation leaves your body as soon as he uses his magic on you.

You want to marry him. You want it more than anything but you don't want to rush it. He'll talk to you about it when he's ready.

The train stops at around 11:12 pm. That means you have less than an hour to get home to your parents. One unpleasant surprise is that there aren't many taxis available.

The drivers must be spending New Year's with their families, you think. You should have been with Tom's family a long time ago.

"Tom, we're not going to make it in time" you roll your suitcase along the tarmac while your boyfriend is on the lookout for a taxi and an Uber at the same time.

"We will, I know we will. Okay?" He walks through the cold streets with you by his side.

The sound of wheels on tarmac keeps you busy. At least you try to, it's too cold to think.

"Tom..." you sigh, looking at your watch. 11:23 pm

"My family's house isn't far, for now let's keep moving until a taxi or uber finds us" his gaze is on his phone and on the road every time he hears a car pass by.

As you walk, a car speeds by and, because it had rained earlier, the vehicle drives over a large puddle of water and splashes it on you and Tom.

"This has got to be a joke" you complain, totally soaked, sad and annoyed.

"You idiot!" Tom exclaims but the driver is too far away to hear.

"This isn't right" You're cold, tired, hungry and anxious. You are not a good combination.

"Maybe the universe is trying to tell us something. We should give up and find a hotel." Sighs Tom, tired enough as it is. Tom never gives up and yet he's doing it right now.

You can't let him. You know how much he wanted to be with his family for New Year's.

"No," you deny. "We've come this far" you take your hand. "Let's go to that bank, swap our coats for some dry ones while we've got our suitcases, and set a fare that no driver can refuse." You smile slightly. He's been your rock, now it's up to you to be his.

"You don't have to do this. I know you're tired and it was my fault in the first place" he sighs and lowers his head.

"That doesn't matter now, love. Come on, let's go. You'll see your family for New Year's even if we're a little late."

"Okay..." she murmurs and walks with you to that bench to change their coats. You place a £300 value in the app and wait for someone to take it. A New Year's miracle is what you both need right now.

A driver accepts as soon as you are about to give up and better keep walking. You both get into the car in the back and ask the driver to turn on the heater. Both your trousers are wet and your hair is a mess.

"Sorry about that" the hazel-eyed one takes your hand and tucks a damp strand of your hair behind your ear.

"It's okay. I'm sorry I was a little anxious," you kiss the tip of his nose making him smile.

"Don't apologise for that," he denies. "Anyone in your place would have left me" he inhales deeply.

"Well then, I'll never do that." You deny. "But next time we'll take the train a day earlier" you laugh.

"I'm totally fine with that," he kisses your forehead. Public kissing is not your thing.

The car arrives at around 11:55pm and you smile internally. 5 minutes early is much better than 5 minutes late. The man driving helps you unload your bags.

"I think they made a mistake with the price, it's only £11. The man adds.

"It wasn't a mistake." Tom denies and hands £500 to the guy who does his best not to cry. "Happy New Year" he smiles and so do you.

"Happy New Year" he utters with a lump in his throat. Apparently he needed the money urgently. That's why he was working in the New Year.

"I really love everything about you. Especially how you help the people around you" you take his hand and both enter the property, ring the doorbell and wait.

"Well, if I can help, you know I will." He leaves a heartfelt kiss on your lips before the door opens and his family lets the two of you in.

As everyone talks about how worried you and Tom were, you can only be thankful that you got home just in time.

The clock strikes midnight. You're both soaking wet and freezing cold but that doesn't stop him from grabbing you around the waist and kissing you as the new year begins.

"Happy New Year, darling." His face shows those perfect little wrinkles next to his eyes that you love so much.

"Happy New Year, Tommy," you smile and blush. His family took a few steps back to give you two some privacy but you know they saw the whole thing.

The important thing is that in the end, everything went well.

|°|°|°|°|

Tom Holland Tags: @raajali3 @fangirling-galore @rogertherabbitt @powerpuffluuvv @august-cardigan @itszulli @hallecarey1 @luvmarissaaa @xoxokiaraaxoxo @kaitieskidmore1 @lnmp89 @pure-a-tea @vixparker @army24--7 @spiderydreams00 @nani-2305 @mochimm @ietss @prancerrparkerr @hpsgirlrw @hollandweather

[pingutats]

i just had such a good request for a fic. dom/sub dynamic with dom!harry where y/n is being spanked for misbehavior and she ends up crying during it because she feels like she deserves to be hurt, and harry stops immediately and there’s a lot of fluffy aftercare and physical affection

thank you for the request!! i know it took me a million years to get to writing this but finally did it... i know it strays a little bit from all the details of your request but i hope you enjoy regardless!

warnings: spanking, dom/sub dynamic, descriptions of anxiety (maybe don’t read if you’re in a weird headspace, it’s not exactly pleasant!)

word count: 1.7k

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

As soon as Y/N hears Harry’s car in the driveway, she dashes from the kitchen to the front door like a kid that’s heard an ice-cream van. After the day of work at home she’s had, of redoing paperwork she’d messed up the first time and struggling through technical issues and communication errors over email—she just needs Harry so badly.

In fact, she’d texted him earlier to let him know. Quite blatantly. With a photo she prays he opened when there was nobody else around.

When Y/N opens the door for him he freezes, taking in her appearance. She’s wearing just panties and one of his shirts, her bare legs completely on display for him. His gaze sweeps up and down her body for a second, then he swears under his breath and strides in quickly. Y/N jumps back to give him room, waiting a few feet ahead in the hallway.

He shuts the door with his arm swinging back behind him, not even glancing over his shoulder to watch it close.

There’s a second of silence as they stare each other down, and it’s in this second that Y/N feels them slip into the roles of the game she’s been wanting to play all day. His eyes go from wide in shock to steady. Her head bows almost of its own accord, responding to the straightening of Harry’s shoulders after he drops his bag.

He inhales sharply through his nose and drops his keys into the bowl on the bench. “You’ve been doing this on purpose, darling,” he says in a measured tone. It isn’t a question. He won’t be asking questions now—she won’t have to think, she can just listen to him, let him take over now.

She plays with the bottom of his t-shirt that she’s wearing, pulling it up enough to reveal the slightly paler skin where her shorts would usually cover.

Harry’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Come here,” he says, beckoning her over.

She considers refusing, just to be a brat, but it’s a lot easier to just go along with him now she’s getting what she wanted. She twists her hands in the t-shirt in front of her as she approaches him, averting her eyes from his as he watches her, suddenly vulnerable under his gaze.

When she’s close enough, he reaches out and grabs her wrists to yank her grip on the shirt free, pulling her off balance so the only thing that stops her falling flat on her face is his arms. She tries to relax into his grip, tries to let herself go.

“Been so fucking needy today. That photo — nearly had me getting hard in the studio right in front of everyone, love,” he says, squeezing her wrists almost painfully. “And look how you answer the door, nearly naked for anyone walking on the street to see.” He shakes his head, clicking his tongue condescendingly. “Do you want to apologise for anything?”

She looks at him, pretends to think, and then shakes her head.

He sighs. “Of course not, you little brat.” His grip loosens. “Alright then. Go upstairs for me.”

She blinks at him.

“I’ll be up in a minute. Go on.” He spins her around and nudges her towards the stairs with a gentle push.

She glances over her shoulder at him before she goes and he only raises his eyebrows expectantly. She’s almost tempted to pull the back of the t-shirt down over her ass to cover herself, but that wouldn’t get her what she needs, and what she needs is Harry to take care of her—so she keeps her head bowed as she walks up the stairs, adding a little swing in her hips with each step just as the icing on the cake. She smiles when she hears his deep inhale from the hallway as he watches her the whole time.

Upstairs, she sits on the end of their bed with her hands in her lap, scratching at days-old nail polish she’ll need to redo soon. There’s a knot in her stomach that’s been twisting all day, stresses piling up and morphing into some ugly feeling she can’t shake, not without Harry’s help. She manages to peel all the bright pink colour off her left thumbnail while she waits.

It seems like forever before she hears Harry’s footsteps up the stairs but when she does, she straightens up. The sound of the door opening makes her jump in nervous shock. She flexes her fingers, trying to calm her jitters. It’s Harry. She needs him.

“Being such a brat today,” he says when he’s finally in front of her. “Aren’t you? Don’t know how to behave.” He sits beside her, squishing her cheeks with his thumb and forefinger. “Need me to teach you a lesson, hm?”

She nods at him, eyes moony. Yes, this is what she wants, needs from him—to let him take over for a little while, let him take out his frustration on her, help her let go of her own.

His grip softens a bit. “This okay, baby?” he asks more quietly.

She swallows. “Yeah.”

He leans forward and gives her a quick kiss. She feels like melting against the softness of his lips, pressing against her own, the mouth she knows so well. It’s a comfort in the mess that her mind is feeling like right now.

But he isn’t so gentle as he drags her over his lap a moment later, her face roughly pushed down into the mattress. His hand squeezes her ass, only barely covered by her panties, and her breath hitches.

“Count for me.”

“Yes sir,” she breathes, closing her eyes.

Her exhale is cut short by the force of his palm cracking against her skin, jolting her forward over his lap. The sting dissipates quickly, taking none of the tension inside her with it.

“One,” she says.

“Good girl.” His hand comes down on her again, harder this time.

She screws her eyes shut. “Two.”

It isn’t feeling like how she wants it to feel. She’s too tense, restless, her mind unwilling to float away under Harry’s touch. The pain, which usually is laced with something brilliant and exciting, is just pain today. But with all the mistakes she’s made today, all the things she messed up that have just added to her workload and her stress—maybe this is what she deserves. Punishments are called that for a reason.

So she stays where she is, her head lowered so Harry won’t see anything wrong. She gasps at the third, and it takes her a second to remember she needs to count. “Three,” she says, her voice shuddering.

Harry pauses and she fears she’s made him upset, spoken too quietly, taken too long—she can’t do anything right.

“Love,” he says. His hand comes to rest on her shoulder gently. “Are those good tears or bad tears?”

She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment and in the pause, realises her cheeks are wet. “Um,” she says. Her voice shakes.

Harry’s arm snakes underneath her and pulls her up, manoeuvring her so she straddles his lap and he can see her face. The crease between his brows is deep as his eyes dart over her face, his thumb coming to her cheek to brush a tear away.

She leans her head into his palm that was cracking down onto her skin just a minute ago and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

“What happened? When did it change?” he asks, his voice soft again, his character leaving.

She shrugs. She doesn’t trust herself to speak without crying more, and she feels stupid enough already.

“It’s alright, love,” he says, shifting so he can sit up straighter and pull her closer to his chest. He rubs her back, kissing her hair. “Let’s just rest for a moment, alright?”

