#but then my brain starts talking and my attention gets divided and then suddenly i blink and realized i dont kno the context for whatever

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[writers-potion]

You have a post about writing introverts, can you do one for extroverts? Ambiverts? Thank you!

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐀𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐬

The extrovert vs. introvert divide runs deep down – to neurology. 

Extroverted brains have more “mirror neurons” that are responsible for responding to other people’s actions. Introverts use more parts of their brain when they’re at rest – increasing the blood flow to their brains even when they’re told to do nothing. That’s what makes introverts more tired than usual when they’re required to use up even more energy to interact with the external world. 

For more tips about writing introverts, refer to my post here. Today, let’s walk over to the other side of the spectrum.

Traits of an Extroverted Character

They gain energy from talking to others

Highly extroverted characters will feel sluggish/disinterested when they cannot talk. Once they start getting hyped up about a subject, their energy levels will spring back up. 

They are more prone to peer pressure.

Scientific research has proved this. In an experiment where subjects were constantly told that a blue box was green, extroverted brains were more likely to give in and actually perceive the box to be green. Introverts, on the other hand, stood by their original belief. 

They’re more sensitive to social cues – and have a strong tendency to align themselves with the eternal world. 

They’re good at being the center of attention

Let your extroverted characters naturally be the first to speak in conversations, the most talkative in the war strategy room, and the first presenting member of the class. 

Extroverted does NOT mean popular.

Talking more doesn’t get you on the good side of everybody – it can even be a downside (think your high teen movie bullies?)

Extroverts tend to like trying something new

Similarly, extroverts like talking to new people – which can make them likable, especially by introverted characters who want to strike up a conversation but don’t have it in them.

They use open body language

In a conversation, extroverts would display their hands, face the other person straight, make eye contact, smile, and/or lean closer. Slip in one or two phrases about what the extroverted character is doing with their body during a conversation.

This use of body language would also make them appear more confident and outgoing.

They are generally positive..

I say this with caution – of course, extroverts would be hurt by negative feedback. Unlike introverts who spend time mulling over a comment someone made and attacking themselves in the thinking process, Extroverts are more likely to brush off rude comments and not get their emotions poisoned during a heated conversation.

“There’s no such thing as a pure extrovert and introvert. Such a man would be in the lunatic asylum.”

The psychologist Carl Gustav Jung was the first to define this difference between introverts and extroverts. However, it is more of a spectrum rather than two separate doors. Most of us would fall closer to one end than the other – but some of us stand smack in the middle: ambiverts.

Traits of am Ambiverted Character

They don’t care whether they’re working in a group or by themselves. Your ambivert protagonist would genuinely like working with others, but also not hesitate to go off on their own.

Being the center of attention is fun, but they don’t like to last for long.

They “switch” based on the people they’re around. Introverts would also tend to be more talkative around closed ones, but ambiverts would have a more balanced ratio of people with whom they act more extroverted or introverted. 

They don’t fear small talk, but it tends to get boring. 

When they’re alone, they feel bored/restless, but when they’re with other people, they wish to go home. Think about that one friend who calls you to a party full of their friends, then suddenly disappears early on.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Sometimes The Silence Guides A Mind

Title: Sometimes The Silence Guides A Mind

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Fandom: Enola Holmes series

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: As you were getting close to Sherlock, he stops visiting. You pop over to Baker Street and share an eye-opening moment.

Warnings: age gap(reader is about 20 in this, Sherlock is mid-30s), slight voyeurism, masturbation (male), handjob, unprotected p-in-v sex (wrap it up y’all), creampie

A/N: I’ve been throwing around this idea about Sherlock for quite some time. I hope you enjoy it. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist 

You’ve been friends with Enola for a short time, only since the beginning of the year. She’s led you on a few fun adventures, but more often than not, she’s led you on wild goose chases. She has helped you come out of your shell and you are grateful for that. On days that you weren’t exploring the countryside or causing a ruckus in the city, you would lounge around her large house. 

Spending time with her in her large house had its benefits. One of which was 6’1 with a head of unruly curls. The famous Sherlock Holmes was your best friend’s big brother. He lived in the city but came to visit Enola every week. 

You always made sure to be available on those days. If only for the chance to say hello to Sherlock. You wanted more but, truth be told, he made you a bit nervous.

You tried your best to keep calm when he would arrive, but Enola noticed your demeanor change every time. She teased you endlessly about your little crush and you would always bring up Tewkesbury. That would usually shut her up.

In truth, she did not care that you liked her brother, she just didn’t want you to waste your time. The man was not exactly sociable unless he found value in the opinions of others. One opinion he respected was that of his sister. You could sit and watch them talk for hours. She would get him to laugh with her jokes, and he would bring her to annoyance with his riddles.

You would interject a thought here and there and when Sherlock would give his attention to you, you froze. Something about the look in his eyes, it was more than attention. It was intense as if the two of you were the only ones in the world let alone the room.

More than once, Enola had cleared her throat loudly to get you and Sherlock’s attention back on her. But sometimes, she would just listen to you ramble on while Sherlock seemed enthralled in your thoughts. You mused about music and how interesting you thought his cases were. The more you spoke with him, the more comfortable you felt around him. 

Sherlock would show up now and then with little trinkets from his cases. At first, it was just things for Enola, but soon he would start bringing you little gifts as well. He started small with a single flower or a tasty treat from his favorite bakery. But soon, his gifts grew oddly specific. He bought you a brooch you had mentioned seeing at a store in the city. He would learn pieces of music from a composer you talked about and play it for you, much to the chagrin of Enola who wasn’t a fan of the violin.

It was when he didn’t visit for two weeks that you started to realize you were developing feelings for the older detective. You’d come to enjoy his presence and not because of his gifts. You just enjoyed seeing his face light up when he saw you. You relished the power you felt when the normally unflappable and distant man would sit enthralled when you gave voice to your thoughts. 

So, why did it stop so suddenly? Had you done something to offend him? 

You wracked your brain and Enola’s brain for that matter. She gave you his address so you could go and talk to him and she could finally be free of your fretting. 

You arrive at 221 Baker Street, your hands trembling as you knock on the main door. A sweet woman opens the door and introduces herself as Ms. Hudson. When you ask to speak to Sherlock, she sends you up the steps to 221B.

As you’re about to knock, a man opens the door and almost collides with you.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. May I help you, Miss?” 

“Ehm, I’m here to see Mr. Holmes…but I can come back if that’s–” You are cut off when he speaks again.

“You wouldn’t happen to be friends with Enola, would you?” You nod, giving your name, “Of course, Sherlock mentioned you. I’m Dr. John Watson, and I have to be going but you are more than welcome to come in. Sherlock is just in his room down the hall.” He points around the corner from the door and walks past you before waving goodbye.

So, that’s how you end up in Sherlock’s apartment. It is eerily quiet and you think he might be asleep. That is until you hear soft moans coming from down the hall. Your first thought is it must have been the floorboards creaking under your feet.

What you hear next is the unmistakable sound of your name followed by a whimper. It sounded like Sherlock was calling to you, but how would he know you were here already? You walk down the hallway quietly and see that his bedroom door is slightly ajar.

Peeking in, you are blessed with a sight! Sherlock is laid out on his bed with his shirt and waistcoat open, his hairy chest on full display as it rises and falls quickly. His beautiful face constricted in pain one second, solemn and peaceful in the next. His curls are a sweaty mess on his forehead. One hand is fisting the sheets at his side and the other hand is wrapped around his thick veiny dick. You’re mesmerized watching him stroke himself until you hear him moan your name again.

In a moment of bravery, you step into the room. Your bosom heaves in your bodice as you breathe shallowly, adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

His hand stops its ministrations and he looks to you as you walk towards him. He’s frozen on the spot and can only watch you as you climb atop the bed and lay next to him. You replace his hand with yours and continue to pump his dick. Your hand barely fits around him and you enjoy the feel of his soft uncut length in your hand.

His hands come up to caress your face and pull you down for a kiss. When his tongue begs for entry, you allow it in. Heatedly, you mold your mouth to his, letting your moans and whimpers be consumed by him. Breaking the kiss, he looks into your eyes and you can tell he is close.

You remove your hand from him and stand up from the bed. It is only when you remove your undergarments does Sherlock understand why you stopped. Climbing back on the bed, you settle yourself with your cunt dripping onto him.

“I want you to be certain that you–” You cut him off as you slink down, his velvety smoothness sliding inside your wet heat. You take a moment to get used to the sheer size of him. He stretches you almost painfully. Leaning down, you whisper into his ear.

“Do I seem certain, Mr. Holmes?”

Instead of an answer, Sherlock groans and twitches inside you. His hands travel under your skirt and rest on your hips. You take that as a sign and sit up. With your hands on his chest, you begin to ride him slowly, agonizingly to the point where his hands start to guide you to a quicker pace. 

Using you like a ragdoll, he flips you so he is atop you while you are on your back. He slams into you repeatedly and you are no longer in control. He savors the sounds coming from you as he fucks into you. He urges you on as he kisses and licks and nips at your neck, careful not to leave any marks.

Pulling out, he moves you to your hands and knees before inserting himself again. The angle allows him to go deeper and you thank the Gods for it. As he holds onto you, he hammers into you. The filthy utterances that come from his mouth only serve to solidify the notion that he missed you too.

“I knew you would feel like Heaven, my sweet angel…”

“This pretty pussy belongs to me now…”

“You would look so perfect with my cum dripping out of you…”

“I could fuck you all day and night and still never get enough of you…”

“Be my good angel and come all over my cock,” He reaches down and rubs your clit between two fingers as he plows into you. You never stood a chance, your walls quivering around him within moments, “That’s my good girl. So good…for me. Fuck, so close!”

“Sherlock, please! Need you to fill me with all you have to give!” You surprise yourself and your lover with those words. 

Sherlock’s answering grunts as he makes mincemeat of your pussy are music to your ears. His punishing thrusts falter and he pulls you flush to him. He’s deep enough to kiss your cervix with the tip of his dick. You feel him swell inside you and it’s enough to make you climax again, milking him through his release. 

And the noises he makes when he comes are more intricate than the 24 Caprices. You’re sure that Sherlock would disagree but you don’t even care. You revel in the melody of his moans and surrender to its hold on you.

Sherlock’s hands roam over your back, your hips, your ass, and your thighs. As if he can’t get enough of you. He doesn’t pull out until you wiggle your hips, a sign that your legs are tired. Extricating himself from your sensitive folds allows his spend to escape. He catches what slips free and pushes it all back in before helping you lay down on your front.

He lays down next to you, pulling you close to him with one arm while the other rests behind his head. He looks so peaceful as he closes his eyes and hums. The feminine urge for pillow talk is high, but so is the need to just bask in this moment.

You’re in the arms of the man you care for, who also adores you. You rest your cheek on his shoulder and tangle your fingers in his chest hair. You breathe in his smell, his pheromones are surely on high alert from your activity. When he rests his head against yours, you feel at peace.

You do plan on talking to Sherlock later about everything. But, for now, you can take pleasure in the simplicity of the harmonization of your heartbeats.

A/N: The title of this fic is taken from The Neighborhood’s Sweater Weather. There is an amazing violin version of this song by Joel Sunny. And anything violin makes me think of Sherlock.

A/N: Also, I know Ms. Hudson wasn't featured in Enola Holmes, but I love her as a character and I wanted to use her.

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

[sanspuppet]

“Touch me” prompt. 18 - Yeosang scenario

W/T: handjob, face fucking, cum eating, praises, pet name: princess

just some alpha Yeosang in need of some touch lmao, no plot just smut u know me 🧍🏻‍♀️

requested by @tamera21 i hope you can enjoy mwah💕

not me writing this because i can’t sleep help it’s 3 in the morning

actually listening to this on loop while writing, so i recommend doing the same while reading :) it’s an italian song btw

divider by @_cafekitsune

The air felt dizzy outside, shots of water drops were hitting the window walls on another boring Sunday. You were laying on the couch, legs crossed as you scrolled through your instagram fyp. It was kinda rude to say that you weren’t paying any attention to your boyfriend for all day, you felt bored and lazy, sure thing the icky weather wasn’t helping. You heard footsteps taking their way towards you at some point, which you still didn’t pay attention to, just minding your own business as you were stalking your favorite celebrities with their last posts. Yeosang was looking at you with hooded eyes, he still isn’t surely the mean type, but oh fuck if he was annoyed by you.

“Uh-hum i’m sorry, bothering you?” Yeosang huffed, his hands on his waist, waiting for you to rise your gaze up to him. But the only thing he got from you was a quick: “Mmm?” eyes still locked on the phone screen.

“Fucking hell, look at me please.” he sighed, once he realized that it would take more than just that to gain your attention, Yeosang stepped towards you, enough for him to grab your chin, forcing you to finally lock eyes with him.

“Oh hi darling, what’s wrong?” you questioned him as nothing just happened, smiling at him despite he still looked annoyed. In fact, he raised one eyebrow, furrowing his nose as he spoke up:

“‘What’s wrong?’ you didn’t talk to me the entire morning, plus if it couldn’t be worse, i’m hard” the last word suddenly woke up your core, tensing your lower abdomen muscles when shivers ran down to reach the gap between you thighs.

“Are gonna act like a brat any longer, or you’ll finally be a good girl and take my needy cock, huh?” his fingertips were buried in your soft cheeks, his boner getting harder every second he passed by imagining your pretty face painted with his thick cum.

“U-uhm i-, i’ll help you.”

“Good, princess” Yeosang let go of your chin, moving backwards and pointing the floor. “On your knees, listen to me okay?” as it seemed like he was just petting you, you immediately did as he said, kneeling in front of him, your gaze still locked on his drop dead gorgeous face.

“Go ahead” he gave a quick nod, his eyes focusing on your phone abandoned on the couch, grimacing at it like it was the reason you weren’t paying attention to him the whole day. “Touch me” Your hands landed on the zip of jeans as soon as he mouthed, dragging his underwear down with his pants. Your mouth started drooling at the first second you saw his cock a few inches far from your lips, arousal hitting your lower core as your body was already convinced that it’d be a long afternoon. Your hands grabbed his dick, twisting them around his length as your lips were sucking on its stimulated tip. Eyes were observing every detail of Yeosang’s chest and abdomen when he breathed heavily to repress any moan. Though it became so fucking difficult once your throat took all the way up to his cock, your tongue messing with his balls, gaining from him breathing groans.

“Fuck, that feels amazing princess.” his fingers carded through your hair, moving it away from your forehead before pulling it back. “Oh god, keep doing that” You tried to breathe in with your nose, as your throat was stuffed full with Yeosang’s dick. Your mind was quickly going blank, moving your head automatically when every single coherent thought left your brain, it always took nothing for you to go cockdrunk. The situation up there was very similar, Yeosang was loosing his mind over the overwhelming pleasure of your touch, because fuck you surely knew how to worship properly a dick. He blinked hard, furrowing his eyebrows, feeling his orgasm on his way to approach him. “So good, princess. Helping me to get off, such a caring girlie” his words became pathetic while the gap between his body and the pure blissing pleasure got smaller, spasming slightly at every louder moan. “Acting so good now, is this what i should do every time you don’t pay attention to me? Just forcing you to suck my dick?” You pulled out, needy for air. One hand kept working on his length, while the other rubbed away the saliva exiting your mouth. “Fuck, look at me. I’m close princess, i am, s-shit…”

Yeosang’s breath was unstable once his orgasm hit his body, gulping hard the saliva to help focusing on something else apart from how amazingly you just worshipped his cock. You parted your lips once white ropes of cum started to shoot all over your face, attaching them on his cockhead to make sure to take every single drop. You looked up at him, opening your mouth to show him how full of his seed you were. At his surprise, he widened his eyes the same second you swallowed all of it, sticking your tongue out to prove your act. Yeosang chuckled, kneeling down to be face to face with you, he stamped a kiss on your overworked lips, after caressing your cheeks.

“You did so good for me princess, shall i take care of you as well?”

[liacontilde]

Random dreams without context pt.4

Today's series is a little bit different, since today I'm going to narrate the little information that I have left written about some dreams that I no longer remember.

Paranormal activity: I lived in a luxurious residential neighborhood near the beach (although almost all the neighbors were retired ladies). The thing is that NCT were going to move there and they were asking me to help build the house (I think at that time there were only Taeyong, Mark and Taeil). We were installing a doorbell when suddenly Mark asked me "Oh! Did you just touch me?". I was very surprised and told him no, but he insisted "Something touched me" and he looked very scared. I continued installing the doorbell thinking to myself "I'm going to put this in and walk away."

One more of the family: I don't remember much about this dream but I could swear I was dating Lucas Wong. We were at a family meal at my grandmother's house and at one point I got up to where he was sitting, hugged him from behind and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Hopefully someday: I simply dreamed that I wrote to TXT's Instagram account and Soobin replied to me. The best thing is that it felt like we had confidence.

I'm a fan of Soobin from MUSE: The truth is that I don't remember anything about this dream, in fact I think it started with me somewhere with Johnny, but then I was with TXT and I was talking to Soobin. The best part of this dream is that at some point, TXT picked up instruments and started playing MUSE songs. Soobin sang and honestly, Soobin singing MUSE is something I'll never get over.

Class show: I snuck into a high school class with an old friend and we started talking to the teacher. The thing is that there were some members of TXT in that class and I started dancing to get their attention. Of course, the teacher started to look at me so bad and annoyed, but they looked at me well and I'm almost convinced that I exchanged a couple of words with Yeonjun.

I don't believe it: Soobin was my classmate and for some reason, he was trying to make me believe that he and Beomgyu had gotten their entire face done and was showing me pictures of random kids (that obviously weren't them) to make me believe it. After much arguing, I must say that this is the first time that Soobin hasn't flirted with me in a dream. Rather he felt very sassy and drama queen.

Our daughter?: This story is divided into two parts, and for some reason, my brain thinks that I have a daughter with Yugyeom. To put things better, in one story (while Yugyeom was my top bias) he used to be my friend with benefits. The thing is that I had not one, but two dreams related to the same thing. On the one hand, I dreamed that I was walking through the hallways of a hospital with Yugyeom and his mother while she was telling me what it was like to give birth to Yugyeom. Then I had another, much more relevant dream. I was in a labor bed in a hospital and Yugyeom was next to me because he was the father. The dream begins when apparently the baby had already been born and they were saying she was a girl. The thing is, Yugyeom and I weren't dating, he was still my friend with benefits and he was still leading his idol life, so when he checked that everything was correct and had turned out well, he walked up to me, took my hand, gave me a kiss and left, leaving me alone with the baby girl.

[lucifer-the-librarian]

Chapter 55

An undead threat

“Zombies huh, now that’s interesting”. The eight of them sat around a table at dinner. Lucy looked at John who scratched his head. He leaned back and looked at Takut “So you really think they are the ones at fault?”. Lucy looked at Takut, on the one hand from what the others had found out everyone of the victims had contact with the zombie class, but on the other hand from what Takut had said the person they tried to find was really smart and Keys had told her that zombies were naturally dumb. Takut seemed to be divided. He looked at them and started talking “It is certainly interesting that every person had contact to the zombie class. I fail to believe it is just a coincidence. Unfortunately we do not have any other kind of lead since I failed to get anything out of the persons I questioned. We will find out more tomorrow and now it is important, do not ever be alone, move in the biggest group possible. In the best case I will be with you. We will all meet at the exit of the dorms each morning. Otherwise you will be in too great danger”. Lucy swallowed “Too great danger?” Takut looked at her “Too great that I could allow it”. Lucy smiled she knew that the danger they were in was great, but she knew that she could rely on her friends. Takut, his past and his powers might still be a mystery to her, but she knew that he was always on their side. Cindy made a pouting face “So I don’t have any kind of privacy anymore?” Takut looked at her with a completely nonchalant face “It is your choice. You give up on most of your privacy or you get into the danger of dying cause to an attack of our dear mastermind”. Cindy looked like Takut had hit her in the face. Then she slowly nodded “I might just do what you said”. Takut nodded “Do not get me wrong. I am doing this to protect you. You and the others, it is probably my fault that you got dragged into this and if something happens to you cause to this then I could never forgive myself”. Takut looked at the rest of them “And the same goes for the rest of you”. John looked at Takut and asked “I’ve got one question, didn’t you said that the mastermind is very smart?”. Takut nodded “Yeah, that’s the only thing that’s logical”. John leaned his head to the side “But zombies aren’t very smart are they? So what would be the connection? Are they maybe some kind of contact through that people contact the mastermind”. Takut looked at John and nodded “I do not think that a normal zombie would be able to make something this big. Their brain simply is not good enough for that. However the idea that they are the contact person is good, they might have some kind of connection to the mastermind. But maybe..” Takut looked like he was deep in thought. John looked at him and asked “What is it?” Takut shook his head “Nothing”. For another second John looked at him with a questioning look, then he returned his attention to his food. Lucy said “So what are we gonna do next?” Takut answered “Excellent question. The answer might be a bit obvious, but we will have a talk with the zombie class”. Lucy nodded “I knew it” Takut looked at her with a serious face “But maybe not out of the reason you think. Through that we will show the mastermind that we are closing in on him. Hopefully that will make the mastermind make a hasty move. I will be honest I would prefer another way but it is the only way we can be sure of getting him” Lucy ran it cold down her spine. Takut had mentioned that his plan had the aim of getting the mastermind to send people to attack them so that they could find out who he was through them. Lucy had agreed that this was probably the best way to find him, but she felt a bit insecure. The eight of them stood up and started walking to the dorms. Lucy was walking in the back of the group till she suddenly felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around and expected to see someone big who wanted to hurt her but she saw Takut. “Don’t scare me like that Takut” one of Takuts abilities was disappearing and suddenly appearing behind you, if that was cause to him being a fear demon or if he just trained it was something Lucy didn’t know. Takut said “Apologies I just wanted to talk to you” Lucy was surprised “Why?” “You are scared correct?” “Well yes a bit” “Let me tell you something you might not believe it yourself but you are very strong, both in body and soul. So do not be scared. Be positive, back in the orphanage you were the positive one. Believe me that part of you will be needed, the sun is needed to shine the way” Lucy nodded, Takut said “Good. Then this is to everyone of you, tomorrow we will have a quick talk with the zombie class. They have some things to explain”

[realcube]

The Maid Café || Saiki K x Reader

summary: nendou and kaidou keep pestering saiki to visit their favourite maid café but he shuts them down every time. however, after a bit of prying they manage to convince him to give the place a try and while they are there, you just so happen to be on shift. 

tw// cussing, maid café, (she/her) reader

key:

“non italicised text” = somebody besides Saiki speaking

“italicised text” = Saiki telepathically communicating

‘italised text’ = Saiki’s thought

‘Of course Nendou and Kaidou would be into maid cafés of all things — not cat cafés, not internet cafés — it just had to be maid cafés.’  