She nods into his shoulder, hiding her face. His hand cradles the back of her head. The panic that she was feeling is dissolving into nothing. All day she felt so tense with so much twisting inside her, and she’d thought she could force it out painfully—she was wrong, of course, and now she feels awful for roping Harry into her misguided attempt to fix herself.

After a couple minutes, Harry taps her to get her to look up at him. “Why’d you want a punishment today?” he asks, without accusation.

She shrugs, raising her shoulders as high as she can and then letting them drop sharply. “Just felt like I needed it.”

He nods. He understands that sometimes she feels like this—needs to lose herself in playing a role for an evening, forget about real life and its responsibilities—because he knows the feeling too. She’s helped him in this way before. They take it in turns: give each other what they need, when they need it. “Wasn’t helpful today, though?” he prompts, his eyebrows raised sympathetically.

She shakes her head, looking sheepish. “Sorry.”

“Hey,” he says. He smiles a little bit and a shallow dimple appears in his cheek. “That’s fine. It’s just a game. We play it whenever you want to, we stop playing when you’re not enjoying it. That’s important, alright?”

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “Sorry.”

“Need to stop apologising, baby,” he tells her. “Just keep talking to me. I don’t want to hurt you.” He kisses her cheek and the gesture raises butterflies in her stomach, even still after all the months they’ve been together. It reminds her that he’s there for her, to look after her, to take care of her when she can’t do it for herself. His lips stay close to her skin as he asks, “How can I help, though, really?”

She buries her face back into his shoulder. “Dunno,” she says, her voice muffled. “Just need you.”

She feels his chin gently knock against the top of her head as he nods, his arms tightening around her again. “You’ve got me, baby. Always got me.”

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

thank you for reading! if you did like it, a reblog would be really appreciated as well as any feedback/comments you might have! you can find more of my writing on my masterlist.

[quindolyn]

Midnight Walks || James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Word Count: 4363

Note: Dedicated to 🦎anon from @/randomoutsiders blog. Where I live it’s already 84℉ so this completely feasible but if you don’t live in hell and it's still cold and wintery outside just push it back a few months.

Warnings: Insecure reader, like 2 sexual comments because I’m filthy, talk of men being pigs and not keeping their hands to themselves, lots of fluff, modern muggle au, monkey bars, public nonsexual stripping,

Masterlist

Part 2

There were ants in your bones, there must’ve been. Either that or someone was trying to feather dust their way out of them. Your entire body itched with the urge to move, to run, to scream and jump in the middle of the street. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what drove this overwhelming desire, perhaps it was some sort of primal reason coded into your DNA, alternatively maybe it was the sitting at your computer all day. One could only attend so many online classes before they went insane, and a decent way into your second semester and still no sign of going back in person anytime before the next school year. You were like a purebred who desperately needed exercise. It would’ve been a simple enough fix if it wasn’t already 10:17, the sun having set four or so hours ago, even though you lived in a pretty nice area you didn’t feel comfortable going out. Men were disgusting, and going out this late alone meant risking life and limb because too many men thought it was okay to touch what wasn’t theirs. Fucking toddlers. So instead you were forced to open your windows in attempts to replicate the natural breeze and try to find another outlet for your energy. You tried. You really did. Jumping jacks, planks, the few yoga poses you could recall off the top of your head, dancing around your house to your favorite songs, but the music didn’t feel like it usually did, even it couldn’t soothe the itching in your bones. You were fucked, simply and truly. Too energetic without the proper outlet. After none of those things worked you sat down to attempt to get some of your weekend homework done, but somewhere between ionization energy and confidence intervals you found yourself picking at your nail polish instead of paying attention to your work. Groaning you threw your head down onto your desk, wincing as the pain from the impact spread through your skull. Closing your eyes you tried to imagine it, the cool night air in your face, blowing through your mangled tresses, the thud of your feet against the pavement of the sidewalk, the feeling of the grass at the park tickling your exposed skin as you stared up at the cloudy sky, looking for stars. You swore you could almost feel it all, almost pulled into bliss when you were yanked from your reprieve by the buzzing of your phone. Groaning, you pulled your head up, it wobbled on your neck, as though it was loose and needed to be tightened. Had you wanted to you couldn’t have stopped the smile that broke across your phone when you saw the notification on your lock screen, a text from James. Can I call you? Sure. You typed out waiting anxiously for your ringtone to blare through your room. Instead you were met with another brief buzz. One second, Sirius is being an idiot. Another smile, smaller than the last, bloomed across your face, Sirius was often an idiot. Picking up your phone you pressed it to your ear just in time to hear James greet you. “Hey baby.” Loving James was potentially one of the easiest things you’d ever done, if asked you would've said it would be easier to stop breathing before you stopped loving him. There was just so much to love and as his voice tickled your ear you remembered one of the things you so loved about him, the sound of his voice. With two simple words he was able to soothe you, if only a little bit. But still the ache to be outside lessened a little. “Hi Jamsie.” You crooned into the phone as you shut down your laptop coming to the conclusion you were going to get jack shit done tonight. You distantly heard Sirius in the background but couldn’t make out any words, “Pads says hi.” James conveyed. “Hi Siri!” You yelled into the phone, you waited until the bickering and laughing on their side of the phone quieted before continuing, “Whatcha callin’ about bub?” “Missed you is all, was wondering what you were doing?” “Nothing much, tried to get some homework done.” James chuckled knowing how distracted you could get if someone wasn’t there to help you stay on track, “How’d that go?” “Not well,” You grumbled, “S’not my fault either, can’t focus. I just need some fresh air, I need to go on a walk but I can’t.” Flinging your body onto your bed and landing on your back you pulled the phone from your ear, turning it onto speaker and setting it on your belly, liking the vibrations against your body as James spoke. It was almost like he was there with you. “I’m sorry darling,” James knew exactly what you were talking about. Unlike a lot of men he wasn’t afraid to broach topics like these, he would sit and kiss your head if some guy at the grocery store had been a prick and couldn't keep his eyes or his hands off of your ass, or if one of the boys in your class had made an objectifying comment. He’d listen to you lament and apologize, on behalf of all men, for the disgusting things you were forced to deal with. He had learned a lot since you started dating, he’d always been a feminist but before you hadn’t really understood what that meant. His mother and father always made sure he was aware of gender biases and he’d heard stories of women being assaulted, harassed, discriminated against and perhaps it made him a bad person but when it happened to you, when you told him about these things it was different, it was worse, he couldn’t control the rage that bubbled up inside of him. You were (Y/N) (L/N), you were his, you deserved to be treated like royalty. No one got to disrespect you. He felt the pang in his heart when he pictured you holed up in your house, like a caged animal, desperate to get out. “I know, and I love you.” You responded, knowing he hated how you had to be afraid and cautious all the time. “I love you too.” “What were you doing before you called?” You asked after a beat. “Watching a movie with mom and Sirius.” A twinge of guilt twisted in your stomach, “Oh, you should go back to them Jamsie, I don’t want to keep you from your family.” James stopped himself before he could tell you that they’d already finished the movie as an idea hit him like most of his ideas hit him, suddenly and fleetingly. Remus once compared them to a freight train. “Okay angel, talk to you later.” “Bye, Jamsie.” He hung up immediately as the last syllable left your lips causing a frown to tug downwards at those aforementioned lips. Sure, you felt a bit guilty that he’d bailed on his mom and Sirius for you but you couldn’t help feeling a little sad that he was so ready to get rid of you the second he had a chance. Feeling all too familiar insecurity simmer from under your sternum questions popped into your head one after another. Did he really want to be with you? Was this all because he just pitied you? Were you just a substitute for Lily? Did his heart still belong to her? What did he even see in you? You couldn’t help but feel like nothing compared to her, she’s Lily Evans. And you’re, well you’re just not. Time had slipped away from you, you hadn’t realised how much until you felt your phone buzz against your stomach and saw that almost 15 minutes had passed since James had hung up on you. You only briefly noted the time before your eyes flashed down to the banner displayed across your screen, another text. Look out your window. Lifting your torso, propping yourself up on your forearms and twisted your head to see James’ smiling face plastered against your window, a huge, beautiful grin, stretching across his face. You could feel a matching one fan out across your face as you skipped to the window, pulling it open relishing in the cool breeze that let itself into your room. “Hey there handsome.” You joked. “Hey beautiful.” “What are you doing outside my window?” You were befuddled, wasn’t he supposed to be watching some Quentin Tarantino or equally violent movies that he and Siri liked? “I was thinking we could go on a walk,” He explained unabashedly. “A walk?” You asked, a blush blossoming on your face, creeping its way down your neck. “You wanted to go on one, yeah?” “I love you.” Was all you said in response, he caught you as you threw yourself into his arms, the middle of your thighs biting into the sill of your window, but you didn’t care. How could you? All you could focus on was the way his arms wrapped around your body, pulling you close to him so he could bury his nose into your hair. “Love you too darling.” There was a part of you, an admittedly large part, that wanted to stay standing there forever but the cool evening air reminded you about how much you wanted that walk. Peeling yourself away from him you placed your chin on his pectoral, not considerably comfortable for either of you, but you were close to each other, and that’s all that mattered. “Come in.” “I was waiting for you to ask.” He winked, slinging one leg over the windowsill giving him room to maneuver his rather large body through the small opening, but James had experience fitting his body into tiny things (namely your cunt). “Are your parents home?” “No, everyone’s gone for the night.” “Why didn’t you tell me baby, I would’ve come over and kept you company.” You felt heat creep back up your neck to your face, embarrassed by the answer. Though your insecurities could swallow you whole when you were alone, they seemed trivial when James was actually there, staring down at you with so much love in his eyes. “Don’t want to be clingy.” The confession bringing even more heat to your cheeks. “Never, (Y/N), absolutely never. If anyone here is clingy it's me not you.” You corrected him, “You’re wonderful.” “So are you bub.” Reassuring you he brushed a piece of hair out of your face. “Now come on! Let’s get some shoes on you and we can go out.”

James was filling up an old water bottle he found in one of the cupboards in case either of you got thirsty when you entered the kitchen, shoes and socks in hand. Your boy smiled at you, twisting the cap of the water bottle on all of the way before setting it on the countertop and moving towards you. “Want me to put your shoes on for you?” “Yes please.” You nodded, grinning cheekily. His large hands found your waist, lifting you up and setting your bum onto the cool counter. Slipping the socks from your hand he knelt down to roll them over your feet, leaving a kiss on the inside of each of your ankles. “You wanna walk to anywhere in particular?” “The park?” You offered, handing him one of your tennis shoes which were a little beat up, but still a long way from needing to be replaced. “The one with the fountain?” “Do you know of any other parks within walking distance?” You snarked, swinging your legs, feeling the need to be outside return, faster and more powerful than before. “Guess not,” He grumbled, looking up at you with a playful smile so you would know he didn’t really take your sarcasm to heart. “Hey watch it!” He chuckled when you accidentally swung your leg a little too hard and knocked his left shoulder with your socked foot. “Sorry.” You apologized looking about as sorry as Sirius usually did when he was apologizing, which honestly wasn’t much. “There you go Cinderella.” He said, as he pat your thigh once he finished tying your laces, rising from his kneeling position. “You think you’re funny do you Potter?” “In fact I do (L/N).” He grinned, sliding you off the counter, onto your feet. “Shall we?” You offered your hand to him which he accepted like a true gentleman. “We shall.”

You were right, but then again, when were you ever wrong? Fresh air was exactly what you needed, the feeling of the wind in your hair, the twigs snapping beneath your weight, the solidness of the ground. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this alive. That was probably stupid but it was liberating to be out of your house, and on top of it it was nighttime too. You weren’t often able to be out this late because you usually didn’t have someone to go out with. You had almost forgotten how beautiful it was when there was no glass separating you from the moon and the stars. Despite the fact that his legs were far longer than yours James still had to speed walk to keep up with you. His heart swelled seeing you so happy and carefree as you strode unapologetically down the sidewalk. “Stop walking so fast.” He complained, finally matching your stride as he loosely looped his left arm around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible while still keeping the two of you moving forward. “Not my fault you’re a slowpoke.” You retaliated but nevertheless still resting your head on his broad shoulder. “It’s nice out isn’t it?” He pondered aloud. “It’s wonderful,” You agreed, closing your eyes and turning your face up towards the sky, trusting James to guide you safely down the sidewalk, “I’m sorry you had to ditch your mom and Siri to come be with me.” You apologized as another wave of guilt from earlier hit you. “I didn’t bubba, we’d already finished the movie when I called you.” “Really?” Your head perked up. “Mhm.” James hummed. “Why didn’t you tell me that?’ “Wanted to surprise you.” He explained and your heart soared, he really was indescribably sweet. “Well I was surprised.” “Good.” “What movie did you watch?” Wondering if your suspicions had been correct. “Forrest Gump.” He responded by popping his “p”. You laughed squeezing two of James’ fingers on the hand splayed across your stomach. “What?” “Nothin’, just thought you and Pads would’ve made your mom watch Reservoir Dogs or something.” “Come on, you know me and Padfoot (Y/N), nothin’ but a couple of softies the two of us.” “Yes, yes you are.” You responded completely seriously. “You were supposed to disagree, he whispered into your ear. “I cannot tell a lie.” “Hey!” He exclaimed in mock offense. “Come on I found the two fo you cuddling when I came over Wednesday, he was literally spooning you Jamsie. It was rather cute really.” James let you have the last word and the two of you were silent for a minute as you passed a house with a line of cars in front of it, stupid fucking people and their stupid fucking parties. You thought, thinking they’re more important than the rest of us, that it’s okay to throw a party during the middle of a pandemic. “There’s a pandemic going on people,” James muttered as you crossed in front of the driveway, as though he was reading your thoughts. You just nestled into him more. Once you cleared the super spreader house it was only a few feet before you turned the corner and your desired destination came into view causing a ginormous smile to practically crack your face in half. “Come on Jamie!” You giggled, grabbing his hand and pulling him down the street towards the park, not even looking both ways as you bolted across the street to the park. You’d always thought that parks and playgrounds and such looked a bit creepy after dark and while today was no exception you still didn’t think twice before bounding up the steps of the play structure. Laughing, you turned your face back up towards the sky as you reached down to slip your shoes and socks off, tossing them off the play structure onto the wood chips scattered across the ground. “You look beautiful up there.” You hadn’t noticed James approach you, but he was now standing at the foot of the play structure, looking up at you. “Come up here with me Jamie, please?” You pleaded, tugging on his arm. “How could I deny you anything?” “Simple,” You responded, “You can’t.” Pushing himself up onto the structure he tried to envelop you in his arms but you squirmed away, giggling. As you ran toward the slide at the opposite end of the playground he broke out into a run after you, purposefully keeping his strides short to give you the upper hand. Breaking out into a sprint as soon as your feet touched the ground you raced towards the open field, James hot on your heels. He chased you around the perimeter of the grassy clearing, the two of you yelling at each other and laughing until your lungs hurt when he finally caught you in his arms, trying to get you as close to him as possible. He loved the feeling of your body against his more than he loved life itself. Or even Sirius. “What should I do with you now that I’ve captured you?” He mused tauntingly, tightening his grip on you. “Well I know one thing you could do to me.” You murmured. “(Y/N) (M/N) (L/N), get your mind out of the gutter Miss,” “Make me.” You teased, wiggling in his grasp. “I know what’ll fix your attitude.” James declared, adjusting his so his arms were around your waist instead of one there and one wrapped around your shoulders. “And what’s that?” “A nice February swim!” He roared jovially, hefting you over his shoulder as he bounded towards the fountain located on the east side of the park. “Jamie!” You shrieked as you bounced against him, “Slow down.” “Sorry Princess,” He huffed once you reached the fountain, he carefully lifted you off his shoulder and sat you down on the ledge of the water feature as he kneeled before you, hands pressing against your thighs. “Come on baby, go swimming with me?” “Course.” You smiled as you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, throwing it somewhere over Jamie’s shoulder. You didn’t bother watching where it landed, too enraptured with the gorgeous boy on his knees in front of you. “You look gorgeous (Y/N).” He murmured, taking it the sight of your bare stomach and chest clad in a lacy lavender bra. “I let you see mine, now get your shirt off Potter!” You commanded impatiently, you loved James all the time, but you especially loved James shirtless. “Okay, okay woman, calm down, I'm moving.” He playfully chastised shrugging off his jacket which you just now realised was his varsity jacket, his last name emblazoned across the back of it. When he caught you staring at him he teasingly played with the hem of his shirt, rolling it in the tips of his fingers until you lightly kicked his bent knee. He then discarded his pants, throwing them and his shirt somewhere to his right, carefully laying his jacket on a bench a few feet away he was left only in his boxers and you took this time to appreciate how his skin shown in the moonlight, his darker complexion brilliant in the darkness of the park. “You wanna keep your shorts on? He lilted, moving towards where you sat on the bench encircling the fountain. You nodded in response, not wanting to be so vulnerable in such a public space. “Okay baby sounds good.” James leaned in towards you pressing his lips to yours before he scooped you into his arms before stepping into the fountain, even though it was warm ish outside the water of the fountain hadn’t had enough time to truly heat up because the water that lapped at his midcalf almost had him feeling bad for what he did next. Which was dropping you into the freezing cold water, keeping you upright by his hold on your shoulders before you were able to ground yourself on the floor of the fountain. With water sprouting up from the top and cascading down 4 smaller tiers reminiscent of bird baths, getting larger and larger in radius as they went down, cold water nipped at your skin. “Agh!” You shrieked, “It’s freezing!” “Calm down drama queen!” James snorted, “Little cold water never hurt anybody.” “Speak for yourself!” Screaming as James bent down to splash you with water you tried to run away resulting in you falling backwards onto your bum. “You okay baby?” James asked nervously bending down next to you, surveying your near naked body for any cuts or bruises. Your response came as you looped your arms around his neck and pulled him down, submerging the entirety of his body in the chilly water. He quickly pulled you down with him so that your head was submerged, your hair billowing out around you in the water. When you pulled back up to the surface your wet hair was plastered to your face. And though you were cold, wet, and maybe a little banged up your heart was aflame, this had been exactly what you needed, to run around like a little kid and lose yourself, if only for a little while. Glancing back down your jaw dropped, the light coming from the fountain walls made the shadows of the water reflect on James’ dark skin making him look even more beautiful, like something out of a book. He took your temporary lapse as an opportunity to flip you around so that he was on top of you, he thought you were always stunning but something about you beneath him made you shine like nothing else he’d ever seen. Taking good care to make sure your head didn’t bump against the fountain, and that your head was above water, he trailed kisses from your temple to your jaw. When he reached your chin the second freight train of the night hit him head on and he stuck out his tongue licking from the point of your chin, up your lips, the bridge of your nose, and up your forehead until he reached your hair line where he left one more gentle kiss. “James Potter!” You shrieked, a giggling mess, “What the hell?” He lifted himself off you so he could once again scoop you into his arms, “Come on my little water nymph, let’s get you dry, don’t need you getting sick on me.” “Think you should’ve thought about that before you dunked me into the fountain in nothing but my bra and shorts.” You retaliated to which he only rolled his eyes, before shaking his head like a wet dog. “I swear to God Potter, you’re a Golden Retriever.” “Hmh?” He asked, stepping out of the fountain. “Playful, loyal, energetic, smart.” You explained, planting a kiss on his nose. “Shaking off to dry like a fucking dog.” “You love me.” He grinned, like the thought was just now hitting him, like you hadn’t said it already multiple times that night. “That I do Potter.” You agreed as he set you down on the bench where he had laid his jacket, taking care to slip your arms into it one at a time he pulled it close to your body to keep you warm before coming up behind you, tipping your head back so he could wring the excess water out of it, taking this as an opportunity to kiss the hollow of your throat to which you hummed. Upon slipping on his previously discarded pants and shirt, an endeavor you watched very closely, not wanting to miss a second of how his muscles shifted underneath his smooth, taut skin, he sat down next to you. “It’s a beautiful night.” “That it is.” You agreed. The two of you sat there for a moment before James carefully stood up, “Where are you going Jamie? Too tired now, m’done playing.” “I know angel, come on, not gonna play, just get more comfortable.” He soothed, taking you by the hand and walking you over to a set of fairly new monkey bars. Picking you up from the bottom of your thighs he pushed you up and above his shoulders to sit on top of the monkey bars and you were reminded why it sometimes came in handy to be dating the captain of the football team. Swinging up next to you on the monkey bars he slid his arm around your shoulders, both of your legs meeting the edge of the cold metal at the bend of your knees, your bodies there down hanging off leaving the both of you on your backs staring up at the unusually starry night sky. “There’s Orion.” You lifted your arm to point out the constellation, “ Surprised we can see so many.” You marvelled. “It is rather pretty.” “‘Rather pretty’?” You gasped exasperated with the boy next to you, “It’s not just ‘rather pretty’, it's gorgeous!” You corrected with a huff, turning your visage back up towards the heavens. “Eh,” He shrugged, “I’ve seen better.” “I swear to God, James Fleamont Potter if you say ‘You’re prettier than any constellation’ I’m going to push you off these monkey bars.” A chuckle pushed its way past his lips as he brushed his lips along the part of your hair, “You know me too well don’t you (L/N).” “Yeah, I’ve got your number Mister.” James pulled out his phone to check the time, “Hey baby, it’s midnight.” He whispered in your ear, turning his phone screen so you could read the time. “Happy Saturday my darling boy.” “Happy Saturday Princess, let’s get you home.”