Saiki’s internal monologue began as Kaidou continued gushing on about the cute lady he met at the café a few days ago as an argument to why Saiki should join them next time they go. Not to say Saiki wasn’t listening as he felt extremely sorry for whatever lady had to tolerate Kaidou’s advances and his prayer went out to her but besides that, he really couldn’t care less about the maids or the café. 

Until, his attention was involuntarily aroused at the vocalisation of his name from Nendou, “Saiki’s definitely in for Friday, I’m pretty sure I sold him when I told him that the sandwiches there are almost as good as the ramen we usually get.”

‘No, you didn’t. I won’t be coming to join you on Friday. I’d much rather stay--’ 

Somehow Kaidou managed to cut off Saiki’s internal monologue with his annoying voice, “Don’t be silly, Nendou. You’re not going to win Saiki over with such a ridiculous comparison, one that he clearly doesn’t care about.” 

‘Am I delusional? Is this a hallucination? Or did Kaidou just say something logical and based in reality?’

Kaidou’s aura immediately changed to dark and sinister as a mischievous smirk crossed his face, the background squawks of the crows suddenly became much louder for some unknown reason. “Instead, you must locate your opponent's weak point before you can recognise the crucially important moment to exploit it. The process takes patience but it is one I have learned from my many years rebelling against Dark Reunion. Now, young Nendou, watch and learn.” He finished with a dramatic flip of his school jacket which was slung over his shoulders as a cape.

‘What was all that about?’

Saiki wondered before Kaidou turned to him, much less brooding than he was a few seconds ago, and said casually, “Your loss if you don’t come, Saiki — you’ll be the one missing out on some of the best desserts in our whole town — not to mention the coffee jelly.”

✿✿✿✿✿

‘How do I always end up losing to these people? I am a psychic for god’s sake!’

Saiki mentally cursed himself out as he stood shamefully in front of the maid café, wearing a carefully curated outfit — including his germanium ring  — created especially to hide his identity from anyone from his school that might pass by the café and spot him in there through the window or something. Honestly, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a maid café, or so he thought.

However, all the reviews he read along with both Nendou and Kaidou’s thoughts helped him conclude that this place’s coffee jelly and general dessert selection is nothing to sneeze at. In fact, his favourite Tumblr blog - DeadlyDesserts11037 - visited the place and gave it a 5 star review, recommending everybody who happens to pass by the town to definitely check the place out. After that, he was sold.

Saiki looked over at his friends and couldn’t help but facepalm in response to their bright red, thrilled expressions. “Good grief, please don’t tell me you are both that excited over ladies in maid outfits.” As you might’ve guessed, Saiki didn’t really understand the concept of a ‘maid café’, so he simply assumed the male obsession with maids had something to do with the objectification of women hence he obviously did not want to take part.

“Saiki, you’re seriously just built different if this doesn’t touch your soul.” They both brushed the pink-haired boy’s comment off, completely mesmerised by the sight of a particularly pretty maid-lady walking by the window — probably on her way to serve a table — carrying a notepad in one hand and a plate with a scrumptious-looking coffee jelly on top. 

Saiki followed their gaze, his breath hitching at the sight. He was speechless; no sarcastic comment, no running commentary, nothing. Just..woah! If he had known that the girls that work at this place were so gorgeous and the food looked so delicious, he would’ve came a long time ago.

He wasn’t even sure which one he wanted more; the girl or the jelly. In a way, one wasn’t complete without the other because the coffee jelly which she held high next to her head brought out her (E/C) eyes while her shapely figure highlighted the defined curves of the jelly. Drool was quick to start forming at the corners of his lips but he was even quicker to wipe it away; he was starving.

“We’re going in.”

✿✿✿✿✿

To Saiki’s dismay, it was not the stunning (H/C)-haired girl who he had caught a glimpse of through the glass that ushered them to their table. Rather, it was a slightly less gorgeous maid-lady who had long, bright purple hair which was clearly a wig. 

Fortunately for him, after she left Kadiou, Nendou and himself to take their seats, she rushed off saying that someone will come take their orders whenever they are ready.

Even with his psychic abilities, there wasn’t much he could think of to alter fate so the pretty coffee-jelly lady would end up serving their table, and besides that, he was way too caught up in gawking at all the mouth-watering desserts they had pictured on the menu. 

Simply glancing over the menu brought a stupid grin to his face, he wanted to try every delectable treat presented in front of him. However, he knew he must exhibit restraint, which was fairly simple as he knew deep down there was only one thing on the menu that he was truly after. You guessed it  — coffee jelly.

Usually, he couldn’t care less about what his friends comrades were going to order but in this case, he was tempted to try convince both Kaidou and Nendou to order something he liked so he could take a bite of whatever they were having, “What are you two going to order?”

Yet again though, he was ignored as Nendou and Kaidou were both too busy checking out other types of snacks to care about the ones on the menu. 

Then, a movement out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention so his head jolted from the menu to his new target, the beautiful girl he had saw through the window earlier. Previously, she was holding a coffee jelly but now she was basically empty handed, until she approached the table and pulled out a notepad and pen, “May I take your orders?” She asked in the most calming, melodious voice Saiki had ever heard, the sounds that left her mouth were nothing short of angelic. Which made sense since her serving their table must’ve been god’s gift to Saiki for all his hard work.

Chills, Saiki got literal chills before he mused, “A coffee jelly, and two brownies for the pair of clowns.” His blood ran cold; curse his smooth sarcastic comments! Most of the time, he was able to filter himself but due to the nerves that arose while talking to you, he probably shouldn’t be surprised that he had a little slip of the tongue. But now, you probably think he is a bitch that insults people on the regular; which he is, but not usually aloud! Plus, he couldn’t even tell what you were thinking due to his germanium ring and your distant expression, awful combo!

While he was in the middle of feeling bad for himself and considering teleporting away home, a miracle happened, you burst out laughing. And somehow, your laughter was even more silvery than your voice. 

Saiki had zoned-out from pure shock for a moment before coming back to reality, noticing that you had started jotting down something in your notepad, a sweet smile still lingering on your face despite the fact you had stopped laughing. “Alright, so one coffee jelly and two brownies. Anything else?” You asked, glancing back and forth between the three equally unique and strange men sitting at the table. 

“That’ll be all, thank you.” Saiki telepathically communicated as he usually did, considering actually using his mouth to speak for a change so he didn’t seem weird but in all honesty, he couldn’t be bothered. In any other situation, he would’ve gotten a drink of water or perhaps hot cocoa but right now he was way too afraid of making another error in his speech to request something else. 

Silently, he extended his arm to hand you the menu he was given when he entered the café, along with the ones Kaidou and Nendou were given too. His actions single-handedly shooting down your plan of leaning across the table to ‘take the menus’ but in reality it is just a subtle way of showing-off how nice your torso looked in this maid outfit, a trick you learned from your supervisor. 

You nodded, closing over your notepad and making your way over to the kitchen, being sure to swing your hips just a little bit extra to impress the pink-haired megane at the table you just took an order from. You mentally cursed your stupid brain though for always crushing on guys/gals who don’t seem the least bit interested in you. In this case, the guy’s attention was divided between his star-struck friends and the desserts on the menu, rather than you which was an unusual sight in a maid café considering that most people would only come to ogle at the waitresses. 

✿✿✿✿✿

“So, Saiki.” Kaidou finally landed back into reality after a large chunk of the waitresses roaming around were now in the kitchen which he didn’t have viewing access to, “What did you order us?”

‘So, he was fully aware that the waitress came to take his order, he just chose to ignore her and left me to order his food. What a child, it must be a side-effect of his eighth grade syndrome.’

Saiki couldn’t help but sigh, “I ordered you both brownies.”

Kaidou stuck out his bottom lip to form a pout as he crossed his arm over his chest like a toddler, “I hate brownies.” He muttered to himself, realising that if he wanted something done right, he’d have to do it himself.

An amused smirk tugged at Saiki’s lips but he resisted the urge to laugh, ‘I know.’ He thought, his masterplan to eat more food without looking greedy falling into place. “Oh well, more for me then.”

Suddenly, Nendou spun his head around to abruptly join the conversation, “Hey guys, did you see the hottie that was serving our table?” He inquired with starry eyes, as if he was a kid in a candy store.

Saiki nodded, ‘Obviously I did, you moron. I was the one who ordered the food for goodness’ sake!’

Kaidou shook his head, his eyes lighting up as he leaned in close to Nendou, “Nope! I was busy looking at the other girls, but tell us!” 

Nendou chuckled at Kaidou’s enthusiastic reaction before glancing to the side, outstretching his arm and pointing at the waitress that was now approaching the table with the food in her hands. “There she is!”

‘Don’t point at her, you idiot!’ Saiki mentally insulted his friend but instinctively followed the guidance of the tip of his finger until his eyes landed on your shapely figure — accentuated by the nature of the maid outfit  — slowly heading toward his table, holding the coffee jelly and the plate of brownies in the same graceful way you did when he saw you through the window. 

The gleam of your gorgeous hair, the movement of your luscious lashes, the gentle bounce of your upper body, how your perfectly manicured nails clutched the base of the jelly glass; everything about what he was seeing made him believe that if/when he were to die, this would be his ideal first sight as he passed through the gates of heaven. 

Before he knew it, you had reached the table and placed his jelly down on the table, gently nudging it towards him, “One coffee jelly for the cute boy with antennas.” You mused, making Saiki’s heart flutter in a way he was unfamiliar with. Then, you placed the brownies in front of Kaidou and Nednou who sat opposite from Saiki, “And two brownies for the clowns.” 

If it wasn’t for the fact the pair of clowns were too busy leching over you in your maid outfit, they’d probably be curious as to your choice of words but luckily for both you and Saiki, they were way to entranced by your visible bra strap to care about the little nickname.

Saiki felt a light blush creep onto his face, which only got worse as you discretely sent him a playful wink before turning on your heels to stroll back to the kitchen, “If you need anything else, just give me a wave.” 

All of them hummed agreement in unison until the waitress was out of sight, giving Saiki a moment to process the events that had just went down. Not only did you refer to him as ‘the cute boy with antennas’ but you also winked at him, if that wasn’t a clear sign you were interested, what was? However, Saiki still had his doubts since this was a maid café after all, perhaps you were just trained to do that with all your customers.

Luckily, the had the foresight to slip off his germanium ring to read your mind and that helped him come to the conclusion that you were either interested in him or you were just very competitive as the whole time you were serving the table your thoughts were along the lines of;

‘I’ll adjust my skirt- Ha! You looked! Try resist falling for me now, you hot lil’ megane! Your heart is mine and I know it! See, I’ll fidget with my corset too-- just make a move already, pinkie!’

Although he didn’t appreciate being called ‘pinkie’, he had no right to judge what was going on in your brain. All he could do is be thankful that you didn’t say that aloud.

✿✿✿✿✿

You sighed as you noticed the pink-haired boy and his little posy exit the establishment without so much as a goodbye, or even a wave! 

It was disappointing as you had already mentally planned your future with this guy and he had the audacity to do the real life equivalent of leaving you on read. But oh well, it would be approximately a week until you developed a crush on a random customer that lasts for around 30 minutes and for the time being, you can focus on doing your job.

You glumly shuffled over to their table to gather their plates to be washed, then a piece of colourful paper attached to the empty jelly glass caught your eye. As you held up the glass to inspect it further, you realised that it was a sticky note with a message written on it in black ink and neat, cursive handwriting. It read:

‘Dearest waitress,

Thank you for the excellent service, we (myself) tipped accordingly.’

You hadn’t finished reading yet but you were curious as to what he meant by that, and apparently you service must’ve been exceptional as the writer had left a whole ¥2000 tip. That’s a huge addition to the demonia fund.  

Followed by this charming little message was an extra tip for you; the writer’s phone number! Meaning that this little sticky note was something you had to protect with your life..so you shoved it in your bra for safe-keeping. 

But not before taking a moment to giggle with delight at who the note was signed by, 

‘Sincerely, the hot lil’ megane (aka Kusuo Saiki)’ 

[mypoisonedvine]

It’s Always The Quiet Ones... | college AU dark!Peter Parker x (slightly)naive!reader

for @nsfwsebbie​​‘s dream fic challenge, I was assigned to write something for @harryspet​​ which was vv exciting bc I love her stuff ;-; no pressure right? lol (also thank you to @evnscvll​​ for being my proofreader, sounding board, and partner for some very strange texting for the purpose of screenshots!)

Here is the prompt I got: peter is a dork and is weird and quiet, and the readers friends dared her to sleep with him. turns out he was really kinky and is really good at sex. can be dark.  And hoo boy, did I run with that.  I hope you like it!!

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: smut (it’s consensual but with dubcon undertones, manipulation, and implied coercion/dubcon at the end), stalking, blackmail, voyeurism, and general creepiness.  Oh yeah and there’s some degradation and dacryphilia in there for good measure.

You and your friends were in the middle of your daily cafeteria lunch, chatting about the same sorts of small talk you always did.  

“Oh god, it’s that weird guy from class!” Jackie blurted out suddenly around a mouthful of fries, pulling you out of the conversation you’d been having.  Everyone at the table whipped around and your eyes went wide. 

“Come on, don’t look all at once,” you hissed.  

“Who is this guy?” Cody asked, looking around with confusion.

“The guy in the blue hoodie over there,” Jackie answered, motioning toward him with her head.  It was Peter, setting down his tray of food and opening up his laptop, putting earbuds in.  He was pretty much always on his laptop, it seemed like.  He took a bite of his pizza before getting back to whatever he was working on.

“He looks normal, or normal-ish,” Mia shrugged.  

“No, no, you don’t get it,” you shook your head.  “We have him in Computational Physics on Tuesdays and Thursdays--”

“Plus Friday lab,” Jackie interjected.

“--and he’s… kinda…”

“Creepy,” Jackie concluded.

“No,” you denied, “not creepy.  He’s just… a bit awkward, I guess.”

“And he stares at you, like, the entire time we’re in class.  But won’t even talk to you.”

“Oh, that’s weird,” Mia agreed with a shudder.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “it’s kinda… sweet, maybe?  I mean, he’s just shy, right?”

“Oh my god you are such a slag!” Jackie teased, shoving you on the shoulder.  “You’re into him, aren’t you?”

“No!” you denied with wide eyes.  

“You’re just into the attention,” Cody rolled his eyes.

“I mean, it’s kind of flattering, isn’t it?” you admitted.  Jackie laughed.

“You should go over there and talk to him,” she decided.

“Nooooooooo, no way,” you shake your head.

“I kinda wanna see this,” Cody smirks.

“Literally just go over there and flirt with him, his head would explode,” Jackie suggested excitedly.

“I don’t even know how to flirt,” you chuckled.

“So you’re considering it!” Mia accused.

“I didn’t say that!” you squeaked.

“Pleeeeeease,” Jackie whined playfully.  “It’ll be funny.”

“I don’t usually sleep with people for comedic effect.”

“I’ll chip in $20 if you do it,” she offered immediately.  She turned to the rest of the table, “come on guys, we need to pool together and make her do it.”

“I’ve only got a ten,” Cody mumbled, pulling it out slowly before Jackie snatched it away.

“Okay, $30, who can make it $50?”

“Jackie, calm down,” you hissed.

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t sleep with him for $50?  He’s cute!”

“I have $35 and 67 cents,” Mia counted, shuffling through her wallet.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, your head falling into your hands.

“Just do it, for me,” Jackie said, suddenly sounding oddly serious.  You didn’t understand why it mattered so much, but you decided it couldn’t be that bad if you just did it.

“Fine, fine, just shut up and don’t stare at us,” you instructed, getting up to a ruckus of cheers.  You didn’t even take the money.

You walked across the cafeteria, messenger bag slung over your shoulder, and hoped you wouldn’t totally make an idiot of yourself.  If you hadn’t already just by talking to a guy over a dare.

He didn’t seem to notice you when you stood by his table, still focusing on his computer.

“Um, hey,” you waved, and Peter looked up at you as he took out his earbuds.

“Hi,” he replied quickly.

“What… what are you working on?” you asked, motioning to the laptop.  He didn’t stop looking at you, and he didn’t say anything.  “I… we have comp together?  You know who I am, right?”

“O-of course I do!” he suddenly perked up.  “Yeah, I just…” he trailed off and turned to his laptop.  “I was just working on this model.”

“Can I take a look?” 

He smiled a little, and moved his backpack out of the seat next to him.  “Go ahead!”

You sat down and leaned in to look at his screen.  

“It’s-- it’s not finished but, basically I just put the kinetic energy of an object on the x-axis, the potential energy on the y-axis--” 

You used the laptop’s touch screen to move the model around, impressed with his work.  “And the z-axis is the conservation of energy for work done on an object,” you finished.  

“Uh, yeah, exactly,” he nodded.

“It’s beautiful!” you realized, appreciating the variety of colors as each data point was suspended in the graph.  

“Do you do any modeling?” he asked you, and for a hot second it felt like a line.

“Um,” you laughed, “no, not much at least.  Nothing extracurricular.”

“Oh.”

“I’m more into abstract math, if I’m being honest.”

He smiled.  “Oh, you’re one of those.”

You laughed, shoving him on the shoulder playfully, but regretting it as you saw his smile drop a bit.  “People are so judgmental about abstract math, as if it isn’t the study of the founding principles of mathematics.”

“So you think adding a pineapple and a banana is the foundation of mathematics?” he quirked an eyebrow.

“Okay, there’s so much more to abstract mathematics than weird variables,” you frowned.  “Like basic functions on matrices!  Don’t act like it isn’t dope as fuck to add, subtract, multiply and divide matrices.  If you saw my whiteboard in my dorm you would understand.”

“If I had a whiteboard now I could prove to you that abstract math is overrated,” he countered.

“I’d love to see you try,” you scoffed.  You hadn’t really meant it literally.  

“I don’t have anything for the rest of the day,” he shrugged.  It took you a moment to realize he was suggesting to actually come to your room and talk about math.  You weren’t sure if that was even what would happen if you went back to your dorm…

You opened your mouth to say that you were busy, that you couldn’t, that you shouldn’t, so you were a little surprised when you heard yourself say “sure” instead.

And that was how you ended up sitting on your kitchen counter with Peter Parker between your legs, kissing you like you’d never been kissed before.

It sort of happened all at once.  He just grabbed you and you were confused but went with it, because life is short and he was cute and his hands felt unexpectedly wonderful as they gripped your back.

You gasped a bit when he started to pull your shirt over your head but he didn’t slow down, quickly removing his own-- oh, hello there six-pack, nice to meet you-- kissing you again as he wrapped his hands around your waist and slid you off the counter, guiding your legs to wrap around his hips.  He carried you to the bedroom with unexpected grace; he was so much stronger than he looked.  And he looked different than he ever had before as he tossed you down onto your bed and started to kiss his way down your abdomen while his fingers slipped under the waistband of your shorts.

“Oh god, Peter!” you yelped as he kissed along your thighs, pulling down your shorts and underwear and tossing them to the side.

“Say my name again,” he demanded before instantly latching onto your clit, sucking and licking directly onto the bundle of nerves.

And you really had no choice in the matter, his name pouring from your lips over and over, accentuated with a yelp as he shoved two fingers into you, finding and massaging your g-spot before you could even process everything you were feeling.

“Oh my god, fuck, Peter!” you hissed, your head falling back onto the mattress so hard it bounced a little.

You were barreling towards an orgasm faster than you probably ever had before.  This was nothing like the few other hook-ups you’d had since starting college-- it wasn’t even like the times you’d been alone with your hand or a vibrator.  This was like an assault on the senses, so powerful that you couldn’t even really keep track of the sounds you were making or anything that wasn’t his mouth on you and his fingers in you.

“I’m gonna come, oh my god, I’m gonna come don’t stop please--” you moaned as your words turned into mostly incoherent nonsense.  How could you be expected to form a sentence in these conditions?

Thankfully, he didn’t stop.  He kept lapping at your clit as if he hadn’t even noticed your pleading, his fingers twisting inside you even as your walls clenched so tightly around them that it became difficult to keep up the pace.  Your hips involuntarily bucked against his face, your legs quivered as he refused to give you any reprieve from the sensation, but he kept going.

“Oh fuck, fuckfuckfuck Peter I can’t-- it’s too much-- oh god,” you babbled, but it fell on deaf ears.  A small part of your brain was confused why he wouldn’t stop-- you hadn’t told him outright to stop but it was kind of implied, right?  Wasn’t it some amount of not okay that he was still going?  It made your gut sink in a way that was equal parts disturbing and erotic.  

You were trying to pull away but his arms wrapped around your thighs and held you down.  God, he was strong.  He looked kind of skinny in those hoodies he was usually wearing, but now that he was actually exerting some force he was clearly muscular.  You felt helpless and it, oddly enough, turned you on.

“Peter, please, oh my god, slow down I-- I can’t take any more,” you whimpered; your voice came out all high-pitched and squeaky and it would’ve been embarrassing if you had enough brainpower left to care.  

He groaned against your skin but said nothing, using his teeth to lightly graze your clit.  Your whole body jerked at that, a sob tearing from your lips suddenly.  It felt like you were past the point of orgasm now and just lost in some sort of aggressively intense world of pleasure-- it neared pain, really.  You had never been pushed to your limits like this; you hadn’t even realized that there were limits which one could be pushed to this way!  It was exhilarating and exhausting and overwhelming.  You fought tears from forming because it would be so embarrassing to cry right now, and he would probably freak out and think you were hurt or something… maybe you were hurt, you couldn’t even tell at this point.  But at this point, it was unstoppable.  You were fucking crying from the overstimulation and he hadn’t even put his cock in you yet.  Your face was so hot that your own tears felt cool as they poured down your cheeks.