Note: I know in my initial ask on @/randomoutsiders you guys went home and more fluff ensued. Maybe a part two?

tagging: @randomoutsiders​ 

[tedesquire]

Hey I saw your requests were open! I was wondering if you could do a gender neutral reader insert for Bill? Like the reader is more punk/goth and paints their nails and Bill is curious about it so they paint their nails together? Thanks for taking the time to write and take requests! :)

Bring Back Manly Men (Headcanon)

Gender Neutral! Reader/Bill

Typical to 80′s fashion, nail polish ads targeted towards women usually ranged from a spectrum of nudes, peaches, bronze, bronze, light pinks, hot pinks, violets, reds, maroons, purples.

These were the colors Missy often seemed to go for on the Preston family’s rare outings, so Bill hadn’t really given deep thought to the possibilities of other colors. 

Nevermind the fact that Bill doesn’t really think deeply about anything other than Wyld Stallyns and his friendship with Ted. 

However, he suddenly started paying attention when Best’s Magazine came out with a new issue that featured Steven Tyler with painted nails on the cover.

If an absolute rock legend such as Steven Tyler could wear nail polish, why couldn’t he?

Of course, he wasn’t sure where to go to buy black nail polish and if Ted couldn’t tell him (which he couldn’t) then Bill was out of luck.

That is, until he saw you.

Bill noticed the dark tint of your nails and it took him a moment to come up with enough courage to ask you where you got the polish.

You wanted to be skeptical... Why was Bill Preston of all people talking to you, let alone asking about your nail polish?

“Mervyn’s.” You replied. “...Why?”

“To have the best band in the world.” Bill answered, as if it was obvious. You weren’t able to make the connection and let the conversation end there. 

The next day at school, you noticed Bill stumbling late for your shared class together, acting nervous with his hands held firmly in his pockets. 

“Mr. Preston, would you like to participate in class today?” Your history teacher snidely remarked, much to Bill’s chagrin. The boy hesitantly took his hands out of his pocket, revealing a pair of thin, winter gloves.

“Mr. Preston, would you like to take off the gloves?” Bill huffed, his cheeks pinking as all eyes met his figure. One the offending items were removed your teacher sighed heavily, eyes raking over the bandages wrapped all around his hands.

“Get into an accident, Mr. Preston?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And how exactly did you manage to injure both your hands?”

“He cut them!” Ted offered, making Bill’s eyes twitch. “On the washing machine?”

“Trying to fix the washing machine.” Bill tried to correct.

“And no blood on your bandages? Well Mr. Preston, I think your injury has distracted the class long enough. I expect these worksheets to be done by the end of class.”

“Yes, sir.” You saw Ted pick up Bill’s paper, trying his best to follow along and help his friend out.

“Hey,” you whispered, having finally found a moment in the lecture to try and talk to Bill. “What really happened to your hands?”

Bill looked around, making sure no one was looking to peel some of the bandages back to reveal black paint stained on his fingernails down to his middle knuckles. 

“I tried to paint them but my hands were too shaky but then it wouldn’t come off.” He fidgeted, looking shameful. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

Your heart went out to the dim blonde, and you sighed, wondering if you were going to regret what you were about to say.

“Swing by my house after school, I can fix them for you.”

“Really?” You nodded, eyeing your teacher’s back to make sure you weren’t going to get caught. You scribbled your address on a piece of paper for him. 

You weren’t sure why he wanted to paint his nails so badly, but nonetheless, you felt the urge to help him. 

-

As much as Ted wished to tag along, he knew his dad would kill him if he so much saw a drop of paint on his son’s nails, and he didn’t mind some alone time with Missy as she dropped him off, so he opted out of the experience. 

“Oh god.” You mumbled as you peeled off the last layer of bandages. It really was a mess. The two of you sat on your bed, soft music playing through your radio.

“So,” You opened your bottle of acetate, a chemical scent sweeping through your nostrils. “Why do you want to paint your nails anyway?” You worked on cleaning the goop off his nails.

Trying not to move his hand, he gently leaned over to the side of your bed and unzipping his backpack, revealing the rolled up copy of Best.

“Oh! Is that what you were trying to go for?”

“Trying, at least. Ted tried to help as well but...” His free hand went to scratch the back of his neck. 

“It takes a bit of practice.” You patted his hand, trying to encourage him. “It’s nice, every once and a while, to try and treat yourself by painting your nails.” He hummed in agreement.

“You know, It’s not just Steven Tyler,” you mention, ignoring his wincing as you pushed his cuticles back. “David Bowie paints his nails, Ozzy Osbourne, and so does Freddie Mercury! Although, he only paints his left hand since he’s right-handed.”

“Most excellent.” Bill was caught off guard. He supposed he wasn’t as caught up with the rock world as he thought. 

“I’m surprised you wanted to do this.” You mumbled, clipping his nails. “Most guys wouldn’t be caught dead. And.. aren’t you afraid that people will call you.. names? Most of our classmates may not be as progressive as you are.” You unscrewed the nail polish cap 

“Well... Ted is the only person I hang out with, and you’re my friend now, right? For doing this?” You met his gaze and nodded, enjoying his candor. “So if I only care about you two, then what does it matter? The only negative consequence I can think of is how it will affect our band, but if anything, we’ll be even more bodacious than we already are!” He concluded.

“I think you’re on to something there, Preston. Most of those guys became famous because they didn’t let bias or other people’s judgement define them. They were just themselves. You finally finished, picking up his palm and admiring the work.

“What do you think?” You asked.

“Wow. I- This is most resplendent.” He gushed, lifting his hands to get a better look.

“Be careful not to touch anything, the paint still isn’t dry.” He nodded, slowly getting off your bed to head to the mirror in your room.

He almost forgot you were there, getting so engrossed in posing his hands and recreating the magazine’s picture, until you awkwardly cleared your throat.

“You.... want a picture? Like Steven’s?” You asked, opening one of your drawers to reveal a polaroid.

“Really?” 

“Yeah, for your band, right?”

“O..okay.” Bill couldn’t suppress the smile, backing up towards your wall and lying his hands on his face.

“3...2...1...” click. “There you go.” Bill looked quite nice, and you couldn’t help but feel proud that you helped him be able to feel this way.

“Here, you keep it.” Bill handed the picture back to you. “You can be the first.”

“First?” You questioned. “First what? First fan?”

“No! The first stylist! We’ll be sure to mention you when we go on talk shows and perform concerts.” He answered, his confidence making you smile.

The moment was broken by the honking of a car outside.

“Oh! That’s probably Missy. Thank you for helping me! I’ll see you tomorrow?” Bill gently but quickly gathered his stuff, standing by your doorway.

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow Bill.” He smiled, leaving your eyeline as he traversed downstairs. 

You looked down at the polaroid, still in your hands and smiled softly. You had a feeling you weren’t going to regret being Bill’s friend.

[shinsorokiri]

S/o Loses Memory and Quirk

Kaminari Denki HCs

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Language, violence, mentions broken bones, a panic attack, panic attack symptoms, sad Denki

A/N: Ngl writing angst for Denki did something to my little heart. He only deserves happiness and I’m mad at myself for giving him sadness lol. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! I’ll be writing one like this for All Might next so keep your eyes peeled for that one!

Shinsou, Aizawa, Hawks, and Dabi

Todoroki, Bakugou, and Kirishima

Kaminari Denki | Chargebolt

You are his partner in crime

You’re the one who is always there to take care of him when he goes dumb

You’re the one who is always there to comfort him when he feels like an idiot

You’re always the one who is there for him

And he’s always the one who is there for you

It’s been that way for years

Ever since you transferred to UA your second year of high school

The two of you became fast friends

Best friends even

And his flirty nature made it so it wasn’t too long before the two of you entered a real relationship

The two of you EXUDE the most chaotic good energy that even Bakugou finds it kind of endearing

But unbeknownst to his friends

Denki can get really fucking serious when it comes to you

It lowkey shocked you the first time you saw him act like that

And it was all because you were sparring with him and you tripped over your own damn foot and face planted 

You figured he’d just point and laugh at you but he ran over and checked you EVERYWHERE to make sure you weren’t hurt

mans even SCOLDED you

YOU WERE SCOLDED BY DENKI KAMINARI

But you lowkey LOVED it because like

Wow

He does like me !!!

Of course that was in your final year at UA

The two of you are now pro-heroes at separate agencies

And boy oh boy does Denki worry about you

He can’t help it

He has seen you run into a wall because you were trying to rely on scent instead of sight “in case you get stuck in a dark room with a villain”

He worries

But he also knows you are strong

And also a hot badass who can take on anyone

Well

Almost anyone

Midoriya could probably kick your ass but that’s just because it’s Midoriya

But in all seriousness

He isn’t even patrolling today

He has the day off actually

And Denki has never baked anything before in his life

But

He knows that there’s been this mysterious villain giving your agency some trouble recently

So he wants to make you some of your favorite cookies

Or at least try to

And then have a lil movie night

He’s a clingy little shit

And he wants to destress you so

He will refuse to let go of you for the rest of the night goddamnit!

So there he is

Taking the semi-burnt but still edible cookies out of the oven

His favorite program on in the background

When suddenly

His show gets interrupted

And the hero scanner the two of you have goes off in your living room

He immediately turns his attention to the television

Stopping in the middle of the kitchen 

Still holding the cookies

When he sees live footage of you falling from a 3 story building

Onto concrete

He drops the pan

And literally sprints out of the door

He doesn’t even have shoes on

But he doesn’t give a single Fuck™

He rushes down the stairs of the apartment building the two of you live in

And gets to his car in record time

Mans be speeding to the hospital he knows you’re gonna be at

You two had a plan in place with each other and your agencies that if anything would happen to either of you

You would both go to this specific hospital so you two could know where the other was at all times

Of course he was crying while speeding

And his heart rate was way too fast for him to be functioning

But he had to get to you

He had to

And he did

He pulled into a parking spot reserved for pro-heroes and ran inside the emergency room

When he asked about you the nurse told him you were currently in surgery for some severe bone breaks

He got a nasty taste in his mouth

But he just nodded

She told him he could wait in the waiting room

And he did

He sat down in a chair

And he was trying so hard to keep it together

So 

SO

Hard

But eventually Kirishima, Mina, Sero, and even Bakugou showed up

To be fair

Mina and you did work at the same agency

So she saw everything that happened

They immediately went over to him

And he looked up at Mina

And deadass this is the first time any of them see how genuinely serious Denki can get

He asks Mina what happened

And she hesitates

But his face is dead serious

There are obviously tears leaking out of his eyes

But his stare is wildly intense

And Mina knows that if she says no he’ll just keep asking or ask someone else at the agency

So she tells him

“Well… we were patrolling, like usual, when that villain that’s been keeping us on our toes showed up. They’ve never… done anything other than rob people and knock them out so we thought hey this should be easy. Especially since (Y/n) was there. When they saw us they ran into a building and we chased after them and when we had them cornered on the roof they did this weird… sneak attack? But not really? I don’t know it was… odd, they had this like patterned fight technique and they hit (Y/n) in a few different places, and she went to use her quirk to fight back but… nothing happened… and then they hit her like at the bottom of her skull and she just… fell down unconscious. And then they… threw her… off…”

She started trailing off at the end because a sob tore through Denki’s throat

And then he started hyperventilating

Luckily Bakugou and Kirishima were there to help him out

They get panic attacks frequently, so they managed to calm him down and get him to breathe again

And they stayed with him for as long as they had to

Eventually after hours 

A doctor came out and approached Denki

“Pro Hero Chargebolt?”

He stands up very fast

He’s informed that you are out of surgery

And that the surgery went well

However they noticed something odd in your MRI results

It seemed that a portion of your brain was damaged?

But not quite 

It was still functioning

But something about it was off

And they had never seen anything like it before

It was like certain parts of your brain were blocked but everything else was fine

Upon hearing this Denki’s heart broke

And then after hearing the part of your brain that was impacted was the part that contained long term memories

His heart shattered

“We’re afraid she may have severe amnesia. We’re going to keep running tests to see just what is going on, we think it’s the quirk of that villain. A lot of the victims of their crimes have blockages in their muscle groups, but we’ve never seen a blockage in the brain from them.”

Denki is quiet

He literally doesn’t say anything

Until he whispers

“Can i see her?”

The doctor nods

And he leads him to your room

You’re still asleep 

And you’re covered in bandages and casts

It breaks his heart

His friends texted him to tell him they went home but if he needs them at any minute that they will be on their way to the hospital in ten seconds flat

He appreciates it

But right now he really just wanted to be alone with you

He just sat next to you

Holding your hand

He was even moving your pointer finger to trace the Lichtenberg Figures trailing up and down his arms

You always do it when the two of you are cuddling at night 

It helps him sleep

And reminds him that you love him regardless of his faults

And right now he just

He really needs you

This goes on for an hour before he feels you start to move

And he freezes

“(Y/n?”

You open your eyes

And squint at him

“Uh… h-hi… aren’t you that guy in my new class…?”

He stares at you

Completely deadpan

Before laughing a bit

But it isn’t a happy laugh

It’s very much a sad laugh

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Cool, but um… how did you know my name already?… Are you crying?”

Yes

He was

He was laughing and crying at the same time

He probably looked like he was losing his mind

But he really did just lose his whole world so

It’s a prompted reaction

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

His voice was more strained this time

“Are you… are you okay?”

“Yeah, but you’re not. And I didn’t save you, and now you don’t know who I am, and I’m just… I’m so sorry, babe. I’m so sorry.”

The laughing stopped

Now he’s just sobbing

In your mind

You’d seen him a few times while touring the school

And he was always laughing and smiling

Always

So this was shocking

And you’d be lying if you said it didn’t tug on your heart strings

You instinctively reach out to grab his hand

And he grips onto it so tight

Almost like he’s afraid of letting go

“…You called me babe?”

He tries to even his breathing

But he nods

“I don’t… I don’t even know you, I-”

“You do. You do, but… you don’t. It’s… it’s complicated and I’m a literal dumbass so… I’ll call a doctor. They’ll explain.”

And that he does

And the doctor does in fact explain

And after the doctor leaves

You ask him to tell you about your relationship

And he does

He tells you even the smallest details

From the time that you painted the nail on his right hand middle finger pink because he lost a bet and he ended up liking it and buying nail polish for himself

To the time that you two told everyone you break danced all night to break in your new apartment when in reality he turned on Lover by Taylor Swift and the two of you slow danced in your living room

All of it

And he even managed to slip in the fact that you’d remember all of this after he caught the villain who did this to you

And he will catch them.

[marmosa]

short fuse.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: zero proof reading, ha sorry 

A/N: hey guys, so i’m swamped with work rn so my writing process is totally stunted, so i’m sorry about the wait for a new fic. aside from that, i hit 118 followers??? that’s absolutely insane to me that 118 people wanna stick around to see more of my work, it makes me undeniably happy and so proud. So thank you, thank you, thank you. i wanna celebrate somehow, but i’m running dry on ideas. i shot a soulmate!au fred by my best friend and she was keen on it, so i’m leaning towards that, but i do want to celebrate in a way that caters to you guys. so my inbox is open for suggestions and requests while i handle personal obligations. sorry this was a bit of a long a/n, but i just wanna thank you all again so very much for choosing to stick around. it means a lot to me. thank you and enjoy <3

***

“I haven’t got a single clue as to what you’re talking about, she says! That’s a load of rubbish if I’ve ever heard it!”

[y/n] finally laxed and looked up from her hand, furrowing her brows as she continued to blow a soft gust of air onto the drying layer of nail varnish. Her eyes trailed along with Fred who was pacing around her dormitory, his face flushed in anger as he ranted on about some girl in his potions class who happened to piss him off earlier that morning.

“You’d think after Snape chewing our heads off about a less than perfect presentation she’d at least pull some of her weight! And I’m no academic mind you, but I would really prefer to avoid another one of my mum’s howlers this week,” he huffed, finally sitting down in one of the loveseats with an aggressive thump.

“If it’s angering you this much I suggest you either speak to Snape, but he’s insufferable so chance are that’ll bust. How do you feel about me hexing her?” [y/n] offered, offering him a small consoling smile, trying her best to lighten his mood.

It didn’t seem to work as the cloud of frustration continued to thunder above his head, the crease in his forehead more prominent than ever. He dragged his hand down his face and let his head loll back with a grunt, “I appreciate the offer but if I’m forced to another insufferable detention with Snape I’m going to do something awful.”

“What happened to the Fred who spends detention pranking Snape until he’s decided to stop giving you detention simply to avoid having to deal with your pranks again?” [y/n] queried, looking back up from the thumb she’d just fixed up.

“He went and died,” Fred grumbled, sinking further into his chair and frowning.

“Oh shove it, come here,” she waved him over, giving him a demanding stare when he remained deflated in his seat, “I said come here!”

He groaned like a petulant child and slid out of his chair, dragging all his weight as he shuffled over, plopping down onto the floor with a thud strong enough to shake the nail varnish container, earning himself a narrow glare from [y/n].

“Let me paint your nails,” she hummed, grabbing his hand and placing it in front of her without so much as a nod of confirmation.

He remained silent as she got to work, coating his nails in a fine layer of a lovely light blue, humming a small tune to herself as he continued to have the anger peel off him ever so slowly. As soon as she finished the first hand he silently gave her the other, resigning to blow a small gust of air onto the drying paint.

“You’ve gone all quiet, d’ya like getting your nails done?” she mused, grabbing one of the many q-tips spilled across her surface to wipe away at the still wet polish that dripped off the side of his thumbnail.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he mumbled, back-tracking when she squeezed his hand to emphasize that she was just asking him a genuine question, “a little, yeah.”

“Well then you should ask me to paint them more often! I think I did a pretty good job and look-!” she held up their hands together, pressing hers right under his just enough to where you could still see his nails, “we match!”

Fred couldn’t carry his anger anymore, a smile finally creeping its way onto his lips, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he returned the kind gesture. His heart decompressed, his posture relaxing as he blew off his remaining steam.

“See, all better- ah! Don’t move yet, they’re not dry,” she chastised him, bringing his hands back down flat against the surface, earning herself a shocked grimace from him, “sorry, I’d just hate for it to smudge.”

“S’alright,” he blew out a breath of air, his eyes scanning her appearance as she fussed over his nails just to make sure they were still intact.

He felt another smile coming on as he admired her. A concentrated crease in her brow, her hair out of place from the morning past, robes long discarded as she got comfortable despite the school uniform. It was impossible, he thought, to not be in love with her.

“What’re you lookin’ at Weasley? Planning to kill me in cold blood are ya?” she teased, finally content with her scan of his nails.

“If you keep biting at me with all that sass, maybe I will be,” he replied, sticking his tongue out playfully and scrunching his nose.

“Well if you wanna keep coming to me to vent you’re going to have to get used to sass. Besides I’ve known you for ages, this isn’t new, is it?” she queried, cocking her head to the side.

“It certainly isn’t,” he shook his head, “doesn’t mean you should keep doing it. But I rest my case.”

“Good, because we’re gonna be late to class, come on now.”

***

“I like the color mate, where’d ya get that fancy thing done?”

Fred looked up from the parchment in front of him, glancing over to Oliver who’d seemingly already finished up with his charms notes, “oh, it’s uh, [y/n]’s. She painted them for me before class.”

“Nice. Hopefully it doesn’t get ruined at practice today, which is after class don’t  you forget it,” Oliver added, nodding his head as if he’d just aided Fred in avoiding a perilous fate.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Fred chuckled, rolling his eyes at Oliver’s typical attitude.

Oliver seemed content with that answer and went back to his work leaving Fred be. Before he could focus back on his work he felt a piece of paper pelt the back of his head, anger twitching in his temple at the annoying gesture. He glanced behind him and saw the crumpled paper on the floor, looking around the class to see a group of Slytherin quidditch players sitting around laughing amongst themselves.

Fred glowered at them and picked up the paper, unfurling it to see a few insults and some shitty grade-level doodle that insinuated Gryffindor was going to lose the upcoming match later that week. Anger bubbled within him once more as the small gesture relit the fuse [y/n] had supposedly managed to completely put out earlier that day.

Without so much as a side glance he stuck his arm out just enough to where the Slytherin’s could see it and Flitwick couldn’t, muttering a small incantation and feeling the paper burst into flames and reduce itself to ashes in his palm within seconds.

The Slytherin’s had gone and picked a poor day to get on Fred’s nerves as it didn’t take long for another few pieces of paper to be pelted at the back of his head. Unfortunately he had quite literally had it, his stool scraping behind him bringing everyone’s attention to him in the silent class as he thundered over to the Slytherin’s.

He approached them with fury biting into every step he took, his arm surging forward as he grasped the collar of one of the upper year players, a nasty glare painted onto his features.

“You’ve got something you wanted to say to me you slimy bastard?” Fred seethed, his other hand clenched at his side, ready to swing had things decided to take the turn he was anticipating.

“Yeah, didn’t you read the papers?” The Slytherin boy replied smugly, not frightened enough for the immanent danger he was in.

“I would’ve, but none of you are literate enough to form an understandable sentence,” Fred bit back, his brows set heavy on his face, anger practically rolling off him in waves.

The other boy didn’t seem to enjoy having his intelligence insulted, his own chair scraping behind him as he stood up, though it was comical to onlookers just how much taller Fred was than he.

“What’d you say to me, Weasley?”

“I said you’re a piece of shit who’s dumb as rocks.”