Finally, he stopped when he heard your sobs.  But instead of concern or fear or confusion, his expression was simply joy.

“Oh, you look so cute when you cry,” he cooed, sliding back up your body to kiss your tears away as they fell.  Then he kissed your mouth, open and sloppy and aggressive, and the taste of yourself on his tongue made your head spin.

Before you could collect your thoughts, he pulled back and made quick work of his jeans and boxers-- fuck, he was big.  

“You’re too kind,” he grinned, discarding the clothes and stroking his cock a few times.

You hadn’t realized you had said it out loud, and you felt a little nervous but then he was on you again, kissing you roughly and forcing his tongue into your mouth.  You felt him reaching down, gripping his cock and rubbing it through your folds.  You were soaked, and swollen, and nearly sore.  Every time the tip slid over your clit, you jumped a little.

He pushed into you ever so slightly, moving the head of his cock inside you and nothing more.  You whined with confusion and anticipation, but he continued on teasing you.

“Please,” you whimpered into his kiss.

He pulled back and looked down at you, his eyes blown so wide that they looked like they’d gone black.  “What was that?” he asked, and you sighed because you knew he could hear you the first time.

“Please, Peter,” you repeated, louder, “I need more.”

“More…?”

You sobbed with frustration, and desire.  “Fuck me, please.”

He thrusted forward and you groaned as his cock stretched you open.  It was like night and day, how he went from slowly teasing you to slamming into your eager walls.  You cried out and gripped at his arms, just trying to steady yourself and maybe stop your skull from whacking the headboard if possible.

“You love it, don’t you?  You love my cock,” he growled.  His voice was lower, gravelly.  He sounded like an entirely different person.

“Yes,” you replied weakly.

“Say it,” he demanded.

No one had ever talked to you like this before and it made your cheeks burn.  “I-- I love your cock,” you stammered.  

He smiled and you hoped you’d done it right, and that he wasn’t smiling at your obvious nervousness or lack of experience.  You didn’t understand how this was normally supposed to go, because you didn’t normally hook up with people so casually-- you had just never really been interested in it.  But now that he was fucking you so hard you could barely breathe, you were starting to get the appeal.  God, your last boyfriend hadn’t even made you come in five months of dating, meanwhile five minutes with Peter had made you a sobbing mess.  Even now you were biting your lip to hold back your tears from the sheer intensity of the sensations you were experiencing.

“Oh, you poor thing,” he pouted condescendingly.  “You don’t wanna cry but you can’t help it, huh?  You’re my dumb little crybaby aren’t you?”

You tried not to react to that but you knew he felt your walls clench suddenly.

“You like that?  You like being my stupid whore?”

“S-stop,” you begged weakly, feeling beyond humiliated.

“But you like it, angel, I can tell.  Don’t lie to me.”

He reached down to swirl his thumb over your clit, laughing at the way you tensed up and tried to squirm away.

“Is it too much princess?” he asked, but the nickname read less sweet and more mocking.  “Isn’t this what you wanted?  You asked me to fuck you.  Begged me.  Now you act like you can’t take it, like you’re this delicate little flower and not the dirty fucking whore I know you are.”

“I-- I’m not a whore,” you denied even as you struggled to suppress your obvious arousal from the derogatory nature of his words.  You felt a little guilty for being into it, and slightly insulted, but fuck if it didn’t make your back arch and your throat dry and your pussy so excessively wet.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” he scoffed.  “But, maybe you’re not playing.  You really are dumb, aren’t you?”

You logically knew that it was too late to deny anything he said, but you still clung onto your dignity as best you could.  “N-no!”

“Not all the time, just when you’re wet.  Isn’t that right?  You get so desperate for cock and you don’t wanna be smart, you just wanna be somebody’s brainless fuckdoll.”

That sounded so appealing in some forbidden, filthy way and all of a sudden you were going to come again, any second now.

“Yes!” you nearly screamed, falling into your pleasure.

“Come on my cock, baby,” he encouraged, “come for me.”

You didn’t even sound like yourself with the noises you made, or maybe it was just that you’d never had the chance to make noises like that before.  Either way, your orgasm crashed through you and nearly punched the air out of your lungs.  Your toes went numb.  You didn’t even know that could happen.  And most important of all, your walls tensed and fluttered so hard that he began moaning into your ear.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna come inside you.”  You couldn’t tell if it was a warning, like he was asking permission, or if he was just informing you of his intentions which you would be powerless to stop even if you told him not to.  You didn’t have to find out because you were on the pill, but it made you realize all too suddenly that you should’ve had him put on a condom-- how could you have forgotten?

His moans turned hoarse and with a growl and a tightened grip on your hips, he spilled deep in you, coating your walls as his length flexed and twitched inside you.  For a moment you were just stuck like that, his weight holding you down as he caught his breath, and finally he rolled to the side and you could breathe cool air again.

“That was…” he began but trailed off, pulling you closer and kissing your shoulder.  “You’re amazing.”

It was quite the shift from how he had been talking before.  It was comforting, but you were still a little confused.  “Really?”

He laughed softly.  “Did you not notice?  God, I’ve wanted you for so long…”

You were curious about where he was going with that, but then he suddenly sat up.

“Do you want some water?” he offered.

“Uh, yeah,” you smiled.  “The cups are in the cabinet just to the left of the microwave.”

He nodded and gave you a quick peck on the cheek before sliding out of the bed, slipping his boxers on over his still-hard cock which was now coated in your come and his, and dashing out of the room.

You were mostly content to just lay there, although you felt uncharacteristically sore between your legs, and quite… sticky.  You glanced over to your whiteboard and realized he never had any intentions of talking with you about abstract math.  Was this just a one-time thing, or was he going to come back and ask you out?  Were you boyfriend and girlfriend now?  Or were you just a clueless romantic who thought that sleeping together meant more than it really did?

You rolled over and saw Peter’s phone resting on the bedside table.  He must have set it there when he was stripping quickly while you two had been making out-- or that’s what you were pretty sure the order of events had been, it had all happened so fast…

At that exact moment, the screen lit up with a notification.  You were about to roll back and not look at all, until you got a glimpse of the words.

PHYS 507, row 3, seat 14

You furrowed your brow.  It looked like an alert for an upcoming class, except that this was your class, the one you had with him, and it wasn’t until tomorrow.  No assignments due today, either.  And what was with the row/seat thing?  Peter didn’t sit in the third row… you did.

You picked up the phone just enough to angle it to see the rest of the notification.  It wasn’t a calendar alert; it was a text message.  “PHYS 507, row 3, seat 14” was the contact name.  You could only get a preview of the message…

okay, it’s done isn’t it?  can you please delete those pic….

You were curious, or maybe just concerned.  Was the seat number supposed to be the person texting him?  How were you supposed to keep track of who sat where to know who it was?

It had to be somebody from your row, but it was just you, Jackie, and a bunch of random dudes that Peter had never seemed to have any interaction with.

You assumed you wouldn’t be able to unlock the phone to even try to snoop, which you didn’t want to do anyways, but when you slid your thumb over the screen, you gasped when it opened straight to the conversation.  Who didn’t put a password on their phone?

okay, it’s done isn’t it?  can you please delete those pictures now?  I did what you asked.  I won’t tell anyone.  just send me proof that the photos are gone, please.

You felt a little sick.  You had no idea what this meant but it scared you.  You saw the conversation from before but it didn’t make any sense.  You scrolled back up to try to figure out what they were talking about and gasped when you saw a picture Peter had sent to the contact.

It was Jackie.  But she wasn’t alone.  She was on her knees in the lab room, and you gagged when you realized what she was doing-- or really, who she was doing it to.  

She’d told you she had a casual thing with a new guy but refused to say who it was.  You realized why now.  She was fucking your professor, and you just knew she was doing it to get a better grade.  You had been trying to figure out how she was earning higher marks than you but never seemed to be able to discuss the class material.  It all made sense now, but it wasn’t a comforting feeling.

You scrolled down a bit to see the conversation after the photo, and your blood went cold as you read it.

You saw several more messages but you couldn’t bring yourself to read any of it.  You knew everything you needed to know.

You weren’t sure what inspired you to open his camera roll… of course you wouldn’t find anything comforting there.  But you had to see for yourself.

It was just a list of folders, so many you could keep scrolling for ages.  Each had a label and a thumbnail image.

The thumbnail of Jackie on her knees jumped out first.  PHYS 507, row 3, seat 14.  45 images.

A girl in a lacy bra posing for the camera.  PHYS 509, row 1, seat 8.  12 images.

Two girls making out in a crowded room, holding red solo cups.  ENGL 104, row 12, seat 5.  6 images.

A nude selfie in front of a mirror.  PHIL 108, row 2, seat 2.  14 images.

And then the one that made your heart stop.  It was a picture of you in a bikini, taken by a friend on spring break.  PHYS 507, row 3, seat 13.  1 image.

The second you jumped up, dropping the phone, he was there with your promised glass of water in hand.  

“What’s wrong?” he asked innocently.  Just a second of silence was enough for him to pick up his phone from the floor and realize what had happened with a grin.  “Oh, that,” he sighed, slipping it into his pocket after looking down at it with a sort of loving look, like he was proud of his work.  “I suppose it’s my fault for leaving my phone right there, without a password, knowing I would get a text from Jackie any minute.”

“You wanted me to see it,” you grimaced, “you wanted me to see what you did to my friend.  What you did to all those girls.”

“I didn’t do anything.  They do all the heavy lifting, I just hack them and get pictures of it.  Or, in your friend’s case, I hack them, find out they’re fucking the professor, and follow them to their next rendezvous.”

“You’re fucking sick,” you spat, and he just shrugged.  “You’d better delete those photos of Jackie.”

“I will, don’t worry,” he soothed.  “It’s a shame though, she was pretty prolific.  You, on the other hand, you’re a good girl.  You even had pretty good security, I respect that.  Here’s a tip: your ISP creates the intranet that your wireless webcam uses to connect to your laptop.  It’s password protected, but it defaults to your phone number, and most people never change it.  Including yourself.”

You shivered.  “You watched me with it, didn’t you?”

“Well, I had to since you didn’t have any good photos of yourself.  And you do a decent job of erasing your porn history… but not a perfect job.  You watch some interesting stuff.  And you look so hot with your hand stuffed in your panties, rubbing yourself to whatever nasty shit you’re watching...”

“Shut up,” you demanded, covering your ears, “stop, please.  This is so fucked up.”

He laughed a little.  “You look better in person though.  A webcam could never capture how perfect you look when you come.”

“Please just stop,” you sobbed.

“Stop what?  I’m just telling you the truth.”

“I should’ve listened to my friends.  You’re a freak.”

“Hmm, you seemed to like it before.”

“Just delete those pictures of Jackie… and let me go…” you seethed.

“I will,” he promised.  “But, I need something to make up for the loss of some great spank bank material.”

You felt sick.  But what else was new?

“I need to finally get some good pictures of you.  Come on, isn’t it sad that your folder is so empty?” he pouted, pulling the phone back out from his pocket. “I could ruin a lot of lives with these folders.  Just let me take a few photos and you can spare them all the humiliation.  Nothing I haven’t seen you do before.”

You really really wanted to just deck him, but you knew he could probably release those photos with just one push of a button.  He was prepared.

“Don’t post them,” you pleaded.

“You’ll be good?”

You clenched your jaw.  “I’ll be good,” you answered through your teeth.

“Oh, look at you,” he cooed, “such a sweet girl you are.  Helping out your friend even after she threw you into the lion’s den to protect her secret.”

You hadn’t thought about it that way.  A pit formed in your stomach.

“Now come over here and get on your knees,” he grinned, turning on the camera.    

[some-kindofgnome]

for auld lang syne

“And then I woke up in the hospital alone, and I saw the doctor alone and took a taxi home alone. I went to physical therapy alone and saw my counsellor alone. Whatever you thought, Katsuki, whatever you believed made me spend six months staring at my phone and thinking I’d ruined everything.”

It’s time for your agency’s extravagant New Years’ Eve party. But after a little sabbatical, there are some things you’re not ready to come back to. 

characters: katsuki bakugou x f!reader

wc: 7.2k

warnings: smut (18+ please!) aged-up characters, pro hero!bakugou and pro hero!reader, mentions of injury, near-death experiences and gunshots, smoking, drinking, angst with a (filthy) happy ending, me being a whore for glamorous new years’ parties

notes: This fic has been dragging me across the coals since Christmas- I could not get it out of my head, despite how much work I knew it would be to get it out on time. Still, it feels supremely worth it. I have a metric ton of love to give to @hoe-doroki​ for beta-ing this mammoth on such short notice (I dumped it in her lap at 4am) because she really helped me whip it into shape. As always. 💖 

Happy New Year, everyone. 

(MASTERLIST) 

“Won’t be long now.”

Anxiety bleeds into the already-nervous voice of your driver, muffled by the plexiglass divider that separates you. You’ve been sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic for the past four red lights, barely inching toward the intersection with every green.

You’re well past fashionably late at this point. You’re sure that the commissioned driver’s fearing for his job at this point, knowing exactly how long ago you were supposed to have arrived at your own party.

But you couldn’t care less. The longer it takes you to get there, the better. The vodka you’d downed neat, standing over the bar cart in your polished apartment, sours in the pit of your stomach. And the fact that your outfit barely allows a spare breath isn’t exactly cooling your nerves, either.

You’re draped over the door, resting one elbow on its edge to cushion your jaw as you lay your forehead against the chilly glass. Outside, the crowded traffic casts a golden warmth over the bluish urban night, betraying the slow swirl of fluffy snowflakes that drift lazily into the street.

Tonight has all the makings for an ideal, albeit bitterly cold, New Year’s Eve. But if it were up to you, you’d be watching all the wonder unfold from the comfort of your own bed.

You’ve been away long enough, though, says your agent. It’s time, says your manager. You stay away from the spotlight for too long and we’re going to forget about you, says the Internet.

The glittering gold fabric your stylist presented you with would’ve swelled your heart on any other occasion. He knows your taste to the button. And after breaking into exhausted sobs at your first fitting together, you’d been able to tell him that the outfit was perfect.

At long last, the glossy windows of your agency loom outside. You push the backseat door open before your driver can even kill the engine, stepping out as gracefully as you can muster and pulling the folds of your designer coat demurely closed around your glamorous party clothes. You’re greeted by swaths of flashbulbs and determined shouts of your hero name, and suddenly the practiced gracious smile that you’ve always saved for the cameras is stretching your lips one more time.

You used to love something about this. But you’ve almost never had to face it alone.

Inside, the party’s taken off without you. Your coat’s taken before you can even see who’s hands are slipping it deftly off your shoulders, but by the time you’re ushered into the elevator and sent all the way to the top floor, you’re already sweating with the anticipation of all that’s waiting for you.

The doors open to a rush of guests, each noticing you simultaneously and pushing in to greet you.

Arriving late does absolutely nothing to dissolve the grandness of your entrance. Your attention is immediately pulled in a handful of different directions as celebrities and dignitaries and politicians shake your hands and congratulate you. People you’ve never met are telling you how good it is to see you on your feet again and, despite the overwhelming distractions, you can’t stop searching the crowd.

You don’t want to let yourself search for somebody in particular, but you spot him long before your shame catches up with you.

It’s not a glimpse of his mussed hair you catch, bobbing through the crowd. Nor is it a slip of the edge of his suit, the most devastating shade of midnight blue you could have possibly imagined.

Your eyes, like magnets, are drawn right to his crimson gaze. Lightning shoots through your chest, and you look away so fast you nearly pull a muscle in your neck. You cast your gaze immediately to the red-faced MP in front of you and let yourself stare. Still, from the corner of your eye, you can see the way he lingers, still facing you.

You haven’t seen Katsuki in months. Luckily, your ability to multitask has not faded, and you make easy small talk with the mayor and his wife while you sense him, in all his midnight splendor, disappearing into the crowd again.

A close call. Too close, in fact, not to warrant a drink. You excuse yourself kindly from the mayor’s attention, cutting through the glamorous partygoers until you reach the bar at the center of the room. It’s crowded, but you grab the bartender’s attention quick enough and order the first of many glasses of Dom Perignon.

The agency knows how to spend, for a special occasion.

It’s while you’re trapped at the bar, waiting for that imperative first drink, that he corners you. You spot him an instant too late, sidling between two dancing couples and crossing the short distance between you. There’s no way to skirt subtly away from him now. Instead, you lean more fervently across the bar and immerse yourself in an intense examination of the liquor, shelved decoratively behind the working bartenders.

He hesitates—possibly for the first time ever—but you’re determined not to watch as he searches for the right way to bridge the silence. You spot the way he stuffs his hands into his pockets, and when he finally speaks it’s low and sharp and bitter.

“That’s a nice dress.”

He has to lean too close to make his voice heard, speaking low and gruff to you in a way he never used to. You’re too anxious to care whether he sees the way you close your eyes to dull the fervent ache that flares in your chest.

He’s not allowed to say things like that to you. Not now.

“Listen.” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, pushing ahead.

In the throes of closeness, it’s easy to pick up the tremor in his voice. That kind of shake used to scare you. It’s the way he’s always spoken to you when he’s keeping his temper at bay in public.

He’s opening his mouth to say something else, something deeper and far more expository perhaps, but your champagne arrives with no moment to spare. You pluck it eagerly from the bartender’s fingers with an exceedingly gracious smile and turn quickly in the direction you swear Katsuki’s not blocking.

“Watch it.” He grabs your wrist to keep you from sloshing half your fresh champagne down your front. His touch sears hotter than you’d dreaded, and you can’t stop yourself from flinching at the rough brush of his calloused fingers over your tender inner wrist.

Fuck.

“Don’t run off,” he insists, squeezing your wrist just a little tighter. Your entire body is drawn tight like a bow, but you’re not actively searching for an escape route at this point. Sensing this, he slowly unwraps his fingers, dropping your hand and letting you down half your drink in a couple of parched gulps.

“You look…” you start to say, letting your eyes wander his immaculate form one more time. Whoever cut that suit for him knew his shape well. It fits perfectly. Contrasts his golden hair like the night behind a harvest moon.

Absence has not culled your feelings for him. Especially not when he comes back to you like this.

You take another long, slow sip, ignoring the way Katsuki’s brows shoot toward his hairline when you nearly empty the glass. His gaze darts to the narrow flute in your hand, the prints of peachy lipstick that mar it.

With your heart beating a touch slower, you try again.

“You look good.”  

Katsuki rolls his eyes.

“I can’t—” he starts, shaking his head as his eyes swim the crowd. “I’m not doing this.”

“What?” Your stomach drops. When he looks at you again it’s dead straight, burgundy and blazing in that way that used to make you molten.

Now it makes you want to cut and run.

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ play nice, like this,” he pushes. He takes a step toward you, letting your name—your real name—fall from his lips as tender and soft as a prayer. “Explain to me why my agent had to tell me you were gonna be here tonight.”

“Katsuki,” you plead quietly, backing away from him a touch. “I don’t want to—I can’t. Here. Please.”

For a million other people he might press on. He might get angry and demand an answer, threaten anything it takes to solve the puzzles in his brain. For you, his strong jaw ticks and he shoves clenched fists back into his ironed pockets.

“Let’s just,” you begin, “make it through to midnight, okay?”

“Fine,” he bites, but he doesn’t like folding to you. He gets you back by clearing his throat and extending you a palm, drawing the attention of the people around you. They turn, charmed by the agency’s finest reappearing as the duo they’ve always adored.

There’s a glint of something in his eyes as he gives his chin a little jut toward the dance floor.

“Dance with me, then.”

You’ve been to hundreds of opulent agency spectacles together. Charity benefits, galas, holiday parties and the like have always been studded by your presence. But no matter how many times you’ve entered the party together, you never managed to get him onto the dance floor. Despite your whining and pleading and fussing, he’s never ever let you drag him out there.

So this feels like a particularly low blow. But the orchestra’s struck up a dreamy rendition of The Way You Look Tonight and there are too many people watching for you to turn him down.

Instead, you down the rest of your champagne, set it on the bar behind you, and slip your hand defiantly into his.

“Fine.”

His fingers close gently around your palm and he gives it a lingering squeeze that turns your blood to venom.

You’re already racing through a complex plan to survive this attention as he walks you onto the dance floor. Some of the other couples pause in their swaying to send a smattering of applause over the crowd. You can feel the winning smile tugging at your mouth, forcing you to swallow the panicked ache in your chest.  

Katsuki pauses at the center of the dance floor and pulls you slowly closer. The low dip of your gown places his warm hand on bare skin when he settles it in the small of your back, and you’re sure he doesn’t miss the sharp little suck of breath that you’re not prepared to hide.

He does not try to speak, so you’re silent as you settle a shaky hand on the shoulder of his perfect suit. He’s as perfect a dancer as you’ve always known he’d be, and he leads you into a smooth little sway that’s easy enough to navigate in your precarious gold heels but sweeps you into the music like a scene from years gone by.

“Hey,” he grunts a few bars in, ducking a little closer as his fingers press into the bare skin of your spine. He pulls you against him, forcing your tense body against his. The gentle dip of his hairstyle brushes your temple as he leans forward to murmur in your ear. “You’re holding your breath.”

You deflate against him, letting your eyes fall shut. When you take your next careful inhale, your head is filled by the heady, smoky scent of him. Your heart pounds so forcefully it’s practically blinding you. But above all else you hate yourself for still feeling all of this, after so many months of promising to force it away.

Katsuki knows you well enough not to try and trap you in conversation in public. But he doesn’t pull back any further, continuing to hold you flush against him, letting your soft cheek brush his with every couple of steps.