That was it. Fists started flying and a ruckus had immediately begun, some students cheering while others called Flitwick’s attention, begging him to intervene in the situation. Being as tall as he was, Fred didn’t have much difficulty tackling the other boy to the ground, taking a sharp swing to his face that landed with a uncomfortably loud thump. The kid cried in pain at that and was finally overtaken by his fighting spirit.

It want on like that for a while, the other kid managing to get in a few hits too, punching Fred in the mouth and landing a nasty kick to the stomach, before Professor Flitwick and another teacher who’d been panic called in finally stopped the brawl.

“Mr. Weasley, enough!” McGonagall snapped, standing in front of him as Oliver and two other Gryffindor’s corralled him to the side and away from the boy who was groaning in pain on the floor.

“But professor he-,”

“Forget detention, you need to be taken to the infirmary this instant! Wood, escort him there immediately and please try not to track blood in the corridors,” McGonagall sighed, exasperated with having to deal with yet another issue, turning on her heel to go attend to the obviously more battered student.

As Fred’s adrenaline finally subsided, pain started to seep into his face and chest, the feeling of fresh blood spilling out of his nose finally registering to him.

“C’mon mate, we’ve got to go before it gets worse,” Oliver insisted, trying his best to forcefully move Fred who was rooted in his place without hurting his injuries.

“Yeah, yeah, right,” Fred nodded, a far away quality to his voice as he and Oliver left the class to head to Madame Pomfrey’s.

***

“Is Fred here? Where is he? Oh, Fred!”

He looked up from the cup of medicine he’d just downed, his face recoiling in disgust at the flavor, eyes sealing shut as he forced it down. When he’d finally recovered from the rancid taste he saw [y/n] barreling towards him, panic glued to her features, her robes billowing behind her.

“Hey, [y/ln],” he grinned, setting the glass down and wincing in pain as he went to uncurl his hands, the knuckles still split open and raw as he waited to have them wrapped up.

“Don’t ‘hey [y/ln]’ me, what were you thinking?” she chided, grabbing a nearby chair and pulling it to the side of his bed, “you look terrible.”

“Hey,” Fred pouted, endeared at her display of worry for his wellbeing, “But you honestly should’ve seen the other guy.”  

“I did and as mad I want to be, you did do quite a number on him. But your hands! Oh dear me,” she sighed shakily, jumping up to go collect some gauze, tape, and disinfectant.

“They’re not that bad,” he mumbled as she grabbed one of his hands, guiding it in her direction ever so gently.

“You always say that,” she clipped, taking a cotton ball out of its container on the nightstand and soaking it in disinfectant, “now just brace yourself, it’s going to sting.”

Before Fred could get a word out he was hissing in pain, collapsing his shoulders inward as his body shivered with the sting. She cooed sweet words under her breath, quickly replacing the cotton ball with gauze to protect the now freshly clean wound. After repeating the same process over again she set his now wrapped hands in his lap, discarding of the used things and returning the tools to their designated spot.

“All better,” she smiled, reaching forward and squeezing the uninjured part of his hand kindly, rubbing her thumb over the tightly wound gauze.

Fred’s heart swelled as he watched her, the fight feeling all the more worth it to have her fawn over him, “Yeah, all better.”

“Madame, he should be free to leave shouldn’t he?” [y/n] asked as Madame walked over, a tray of tools and medications in her hands.

“I’d wish it so. Mr. Weasley please remove your shirt so I can get a good look at your injury,” Pomfrey instructed, setting her tools down on the nightstand, “and [y/n] please move to the other side so I can get to work.

[y/n] passed him a wide-eyed glare as she maneuvered to the other side of the bed, her worry quickly being shoved to the side as he revealed his toned abdomen right in her face. Had circumstance not have been so worrisome, she probably would’ve been all over him, however the school infirmary was the last place she was going to do something like that.

She cast her gaze down, pretending to occupy herself with picking at her nails as she desperately tried to focus on anything but him. She could see him looking at her quizzically, but she still refused to cave and play into her not to so pure thoughts.

“Alright, luckily there isn’t more than a bit of nasty bruising and some small fractures. I’ll go get you another dosage of medication but it’ll require that you stay the night in the infirmary,” Madame Pomfrey nodded, lifting her tray and scurrying away, continuing onto the next ailment she had to attend to.

“Stay the night, rubbish,” Fred groaned, letting his fall back against the railing of the bed with a small thunk, his chest rising and falling softly as he stared at the ceiling.

“Don’t get any bright ideas, you’re staying here or I’ll give you different reason to,” [y/n] deadpanned, folding her arms across her chest as she finally looked up at him.

“And what will you do? Hmm?” He smiled smugly, sitting back up and folding his arms over his chest, his muscles flexing with the movement.

“I-,” her brain ran blank as she quickly averted her gaze, her leg bouncing conspicuously fast, “I don’t know. Something bad probably.”

“Something bad,” he repeated with a lilt, quirking his head to the side, “ is that ‘something bad’ bothering you, [y/n]?”

Her eyes proceeded to grown wider if that was at all possible as she fumbled to find a witty response to snip back at him, but it was no use, she was all hot and bothered and at a loss of words. She resigned herself to a small shake of her head, casting her eyes down to her lap.

“Oh,” he hummed, a smugness practically dripping from his voice, “I get it, you like what you see don’t you?”

“Okay you know what, I think you’re in good hands and you’re going to be just fine on your own and now that I know you’re not dead, I’m going to head back to my dormitory now!” She jumped up, her chair scraping across the floor with an uncomfortable screech as she turned on her heel to leave.

“Now hold on-,” he interjects, grabbing her wrist the best he could with his restricted mobility, tugging her back slightly, “I was only kidding, you know that. I appreciate you coming to check up on me.”

He watched her decompress, her eyes glancing down to where he held her wrist with a tiny smile pulled onto her lips, “Of course, any time Freddie. Now if you’ll excuse me, I actually must go for homework purposes, but I might be back later. Take care.”

“Take care!” he called after her.

***

Fred cozied himself into the covers, the gentle pitter patter of the rain outside the many infirmary windows becoming the background to his thoughts as he tried to fall asleep. With a sigh he rolled onto his back, folding his hands over his chest as he found himself uncapable of falling asleep.

He was bored out of his mind, usually when he found himself in similar circumstances in his dorm he had something on hand to occupy his busy brain. However the infirmary didn’t really provide much to do unless he wanted to get up, steal a stethoscope, and start playing a one-sided game of doctor.

Before he could roll back onto his side and pull the covers closer to his chin to try and force himself asleep, a small outburst of noise drew his attention. As alertness spiked in him, he quietly reached for his wand on his nightstand, wrapping his hand around it and drawing it back under the covers, his mind starting to recite as many defense hex's he could think of.

As he prepared himself to turn around he felt a hand clasp his shoulder and before he could start screaming to try and grab everyone and their mother’s attention, another hand placed itself over his mouth followed by a shushing command.

He turned his head and felt a sudden wave of relief flooding over him as he registered the faux perpetrator, his heart then picking up pace for the same reason.

“Hey,” [y/n] smiled softly, he eyes sunken in a sleepy sort of way. “I’m gonna move my hand, don’t scream.”

Fred rolled his eyes, but nodded none the less, “you could’ve given me a heads up that you were coming, I would’ve tried harder to look more presentable.”

She looked up from her open bag at her side, her brows pushing together as she stared at him with a confused yet amused look, “you look just fine, Freddie. What’re you on about?”

Fred struggled to bite back a laugh, shaking his head as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, the blanket bunching around his waist, “Nothing, nothing- hey, what’d you even come here for anyway? Couldn’t resist being away from me for so long?”

“You wish, Weasley,” she rolled her eyes, thanking her lucky stars that there was a chair nearby and she wouldn’t have to make any extra noise bringing it over, “I’m here to paint your nails.”

“Oh,” he glanced down at his hands, noticing she was, in fact, right about the presumed notion that he needed a repaint, “Are they still gonna be blue?”

“Well, I brought the lot of the varnish with me, I was just going to let you pick,” she smiled, setting the bag down into his lap.

His face beamed as he rolled the tote bag down, revealing the pile of nail varnish containers, a childish grin spreading out on his face as he browsed the collection. [y/n] smiled to herself and prepped the nail varnish remover to get rid of the cracked and chipped polish already on his fingers.

“Can I mix ‘n match?” he quipped, holding up two colors to the moonlight to get a better look at them.

“If you’d like,” she shrugged, “it’s up to you.”

“Sick! Can I do one hand black and one red?” his voice buzzing with excitement.

“Certainly, hand them over and we can start,” she chuckled, taking the two colors and setting the rest at the foot of the bed

She pulled one of his hands to her gently, swirling the cotton ball over his nails to remove the polish. A giggle escape her when he scrunched his nose at the bitter smell of the acetone, the fumes making him blink rapidly as he got used to it.

“Well that’s mad, it feels like that stuff should’ve melted my fingers off,” he breathed incredulously, shaking his head to get rid off the weird buzz that had fanned over his brain.

“It certainly does and unfortunately the effects don’t change, you can never really get used to it,” she sighed, grabbing his other hand, continuing to wipe away at the blue.

The two feel back into silence as she feel into her focused stupor, her lips pursed to blow a small gust of wind to dry the remaining acetone while she shook a bottle of varnish in her other hand. Fred watched her with wide, adoring eyes, absolutely enamored with how dedicated she was to the task at hand. He let her continue on without interjecting, for the first time that night the silence was inviting and he quite enjoyed just hearing the clink of the cap against the bottle and the intermingling of their breaths.

“You have nice hands,” she noted absentmindedly, capping the black varnish and beginning to help it dry, missing the look Fred gave her at the suggestive nature of her compliment.

“Thanks,” he hummed, redirecting his attention to the shiny layer of red on his right hand while she continued to blow air onto his left.

“Of course,” she hummed, “now let me see both of your hands, I don’t want it to be messy.”

Fred complied and shifted his body so he was facing her, setting both his hands in her own while she inspected his nails, her focus so dedicated to her task that she yet again missed the adoring look he was giving her. A smile quirked at his lips as she absentmindedly ran her thumb over his hands, triple-checking that the varnish was indeed dry.

“Well, I suppose that does it,” she nodded, satisfied with her handy work, “d’ya like it?”

“More than anything,” he beamed, “are you going to leave now?”

“Only if you want me to, I don’t have classes tomorrow morning so I have no problem staying up,” she shrugged, secretly wishing he’d request her company.

“That’d be lovely, I was having trouble sleeping anyway,” he nodded.

“Same here. I can imagine it was only harder for you with your injuries,” she noted sadly, glancing over at his still wrapped hands, the gauze looking like it was fresh.  

“It’s not too bad, Madame Pomfrey gave me some painkillers so I’m doing alright. Besides it’s not so bad since I have you,” he added, fiddling with the folded covers around his knees.

Her eyes widened a bit as she processed his confession of sorts, her heart picking up pace in her chest at his vulnerability, her next words coming out in a hush, “That’s sweet, Freddie.”