Despite your best efforts, you’re drowning in him: the strength of his touch, the fluidity in his movements. His thumb strokes the base of your spine with an easy rhythm that you’re trying hard not to notice. It’s becoming too much. He’s holding you closer than a colleague should, tucking his nose too attentively against the side of your head for a courtesy dance. You’re overthinking too many of the signs. You’re letting yourself believe what should have been thoroughly dashed to pieces so many months ago.

It’s when tears well behind your glittery eyelids that you put a stop to it.

“Katsuki, I—” You can’t finish, pushing yourself sharply away from his chest. Whatever expression of dreamlike peace that had touched his eyes fades quickly as he sees the telltale wet sparkle in yours, and he reaches for you an instant too late.

He calls your name softly, fingertips brushing the edge of your upper arm. But your tears are spilling over and you’re backing away and you cannot be here anymore, not when people are starting to see.

“I can’t do this,” you plead. “I can’t pre—I’m sorry.”

With a final shake of your head, you turn and hurry clumsily from the dance floor, pulling up the beaded skirt of your heavy gown and sweeping, as quickly as possible, to the glass doors shut tightly against the imposing snow on the terrace.

It’s bitterly cold, nearly fifty storeys up, and the wind whips mercilessly past your bare arms with biting chill. You can’t stay out here long, but it still feels better than the alternative.

With shaking fingers, you dip into the tiny bag you’ve been wearing over one shoulder. You’ve stashed exactly one emergency cigarette in its silky depths. You haven’t smoked in weeks, but something told you that tonight would beg one.

You have to back away from the railing to even light it in the wind, but you’re barely two puffs in before the door behind you opens carefully.

It’s the last person in the world you hoped for. And the only one you can imagine finding you out here. He’s got a glass of something neat in each hand—amber in one, clear in the other. He spies the cigarette in your fingers and his soft, concerned expression melts into a scowl.

“You’re still smoking?”

You take a defiant drag, blowing the smoke in his direction. The wind catches it, carrying it in a sharp curve back over your head. Katsuki licks his lower lip, but you can tell by the way his nose twitches that he’s trying not to chuckle.

You nod toward the whiskey in his right hand. “How many of those have you had tonight?”

“Not enough,” he quips. He nods toward the cigarette. “Put it out.”

“You don’t get to order me around anymore.”

“I said put it out.”

Your livid soul wants to defy him. You’re craving the conflict that inevitably comes when you both dig in your heels. But you’ve got no energy left to fight, so you flick the smoke dejectedly onto the wet pavement and crush it under one delicate pump.

“Better?” The attitude cuts cruelly through your voice. Katsuki just pushes the other glass into your hand and you know that it’s gin before you even have to smell it. You roll your eyes.

“The healthier alternative,” you snarl, but he’s finished with your games.

“Come inside,” he prompts. “You’re gonna lose your nose out here.”

“I’m not sure that’s your problem any longer.”

“What the hell’s wrong with you? Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Katsuki, I wanna hear you say it.”

He’s throwing back an irritated slug of his drink, but he bristles, gesturing wildly with the cup.

“Like we’re not gonna be partners anymore.”

His voice is punctuated by a horrible, involuntary sob that breaks from your lips. He’s always been able to read you so well, picking up on things that you’re not even ready to acknowledge. But he’s right. That is how you’ve been speaking, because you can’t even imagine standing next to him in a photo right now, let alone letting him take your life into his hands.  

Katsuki moves forward, shocked by your tears, but you hold your empty palm out straight and, like he would only for you, he relents.

“Because I don’t think we can be anymore.”

“Shut up. Look at you. You’re fine. You look…” his eyes cast briefly over your form, “fine.”

You clap a hand protectively to your abdomen, remembering the painful tug and knowing that he’s missing the point.

“That’s not why,” you snap through your tears. “That’s not even…close to why. Katsuki, don’t be dense.” Your voice is breaking because you’re about to say it, the thing you couldn’t even bring yourself to feel as you were zipped into your gown earlier tonight. And if you’re going to say it, there’s no point in doing it with gusto.

Might as well go out like the whimpering fool you are.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whine, “because somehow, despite my best efforts, Katsuki, I fell fucking in love with you, so hard, and you knew I did, and so you…you don’t. You don’t, and I’ve ruined everything, and that’s fine, but I—”

He pulls your name from the very depths of his chest. If you were expecting fire and brimstone, you’re met with an even more harrowing sight—soft, somber, remorseful Katsuki, looking at you like he’d stop the world on its axis if it would make things better.

The memories are too easy to reconjure, and the sunshine of that sticky summer afternoon that changed everything lights up behind his gaze.

There was a crime syndicate you’d been uprooting for months. An underground hideout tucked well away from the prying eyes of hero society. A stray spray of bullets—bullets, of all things, finding the gaps in your shattered armour and nearly taking you from him.

You’d been sure. Both of you. There were too many shots. There was too much blood. The hideout was too well-hidden for anybody to find you in time. Your vision was bleeding out around the edges, and you saw Katsuki cry real tears for the first time.

In a slurred heap of breathless prose, you’d unloaded everything. The most important secret you’d ever kept from him came spilling from your blood-tinged lips.

You were glad to go, if it meant you never had to lose him. Glad to be the one to selfishly leave him behind. You were going to be okay if you never had to face a world without him in it. Because—and you’d choked this on a fresh wave of blood and ungraceful spittle—you’d loved him as long as you’d ever known him.

Six days later, you woke up alone in the ICU. And that was the last you’d seen or heard or known of the man who’d once promised to have your back, always.

Katsuki silently finishes his drink. His cheeks and nose have flushed deeply from the ruthless chill, and he turns to give the city one last glance before moving toward the door.

“Come inside,” he gruffs. Deep shivers have broken out along the column of your spine, but you wrap your frigid arms around yourself in protest.

“I’m not going back in there.” Not like this.

“Idiot,” he snaps softly. “Look at you. You’re gonna die for real if you stay out here.” He tightens his jaw and slams the empty glass down on the windowsill. Then he looks at you with all the lights of the night blazing in his crimson stare.

“Let me take you somewhere quiet. No one’s gonna see.” His chest rises and falls with a deep breath and he reaches carefully for your arm. “I promise.”

Even with a breaking heart, you’re a fucking sucker for him. Your voice is teary and pathetic but pinched by cold.

“Fine.”

He slips an arm around your shoulders—making your chest lurch—and you duck back inside. Immediately he takes you to the wall, putting himself between you and the rest of the party. With the breadth of his chest he shields you from prying eyes that grow drunker by the minute.

You skirt the edge of the party, making it to the stairwell door on the opposite wall. Somebody by the bar looks up just in time to see Bakugou tugging fiercely down on the handle, but you slip onto the fluorescent-lit landing and the silver door falls shut behind you without consequence.

You’re turning around to grab for the door that isn’t closing fast enough as he slips through it, colliding gently with his chest. Bakugou grabs your wrists to stop you, and for an instant you’re nose-to-nose, smelling him and the whiskey on his breath and the faint odour of paint that never quite faded from the concrete walls.

If not for the tears leaving streaks in your makeup, you might let yourself believe he’s lingering in front of you on purpose.

You pull from his grip and turn back toward the stairs before either of you have the chance to imagine more.

Your office is at the end of the hall on the next floor down. It’s a corner office studded with windows, far too lovely for someone who spends as much time in the field as you do. But you’d worked hard to make it a personable space, with plants and artwork and a couple of very comfortable guest chairs in emerald velvet.

Katsuki rolls his eyes every time he has to wave off the odour of your favourite scented candle, but you’ve caught him admiring what you’ve done with his office, too.

Now, the space is too tidy for either of your tastes, a little dusty from so many months of neglect. You’ve been out of commission for six months, and nursing a heartbreak far too immense to allow any casual visits to the agency.

He closes the door behind the both of you. Locks it, just in case. You’re already pacing across the rug and perching on the edge of the desk, gratefully taking some of the weight off your aching feet.

He keeps his back to you for a long moment, fingers lingering on the brass doorknob. His shoulders bob with a deep, harrowing sigh.

“You were dying.”

He turns around, and in the quiet dark of your office his eyes are lit up with a deeper fear than you’ve ever seen in him. He comes toward you and sits in one of your squishy little chairs, steepling his fingers and settling his elbows on his knees.

“You don’t–” he shakes his head and lowers it, pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead. “You don’t understand. You weren’t making any sense.”

“I was,” you bite back, gripping at the edge of your desk. “I meant everything I said to you, Katsuki; I remember every word.”

He flinches. He looks so sorry it’s starting to genuinely scare you.

“And then I woke up in the hospital alone, and I saw the doctor alone and took a taxi home alone. I went to physical therapy alone and saw my counsellor alone. Whatever you thought, Katsuki, whatever you believed made me spend six months staring at my phone and thinking I’d ruined everything—”

“That’s not it,” he demands, straightening. “You didn’t. I did.” He slapped a hand against his chest, the dull thud reverberating through your own heart.

“You said those things and I didn’t believe you. They couldn’t have been true. Not when I’d spent so much fucking time wishing they could be. I couldn’t tell myself you felt that way about me. I couldn’t hope. Not when I’d come so fucking close to losing you so easily, I—”

His voice breaks and he looks away, and you might be crazy but his chin gives a telltale little shake like he’s holding back tears.

“So you thought it would be easier to what? Fucking ghost me like a bad Tinder date?”

That hurts more than it should. You’ve seen Bakugou at his very worst, bleeding and soot-streaked and showing you feelings he never means to. For a very brief period in your lives, you believed yourself to be special.

���Don’t play the innocent,” he snarls. “You never talked to me, either. I had to find out from my fucking manager that you were outta the hospital.”

“So you never thought to drop by? Bring some fucking… flowers?” You can feel the venom filling your mouth and you’re not altogether certain you’re strong enough to swallow it this time.

“And tell you what? That I was in love with you and, maybe I heard you wrong, but you said something while you were dying in my fuckin’ arms and I was hoping for some goddamned clarification?”

“Yes!” You sob, the word ripping itself from your chest and landing wet and heavy on the floor between you. “That! Anything would have been better than radio fucking silence. Katsuki, I was sure you hated me.”

“Well I fucking love you, okay?” He rises from his chair, taking one step forward. It lands him almost right between your thighs and you hate how close he is, but you have no power to pull away. He cups your jaw in strong, gentle fingers, forcing your eyes to his.

“I fucked up,” he presses. He leans down and presses his forehead to yours and this time his proximity is on purpose. You drink it down in eager gulps.

“I missed you,” he murmurs. Despite your tears and the ache in your heart, you give a wet little laugh and nuzzle your nose against his.

“I missed you, too.”

He takes your hands and pulls them both to his chest. And for a long moment you just sit there, curled over one another in the dark and growing accustomed to the idea of being okay again.

“Did you just…” you start after a long moment of silence. His eyelashes flutter against your cheek as he tucks his cheek against yours, but the grin that pulls your mouth is enough for him to stand back and look at you.

“Did you just admit to making a mistake?”

You’re laughing at your own joke before Katsuki can even roll his eyes. But he’s scowling good-naturedly and tugging himself against you by the hips.

“C’mere, you brat.”

He’s leaning in to close the distance between you when muffled chanting from upstairs makes you pause. You tilt an ear toward the window and light up, easily recognizing the five, four, three, two, one as the magnitude builds.

Bright flashes of gold and red light up the sky outside your window in a brilliant display. And all at once the lingering ache drains from your chest and you shoot Katsuki a fond little smile.

“I guess it’s midnight.”

“We missed the fireworks,” he notes, nodding toward the window as he edges back toward you.

“Not really,” you confess, and the first real big smile breaks through the pain when he steps up between your knees again, nice and tight and deliberate.

He cups your jaw in one hand again, settling the other palm on your knee, where it peeks through the golden slip of your dress.

“Happy New Year,” you whisper, eyes falling shut. You hear the way he smiles, that bare little chuckle that used to make your heart light up like stars.

He leans in and kisses you without another word. It’s soft but firm and so loving, so much better than any brush of the hand or lingering glance. Better, even, than the way he danced you into a stupor upstairs. This is yours and nobody else’s.

And you’re not letting him go anytime soon.

You let the kiss deepen as naturally as you can, dropping your jaw and letting the bare press of his tongue roll against your teeth. You reach up and grab his jacket by its lapels, hitching him even closer as the fireworks die out behind you.

He’s not backing down, either. Katsuki draws his hands from your body to unbutton his jacket, shrugging it away easily without breaking the kiss. He’s pressing his mouth to yours in long, lingering spells, tasting you eagerly while his hands have to stay busy. But as soon as he can he’s touching you again, teasing his fingers under the slit of your dress and brushing them over your bare thighs.

“Katsuki…” you whine into his mouth, turning your head to gasp and fill your empty lungs. He finds the next bare patch of skin, kissing down the side of your jaw. He finds your earring where it lays against your tender neck, sucking the crystal into his mouth and giving it a gentle tug.

“Fuck,” you gasp, and he grins into your skin.

“Don’t tell me you’ve had enough already.”

“Not a chance,” you growl. There are millions of questions flooding your subconscious. But years of tension and desire spiral more fiercely between you. It’s energy that demands release. And you don’t want to wait another second.

“God,” he groans hard, collapsing gently into you. As he presses forward against you, the twitching swell of his erection pushes into your bare thigh. You slide your palms down the meat of his chest and find his mouth again, kissing him with searing intent.

“Look at you,” he rasps into your mouth, gripping hard at the weighty skirt of your beaded gown. “You’re a goddamned vision in this, you know that?”

You pull back to look at him, raw sexual energy briefly dispersed by his tender confession. For a long moment you sit there, panting at each other, remembering how much this is about to mean.

Fuck it. If he’s in, so are you.

“Help me get it off.”

You slide to your feet, pushing him back a couple of steps to accommodate you. As soon as you turn around he’s sliding a palm up your side, thumbing at the fabric to find its zipper.

“God damn,” he growls, leaning in to kiss a path down the column of your spine. He drops to one knee as he works the zipper down the back of the dress—sitting low, thanks to its open back—letting his mouth trail all the way to the waistband of your underwear. All the while, you brace a palm on the edge of your desk, trying your best not to implode.

This is more attention than you ever could have prayed for.

He peels the thin straps down your arms and shoves the whole mess to your feet. You’re bending down to unbuckle the straps on your heels, but he stops you with a hand on the back of your thigh.

“Leave ‘em on.”

His voice sends a sharp pang of arousal through your entire body. When he stands, trailing his fingers all the way up the back of your naked thigh and over the swell of your ass, the arousal disperses into a dull ache that settles in the pit of your stomach and throbs incessantly.

He digs his fingers into the flesh of your hip and turns you to face him. Your nipples are already peaking in the chill of your office, and he sucks a deep breath through his teeth as he slides his palms up your tummy.

There’s puckered scar tissue and new ridges on your abdomen, but there’s no pain when he traces brushes over them.

He pauses, looking down with dull shock tugging his brow. You’re holding your breath again, watching him circle the roughest part of your new scars with one tender thumb.

“It’s okay,” you plead, cupping his cheeks and forcing his eyes back to yours. There’s pain littering his gaze that you’re determined to dissolve, and you lean in to kiss him until he’s groaning into your mouth and drawing his hands toward your chest.

“God,” you breathe, goosebumps betraying you as they race beneath his fingers. Katsuki watches your face as he dips his head, pushing your breasts together and laying kisses between them.

“Please,” you whimper, reaching forward and settling a hand over the front of his pants. You palm the shape of his cock through the pressed wool and he flinches, biting gently into your tender flesh.

“Katsuki,” you pant, squeezing and rubbing the hard swell in a gentle, heady rhythm as you set your ass on the edge of your desk again. “I need you.”

“Jesus,” he curses, dropping his hands and reaching desperately for his tie. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me before I even get my cock out, sweetness.”

It’s the dirtiest thing he’s ever said to you. And it shows. You’re a shivering, lustblown mess already, but the petname that falls from his lips is enough to make you whimper.

He shrugs out of his shirt and pushes you further onto the desk, dropping to his knees in front of you and pushing your thighs apart with strong fingers.

“Always kinda wanted to do this in here,” he confesses with that cocky smirk that’s always made a hummingbird out of your heart.

But Katsuki doesn’t give you too much time to swoon over his pretty words, kissing a path up the inside of one plush thigh and nipping at your sensitive flesh. He helps you brace your heels against the rug and lift your hips, peeling your underwear off and rucking it down your knees. There’s something very naughty about the way it feels to settle your bare ass on your polished desk.

But there’s something even naughtier about the way it feels to have Katsuki on his knees in front of you.

He pushes your thighs apart again, harsher this time, and settles your knees over his shoulders. You’d like to ride the wave of self-consciousness that threatens to crest when his breath ghosts over the folds of your heated sex.

He pushes higher for a moment, taking your sides in his hands and drawing lovely little kisses down the rough length of your scar. You push self-consciously at his head, making him pull pack and settle a hand over the flesh instead. He tilts his chin up, shooting you a look so filled with guilt and sorrow it nearly shatters the moment.

He wasn’t there for the pain. And as he kisses back down to your hips and thighs, you let yourself hope that this will be enough to make up for it on both sides.

But then he leans in and licks a long stripe up your cunt and the groan that echoes from his chest makes it hard to do anything but cum on the spot.

“Fuck,” you sigh wantonly, letting your head fall back as you brace your palms on the wood behind you. Your fingertips dig into the surface and he settles into an easy rhythm, slipping his arms under your thighs and tugging you tight to his face.

He’s not shy with his voice, either, grunting and sighing into your pussy with every stroke of his tongue. The noises double your pleasure almost immediately, coupled with the obscene slurps that vibrate all the way up your spine.

It doesn’t take long at all for him to find that tender little spot, the perfect direction from which to swirl his tongue against your clit. It’s obvious in the way your legs go tight around the sides of his head, the way you shiver and cry and clap a hand to the back of his head.

He grunts hard into your body when your fingers rake through his hair, harder still when your tense thighs press the narrow points of your heels into the flesh of his back.

“Katsu,” you whimper, already fucked out and tender like you’ve never been for him, “I’m gonna cum. Fucking shit, I-I’m gonna…”

He takes your warning like a hit, leaning more fiercely into you, keeping his rhythm with intense precision. Later, you’ll try not to think about why he’s so good at this. But right now, all you can think about is the way your pleasure rears up and crashes over you, sending loud gasps and breathy mewls of ecstasy from your chest as you squeeze his head and pull his hair and roll your hips shakily into his persistent mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” he snarls, sitting back on his haunches and swiping a palm over his flushed lips. He looks up at you, rubbing your thigh with one free hand as you come down panting from your ecstatic high. Between his legs, his cock juts obscenely down one thigh of his suit pants, and he palms himself shamelessly as he gets to his feet, taking in every inch of your pleasure-soaked self.

“You’re gonna make me cream my fuckin’ pants someday,” he chides, fumbling with his belt and impatiently shucking his pants. His undershorts follow closely, and you’re barely on your feet again before he takes you by the shoulders and turns your back to him.

“C’mere.” He slides a hand under one of your thighs, hitching it gently onto the edge of your desk and coming up tightly behind you. The brush of his knuckle against your ass proves that he’s stroking himself, and the tip of his stiff cock leaves a little print of wet precum on the back of your leg.

“Please,” you moan, still hazy and shaken from your first orgasm. Still endlessly needy, though, when Katsuki’s involved. “God, baby, just fuck me already.”

“Fuckin’ hell, you can’t say shit like that,” he groans, twitching behind you. “It’s like you don’t know how fuckin’ sexy you are.”

He braces a hand on your bare hip and then you feel it, the tip of his drooling cock pressing up between your slippery folds. It’s enough to make you whine and arch your back, wiggling your hips impatiently against his.

It’s enough to make Katsuki lose it.

“Shit,” he growls, gripping the fat of your hip and pushing forward, sliding home with one smooth thrust. He bottoms out inside you right away, buried perfectly in your belly and making you feel every inch.

“Baby—” you start to breathe, but he doesn’t waste time. Katsuki reaches around and lays his palm flat on your sternum, pulling you back against him. He keeps his other hand braced on your hip for leverage, dropping his mouth to the crook of your shoulder while he starts to thrust.

All you can do is keep your knee planted on the edge of your desk and try not to scream as he fucks you in steady, long thrusts, lapping and sucking all along the side of your neck while his hand roams over your chest and thumbs your nipple. Whatever hairstyle you’d left the house with has come long undone by now and you’re sure that if your makeup wasn’t smudged before, it’s certainly not going to survive the drool and sweat and heat that he’s forcing through you with every push of his hips.

The slap of his body against yours fills the space, punctuated only by your harsh pants and quiet whines of pleasure. Katsuki’s fingers dig harshly into your hip, gripping you tighter each time he anchors himself back into your fluttering cunt. Your walls are clamping ruthlessly around him, but he doesn’t miss a beat, slipping that free palm away from your nipples and down your belly to strum rhythmically at the swell of your stiff clit.

“I love you,” he grunts breathlessly behind you, and the raw truth behind it brings a rush of warmth to your chest you can’t ignore. You turn your head sharply towards him, pushing your forehead to his and feeling every beat as his breathing becomes laboured.

His body’s growing tight behind yours, his thrusts losing some of their impeccable rhythm as his brow knits against yours. He’s concentrating hard—holding back, you realize—and you reach down to cover his hand that braces your hip, giving it a relenting squeeze.

“Baby,” you plead. “Let go for me, baby, I can feel it.”

“God,” he mutters. “No—fuck, gonna make you—with me, sweetness.” Your body is clenching in preparation for your own climax already, and the fact that he can even pick up on it shouldn’t surprise you.

“I’m there,” you promise. “I’m there, Katsuki, fuck, just cum for me. Please.”

His arms tighten around you, seizing you hard against his heaving chest. You lean forward and seal your mouth against his, kissing him as he loses control and cums with a shout that echoes at the back of your throat.

He grabs your ass in one hand and fucks madly into you, spurting warm handfuls of cum into your belly and biting down hard on your lower lip. The erratic twitch of his fingers on your still-aching clit and the warm release inside you is enough to bring you to another tight, simpering little peak—not as powerful as the first one, but just as significant.