“I’d hope so,” he whispered, raising his brows as he bobbed his head in an awkward sort of nod.

[y/n] reached forward again and took one of his hands into hers, boldly lifting it to her lips and pressing a chaste kiss to his bandaged knuckles, squeezing his wrist gently. It was all too much for Fred, she’d been too kind all day and here she was sitting in front of him now, kissing his hand and smiling at him all too innocently for how badly he wanted to kiss her then and there.

But he was at a loss of words and she was at a loss of restraint, trailing her lips up so she could press another kiss to the inside of his wrist and then the small divot of his elbow, slowly but surely pulling him forward towards her. Fred didn’t mind it though, he leaned into her with every advance, his breath coming to a stand still in his throat as she neared his face.

Her chair pushed behind her with a faint scraping noise as she stood up to accommodate for their height difference, his hand now intertwined with her own down at her side as she looked him straight in the eyes. The tension in the air was palpable and though she had been taking the initiative all day, he didn’t need anyone to tell him twice just what he needed to do.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked barely above a whisper.

“You most certainly can.”

Though he felt himself surge forward with urgency, the entire thing was as slow and sultry as they could get it. Their lips molded together softly, gentle kisses passed between each of them, quiet endearments passed between each pause for breath before going in for more. Fred cupped the back of her head with his free hand, hers doing relatively the same as she lifted her knee to his side so she could stabilize herself.

The kisses quickly became deeper, not necessarily desperate, but long and drawn out, both of them wanting to melt into the other for eternity. [y/n] wished so desperately that the circumstance were different enough to where she could curve into him, be able to feel over his arms and chest and relish in every inch of him that she’d fallen in love with. Fred similarly thought the same, his hand squeezing hers every so often to remind himself that she was there and this was happening and she was his.

When they pulled away, [y/n] pressed her forehead to his, letting their hands unwind so she could cup his face and he could caress her hips. Their breaths mingled in the buzzing silence, heart’s thumping in their ears as they relished in one another’s presence. She turned her head to the side to pepper kisses against his cheek, tilting it downward to trace loving kisses along his jawline too. He let out a breathy chuckle, feeling bad that he couldn’t just pull her into his lap and show her as much affection as she was showing him, but he knew deep down their current options were limited.

“I adore you Freddie,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the divot where his ear met his jaw, her fingers moving to card through his hair.

Fred couldn’t believe how utterly at a loss for words he was. It was so unlike him to not have a witty word or two to put in, especially after such a moment that begged for its tension to be resolved. But after the rough day he’d had, he thought it fine to let himself receive rather than give, even if just this once.

“You’re amazing, [y/l/n],” he chuckled softly, moving his hands so they were rubbing her back gently, her shirt riding up every so often with his movements.

“As are you,” she hummed, finally pulling back to admire her lover’s face, her thumb tracing over his jaw, nose, and lips, an adoring gaze melted onto her features.

“Thank you. For all you’ve done for me today,” he added, wanting to emphasize just how appreciative he was of her, knowing he’d hopefully be able to truly make it up to her later.

“That’s what you do for people you love, right?” she smiled, biting back a giggle when his face drew into one of bashfulness.

“I suppose so,” he returned the smile, pulling her face back down for one more savored kiss, a sigh escaping her as she melted into his embrace once more, “now what do you suppose we do for the next couple hours, that is if you intend to stay?”

“Well see,” [y/n] shrugged, “now scoot over that chair is ghastly, I don’t want to sit in it anymore.”

“And were back,” Fred chuckled, obliging her request to make room for her on the bed.

“What?”

“Oh it’s nothing,” he shook his head.

“Yeah, nothing, sure,” she rolled her eyes, crossing her legs under her as she got comfy across from him.

“It is nothing!” he scoffed, kicking her before crossing his legs underneath him.

“Rubbish.”

“I warned you what would happen if you kept giving me sass didn’t I,” he quirked a brow, folding his arms over his chest.

“Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t, we may never know,” she lilted, batting her eyelashes innocently.

Fred exhaled and lolled his head to the side, unable to hide the grin on his face, “whatever, now, I bet you’re wondering how the fight went!”

“Oh yes! But spare the nasty details, I can handle it, I’d just prefer not to.”

“Whatever you say, love.”

[string-bean-requiem]

New addition - Vampire!Tattoo Artist!Risotto x Human!Reader

Summary - Ris finds a kitten and brings it home to you

Note - Reader uses She/Her pronouns & is a woman. Modern AU

Genre - Fluff

Animals never really took too much of a liking towards Risotto Nero, who may or may not be disheartened by this very fact, but nevertheless, understands exactly why.

He was mother nature’s very own monstrous concoction of a top class predator. Hunting any and all species with warm, crimson blood flowing within their bodies — the very substance that keeps him alive and functioning — with speed faster than a cheetah in its prime, strength greater than any nation’s army combined, along with nails and teeth that could slice through almost anything thrice more precise than any polished blade ever could.

So while he understood well and why animals were deadly afraid of him, disappointment couldn’t resist its way towards his un-beating heart when yet another dog has scampered away from him, all because he simply glanced its way.

Although, disappointment may to be too light of an adjective to describe the depth of emotions he feels towards the rejection of his favourite companions, as the same species had used to be the ones Risotto would seek comfort in when he was exhausted from his own (or what used to be his own) kind’s reactions towards his... ‘vibe’, as the current time’s society would say. Not that he was surprised with that one though. Even during his time as a human, he was well feared by many other humans. If not for his stature and demeanour, then surely for his occupation as a seasoned assassin.

Even though not much has changed when he does come in contact with most humans these days, especially more-so now that he has sleeves of tattoos complimenting the obsidian of his sclera and the glaring crimson in his iris, there was at least a sanctuary, a safe haven in specific types of people all throughout time: those who do not care, and those who are accepting.

Both of which have never cowered away from him, both of which some makes up Risotto’s close knit circle of people he actively cares about, and both of which can be found in his lover... his partner... his better half — you.

You, who despite your species’ natural evolution in (rightfully) fearing vampires, looked at him and felt nothing of the sort and instead, saw him as Risotto Nero. You saw him as the man he was and is, saw past his predator nature, and proceeded to peel back his guarded layers one by one, each with a softer touch than the last, and always left him craving and breathless, but never regretful.

Sometimes, Risotto even thinks being a blood-sucker isn’t so bad. That all those years spent confused, afraid, and lonely was quite alright. With every memory fracture blurring together into a kaleidoscope of nebulous haze, seeming like a distant past, unfamiliar even, and slowly, he feels it slipping past his fingers with each day he spends with your lovely being. Perhaps, he even feels lucky for having this... predicament of a nature being forced upon him lifetimes ago, seeing as how this exact curse was the reason why he had been able to live long enough to have met you. Ever so often though, he has to pinch himself in an attempt to try to soothe himself from wondering if this was all just a very nice dream (or a very sick and convoluted prank on him) because he feels as if it’s too good to be true... but he knows better than that. The swell of his dead heart just by thinking about the welcome back kiss you always pepper onto his lips when he reaches home reminds him just of that.

However, before Risotto could lose himself further into his reminiscing, a weak, shaky mewl echoes softly from the alleyway to his right. It even surprises him to a point of stillness because it sounded so much like a cry for help — for him, the predator of all beings.

But it couldn’t be, it didn’t make sense for it to be, and he almost starts his journey back home again, until the same frail vocals call out for him once more.

Risotto’s head turns towards the direction of the sound and he’s met with the sight of a sketchy pathway. Not that he had anything to worry about though, he drank blood for a living after all.

As another cry sounds off, Risotto approaches forward with tentative steps, not wanting to scare off the very obviously weak animal whilst trying to show that he meant no harm or malice. It seemed to work, oddly enough, when a tuft of obsidian fur pokes out of the confines of its shabby cardboard box, revealing its bright golden eyes to stare at Risotto’s own crimson pair.

An odd tension enveloped the two beings, and a beat passes before Risotto takes the leap to pet the kitten’s head — and he’s so glad that he did.

How long has it been since an animal has nuzzled its little head into his expectant palm? How many years has it been since the last animal had deemed him safe enough to lick at his hand? How much time has passed since soft little paws have been padded at his hand as if to say “Pet me more!”?

Long enough.

So much so that it has him perplexed that a weak little kitten is not wetting itself in fear of his presence so far. Questions and guesses as to why whirls in his head, yet he couldn’t help but find himself almost giddy at the turn of events... at this brave little Bombay.

Risotto’s excitement is cutoff short when he notices its shivering body, which is quite unsurprising, as the little fellow was showing signs of being on the edge of malnourishment, and his heart squeezes a little at that.

With careful and steady movements, showing that once again he meant no harm, he shrugs off his coat, hoping it’ll be of use to keep the animal warm, and with the utmost care and gentleness he could muster, wraps it up and tucks its back into its makeshift shelter. Risotto makes sure the kitten’s safe and comfortable before ultimately deciding to bring it home with him, to you, while wondering along the journey if you would want to keep it as much as he does.

God, he hopes you do, but he knows cats can be picky with who they want to show affections to, who they want to accept as their caretaker, and he thinks he would be disheartened greatly if the animal in his hold did not take a liking to you. It would be such a cruel fucking joke if the one animal who didn’t shun or cower at him liked him, but not you, especially since he knows you’ve been wanting a cat for a long time, having unintentionally overheard this desire of yours with your friend a while back when they came to visit you. And it would be so cruel when he finally finds one that won’t claw at his eyes 24/7 that it may end up trying to claw your eyes instead.

You better like her. I won’t know what to do if you don’t...

With each step bringing Risotto closer to your shared home, he grows a little more tense at the prospect of introducing the stray to you, how it’ll react, how it’ll go down... and before he knows it, he’s already through the front door and calling out your name to signal his arrival home.

“Welcome home, Ris. How was work today?”, your voice echoes a little in the cozy space. The domesticity of your tone etches into his memories and he files away into a secure space in his heart, feeling his worries calming by the second.

He could never get tired of this — of you, in the home you’ve both built together, where happiness and content are seeped into every crevice with a warm smile and soft eyes and even softer hearts.

A moment passes as he commits this scene into his heart, like he had done so with every other point in time that he has shared with you, and he realises he’s gone off track a little when your curious eyes continues to peer at him, his sudden stillness, and the cardboard box in his arm.

“It was a slow day at the parlour...”, Risotto quickly mumbles. His lips soft and warm against your smiling ones, lingering for a beat longer than usual, wanting to bask in your familiarity to ease the nerves beginning to flutter again. “...but a couple of interesting things happened.”.

Risotto pulls away and immediately misses your warmth. Twinges of strained excitement begin to dig deeper into the depths of his abdomen, and he can’t help but hope once again that the little fur ball would take a liking to you because fuck does he wants to raise it with you so damn much.

“Oh?”, your eyebrow raises inquisitively, “Does it have anything to do with that box in your hand?”.

Risotto all but nods in accordance and settles the cardboard box onto the coffee table. Your curiosity peaking as you glance between the shabby box and his gaze.

“I overheard you wanting a cat once. And I know it’s hard to have a pet around with my... disposition, but...”, he trails off when he reaches towards the box to dig out the star of today’s show, still bundled in his heavy coat.

“No way...”.

Your eyes widen, eyebrows shot upwards and your grin spreads itself wide across your lips when a tiny head of fur ruffles itself out of its makeshift bed.

Slits of honied gold peered at you from its position, wary and cautious of its own safety with every step you take forward. Risotto own breath subconsciously bates as your hand inches towards the Bombay’s head apprehensively. You’ve already surmised that this little kitten is more than fine with your vampiric lover, seeing as how it seems to make itself completely at home in his coat and in his hold, so the only hurdle left to complete your new family was for the same kitten to take a liking to you as well, and the pressure was gnawing its way at your nerves. The both of you were well aware that cats were picky with who they liked, and if this one cat didn’t like you... you wouldn’t know how to handle that and it’s consequences.

You honestly didn’t want to even think about the consequences... and it seemed like you didn’t have to.

It immediately took a liking to you, nuzzling it’s head into your hand before licking at your digits the same way it did with Risotto earlier today.

It likes you, and most of the tension unravels it’s hold on his muscles. The hardest hurdle was over, leaped in perfect form and done with, and Risotto sighs in relief before he asks, “Do you want to keep it?”.

The chances of you rejecting this proposal was practically nonexistent, seeing as how your eyes are practically glimmering at the kitten pawing at your fingers, but he was a gentleman and he wanted your verbal confirmation to expanding your family together. You, of course, agreed without a beat of hesitation, all while cooing and petting the mewling Bombay in his arms.

God, he could live in this moment forever.

A vivid smile takes over Risotto’s features as he steals your attention for a bit, his fingers tipping your chin upwards quick enough for you to catch his dimples making their coveted appearance, and you have to take a moment to re-collect your swooning self. He always did look the most lovely when he was unabashedly happy, something you pride yourself on being able to bring out of him. But before he could swoop in for another kiss, your brain kickstarted and suddenly you remembered.

“Wait you said ‘a couple of interesting things happened’... what’s the other thing?”.

“Oh. A pair of drunkards walked in during the afternoon and demanded to get matching tattoos of each other’s irises on their nipples. I refused, of course.”

“...what?”, your eyes widened in disbelief.

You wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the incident, and the fact that Risotto had delivered it as deadpan as ever, which is totally up your alley in terms of humour, but you couldn’t even find it in yourself to give him a chuckle. Instead, all you felt was concern and disbelief bubbling at the blatant entitlement and stupidity the drunkards had displayed to your beloved.

“Are you feeling okay? Did they hurt you?”, you voiced. Your tone soft, but not without your signature protective edge reserved for your loved ones, and you find one of your hands leaving the kitten to reach out to cup Risotto’s warming cheek.

He understands how you must be feeling, knowing that beneath your nonchalant personality reveals a more protective side, and he loves that about you. He loves that no matter how extreme or how insignificant the matter is, you’d always show him that you’ll care for and about his wellbeing, going as far as even fighting for him and his honour, even if he’s the one who’s a powerful supernatural being.

He loves it, he loves you, and he loves how you’re so consistent in your love for him, and in this moment, he feels it once again and melts into your palm.

“Yes, and yes.”, Risotto’s voice is just a touch tender as he drowns in the love pouring from your eyes. “No need to worry about me, biddùzza. I’m a vampire. I could drain them dry before they can even blink.”, he reassures.

Your posture relaxes and you can’t help but huff out a chuckle at his words, being able to finally find his apathy and the situation a little funny in its own way. But that doesn’t mean he still should just keep up that attitude forever. Always easier to be safe than sorry. Powerful supernatural hunter or not.

“You know I can’t help it. You’re too soft, Ris.”, you want to take on a scolding tone, but how could you when he looks at you like that? Like you’ve hand-crafted every single good and beautiful thing in this world with graceful weaves and gentle touches... like you’re the sole reason the moon glows every night its own nebulous light, surrounded by clouds of stars and quiet skies... How could you when he looks at you like you’ve bloomed spring to his world drowning storms?

A sigh holds itself back in your throat, opting instead to lean in and peck his lips, pillowy with just a touch of coldness that you’ve grown to be fond of, before returning your attention back to the eager little kitten in his arms again, and Risotto commits the sweetness of your smile and the fondness in your eyes for the purring animal to his already expansive memory.

“That’s reserved only for you...”, he murmurs.

A millennia ago, if someone were to tell Risotto that he’d be happily committed to his human partner, voice fond and gaze overflowing with adoration as he listens to them worry over his well-being and comfort whilst they pet a purring little kitten in his hands, he’d have ripped their head off for spouting something so absurd... for taunting him with something seemingly so unobtainable.

But here he is, lips meeting yours again in a loving kiss, with warm blissful domesticity encapsulating your shared home as the new addition to your little family nuzzles itself into his palm.

...and now you too.

[tf2-hmmm]

How do you think the mercs would react to their girlfriend (or friend/S/O/comrade/pal if you’d like) asking to paint their nails? Would they mind at all? I’m curious to hear! I just painted my nails and I was thinking like “hmmmm I wonder...” y’know? Anyway thanks in advance:) I can’t wait to see what other stuff you write<3

Hmmm here you gooo! ;)

Scout

During his childhood, he'd always see his ma use the nail polish herself. There are variations of colors he sees women use, but his mom was in favor of using the blue tinted ones. He'd know she recently painted her nails when her bedroom has that distinct chemical scent.

He'd seen how she applied it, but never understands how she prevents the wet paint from smudging. What's her secret? Steady hands? Special glue? He still finds it a mystery.

...And then one day his S/O came and simply asked to paint his nails. Does their S/O got steady hands? He wonders.

Maybe he can finally see the secret technique in action. His curiosity motivates him to try.

"Know what? Yeah let's do it. But how long does that paint dry? Can't have that thing smudging my stuff y'know." He glances at his bat.

If S/O has assorted colors to let him choose from, he would definitely want to pick the blue shade.

Be wary S/O, as he is likely to ruin your masterpiece after leaving him to dry it. The guy can't stay still for a minute.

Soldier

Patriotism is one of the best ways to goad this man into letting his S/O paint his nails with passion.

It's a yes or no question to him. Either he goes all out or never uses the nail polish.

Should his S/O use their charms, he will agree to let them paint everything down to his toes...

...on one condition: he wants a nail art of the american flag. Down. to the very. last. detail.

Did he stutter?

Nope. Now S/O has to show their dedication too. It's too late to turn back.

Yes, it is a tiring task for S/O, but after finishing their masterpiece, he does have a reward for them too.

If S/O still haven't painted their own nails, he will also want to paint a detailed american flag on his S/O. Now they have a couple's nail art!

Pyro

Their head tilted after their S/O asked.

S/O had to repeat the same question to them again. They froze.

Looking around the base, they let the glove slide, revealing their hand underneath, and some burn marks. They truly want it, however is hesitant to fully display their hand.

They're quick to pick the pastel colors, and the special glitters for nail polish too.

Feels warmer when their S/O holds their hand while painting their nails. Is slightly disappointed when S/O finishes painting quickly.

As for their other hand, they will need more time to gather their courage to reveal it to their S/O.

The residents from Pyroland will be pleased to see the pastel colors.

Demoman

One morning he wakes up groggy, waking next to his S/O. He couldn't remember what happened after his night out with his merc pals. He does remember drinking, singing silly songs, and... that is all.

Aside from the normal smell of smoke and gunpowder from his room, he sniffs and smells something else: the stench of a familiar chemical. He finds it hard to identify its source.

His S/O later wakes and sheepishly asks if they can continue with his nail polish.

Oh.

Now he remembers everything last night. He can only stare at his hands and laugh.

It happened last night after the song session. "Your turn, drink or dare?" His S/O asked that night, the spin bottle points at him once again.

"Drink!" He drunkenly grabbed for the liquor, only to be stopped by Scout.

"Wait- no fair! You haven't picked dare tonight!" The wee scunner pouted.

Soon, his pals noticed this and encouraged him to pick the dare option. His pride was on the line and must go through the dare option...

...and thats how he got the glitter nail polish.

Heavy

Is already used to having one of his nails experimentally painted on by his younger sisters. His hand was their art canvas.

If it encourages his siblings' creativity, he sees no problem being painted on. He hoped his S/O gets to hang out with his siblings more often.

Already knows the basics, do's and dont's. He can help his S/O apply it. May also suggest some interesting color combinations he learned from his siblings.

Will let his S/O paint, but will remove it with acetone at the end of the day. He wouldn't risk letting the paint mark his Sasha!

Engineer

Depending on his schedule, if he is busy, he politely declines.

But given the chance that he has time, he will let his S/O paint on his remaining hand.

Much like Scout, he will study how their S/O never smudges the paint. The learning never stops outside his job after all.

May also want to learn applying the nail polish himself. Being a perfectionist, he learns fast.

May help his S/O next time with applying.

If his S/O's has a hobby for using nail polish, he will research and buy good nail polish products for them.

Medic

As soon as the S/O asks, he quickly declines and thanks S/O for the offer, but opts for a manicure instead.

Cares about having healthy nails. He hates seeing them peel during the battle.

Will observe how his S/O applies the manicure.

If he notices his S/O's addiction towards using nail polishes, he will remind them of the dangers of overusing a nail polish. It can weaken S/O's nails and cause it to peel!

Having the knowledge of his S/O's love of nail polishes, he will try to create a safer nail polish.

Sniper

Over the course of his sniping career, he's gotten used to getting the garand thumb. It's a gun related injury that forms a bruise around his right thumbnail.

He always did try to cover the injured nail with a piece of cloth. Though he thinks the cloth slows him down.

When his S/O offered to paint his nails, he only asked that they use their black paint to hide the bruise-tinted nail.

When he sees the injured thumb next time, he'll no longer feel frustrated. Rather, he'd smile and be reminded of his S/O instead.

These are the times he appreciates his S/O very much.

Spy

S/O just finished painting theirs. Curiously, they asked if he would mind his nails being painted on.

"Oh, but mon amour, you already applied it on moi!" He gives his S/O a cheeky grin.

His S/O raises a brow questioningly.

Setting down the cigar, the trickster slowly takes off his gloves, only to show the identical nail art that S/O just made.

Glancing back at him, his S/O can only see a doppelganger of their own image. Identical wet painted nails included.

The S/O lookalike takes the time to appreciate the work.

"You painted it well, but I wore it better." He- your doppelganger gives you an amused wink.

Welp guess that's his passive way of saying non.