He stays behind you for a long moment, pinning you to the desk while he goes soft inside you. Finally he peppers kisses down the back of one shoulder and steps away from you, already smoothing his hair and taking in the image of you, in nothing but your heels, dripping with his cum.

The first of many, you let yourself hope, as you turn to carefully face him.

“I guess we missed the countdown,” you quip, reaching for your discarded panties. Navigating the strappy thing seems a great deal more complicated now that it’s not Katsuki tearing them off you.

He smirks at you in a way that does not make it easier to concentrate on the task at hand. Especially since he’s watching you struggle, easily buttoning himself into his now-creased shirt.

“I didn’t miss a thing.”  

He’s already half-clothed by the time you get your underwear on again, stooping to collect your delicate dress from the floor and thumbing the sequins that pepper its surface. His smirk has dissolved into another pensive look as he examines the cloth.

“If I’d known,” he tells you, pressing the scratchy fabric into your hands, “I never would’ve—”

You lean up and push your mouth to his, soft and loving and just enough to silence him.

“I know.”

Once Katsuki’s got the rest of his clothes on, he helps you carefully into your dress and gets behind you one more time to help you zip it. He can’t stop kissing you even for a minute, peppering his lips over your back, neck, arms. He turns you around and takes your hands, kissing the backs of each palm with devotion that, if you stop and think about it, you’ve seen in his eyes a thousand times before.

“You’ll make it up to me,” you promise good naturedly, letting him slide his arms around your waist. He looks at you again, diligent and honest.

“I will.”

“Good.”

You slide your hands up his sleeves of heart-stealing midnight blue, smiling so big it ought to hurt. You tilt your head toward the door, giving your chin a little jerk as you squeeze his biceps through the pressed wool.

“For a start,” you say, daring to lean a little closer while he’s still feeling tender, “how about another dance?”

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt. 8

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader Warnings: none? Length: 2.1k Notes: I’m sorry, Cyn, I know I said there would be smut but I was just enjoying the slow burn too much. And I just feel like these two NEED this. Not me nervous to write about his p in her v, nooope. Also, I’m wine drunk and did not spell check this bitch, have fun with that. Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series MASTERLIST

The day of the fair had finally arrived and you woke with more than a little excitement churning in your stomach. Multiple meetings at the community center had given you a chance to meet more of the town's population and you'd gained a deeper appreciation for them. Small towns afforded very few entertainments, which had resulted in some of the older kids, driven by boredom, getting into trouble. Minor things like graffiti and trespassing, but the community knew if they weren't careful that things could escalate. So, instead of making the kids feel judged or harshly reprimanded, the town was working towards better programs and facilities to keep them busy.

It was an unseasonably beautiful Autumn day, the kind that carried memories of Summer on the warm breeze. Knowing that cold and snow were just around the corner, these "second summers" made people act a little more recklessly and freely than they usually might. You had a feeling that the crowds tonight were going to be bigger and rowdier than anyone could have hoped for.

Jacquie had stopped by later to offer you a ride to town but you had just sent your baking with her, insisting that you wanted to enjoy the sunshine and bicycle in.

Once you'd entered the main square you were blown away by the effort from the town. Banners, balloons, streamers, and posters were everywhere. A stage for musical acts and a ticket booth had been built and donated by Hank's Hardware, food carts selling anything and everything you could deep-fry were scattered down every road. Carnival games had been set up in rows down multiple, closed-off, streets, as well as people setting up face-painting, balloon animals, and a smaller version of the Saturday Farmer's Market. The high school football field had even been converted to a tiny amusement park with a Ferris Wheel, carousel, and swing ride.

It was still early, and there was still a lot to do before the fair would be open, but the excitement was already palpable. After making sure your pies had been marked down for the auction, you beelined for the water gun race game that you and a lovely woman named Heather had been assigned to operate. 

Too preoccupied with making sure you had the water tanks filled, the pumps were working, and your ticket box was in place you didn't notice how some of the other volunteers were acting strangely, making sidelong glances and meaningful head nods. 

Nothing seemed amiss once Heather had joined you. In fact, you were getting along with her so well the two of you had already made plans to meet for coffee the next day.

Soon, the fair was in full swing. The games booths were a popular stop with families and you were having the time of your life cheering for every child who tried their hand at your game. 

Eventually, there was a natural lull in the festivities as fair-goers drifted from the games towards the food and live entertainment. You were just suggesting making a quick snack run when Heather's phone rang. 

"Sorry, one sec, it's my husband," she grimaced, holding her finger up to stop you from leaving.

In a bid to give her a modicum of privacy, you tallied up the tickets and bunched them into coils for easier counting later. Heather's normally calm voice rose in pitch and urgency, drawing your attention back to her in time to see a look of alarm and annoyance cross her face.  

"What do you mean, burned? Like, burned burned? There's smoke?! Oh, honey, what on earth..." she paused, listening to her husband's voice some more, giving you an eye roll that clearly said 'Men. They're hopeless' and interrupted whatever he had been saying. "Alright, alright. It's slowing down here so I can run home."

Putting her phone back in her purse, Heather turned to you with a huff. "He's burnt dinner, and it sounds like my skillet is toast, too. I'm sorry to do this to you but I need to run to the store and bring dinner home. I've got the only car, so they're stuck."

Assuring her you could manage on your own, you shooed her away and told her to take her time.

Walking backward to wave goodbye, Heather kept spouting numerous apologies and promising she'd make it up to you on your coffee date. Giving one last smile she spun around and immediately ran into old Mrs. Crawley who was being escorted by no other than a very bored and trapped-looking Frankie Morales.

"Oh! Mrs. Crawley! So sorry!" She began, steadying the white-haired octogenarian, "I'm being called home, ditching my post, gotta run, bye!" With that, she was gone, weaving her way through the crowd of people.

Mrs. Crawley had glanced over at you when Heather had mentioned having to leave and was currently shuffling her way towards you, Frankie in tow.

"Frankie, be a dear and help this beautiful lady out while Heather is away."

It wasn't a question but you still felt the need to speak up, giving Frankie an out if he wanted it.

"I can manage-"

"But what about your-"

You'd both spoken at the same time and stopped mid-way through to let the other go first. Mrs. Crawley broke the silence instead.

"My hip is feeling much better, and I think I'll just make my way over to the bandstand," she gave Frankie a meaningful look accompanied by a rather sharper-than-expected slap to his cheek, "alone."

You both watched her walk over to the stage, stopping to wave at Jacquie and Agnes where they were organizing the bake sale.

"What on earth is going on," you thought to yourself while staring daggers at Jacquie from across the street. This had zero effect on her, she was just sending you lewd winks and had the audacity to give Mrs. Crawley a thumbs up. That conniving little-

"Emmmm... hi."

His voice, sounding uncertain and shy, brought your attention back to Frankie. Taking a moment to soak in his presence, you noticed how worn down he looked. "Good," thought the petty part of your brain, but she was easily squashed by the rest of it appreciating the rest of him.

Tight jeans hugging his thighs, the buttons on his shirt working overtime where the material pulled across his back and chest, his hair was long and getting shaggy but when you saw the curls peeking out from under his baseball cap you had to fight the sudden urge to run your fingers through it.

Your eyes traveled up his neck, noting the way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, and across his face. He'd trimmed his beard, filthy thoughts of how it would feel on your skin flashed in your head.

Finally meeting his eyes with your own, you had to take a breath before replying.

"It's nice to see you, Frankie." Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, drawing his gaze "I guess we should talk-"

You were cut short by rowdy laughter and a crowd of people bustling onto the street, another wave of ticket-holders were coming to try their luck and win the huge teddy bear prize each game boasted.

For the next hour, you were kept too busy to talk more than what was necessary for running the booth. You used the time to gather your thoughts and make a list of what you wanted to say, how you wanted to say it, and how you were going to start the conversation casually.

Frankie wasn't sure how he had ended up as Mrs. Crawley's crutch. One minute he was dropping off a crate of fruit for the apple bobbing contest and the next he was walking at a snail's pace listening to the old woman reminiscing about her long-dead husband. 

She was sweet, and he didn't mind the slow meander around the square. No, it was the subject matter that had bugged him. After his divorce was finalized and his daughter was taken from him, which he could see now was the right thing to do at the time, Frankie had accepted the fact that he was alone.

Just him, his trees, and the memories of what he did to end up this way.

Then, you had come along. The first woman to catch his attention in five damn years. It wasn't just your beauty, or your easy smile, or the curves of your body. It was your goodness, your innocence, your ability to worm your way into everyone's hearts and not even know it. 

Listening to Mrs. Crawley and the love she had shared made his chest ache, knowing he'd never deserve it himself he still found himself longing for the same. The first moment he had laid eyes on you, it was like a movie about his life had played in flashes in his mind. The meet-cute at the market, romancing you with thoughtful dates like picnics and driving up to the city’s museums and theatre. Getting married, growing the business, then growing your family. It had all played out in a split second but the impression it had left was immeasurable. 

Then, he'd opened his mouth and ruined the moment. Crashed into your truck and ruined the moment. Spooked and burned you, ruining the moment. Gained your trust, broke down your walls, and then left like a coward in the morning and ruined it.

Shaken by his inward reflecting when Mrs. Crawley was jostled, Frankie froze in place once his eyes were directed to where you stood. You were glaring over his shoulder and refusing to meet his eyes, understandably, yet he still felt his chest contract with the hope you'd look at him and smile. 

The way your gaze had eventually taken him in, once he'd been abandoned by a suddenly spry-looking elder, had flared that longing back into a roaring flame. The sudden need to work the booth gave him plenty of time to plan his speech: begging for forgiveness and admitting to the way he felt. While his mind was busy planning his speech, his heart was bursting at how comfortably and effortlessly the two of you worked with each other, like you’d been doing it for years.

Heather returned, strolling over with a barely concealed smile on her face, not looking at all like she'd just come back from a domestic emergency. This whole town could win an Oscar for their performance tonight, it was mildly humiliating but you knew they were acting out of love.

She thanked Frankie profusely for standing in for her and wouldn't take no for an answer after suggesting the two of you go and enjoy yourselves for a bit. Glancing at Frankie you shrugged your shoulders and made a face that said "why not?". He smiled and nodded back, grabbing your bag and slinging it over his shoulder before joining you on the bustling street.

You walked in comfortable silence for a while, relishing just being near each other and absorbing the jubilant energy surrounding you.

Frankie bought you cotton candy and you made him belly laugh when you showed him the few bottles of cider you'd smuggled in your bag. Seeing the way his face lit up, how he exposed that delicious neck when he threw his head back, hearing the joyous rumble from deep within, sent a realization slamming into you so suddenly it made you stumble.

You loved him.

You might not be in love with him, not yet anyway, but there was a lightness and a warmth in your heart and he had put it there.

Frankie had grabbed your arm when you had stumbled and when you didn't pull away from his touch, his hand slid down your arm and his fingers wove their way through yours.

Walking like this, hand in hand, you found yourselves at the rides.

"I've never been on a Ferris Wheel," he admits to you, craning his head upwards to stare at the top carriage.

Dragging your eyes away from his neck, again, it took your brain a moment to acknowledge what he’d said. "What?!" You expressed with mock horror, already making your way toward the ride’s gate, "Then let's remedy that!"

"I'm- uh this is stupid," he was barely moving with you and adjusted his hat, a nervous tick you'd noticed, "I'm scared of heights."

This admission stopped you in your tracks.

"Frankie." You deadpanned, gripping his hand and pulling on it to emphasize your words, "You're. A. Pilot."

He groaned and you were sure you could see a blush creeping up from beneath his collar, "I know! I know. It's just that, up there?" He stops with a sigh, gazing at the stars wistfully, "I'm in control. I trust myself."

"Do you trust me?" You ask him softly gripping his hand between the both of yours.

Frankie gazed at your face for a breath, not in a way that made you think he was hesitating, it was more like he was pausing so you knew the full weight of his words.

"I trust you with everything."

PART NINE

TAGS: If you’d like to be added, send me an ask or a message! If you’re on the list please interact, I love getting your feedback, hearing your predictions, and all the “these two idiots!” comments 

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[peaceisadirtyword]

Move On VIII (Modern!Ivar/Reader)

A/N: Hello!♥️ Two weeks later, here you go! I only have two things to say: 1. please don't hate me 2. forgive me because it's too long and it might be a bit boring bc my brain was a bit dry this week. BUT the ending is intense. I almost divided it in two different chapters but I'm ending it on chapter 10 and I already have everything planned😔 Please remember there's two chapters left and anything could happen👀 Now enjoy and thanks for reading!

Warnings: fluff, a bit of angst, Hvitty is the best, Alfred is cute, Ivar is Ivar, there's smut, mentions of alcohol, mentions of anxiety and I think that's all!

Words: 7122 (the longest chapter I've ever written sorry)

Move On Masterlist

my three favorite boys by @therealcalicali

You had thought about your wedding day, like every single person on Earth. You imagined it being outside, maybe near the sea, or in the forest, maybe the gardens of a beautiful palace. But for some reason, you never imagined the groom's face. It was always about you, the place and the music, the dress, the flowers, the cake... Until you met Ivar.

Getting married wasn't something you wished to do soon, it could wait. It was more a future plan than a wish, because in some way getting married and having a child was something that scared you. Ivar managed to make you change your mind, suddenly you weren't that scared of having kids or the commitment that implies a wedding. It would be fine as long as he was the one waiting for you at the end of the aisle and the one holding your baby. It would be fine as long as it was him there with you.

Weddings were a celebration of love. At least that was what everyone said, two people that loved each other enough to try and make it last forever. Maybe they gave too much importance to the wedding itself and forgot the love part. Or maybe you were so bitter about anything romantic or related to love that you stopped thinking about them as a love gesture and started seeing it as a contract.

You hadn't heard about Ivar again. Not since that day that ended so badly. Hvitserk said he was still with Freydis, and soon he just stopped talking about him at all. Maybe hoping you'd get over him faster if he didn't mention him. But it wasn't really working.

At least you stopped crying. Now it was more like a sad grimace whenever you thought about it, and sometimes, Hvitserk realized you'd stop talking and looked away, biting your lip and probably thinking about him. Especially when there was something that reminded you of him.

But the problem of being so close to someone, shaping your entire life around him and sharing everything together was that there wasn't really anything that didn't remind you of him.

Alfred, Thora and Hvitserk had organized to be around you all the time. Distracting you, forcing you to go out and Hvitserk even let you do his makeup once. Sometimes it was annoying, but you couldn't be mad at them, they were just trying to make you feel better.

You tried to convince Thora and Hvitserk to go to the wedding together, but she didn't want to go to said wedding. As you promised Alfred you'd go with him, he'd be the one picking you up, and you'd see Hvitserk in there.

Of course, Ubbe and Torvi chose a beautiful forest near their own home to celebrate the wedding. A pagan wedding. You had been to a few of those with Ivar, as he and his family still worshipped the Norse gods. But this time you felt like an intruder, as you weren't even part of the family anymore, and your date was a Christian man.

The dress Hvitserk chose didn't look that good on you at home as it had looked on the changing rooms, as always, but you forced yourself to wear it with confidence. You even practiced walking with the new heels you had bought, and at that point you just wished you wouldn't fall in front of everyone.

You chose a very natural makeup, and a simple hairstyle that was within your humble means. You didn't want to draw attention and wished that the guests wouldn't recognize you. The last thing you needed was people talking about you and Ivar.

Traditions were traditions, nonetheless, and you wore red underwear to try and feel a bit sexier. Even if you had tried to get rid of the red dresses and underwear you wore to catch Ivar's attention, that red set in particular was too precious for you. It was the first one he bought you, and you still remembered the first night you wore it.

And, why am I thinking about Ivar now?

You sighed and looked at your own reflect on the mirror. You were ready, just needed to put those deadly traps on your feet and grab your purse. Alfred had called and he was on his way.

Oh yeah, because you're seeing him today. For the first time in months, you were going to see him again and with Freydis on his arm. You didn't even know how you'd react, but it had given you nightmares for days.

The doorbell rang, and you finished putting on the heels before walking to the door and opening it. Alfred looked like a prince, with his black suit and a flower on his hand. A sunflower. It made you smile more than it was socially acceptable.

"Hi" you waved at him "You look good" you winked at him, Alfred chuckled and blushed softly.

"Hello" he nodded politely "You look..." he stopped to look at you in the eye and sighed "Absolutely beautiful"

"Oh, um..." you looked down, flustered "Thank you, I... Didn't expect a compliment now"

Alfred smiled and took your hand, making you twirl and giggle.

"This is for you" he gave you the sunflower. You bit your lip and took it.

"You're always giving me flowers"

"Because you deserve them" he shrugged "Are you ready?"

You nodded. Taking the purse you left next to the door and checking you had everything.

"Okay" you sighed "Let's go"

__________________________________

As soon as you got out of the car someone covered your eyes. You laughed and grabbed his arms to avoid losing your balance.

"Hvitserk" you put his hands away and turned to look at him "Look at you! You look nice"

He did look nice. His dirty blonde hair was braided and the suit looked good on him, it made his green eyes stand out.

"You look very nice too" he winked at you, his flirtatious smirk made you roll your eyes "Nice dress, who chose it?"

"Someone with a very good taste, obviously" you laughed "Are we late?"

Hvitserk turned to greet Alfred. The both of them weren't exactly friends, but thanks to you they were at least civil with each other and you were more than happy with that.

"You're just on time" he sighed "The guests are starting to get in" he pointed at the small path adorned with flowers and wooden decorations that entered the forest "Ubbe is already there, he's surprisingly relaxed, considering the fact he's marrying Torvi" Hvitserk muttered the last part and you raised an eyebrow.

"I would like to say hello to Ubbe before the ceremony starts" said Alfred with a small smile. He was very close to Ubbe, and worked with him frequently. You could say Ubbe was his favorite Lothbrok, and you couldn't blame him.

Hvitserk nodded and stepped back.

"I have to look for my brother, he told me he was close" he explained "But go, I'll catch you later"

My brother, Hvitserk now only referred to Ivar as 'his brother', noticing how you sometimes flinched when you heard his name, even if it was just because the thought of him startled you.

You grabbed Alfred's arm and hoped you wouldn't fall with the heels, he seemed to think the same, because he held you tightly.

"Doesn't it bother you that this is a pagan wedding?" You asked, genuinely curious when you caught a glance of the cross that hang from his neck. It belonged to his biological father, who passed away before he was born.

Alfred seemed amused at the question.

"I'm not bothered by people believing in other Gods, Y/N" he chuckled "In fact, I find paganism very interesting, and Ubbe told me a lot about his Gods and Goddesses, it's interesting, and I don't think my own God would be mad at me for respecting other beliefs"

You nodded slowly. Alfred was very religious, but not on an obsessive way. It was one of the things you liked about him, how relaxed but loyal he was about his religion.

Ivar was also very religious, but focused on a very different religion. It was something they had in common even if they wouldn't ever recognize it, but you could see it in both of them.

"Besides, I'll confess that Norse weddings are often much more fun than the Christian weddings" he added with a smile.

"Oh, are you getting drunk tonight?" you teased with a small smile. Alfred shook his head but laughed.

"Maybe" he raised an eyebrow "But only if you drink with me"

"Obviously" you rolled your eyes "On the last wedding I went to, Hvitserk, Ivar and I stole a bottle of tequila and got drunk on the car while listening to my favorite playlist"

"Wow" he laughed again "Okay, I'll try to keep up with you then"

There was a lot of people at the clearing already. You remembered Ubbe's first wedding, the first one you attended to with Ivar. He looked more relaxed now, and happier.

"Alfred" he greeted your companion with a big smile and a bone-crushing hug. Alfred smiled widely and hugged him back "You look good, man, thanks for coming"

"Of course, Ubbe" when they separated, he touched his shoulder firmly "I'm happy for you"

"I was a bit confused when your family arrived without you" Ubbe pointed to a group of people. When you turned to look at them, they turned around to pretend they weren't looking at you, making you raise an eyebrow and Alfred frown and blush "But I see you have better company" he laughed "Hello, Y/N"

When he leant in to hug you, you sighed. Ubbe gave the best hugs ever.

"Hi" you smiled "Thank you for inviting me"

"Are you joking?" he shook his head "You're like my sister, of course we'd invite you, you look pretty" he nodded "My mother is going to be thrilled to see you" he pointed at Aslaug, who stood all alone away from the crowd "She scolded all of us during the last family dinner, saying how you were too good for this family and we didn't appreciate you enough"

You smiled softly, Aslaug always treated you like a daughter.

"I'm gonna go say hello to her" you looked back at them. Alfred nodded and watched you leave until Ubbe hit his head softly with a smirk.

Aslaug never had a good relationship with the rest of the family. Ivar told you no one truly accepted her when Ragnar divorced Lagertha, and she spent most of the time taking care of Ivar. When Ragnar left, she just ignored them.

Ubbe was right, her eyes lightened up and she gave you a big smile when you approached.

"Y/N! Oh, Gods, you look so beautiful" she hugged you tightly "How have you been? I asked Hvitserk about you but he wasn't very specific"

"Hi" you smiled back at her "I'm fine, I think, you look beautiful too"

She seemed to like that comment. She did look very pretty, with her wavy, blonde hair braided and wearing a beautiful blue dress.

"I'm so glad to see you" she sighed "I missed you, you have to come with Hvitserk some day"

You wondered if she knew about the fact that you had slept with Hvitserk. But just when you were about to reply, she looked at someone just behind you, and you tensed up. There was only one person that could make Aslaug smile like that, and you weren't too excited to see him.

When you turned around, you forgot how to breath for a moment. Ivar wore a dark grey suit, that made his deep blue eyes shine like sapphires. He leant into the crutch and walked slowly, looking around with his eyebrow raised, as if he truly believed no one was worthy of his presence. After months without seeing him, thinking you were actually making progress in moving on, you realized you were still too into him. He was just too much.

When you were able to tear your eyes off of him, you realized Freydis was with him, dressed in red and looking so effortlessly beautiful that you felt like crying again.

Hvitserk reached you first, greeting his mother with a kiss on her cheek and putting his arm around your shoulders.

"Come on, let's go, this is about to begin" he whispered. When you left, you could feel Ivar's eyes on you, nearly burning. You didn't dare to look at him.

_______________________________________

Torvi was so beautiful on her white dress and the flower crown on top of the small braids on her hair that you couldn't help but tear up a bit. Ubbe looked at her with such an intensity, with eyes so full of love that you envied both of them for a moment. They couldn't stop looking at each other, they were so lost in themselves that barely listened to the völva that married them. To be fair, you barely listened either. It made you wish you had someone to look at like that, someone that looked at you like that. A few months earlier, you thought you had it.

Maybe you still could have it, with Alfred. He was the sweetest person you had ever met, and he treated you like a queen, always giving you space and making sure you were okay. You loved him so much you thought you'd explode if he had another sweet gesture with you, but it wasn't romantic love. You could try and maybe in some more months you could fall in love with him, but you didn't want to break his heart, he didn't deserve it.

And Hvitserk? He was your best friend, but even if you could feel attracted to him, you knew it wouldn't work. And both Alfred and Hvitserk deserved true love. But it wasn't you.

Ivar sat on the front rows, with his brothers and his parents. Freydis was sitting next to him, but they didn't touch each other. In fact, they barely talked. Then the völva talked about twin flames, about true love that always found its way through every single obstacle, and when you looked at him, he was looking right back at you.

______________________________________

"You're back to drinking, huh?" Hvitserk laughed while sitting next to you. You groaned and bit your lip to hold back a laugh.

"I needed it" you pouted, looking at the drink you just ordered "Alfred introduced me to his family, but I don't think they like me very much"

Hvitserk stole your drink and took a sip, making you glare at him.

"His family is very protective of him" he shrugged "And you're probably not very popular considering you're Ivar's ex"

You turned your head to look at them, standing at the other side of the room. Judith, Alfred's mother, at least had been nice, but Aethelwulf, his (adoptive) father, looked at you suspiciously. You already knew Aethelred, his brother, but even if he greeted you politely, he didn't seem too happy with you either.

You also spent some time with the newlyweds, Björn and his wife and Lagertha, but you also felt out of place. In fact, you didn't feel comfortable until you stepped away from the crowd and reached the bar.

"There's food there, Hvitserk" you snatched your drink from his hand "Leave my drink alone"

He chuckled.

"I figured you needed some company, you look a bit sad here all alone" he shrugged again "Besides, I don't really feel comfortable in there" he frowned. The guests were finishing their food and getting up to dance and talk around the room. The venue in which the feast took place belonged to a friend of Ubbe's, so they had gotten the biggest salon.

Aslaug chatted with Floki and Helga, Ragnar tried to flirt with an amused Lagertha and Sigurd and Ivar had argued at least three times during the feast, with Björn interfering to avoid a possible murder. So the atmosphere was a bit tense and awkward.

"Remind me to never celebrate a wedding with my family" Hvitserk sighed. You giggled and shook your head "I mean it, is there anything worse than a wedding with a dysfunctional family?"

"A wedding with a functional family" you raised an eyebrow "That would be boring"

Fortunately, no one paid too much attention to you. Helga greeted you excitedly, and Floki hugged you and told you Freki missed you. You teared up remembering the sweet husky they had in Iceland. Sigurd was also nicer to you now than when you were with Ivar. Blaeja smiled to you shyly. Everything was awkward and felt weird, like you shouldn't be there.

The only one you hadn't talked to was Ragnar and, of course, Ivar. After he was finished eating, he sat down with Freydis. She tried to say hello to you with a sweet smile but Alfred had interrupted her and took you away. You nearly kissed him in gratitude.

"My father asked about you" Hvitserk added when he saw you staring at Ragnar, who was now talking to Harald Finehair.

"Really?" you frowned "I didn't think he'd remember me"

Even if you had been with Ivar for years, you had only met his father a few times, during important events or festivities. Usually, he was traveling the world, working and avoiding his responsibilities as a husband and a father.

"Of course he remembers you, he always asked about you... Don't tell anyone, but you were his favorite daughter-in-law, remember that time when you managed to make Ivar apologize to Sigurd after he insulted him during Jul? He was impressed"

"And he told you that" you rolled your eyes, thinking Hvitserk was probably making it up to make you feel better.

"Yes, he did, he also called Ivar a fucking idiot when he heard he left you, it was the first time I agreed with my father in a long time"

That made you smile.

"Your family is too nice with me" you sighed "I'm gonna miss them"

That startled Hvitserk.

"What? Why? Where are you going?" he glared at you "You're not leaving"

"I don't know" you took another sip of your drink "I talked to Alfred about it, he had friends in England that could help me get a job there and..."

"England?" Hvitserk scowled "You're moving to England?"

"I'm not" his indignation amused you "Not for now, I think, it's just an idea"

"You can't leave me here" he pouted "Who is going to come with me to the pub then?"

"I'm sure you'd find someone to get drunk with pretty soon"

He shook his head, and the two of you stayed in silence for a couple of minutes.

"It's impossible to replace you, Y/N" he whispered "You're too special for that"

"Aw" you felt a lump in your throat and the urge to hug him "That's sweet, Hvitty"

"I mean it" he winked at you "You're great, I just wish you saw it too"

"Keep saying these things to me and I'll give you my drink"

He smiled, but shook his head and stood up.

"I'm going to talk to Ubbe" he announced, you saw he was now talking to Floki and Aslaug, away from Björn and Lagertha "I have something to give to him"

You nodded and watched him leave with a small smile. Once again, you should have fallen in love with him.

_______________________________

After three drinks, you stopped feeling intimidated by the crowd, at least a bit, and felt brave enough to get closer to it. Your eyes fixed on Ivar and Freydis, still sitting down and who seemed to be having a deep conversation. It didn't look good, but before you could even start wondering what they were talking about, someone put their arm around you, startling you.

"Hello, Y/N" you turned around to see Ragnar, already a bit drunk and with a big smile on his lips. His eyes, so similar to Ivar's, seemed to look directly into your soul "Long time no see"

"Hi" you smiled at him "How are you?"

He frowned, then grimaced and then shook his head.

"I'm... Alive" he shrugged "So, you and little Alfred?"

Ragnar Lothbrok wasn't one to beat around the bush.

"We're friends" you chuckled "He's been an amazing friend to me these past months"

"Yeah, after my... Brilliant son fucked it up" he clenched his jaw, taking a sip of his beer "Alfred is a really good kid, son of a great man"

"He's the best" you nodded "Did you know his father?"

For the first time, the smile on Ragnar's face faltered.

"Yes, I did" he cleared his throat "He was a very good friend of mine"

"He'd be proud of his son, then" you smiled, looking at Alfred who was currently talking to his brother.

"He would" Ragnar nodded "Unfortunately, I can't say the same for my own sons" he muttered, and you raised an eyebrow.

"Why?" you chuckled.

"I must admit it's my fault" he sighed "They inherited it from me, the capacity of ruining everything when they have a great woman by their side" you'd swear his eyes fixed on Lagertha and then on Aslaug for a moment "Ivar is the smartest boy I've ever seen, but he can also be stupid sometimes, you know it, because you understand him better than anyone, better than himself, even than his own mother" you bit your lip, looking away "And I know he regrets it"

"Look, I really love Ivar" you sighed "I will always love him because he was a very important part of my life for years, but he's happy with Freydis now, and I'm glad he's happy"

Ragnar chuckled, shaking his head.

"I'd argue with you on that, but Alfred is coming and I think you deserve a good time with him now rather than talking about my son" he winked "See you around, Y/N"

Before you could reply, he left, walking towards the bar as he finished his drink.

"Hello" Alfred stopped next to you, also looking at Ragnar with an eyebrow raised "Everything okay?"

You turned your head and smiled softly at him.

"Yes, I think" you giggled "It's just Ragnar being weird"

He hummed, like he understood exactly what you meant.

"I just wanted to ask you if you..." he looked around with a frown, and blushed furiously "Maybe, want to dance?"

You were surprised, thinking no one really danced at these things, but a quick look around made you realized that people were definitely dancing, or well, at least they were trying.

Ubbe and Torvi moved slowly together, with their foreheads pressed together and a small smile on their lips. Around them, some couples danced at the rhythm of a slow song.

"Oh, um..." you licked your lips, nervously "Sure, I'd love to"

Alfred looked relieved, and took your hand softly, leading you to the dance floor. Or well, the part of the salon on which people danced.

He knew how to dance, of course he did. You nearly rolled your eyes when he whispered that you should put your hand on his shoulder and started leading your movements. He was too soft, too polite and too perfect. You looked at his face intensely as he danced and you moved clumsily with him. He didn't make eye contact, too nervous and always looking down.

"Alfred" you pouted "You're one of the most amazing men I've ever met" you stopped moving to hug him "Oh my god, I wish I could..."

He hugged you back, nodding against your neck.

"I wish that too" he muttered "But I can't force you"

"I tried, I really did, and I love you so much, but..."

"Hey" he stopped hugging you, and cupped your face softly "Look at me, Y/N, you don't have to explain yourself, you feel what you feel and it's fine, I'll get over it" he giggled as you teared up, feeling the worst person in the world "We're friends, and that will never change"

You nodded.

"Thank you" you took a deep breath "For everything"

"Of course" he smiled "I think it's time you start being a bit more selfish and put yourself first, stop worrying about what the others are feeling, focus on yourself"

You hugged him again and kissed his cheek.

"I'm gonna go get some air" you took a deep breath "I'll be back, okay?"

He nodded, letting you go. You rushed to the door and left the building, only breathing again when you were out in the garden. It was a pretty entrance, with cobblestones, a lovely fountain and some flowers. At least it was peaceful and quiet. Or you thought it was, because you heard a metal noise and a groan, which made you jump and gasp before you looked to the side.

It was already dark, and the only source of light were the lovely streetlights adorned with ivy. It came from one of the benches at the side of the entrance, and you nearly cried when you saw the source of the noise.

"Ivar?" you sighed, drying your tears with your fingers "What are you doing here?"

He raised his head and glared at you with his jaw clenched, he had been focused on his braces and didn't even hear you approaching. When he didn't reply, you frowned and walked towards him, walking slowly to avoid falling down with the damned heels.

"Where's Freydis?" you asked softly, understanding something was wrong.

"She left" his voice sounded dry and empty, almost as if he had been crying.

"Why?"

"Because I told her to leave" he pouted. Ivar had the tendency to pout, and he hated when you said he looked cute doing it, probably thinking he looked intimidating.

You sat down on the bench, and decided not to ask because he didn't seem too inclined to talk about it.

"What's wrong with the braces?" you asked slowly.

"I don't know" he groaned, grabbing his right leg "I think I moved it and..." his lip started trembling when he started fiddling with it again.

"Stop" you tried to grab his hand, but he ignored you "Ivar, stop, you're going to hurt yourself"

"Why do you care?" he raised his voice, making you scoff "Why don't you go back there with Alfred?"

"Don't yell" you glared at him "After everything you've done, you don't get to yell at me"

He took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes with his hands and shaking his head.

"I want to go home" he sighed "I can't go back there"

"Hey, what happened?" you were starting to get worried, because that wasn't like Ivar "Should I call your brothers? Your mother?"

"No" he shrugged "They will just rant about how stupid I am for letting you go"

You looked away again.

"You did hurt me" you muttered "A lot"

Ivar didn't look at you either.

"That's the worst part" he scoffed "That they're right"

This time you did look at him, surprised and with your lips parted. For a moment, you felt the need to hug and kiss him, but you couldn't.

"If you know they're right why did you do it? And I don't mean breaking up with me, I mean being so cruel, treating me like I was nothing to you"

"I don't know, Y/N" he sighed tiredly "I was angry, you moved on"

"I didn't move on!" you scoffed "Dear God, Ivar, I couldn't move on, I spent the worst months of my life trying to but I couldn't, you're such an asshole" you groaned "You broke up with me, acted like I was nothing but a burden to you, you made me feel like I wasn't good enough, and then had the audacity of acting like I was the one that fucked everything up!"

Ivar's eyes were full of tears when he raised his head again.

"I don't feel like talking about that now"

You were about to keep ranting when you looked at his eyes for the first time, and gasped when you saw how blue they were.

"Did you take your medicines today?" you frowned when he shook his head "Why? Oh God" you groaned "Should we go to the hospital?"

He shook his head again.

"I just want to go home"

"Are you in too much pain, Ivar? Wait, I'll call a cab" you unlocked your phone and stood up.

_________________________________

You had never seen Ivar like that. So quiet and sad, looking at his own feet and not even reacting when you sat down next to him again.

"The cab will be here in ten minutes" you announced softly, regretting being to harsh on him a few minutes earlier "Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital? Maybe we should, it might get worse, what if something happens?" you bit your lip nervously "I should go and tell your family"

"No" he grabbed your arm when you were about to stand up again "Don't tell them, it'll be fine as soon as I get home, take the pills and rest a bit"

"Okay" you sighed "But at least let me get Hvitserk so he can go with you"

Ivar's face changed again, this time he looked like a lost puppy, his pouty lips parted and his eyes fixed on yours, nearly begging.

"Aren't you coming with me?" he whispered, and you sighed.

"I shouldn't" you muttered in reply "I don't think..."

"Please" he insisted, and you noticed the two of you were too close "We need to talk"

He was so soft, so vulnerable in that moment that you nodded slowly, and let yourself lean into him slowly just before you heard someone calling your name.

Hvitserk left the building at the same time you got away from Ivar quickly turning your head to look at him. Ivar looked irritated by the interruption, but didn't say anything.

"Hey" he looked surprised to see the both of you there "Y/N, Alfred said you'd be out here" he frowned "Ivar, I was looking for you... Is everything okay?"

"Hi" you smiled softly "Ivar is not feeling good, he's in pain" you explained, standing up and approaching him "I called a cab"

Hvitserk's big brother side showed up when he walked over to Ivar, frowning.

"You didn't take the medicines?"

"I fought with Freydis, I forgot" he shrugged.

"Where is she?" Hvitserk looked around, a bit confused.

Ivar didn't reply, but they seemed to understand each other perfectly.

You gave them a few minutes together, until you approached them again. Hvitserk stood up with a sigh and shook his head.

"You can leave" he said softly, caressing your arm "I will stay with him"

You heard the cab arriving and looked at Ivar.

"I..." you took Hvitserk's hands "Maybe I should stay with him"

He took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head.

"Y/N..."

"It's okay" you chuckled "It's fine, Hvitserk, I'm fine"

"Are you sure?" he whispered "He is..."

"I know, and it will be okay, we... Need to talk, I think"

If Hvitserk thought you were stupid, he didn't say it.

"If you need anything, call me, okay?"

You nodded as he kissed your temple softly. You could feel Ivar's eyes on you, burning, when the cab stopped next to you and Hvitserk turned to help him.

____________________________________

It felt too familiar to enter their flat, to help Ivar sit on the couch before taking the medicines to him with a glass of water. You were so used to the process that for a moment you forgot everything had changed since the last time you did it.

He did look more relaxed after a few minutes, when you sat on the couch and took your heels off with a tired sigh. You could feel Ivar's eyes on you, but tried to ignore him, too exhausted to start arguing with him again. You felt the pressure on your chest again, as you always did when someone mentioned him or when you saw him, but this time it was a bit less intense, maybe because Freydis wasn't around.

"I'm going to bed" he announced after a few minutes, you supposed that the strong painkillers had already kicked it at least a bit "Today was shit"

You wanted to scream at him, every day had been shit for the last few months because of him. But you were too exhausted of yelling, arguing and crying because of him, you wanted a truce, even if it was just for a few hours.

Ivar got up, grunting and taking deep breaths as he moved slowly towards his bedroom. At first, you weren't even thinking about helping him, you had already done too much for him that night, much more than he actually deserved. But when you looked at him and saw him struggling, you couldn't help it and got up to help him. Usually, Ivar would frown and say he didn't need help, but this time he didn't say a word until you reached his bedroom.

You bit your lip, looking around the room and remembering the last time you were in there. Ivar let himself fall on the bed and sighed in relief when he got to take the braces off. You sat on the bed and looked at him sternly.

"Hvitserk said you've been skipping therapy sessions" you narrowed your eyes at him "And didn't go to doctor's appointments, this is what you get for being an idiot"

Ivar raised an eyebrow, and the ghost of a smile danced on his lips as he turned his head to you.

"You and Hvitserk talked a lot about me, didn't you?" he scoffed "Did he also mention me when you were fucking?"

You rolled your eyes, but you weren't going to play his game anymore, not that night.

"Anyway, I'm leaving" you stood up "Go to sleep and call the doctor tomorrow"

Ivar narrowed his eyes at you.

"I thought we needed to talk" he scowled "But now you want to run back to Alfred"

"Look" you sighed, crossing your arms "You're tired and on a bad mood, I'm tired and a bit drunk, talking it's probably not a good idea, so try and get some rest and we'll talk some other day"

"I saw you dancing" he ignored you completely, making you sigh again "With him"

"Yes, and what about it? You have no right to be bothered by that, because you were with your girlfriend"

"She's no longer my girlfriend" he clenched his jaw and his voice broke a bit "It's over"

Your expression softened. Even if you'd love to slap him in that moment, your heart broke a bit knowing he was hurt.

"What happened?" you asked softly "The last time you told me you loved each other and all of that"

Ivar shrugged, looking away and taking a deep breath.

"I don't know, I suppose she didn't love me that much"

You looked at him with a pout. You could feel that dull pain on your heart when you thought about him, you missed him with your entire life, the thought of your relationship hurt and you knew it will keep hurting forever. Ivar probably didn't care about you, or maybe he saw you more like a friend, because it was obvious Freydis had marked him much more than you in just a few months, you had seen him looking at her. So probably she was his Ivar, that thing that would be painful his entire life.

A part of you wanted to be happy. They broke up, he was mistaken and it didn't work out. But you couldn't do it when you looked into his eyes and saw pain. You couldn't see him in pain.

"I'm sorry" you said softly.

"Are you?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Yes" you rolled your eyes "I don't want to see you sad"

"Wouldn't you feel better yelling and insulting me?"

"Maybe" you shrugged "But I don't have the strength to do it"

Ivar nodded. He didn't have the energy to fight either. You laid down next to him, careful not to wrinkle the dress. Ivar stared at you intensely, and felt the tug on his chest again. He missed you more than he actually realized. It had been during the wedding, when he saw you looking stunning, smiling and greeting people... With Alfred next to you. He knew you'd be worried about him because he hadn't taken the medicines, that you'd make him sit down and would make everyone approach him so he wouldn't have to walk, that you'd take care of him, and if he was feeling better, would make him try to dance with you after the feast. Now you were dancing with Alfred, giggling and hugging his brother, and barely looked at him. And Freydis noticed.

When you looked at him again, he was much closer than you remembered, and it started you as you tried to move, flustered and suddenly very nervous.

"Y/N" he muttered, his hand grabbed your wrist softly and you widened your eyes "Stay, please"

You got lost into his eyes again. They had something magnetic, that attracted and locked you in.

His hand cupped your head to pull you closer, and the pressure on your chest turned into a warm feeling when his lips pressed against yours. It was like coming back after a long trip, when you realized just how much you had missed home, and everything was familiar and in its place. You closed your eyes and kissed him back slowly, too into him to even realize what was happening. Ivar broke the kiss and pecked your lips again a couple of times before deepening the kiss. His hand traveled down your back, making you tremble, until it reached your waist. You couldn't remember when was the last time Ivar kissed you like that, not even when the two of you were still together. He caressed your body over the soft fabric of the dress, and you vaguely thought about the wrinkles but realized you didn't even care.

"Ivar" you muttered against his lips "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer, but kissed you again as his fingers fumbled with the zip of your dress.

"You looked so beautiful today" he sighed "I couldn't stand to even think about someone else taking this dress off"

You were going to reply, but his lips on your neck turned what was going to be a dignified reply into a moan. Ivar had that thing, that charm that was too much for you to handle. He knew your weaknesses, your soft spots and what to do to make you melt in his arms. He knew you couldn't resist him, not even if you wanted to.

It was like going back in time, all the thoughts about the breakup, Freydis, Alfred and Hvitserk left your mind as he took the dress off, throwing it to the other side of the room and biting his lip with a smirk when he recognized the underwear. You tugged on his clothes, and the two of you broke the kiss so he could take the shirt and the tie. You sighed when you saw his tattoos again. You has missed him so much, and how his warm skin felt under your fingers, how his body tensed under your touch.

"Can I?" he asked biting your lower lip, his fingers grazed the side of your panties and you closed your eyes in anticipation before nodding.

"Yes" you moaned, moving to straddle him as you took your bra off. Ivar groaned and pushed his hips against you. Finally, his fingers found your sex, and he pressed onto your clit, and when he started rubbing it in circles you started trembling again.

You tried to touch his member, but you could barely move, until he pushed your panties aside and two of his fingers teased your entrance before entering you. The both of you moaned at the same time, and you moved your hips against his hand trying to follow his pace.

"Gods, you look so beautiful" he groaned, his free hand caressed your body and his lips captured one of your nipples. It was too much, and when he pressed his palm against your clit you gasped and your walls clenched around his fingers. But then he stopped, and your moans of pleasure turned into a bothered whine. You opened your eyes to glare at him and he chuckled, shaking his head.

"You're not going to cum until I'm inside of you" he whispered against your neck. You quickly fumbled with his pants, and when you finally freed his hard member Ivar groaned again. You would have loved to return the favor and leave him on the edge, but you couldn't wait, you needed him. You had waited enough.

"Put it in for me, kitten"

You nearly came hearing his voice on your ear, whispering the pet name he used to call you. Your hand clenched around his cock and he rolled his eyes and moaned deeply, letting you enjoy pretending you had the power for a few seconds. Until you pressed his member against your entrance and he grabbed your hips and thrusted into you.

Your mouth widened on a silent moan. It was intense, and Ivar let you adjust to the size before starting moving, but once he started, he couldn't stop. He sat down to kiss you again, and you grabbed his shoulders and his arms when your legs were too weak to support you anymore.

"Ivar" you moaned against his neck "God, Ivar"

"I missed you so much" he muttered, and it sounded like he truly meant it.

You didn't really have time to think whether he meant it or not because the warm tingle on your lower belly was becoming too much. Your walls started clenching around him and his thrust became sloppy. He breathed heavily against your skin.

"I'm not going to last" he whispered again "You're too much"

You had missed this Ivar so much.

You came around him, moaning his name and digging your nails into his back, your body shaking around him and your face hidden into his neck. Ivar came right after you, and he quickly turned his head to fix his ocean eyes into yours, with his pouty and swollen lips parted just before kissing you again, making you sigh and smile, happy for the first time in months.

____________________________________

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @therealcalicali @blushingskywalker @awkwardfangirl02 @gruffle1 @justacripple @love-dria @heartbeats-wildly @letsrunawaytotomorrow @inforapound @sallydelys @hellogabysblog @winchesterwife27 @hecohansen31 @youbloodymadgenius @xinyourdreamsx @funmadnessandbadassvikings @eteramfools @tgrrose @lifeisabitchandsoareyou @lovessce @tootie-fruity @didiintheblog @alexhandersenx @belovedcherry @fantasydevil2002 @xceafh @astrape-the-weatherwitch @destynelseclipsa @poisonous00 @littlebear423 @justbloodlydreaming @xbellaxcarolinax @soleil-dor @geekydane-post @katarokkar11 @crackhead1-800 @momowhoo @pedrolorian @flokisdaughter @crazybunnyladysworld @anotherfan07 @heavenly1927 @jungkxxkk @satanhalsey @nanahachikyuu @cocovikings23​ @ecarroll1978 @darlingjae

[kindahoping4forever]

A Little Bit Scandalous, Baby Don’t Let Them See It // Ashton Irwin

There’s really not much explanation for this one. Last month when the content started dropping from Calum’s birthday weekend at The Invisible House, my clown brain took over and I got an idea that just wouldn’t leave. I then unfortunately developed a migraine that also wouldn’t leave (lol) so I didn’t get to write this for a few weeks but once I sat down to do it, it was done in basically a day. I don’t often do plotless smut but I’ve decided to own this filth for what it is. Thanks to @cal-puddies​​ for convincing me not to add 2500 more words of justification and also for letting me know when I was describing this idea that I “went a little too Daddy” and it needed to be an Ash story even though it was about Cal’s birthday 😂

Warnings: Boyfriend!Ash meets Dom!Ash vibes including a fair amount of dirty talk, a few uses of “Daddy,” some general manhandling and loving roughness. Unprotected sex in an established relationship, brief oral sex on a male, hints of voyeurism/exhibitionism

Word Count: 2.8k

Masterlist  // Ko-Fi linked above (New taglist sign-up coming soon)

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

“The bedrooms are all clear!”

“Well, the whole house is all clear, babe, that’s kind of the point.”

“That joke hasn’t gotten any funnier since the first time you tried it, Ash.”

Your boyfriend rushes up behind you and slides his hands into the back pockets of your jeans, squeezing your ass through the material. “You’ve missed my jokes and you know it,” he insists, his loud laugh echoing through the seemingly endless room.

You hate to admit it but he wasn’t entirely wrong. You and Ashton hadn’t seen each other very much lately; your days were spent working from home, too exhausted on most days to make it over to his place for a visit while his schedule was consumed by the band starting work on their new album.

The guys had recently taken to going on mini getaways out to the desert to work; it was clear they missed travelling together as much as they missed playing music and this was a fun and safe way for them to combine the two amidst the ongoing lockdown. When they decided to plan their latest session for the week of Calum’s birthday and make it a “family trip” by inviting their significant others to join, you were thrilled.

Through some of her connections, Crystal was able to book a trendy lodging known as The Invisible House. With a pool running alongside the living area, floor to ceiling glass windows and an entirely mirrored exterior, the property was truly a sight to behold. You drove yourself out to Joshua Tree on Friday after work and spent the weekend lounging, catching up and exploring with everybody.

For you, the one flaw in the house’s design was that it was built as one long continuous rectangle, with only the occasional partition used to divide rooms, so as not to disrupt the lush views. While the desert surroundings were undeniably gorgeous, you would’ve much rather been surrounded by Ashton. You assumed a weekend away would’ve meant some quality time getting reacquainted with each other’s bodies but with your friends always in such close proximity, the opportunity had not presented itself.

Until now, you think to yourself. Everyone was outside chatting and packing up the cars while you and Ash were assigned to do a walkthrough of the house to make sure nobody had left anything behind. Sierra and Luke had popped in about 10 minutes ago to say goodbye and from where you’re standing, you can see Calum, Crystal and Michael still trying to divide up their luggage and the band’s equipment between their cars.

You spin around in Ash’s hold, wrapping your arms around his neck and planting a heated kiss on him. You can tell he’s momentarily taken by surprise but he quickly responds to your passion, tangling his tongue with yours, letting his hands wander around your body.

“So then… you have missed my jokes?” He chuckles when you pull away, attaching your mouth to his neck.

You roll your eyes amusedly, moving to bite gently at his earlobe, tongue teasing around his earring. “We’re finally alone,” you say suggestively, hoping he’ll understand your meaning.

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “Uh-huh,” he says pointedly, pressing you tighter against him. “And I suppose that’s giving you ideas, isn’t it, baby?”

You smile coyly, holding his hands on you. “Well… I don’t know about you but I was certainly hoping we’d get some time together this weekend. It’s been a while, we’ve been so busy.”

Ashton grins. “Well… I did offer to take care of you last night.”

You give him A Look. “Sliding your hand down my pajama pants and offering to rub one out for me wasn’t really what I had in mind,” you counter wryly. “All while our friends were just a few feet away.”

A mischievous look crosses his face. “Our friends are just a few feet away now and you’re still coming on to me,” he points out, gesturing towards the vast windows surrounding you.

“It’s different. We’re in here, they’re out there. They can’t see us.”

He smirks at your statement, almost as if he was hoping you'd say that. “Is that so?”

“It’s mirrored glass,” you shrug impatiently, pulling his hand in the direction of the bedrooms.

Ash clearly has other plans, pulling you back into him and kissing you so deeply your head spins. You don’t realize he’s walking you across the room until you feel your back hit the cool glass of the window. You pull away to ask what he’s up to but can’t quite find your words, the mark he’s sucking into your neck and the way his hands are gripping your tits under your shirt proving to be quite the distraction.

“Let’s go, baby,” you pant, squeezing his arms. “We don’t have a lot of time but I need you.”

He turns you around and presses you against the glass, rocking his hips against you, letting you feel that your desire is reciprocated. “If you’re so sure no one can see us, what’s wrong with me taking you right here?”

You recognize the edge in his voice and your body responds with a shiver; he always knows what you need before you do. “I’d like that,” you reply earnestly.

You hear the two forceful spanks his hand gives you before you feel them and you gasp when the sting registers. “I’ll fuckin’ bet you would... get my cock in you, get to fill your incessant need for attention by pretending that everyone can see what a filthy girl you are for me,” he taunts, undoing his belt. “But you’ll get off knowing that in reality I’m still the only one who gets to see you like that, isn’t that right, baby girl?”

You turn to face him, chest heaving but offering him a wide grin. It’s been too long since he’s had you like this. “Missed you, Daddy.”

“We’ll see about that,” he teases, leaning in to kiss you hard. He tugs at your shirt and pants as he pulls away. “Off.”

You purse your lips, not wanting to argue but also not seeing the point in getting undressed for what should be a quickie.

Before you can question him, Ashton explains. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do this right and that means you naked for me. Now.”

You bite your lip to keep from moaning as you watch him pull his cock out of his fly and begin stroking. You lock eyes with him before you start taking your clothes off but you notice his gaze roaming up and down your body as you disrobe. You can’t remember the last time you felt so powerful.

You stand bare in front of him, waiting for whatever comes next. It’s taking everything in you not to reach down and relieve some of the tension building between your legs but you know better.

He walks over to you, hard cock out and shamelessly demanding attention, distracting from his still fully clothed body. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck, his kiss much lighter on your lips than you expect, making you whimper with need. His tongue has just finished tracing over your bottom lip when he leans over to your ear and whispers the words you'd been hoping you'd earned: "Good girl."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he turns you back around and you quickly throw your hands out to brace against the glass, spreading your legs, hoping that your eager cooperation will win you some favor with him.

It’s bizarre looking out the window and seeing your trio of friends across from you, laughing and organizing their belongings while Ashton is breathing heavy on your neck, rutting between your ass cheeks a few times before dragging his fingers through your wetness, using it to slick up his cock.

“I’d remind you we need to make this quick but you’re so fuckin’ wet for me, I know it’s not gonna take much to make this needy pussy cum, is it, baby girl?”

You feel yourself throb in response and before you can even fathom responding, he’s sliding into you and suddenly that’s the only thing that matters. You hang your head and let out a long, low groan. “Yessss… fuck,” you moan as he slowly moves in and out of you, giving you a little more of his length each time.

“How long has it been, baby? You sure you can still take all of me?” He teases, leaning to rub at your clit a few times, enjoying the way it makes you squirm.

You breathe deep, appreciating the way he’s stretching you out, the way you always think you remember how good he feels inside you, only to realize that no memory even comes close to the reality of being wrapped around his cock. “Always feels like it’s been too long when you’re not in me, Daddy,” you pant, moving your hips to let him know you’re ready for more. “Need you all the time.”

“I know, baby,” he says sweetly, running his hand slowly down your back with a surprising gentleness. “Gonna give my baby girl what she needs.”

Ash quickly sets about making good on that promise, setting an ambitious pace for himself as he drives his cock inside you hard and deep. You can vaguely see your own reflection in the window and find yourself hypnotized by the way you respond to him; how your face contorts when he hits just where you want him to, the way your tits bounce as he moves against you, the force with which your entire body is propelled by his thrusts.

You feel the beginnings of something stirring in your core and without giving it a second thought, you slide a hand down to your clit, circling it to help yourself along. You’re alerted that Ashton has noticed your choice when you feel his hand tangle in your hair and yank your head back towards him.

“I don’t remember asking for help, baby girl,” he notes sternly. “You were being so good for me until now, too.” He pulls out and you whimper as your pussy continues to thrum, having been so close to climax but now so devastatingly empty.

“Don’t fuckin’ whine, just because you can’t behave doesn’t mean I'm gonna miss out on this pretty pussy makin’ me cum.”

He walks you closer to the glass, pressing your body up against the window and pinning your arms above your head before he pushes back in. He uses one hand to hold the both of yours while his other snakes around to toy with your clit. “How’s this, baby? Were you actually worried I wasn’t gonna make you cum? Disappointed you think I’d let you down like that,” he mocks, faux guilt dripping from his voice.

“No, Daddy, you’re always so good to me,” you murmur, senses overwhelmed. “It just felt so good… got too excited.”

“Fuckin’ impatient is what you got,” he corrects, nipping at your shoulder.

His hips are hitting into you at that delicious angle again and you both can tell that the rhythm he’s found on your clit is going to send you over the edge fairly soon. You hear him choke back what sounds like a genuine laugh and your eyes open in confusion, wondering what could have caused his reaction.

You hold your breath as Michael and Calum walk closer to the window you're about to cum up against. Your eyes search the landscape and you see Crystal in the distance, leaning on the car, taking a phone call. The guys must have decided to give her some privacy and are now hanging out and chatting by the rocks straight in front of you.

Your mind races as you try to recall with certainty if you noticed any visibility when you and the girls were out there taking pictures together the other day. It just looked like a mirror from that side… right?

It’s as if Ash can read your mind as he taunts, “Mirrored glass, right, baby? No way they can see how fuckin’ greedy you get when you have to go a few days without my cock.” He’s breathing heavy now too, clearly excited by the thought of a potential audience. “Couldn’t even wait a few more hours for me to get you alone, needed it so bad you’re letting me have you up against the glass with everyone right there… my greedy girl, what would they think?”

It’s hard to say if it’s because of the questionable situation or Ashton’s teasing words but you feel yourself getting close again and you start to moan. Loudly.

“Just because they can’t see you doesn’t mean they can’t hear you, baby. You really want them to know how bad you want it?” he sneers, working your body faster. “If they can hear your sounds, do you think they can hear how wet you are for me? How hard and deep I’m fucking you?”

You try to keep it down but as you start pulsing around his cock, you can’t help the cries that escape your lips. Ash’s hand moves up to your mouth in a feeble attempt to muffle your outburst. “Aww baby, you know those noises are only for me to hear, when will you learn how to control yourself?” His reprimand only makes you cry out more.

He grunts at the feeling of you nibbling at his palm, still experiencing intense waves of pleasure from your orgasm. He feels your body still tensing in his arms and sees your legs shaking and he decides you need some comfort. He strokes your hair and coos, “Such a good girl, cumming so hard, squeezing me so tight. Does it feel good, baby?”

You hold yourself on the window again, trying to catch your breath. “So good, Daddy...”

He kisses the back of your neck before he continues searching for his release, rough hands massaging your tits as he bounces you on his cock. You softly murmur encouragement, lost in the feeling of pleasing him and the dreamy haze from your own orgasm.

“Where do you want it, baby?” He asks breathlessly. “Kinda want to make you drip for the next 100 miles but you’re such a good girl, you can choose.”

“Wanna taste,” you answer instantly.

“That’s my girl,” he smirks, pulling out and watching fondly as you get on your knees.

You lean your head back against the window and raise your brow expectantly, waiting for him to continue. He gently runs a hand over your face before guiding his cock between your lips. It’s his turn to brace against the glass as he thrusts inside your mouth; you grip the back of his thighs, moaning around him, loving the feeling of being used by him in yet another way today.

Ashton huffs out a string of curses followed by a breathy cry of your name and you feel spurts of cum shooting across your tongue. You rub up and down his legs soothingly, soft sounds of satisfaction leaving your throat as he finishes rocking himself against you.

You pop off of his cock and press a kiss to the tip, smiling up at him as he tries to collect himself, still propped up on the glass. He leans down and kisses you tenderly, hands gently caressing your face.

"This was a good idea, baby," he breathes.

You tousle his hair and smile as he stands back up. He takes off, mumbling something about grabbing the Kleenex box from the bathroom and you hum contentedly, satisfied with your reunion.

Still on your knees, you turn around to peer out the window, wondering how much time you have left before your friends start asking for you. Michael and Crystal catch your attention first and you notice they only have a few items to go before the cars are fully loaded.

You squint, wondering why you don’t see Cal. You laugh to yourself, wondering if he got tired of their project and decided to lay down in one of the cars.

You start to jokingly suggest this to Ash when out of the corner of your eye, you spot some movement. You look up to see Calum, cigarette in hand, standing directly in front of your window. A knowing smile paints his face as he looks down at either his own reflection or at you. You can’t be sure. You surprise yourself as you realize that you can’t say for certain which scenario you would prefer.

You’re still staring out the window, speechless, as Ashton re-enters the room. He unsuspectingly jokes, “Goddamn, baby. Which one of us is gonna get some mirrored glass installed back at home?”

————-

This will most likely be the last fic with this particular taglist as this one has gotten really cluttered with inactive users or changed usernames and it breaks the post so often! If you want to continue to be notified of my fics, be on the lookout for a new sign-up post coming soon!

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[howtosingit]

Fic: And Every Birthday After

TK makes a decision about his relationship with Carlos.

*

AU after 1x05.

3K | Also on AO3

A/N: This is up a day later than I wanted it to be, but considering it’s the first thing I’ve written in two months, I’m still going to take it as a win. Happy reading!

- - - - -

TK climbs out from the car, his eyes on his phone as he shouts a quick “thank you” over his shoulder to his Uber driver before closing the door behind him. The car pulls away from the curb as he glances up at the glowing Austin Police Department sign before him, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth while he thinks about what he wants to do next.

With another look down at his phone to check the time, he nods, turning his back on the precinct to cross the street. It doesn’t take him long to find what he’s looking for: Carlos’s blue Camaro draws attention no matter where the police officer parks it. 

TK gently runs his fingers along the shiny, unblemished surface, his attention divided between the car in front of him and the building across the street. Carlos should be appearing any moment, fresh off his shift, and TK smiles as he leans back against the door, crossing his arms in front of his chest, trying to adopt a casual pose. He can practically hear Carlos’s laugh now, his brain supplying him with the memory of the last time he failed to casually lean against the Camaro, while they waited for Paul outside the 126. 

(TK thinks that just because Carlos has perfected the art of a casual lean, he shouldn’t get to laugh at those who are still learning.)

“TK?”

He’s so lost in his memories of that night - dancing close to Carlos in the club and sneaking kisses whenever the lights left them in the shadows - that he misses when the man himself appears right in front of him. TK jumps when he hears his name to find Carlos already halfway across the street, heading right for him.

“Hey there, officer,” he calls.

“What are you doing here?” Carlos asks, and TK’s eyes shift down just in time to see Carlos hide a giant green gift bag behind his back. “I thought we were meeting a little later.”

“We were, but I got out of work earlier than I planned and thought I’d surprise you.” 

TK waits for Carlos to come a little closer, maybe even give him a kiss the way he usually does, or at the very least a smile, but the officer does none of those things. Instead, Carlos stops a few feet away from him, his beautiful brown eyes wide as he presses his lips together in a tight line. TK notices the gift bag peeking out behind his back, fidgeting in his fingers. “Did someone get you a gift?” TK asks, breaking the weirdly awkward silence with his mounting curiosity.

Carlos freezes for a nearly imperceptible moment, looking like he’s been zapped by his own stun gun, before he lets out a sudden high-pitched laugh, his face morphing into a mask of forced normalcy. “Oh, this?” he asks, pulling the bag out from behind his back. TK watches as his eyebrows furrow - truly an adorable sight - as Carlos glances between the bag and TK. “This is from my boss, for Employee Appreciation Week.”

A smile suddenly appears on Carlos’s face as he steps closer, swinging the bag at his side before wrapping an arm around TK’s waist and pulling him in. TK goes willingly, his brain still trying to catch up to Carlos’s abrupt mood shift, and lets Carlos press their lips together in a chaste kiss. 

“Thank you for surprising me,” Carlos murmurs against his mouth. “Seeing you was exactly what I needed after today.”

“Long shift?”

Carlos hums in reply, stealing another quick kiss before backing away to pull his keys from his pocket. “Something like that.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later,” Carlos admits. TK notices the way his eyes are twinkling under the streetlights. “Right now I’m starving. Did you finally decide on a place to eat?”

“What do you think of that Greek place on Lavaca?”

“I think,” Carlos starts once they’re both in the car, tossing the gift bag in the back seat before leaning over the console to invade TK’s personal space, “that if that’s what you want, then that’s exactly what I want.”

TK lets out a breath at Carlos’s claim, a feeling of contentment running through his body from head to toe. He feels Carlos’s hand on his cheek, his breath on his face. It’s overwhelming in the best possible way.

“You’re kind of sickeningly sweet, you know that?” TK teases, pressing forward to steal another kiss. 

“That doesn’t sound like a complaint,” Carlos fires back, his eyes crinkling as a cocky smile takes over his face.

“You’re far too confident.”

“Now I know that’s not a complaint,” Carlos smirks, his eyebrows practically dancing. 

“Shut up,” TK whispers, claiming Carlos’s lips again to ensure that he does just that.

- - - - - 

“No, I’m telling you, Paul actually said that, no hesitation whatsoever. It was pretty badass.”

“Sounds like it. Though, I’m guessing Marjan didn’t really appreciate it, did she?” Carlos asks, pulling the front door closed behind him as TK flips on the light before toeing off his shoes.

“Oh, she definitely did not. I kind of thought flames were going to shoot out of her eyes, she looked so pissed.” He flops down on the couch, pulling his feet up to get comfortable. 

“I know I’ve only met her on calls, but I can still picture that face so perfectly,” Carlos laughs, cutting through the room to the kitchen, where he drops his gift bag on the counter before opening the refrigerator. “I have cake for dessert, if you want any?” he asks, glancing back over at TK.

“Oh my god, yes,” TK moans, pulling himself off the couch and towards the alluring appeal of something disgustingly sweet. He drops his phone on the table before taking a seat on one of the barstools, watching as Carlos pulls out a small chocolate bundt cake before reaching into the freezer for a pint of vanilla bean ice cream. He flits about the kitchen with a casual ease that TK is more than happy to observe, his eyes drawn to his striking figure. There isn’t a single part of Carlos that TK doesn’t like, and he knows he could sit and watch the other man every minute of every day and never get bored. 

He gives himself a little shake, trying to clear his head, and his eyes land once again on the gift bag sitting on the counter next to him.

“So,” he starts, his tone laced with curiosity, “what exactly does APD give their best patrol officers for Employee Appreciation Week anyway?” He smirks, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure it’s got nothing on AFD, we all know firefighters have you badges beat.”

It’s not something he really believes in - the whole firefighters versus police officers rivalry - but that doesn’t mean that he and Carlos don’t like to joke about how they’re “sleeping with the enemy” every now and then. It’s even made for some very satisfying, competitive moments in bed, though they’re always followed by laughs and kisses and comments about how ridiculous it all is.

TK turns back to Carlos to find him completely frozen for the second time tonight, the ice cream scoop clutched firmly in his hand with ice cream melting down the sides as he looks from the bag to TK. 

This time, TK doesn’t let it go unnoticed.

“What is it with you and this gift?” he asks, reaching out to flick the bag with his finger. “You’ve been acting weird about it all night.”

Carlos swallows, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he drops the scoop back in the carton. 

“I lied to you.”

TK stares at him across the counter, taking in the tense set of his shoulders. It’s been awhile since Carlos was this uncomfortable in front of him, and he really doesn’t like it.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, having no idea where this is going. 

“This,” Carlos says, pointing to the gift bag as he circles around the island to stand next to TK, “is not a gift for Employee Appreciation Week.” 

“Okay, what is it then?”

Carlos stares at him for a moment, his eyes wide, before nodding and taking a deep breath, looking like he’s about to jump off a cliff.

“It’s a birthday present.”

“I don’t understand what…” TK trails off, his confusion disappearing as his brain works to put all of the pieces together: the gift bag in front of him, the chocolate cake and ice cream sweating a few feet away. His mouth goes dry, his heart hammering in his chest. His gaze darts back to Carlos, standing in front of him looking a little terrified but also a little eager, like he’s waiting to see what happens next. “It’s your birthday?” TK asks, his voice tight and barely more than a whisper.

Carlos nods.

“Oh my god, Carlos, it’s your birthday!” TK exclaims.

“It is, it is, but it’s fine, it’s nothing, it’s not a big deal,” Carlos rushes to assure him, reaching out to take his hands in his own.

“Not a big deal? It’s your birthday!” TK cries, trying to figure out what to do with this new information. His brain unhelpfully supplies a detail he had forgotten. “Wait, you’re the one who said we should get dinner together tonight,” TK reminds him.

“Yeah, we both had the night off and I wanted to see you,” Carlos mumbles, staring down at their fingers, intertwined between them. TK feels his breath stutter in his chest.

“You wanted to spend your birthday with me?” TK hedges, the words uneven as his heart threatens to choke him from where it’s become lodged in his throat.

Carlos wordlessly shrugs, a complete inversion of his confident attitude from just a few hours ago. TK takes a moment to appreciate how layered he is, how he sometimes feels like a million people in one, but how he’s still always Carlos, no matter what. “I like spending as much time as possible with you,” Carlos states, still not making eye contact. 

TK lets the words roll through him, feeling the way they light up every single nerve ending in his body. He’s surprised to find that they don’t scare him like he thought they would. Ever since the failed dinner date, they’ve both been careful to keep things from getting too serious. They’ve been having fun, hanging out and exploring Austin before coming back to Carlos’s place to roll around in bed together. They’re friends - TK is sure that Carlos is his best friend - and they’re a little bit more than that. 

Maybe TK’s finally ready to face the reality of what that could mean.

He thinks about finding out about his dad’s cancer diagnosis a few weeks ago, and how Carlos was the first person he ran to with the news. He remembers how Carlos talked him down from his uncontained anger and hurt, how he held him tight when he cried. 

Carlos was there for him when he needed him. TK’s only known him for a few months, but Carlos has always been there, strong and steady and grounding. A beacon of safety and comfort.

And TK knows that he wants to be there for Carlos in the exact same way. He honestly can’t imagine being anywhere else, now that he really thinks about it.

“Come here,” he says, tugging gently on Carlos’s hands to pull him closer, opening his legs for Carlos to stand between them. Carlos lets out a sigh, moving to place his hands on TK’s waist when TK wraps his arms around his shoulders. They rest their foreheads together, taking a moment to stare at each other, truly open and honest for maybe the first time. 

“Happy Birthday, Carlos,” TK whispers, waiting for Carlos’s smile to break through his frown before leaning in to steal it from his lips.

His breath catches again as their tongues tangle, their bodies sinking into each other as they give into their embrace. Every kiss with Carlos is worth writing a poem about, if TK was the type of person to write poetry, but this one would definitely inspire TK’s best work. He has a feeling that it’s because of him; he knows that Carlos gives his everything every time, but it’s TK who is now meeting him there with his whole heart. It’s like the wall that he’s put up has fallen away, crumbled to dust in the blink of an eye. Honestly, TK can’t even be bothered; no wall stood a chance against Carlos Reyes anyway. 

Carlos pulls away much sooner than TK thought he would, and as his eyes blink slowly open, he finds the other man staring at him, his brows furrowed once more.

“Are you mad that I didn’t tell you?” Carlos asks, his voice tight.

“No,” TK assures him immediately, reaching up to cup Carlos’s face in his hands. He feels the way Carlos sinks into his hold, letting him take some of his weight, like he trusts TK to keep him upright. “I’m not mad, Carlos. Though, I do wish I would’ve known.”

“I know,” Carlos sighs, reaching up to grip his wrists, dragging his thumbs along TK’s skin. “I know, I should’ve told you. It just… I didn’t want to make it a whole thing, spending my birthday together. I didn’t want to freak you out, I know you’re not looking for that kind of thing, I know this is just us having fun and I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything…” Carlos trails off, his grip tight as if he’s scared TK will jump up and run out of the house again. 

TK feels Carlos’s fear as if it’s hammering against his heart, but he definitely can’t blame the other man for his thoughts. Their past mistakes are all the evidence he needs to understand why Carlos hid this from him. He nods, biting his bottom lip, trying to figure out how to make it clear that he feels differently now, that he actually wants this to be a whole thing. That they’re on this path together now.

The idea comes to him so suddenly that he almost barks out a relieved laugh. Instead, he smacks a quick kiss against Carlos’s lips before jumping up from the stool, watching as Carlos’s eyes widen in panic.

“Wait, what-”

“I think I know how to make sure this never happens again,” TK interrupts, continuing to hold Carlos’s face in his hands as he backs him up a few steps towards the dining table. He pushes Carlos against it, taking pleasure in the way the other man automatically widens his stance, allowing TK to step between his legs and press their hips together. Without a word, he reaches down to grab his phone, smirking as he brings it up between their faces. 

“There,” TK says a moment later, turning his phone to show Carlos, who has stayed silent and slightly terrified this entire time, if his face is anything to go by. He looks over at the screen. “Now I’ll never miss your birthday again.” TK can tell the moment that he processes what he’s seeing, watching as Carlos’s face softens and his arms come up to wrap around his waist. 

“You want to remember my birthday next year?” Carlos clarifies, and TK is surprised to see tears in his glassy brown eyes. He tosses his phone back down on the table, reaching up to run his fingers along the stunning features of Carlos’s face.

“Babe,” he says, testing out the word for the first time and thoroughly enjoying the way it causes Carlos to vibrate against him, “I want to remember everything about you.”

There’s barely any warning before Carlos is on top of him, their lips attached once again as Carlos lays claim to him like a man unleashed. TK gives it all back to him, the two of them speaking paragraphs in touches and tastes and sighs and moans. There’s no holding back, not anymore.

When they are finally forced to pull back for air, TK takes pride in Carlos’s disheveled appearance, his curls wild and his face flushed and his lips bruised. He knows he probably looks the same, and he loves seeing the proof of their want and desire and need for each other with his own two eyes. He drags his fingers along Carlos’s plump lips, realizing for the first time that they are his to kiss, for as long as Carlos will let him. 

“This is the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten,” Carlos sighs, and TK meets his eyes to find them blown black but fixed on him, his gaze never wavering. 

“While I am obviously very glad to hear that,” TK begins, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his favorite lips again, “you should see what kind of birthday gifts I give when I’ve had time to plan them. I can promise you, you’re not ready for next year.”

“I’m ready for anything, as long as I’ve got you,” Carlos says without hesitation.

TK groans, falling forward to press his face into Carlos’s neck, feeling the vibration of his soft chuckle against his cheek. “You’re so sickeningly sweet, I can’t stand it.” Carlos merely hums, dragging his hands up and down TK’s back to soothe him. 

They stay like that for a few moments, just enjoying the way they get to hold one another, before TK pulls back to give Carlos a look.

“Speaking of sickeningly sweet,” he teases, his fingers dancing along Carlos’s thighs on either side of him, “what do you say we take that cake and ice cream upstairs and unwrap some other presents, birthday boy?” He finishes the suggestion with a raise of his eyebrows, watching as the blush on Carlos’s face deepens before he lets out a loud, bright laugh, the two of them falling into each other as they struggle to remain upright against the table.

And TK decides that this, right here, being deliriously happy in Carlos’s arms, is everything that he could ever want or wish for.

On this day, and every birthday they’ll spend together after.

[fbfh]

light up the dark [VI] - leo x reader

genre: mid adventure domestic fluff overture, romance, smutty lemony bit towards the end

word count: 3k

pairing: Leo x gothy!child of eros!fem reader

requested: very much so, yes

warnings: magic manipulation powers, feelings are hard and weird and scary, some innuendos, the phrase hot gusher out of context, the word dirty talk, trying to "proposition [someone] in front of two for one cookie crisp", brief credit card theft, jason thinks ketchup is spicy and gets clowned on for it, one use of the word lube in reference to mechanical lubricant, shirtless leo remember that one piece of shirtless leo viria art?????? remember the caption?????, your facade is beginning to crack, deadpan joke about being dead in space, making out, whole lotta sexual tension, brief mention of a boner, teeny tiny bit of grinding, getting interrupted, c*lypso

summary: after an extensive shopping trip, you, Leo, and Jason settle into your airbnb and wait for the others to arrive. Jason takes a nap, and Leo helps you dye your hair. You return the favor by helping him make dinner which leads to two things; a well timed boner, and a poorly timed visitor.

listen to: power and control - marina, 100 bad days - ajr, all I ask - adele

a/n: let's play spot the zack and cody reference within the first paragraph

also surprise the series isn't dead!! a shock to all but mostly me!!

as with all smexy smutty nsfw content, all characters are aged up to 18+

Standing in front of a wall of hair dye taller than you are should have been exciting. It would have been, except for the fact that all the colors were various shades of honey mist auburn. You really don’t want to have to make a separate trip to a beauty store for hair dye. Your eyes land on a firetruck red box, and gratefully, you realize you won’t have to.

“Perfect,” you muse, throwing it into your cart, along with the other stuff on the list you’d divided between you. You grab a few other things from the beauty section while you’re there; some makeup, eyeliner, a glass nail file, and a tiny pair of oil slick cuticle scissors.

Nearby is a guy a little older than you in a varsity hoodie and sweatpants squinting at a two in one shampoo label.

Perfect, you think, beginning to approach. You work your magic - literally - and within a few minutes you have his credit card. It takes way less time than it used to. You also didn’t have to smile and flirt nearly as much as you used to. You’re relieved that you don’t have to fake enthusiasm around rich douchebags the way you used to, and a new inky drop of fear begins to stain the corners of your mind. You can’t even bear to admit it to yourself, but you’re kind of scared. Before you can begin to question if you know what love is and if you’re capable of experiencing it without the influence of your divine heritage, you shove it all away. Not the place, not the time. You speed up a little, passing an endcap of candy, and knock a box into your cart.

On the other side of the store, Jason checks off items from their half of the list as Leo tosses items in the cart, talking along the way. Of course, you came up in conversation rather quickly.

“She’s… a real piece of work.” Jason says, treading lightly.

“You said it, man,” Leo agrees, sliding a pack of coke onto the bottom of the cart. Jason thinks for a moment before continuing.

“She seems to,” he tries to figure out how to phrase their dynamic, “not hate you as much as everyone else.” Leo laughs at the accuracy of the statement. He can tell Jason has something else to say, so he’s quiet while putting paper plates and napkins into the cart.

“Hey, Leo?”

“Yeah?”

“Just… don’t let her hurt you, okay?”

He stops for a second. He’s so lucky to have a friend like Jason, one that will genuinely look out for him, but sometimes people caring for him still catches him off guard. Really off guard. With no idea how to begin to verbalize that complicated mess, he takes a split second to collect himself.

“Thanks, man.”

His smile is sincere.

Don’t let her hurt you. Can he just do that? Not let someone hurt him? Especially someone like you. He’s only had a few long term crushes before, all just out of reach and only getting further away. Only one had amounted to something - not that he could call what he had with Calypso ‘something’. She certainly wouldn’t. He looks around, trying to shake off the sting. He starts to get that unsettled, itchy feeling when he focuses on stuff like that for too long.

‘At least I got some good stories out of it,’ he thinks, messing with the back of his hair and fixing his hoodie strings.

“Here.”

He turns around, coming face to face with you, holding out a box very close to him.

“Hot gusher.” You say softly. What? His cheeks heat up, pulse speeding up suddenly. He glances at Jason, who’s at the other end of the aisle asking an employee something. Are you implying something? Are you trying to proposition him in front of two for one cookie crisp? He’s unable to look away from your gaze, intense and striking. You couldn’t possibly mean what he thinks you mean. Your fingers brush and he’s struggling to find an elegant way to say ‘hey, maybe the grocery store isn’t an ideal place for dirty talk’.

“W- uh, sorry, what?” he says, laughing in an equally hushed tone, needing to make sure you meant what he thought you did. You glance down, then back up.

“They’re spicy gushers. I thought you’d like them.” the feeling is gone in a split second, the same time it took to arrive, and is replaced with relief. He looks down at the box, realizing he’d taken it from you at some point. He laughs at the ridiculousness of his previous panic.

“Thanks,” he says, a reflective smile on his face.

You realize how comforted you are to see him smile, really smile, when you catch yourself having to keep a neutral face. One of the first times your resting bitch face has been intentional. Before you can say you’re welcome, Jason comes back over. You hand him the card.

“Pin number’s 0401.”

They both stare at you, skimming the label of a granola bar, completely unperturbed.

“How…”

“Credit card theft.”

The logical part of Leo’s brain starts to speak up, telling him to raise his guard, that his stomach should be twisting. If you can just take someone’s credit card without a hint of remorse, who knows what the hell kind of damage you could do to him if he got closer to you? And he really wants to get closer to you.

“Oh,” you pull a small pop top tube out of your cart and hand it to Leo, “this is for you too. You know, since you don’t like coffee,” you trail off as he reads the label. Caffeine and electrolyte drink tablets, red berry rampage flavor. He looks up at you, feeling warm and… something else, something ineffable, at the gesture.

You stare at each other, eyes locked, surprised at the strangely intimate feeling stirring in both of you.

“What are those?” Jason asks, snapping you out of whatever that was.

“Spicy gushers,” Leo says, smiling again, “I didn’t even know they made those.”

“Hot mango,” Jason reads from the side of the box, “that actually sounds pretty good.”

“No way dude, you can’t handle spicy food.” He starts to protest, and Leo continues, “You think ketchup is spicy!” He looks shocked.

“Okay, that was one time! It was a weird brand and there was way too much pepper in it!”

You bite back a giggle at their bickering, taking note of how much better Leo seems to be doing and finding surprising comfort in their banter.

It doesn’t take long to get to the airbnb and get set up. You all dump your bags in your rooms, bring in the groceries, and shove everything into the cabinets in a reasonably organized manner.

Jason heads upstairs to unpack and call Piper, announcing a few minutes later that they should be here in less than two hours.

“Perfect,” you pull out your hair dye from the last bag. It’s not exactly the manic panic wildfire red you’d initially wanted, but it’s definitely better than nothing. You stare at the box for a second, then up at Leo who’s trying to get one more bag of chips to fit in with the others.

“Hey,” you say, just loud enough to get his attention, “do you… can you get the back of my head?” He looks at you, questioning, and you hold up the box dye. He smiles, once again noting your softened edges around him.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and minutes later you’re in the bathroom, adorned in a big tee shirt covered in all your previous hair colors. He’s staring at your shirt, eyes dancing over the swirls and splatters of color. It reminds him of a painting he’d seen once, unable to remember the name.

You shake the bottle, skimming the instructions again, then start speaking to him, eyes still on the box.

“Take a section of hair, about this much,” you demonstrate, holding out a section of hair, “rub in the dye like this…”

You hand him the second bottle of red dye, and he starts on the back. His fingertips start separating out a section of your hair, and you still, a shiver running up your spine. He hesitates for a moment, then continues, and you hope he hadn’t noticed. His breath fans your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating off his chest. Your lungs are shallow suddenly, squeezed tight like a bouquet clutched in a shaking hand. You find it almost impossible to focus on dying the front half of your hair.

You don’t want it to stop, you realize. His fingertips dancing along your hair, the glimpses of his incredibly focused face in the bathroom mirror, the way he’ll gently turn your head to make sure he didn’t miss a spot.

“Shit,” he leans back, hunching forward. You look behind you, eyes landing immediately on the spot of red dye on his shirt.

“Shit,” you echo. He looks back at you, waiting to see how he’ll react.

“Oh, it’s all good - no worries. I already have a ton of motor oil and lube - lubricant… machine grade, petroleum based engine lubricant-” he laughs, “stains on this shirt anyway. Don’t sweat it.”

You almost laugh. A giggle bubbles up from your chest and stomach, but catches in your throat. Before it can come out, he slips off his dye stained gloves, and tugs off his dye stained shirt from the back. It seems to happen in slow motion. In a mere moment, your eyes engraving every detail, every line and curve and freckle to memory.

There’s really no delicate way to put it; he’s fucking jacked. Deceptively so. You’re frozen in place, cheeks flushed. You suddenly wonder what it would be like to be wrapped up in his arms, held so close to him.

You snap yourself out of the thought, all of that occurring in just a few seconds. He leans past you, setting the dye stained shirt carefully on the counter, glancing at you intensely.

“Are you checking me out?”

You make yourself roll your eyes and turn away, replying, “I’m sure you’d love that.”

Angled away from him, you momentarily reprimand yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and mouthing oh my god. You turn back to him, not recalling the last time you had to deliberately keep up your aloof front around someone like this.

“So, are we finishing my hair or just gonna leave it like this?” you ask rhetorically, motioning to your half done hair.

He watches you do this, confirming his suspicion that you’re really not as cold as you let on. A smile blooms on his face, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything as… cute as that.

“Yeah,” he replies, slipping his gloves back on. The things you do around him seem to mean more now. He notices the way your eyes flutter closed for a moment when he plays with your hair, working in the dye, or the way you still for a split second when he gets a little too close to the side of your face, checking that he didn’t miss a spot.

He doesn’t want this to end either. But eventually, your hair is fully saturated with dye, the timer on your phone counting down slowly. There’s still some dye left. He sits on the closed toilet.

“Your turn. Do me.”

“What?” you laugh.

“Yeah, a little streak - up here.” He leans forward, sectioning off a part of his hair.

“Seriously?” you ask.

“Yeah. Unless you don’t want to match…” he muses. Your eyes get this dreamy look for the briefest second, then you’re turning back to shake the bottle some more.

“I guess… I mean there’s too much dye to throw out, we might as well do something with it.”

It’s his turn, now, to feel the warmth from your body, your hands running through his hair. His eyes want to close, and bask in the feeling, but he refuses to miss out on the view of you so soft, so close to him. It doesn’t last nearly long enough for either of you, and much too soon you’re pulling away and throwing away the gloves and empty bottles.

By the time you finish cleaning up and throw out the garbage, it’s time to rinse your hair. Hanging your head over the tub, you let the water flow over your head until Leo tells you it’s running clear. He does the same, and you point out too late that he only had to rinse the dyed part, not his whole head.

You both laugh as you wrap a towel around your hair, teaching him how to do the same.

“Sweet, I’ve always wondered how to do the spa snail towel thing.”

“The spa snail towel thing?” You try in vain to fight another laugh.

“Yeah, you know… cause it looks like a snail, and they do it at spas…”

“Oh… my gods…” you laugh, exiting the bathroom and heading down the hall, “I”m going to get changed.” you call.

“Am I wrong?” he asks after you, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. He heads to his room to do the same.

A few minutes later, you’re carefully pulling on your top, when he calls through your door.

“Hey, I’m gonna be in the kitchen, come down when you’re ready.”

“...Okay,” you agree.

You check your outfit in the mirror. You can still feel his fingers brushing your neck. Your head tilts at the memory. Snapshots of him pulling off his shirt in slow motion flash in your memory.

You realize how much of an affect the last hour has had on you. Your stomach drops.

You can’t possibly be falling in love. No way. Not a snowball’s chance in hell.

You’re not the falling in love type. At most, you’d hook up with someone a couple times on the rare occasion you thought they were hot, too.

Oh, you decide, that must be what’s happening. I just think he’s hot. I mean, duh. Of course he’s hot. Did you see him in there?

That’s all you have to do; hook up with him once, maybe twice, then you’ll get over it. It’ll make his ex jealous, and they’ll get back together. It will go just like it always has. Then you can move on to whatever the next crisis is.

You take a breath, resolving to follow the plan, exit your room. You throw yours and Leo’s old clothes and towels in the hamper, and head down stairs. He greets you, and pulls you into the kitchen.

“I have something to ask you.” Your brow furrows.

“...Okay.”

He takes your hand in his, the other behind his back.

“Will you…” he looks at you, gaze piercing, “...be my sous-chef.” he finishes, holding out an apron, matching his.

You study him, a hopeful, surprisingly confident look on his face. His hair is still damp. You’re sure yours is, too. You wait a beat, before replying slowly.

“Yes. But I’m not wearing that.”

“That’s fair,” he says, setting the apron on the counter, “I will have to dock your pay for being out of uniform, though.” You let out a puff of air from your nose, biting back a laugh. He pulls out a skillet, bowl, and oil, and begins preheating the pan. You watch him pull out more ingredients, and begin to set things up.

“Right now we’re waiting on that,” he says nodding at the stove. You nod, inspecting a bottle of seasoning he’d pulled out, and settle into a comfortable silence.

He thinks back to the last time you had time like this - playing twenty questions at your apartment. A pit forms in his stomach as he remembers the conversation veering to Calypso, as it always seemed to. He shoves it away. Not this time. He steadies his nerves. “So, you want to play twenty questions?”

You agree, coming closer to him.

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

Your eyes flick over to the clock. You have a solid hour, hour and a half before the others are supposed to get here. You stare at him, brushing hair out of his face.

“I’d be dead in the endless void of deep space.”

He cracks a smile at how on brand that response was. Your fingertips trail down to his neck, rethen shoulder. The smile doesn’t leave his face, not completely. Your heart beats loudly in anticipation.

“My turn. Do you want to make out?”

His head snaps up, eyes locked with yours, trying to tell if you’re serious or if this is another example of your distinct sense of humor. But he can tell it’s not - there’s something a little too close to the surface in your eyes.

“Yeah. Yes, totally-”

You grab his collar, pulling him in for a kiss, and leaning back against the empty counter.

His lips are soft and warm, moving gracefully with yours. You barely register that the first kiss ends before you dive back in. You angle your head, deepening the kiss. He plants one hand on the counter, the other making its way to the small of your back. You flick your tongue past his lips, and his grip on your waist tightens. You clutch his collar tighter, other hand moving through his hair, still damp at the ends.

You can tell he’s enjoying what you do by the way his mouth quirks up ever so slightly at the corners, and by the way he starts to harden beneath you. You roll your hips into his, and he falters, sighing, breath fanning your lips. Not quite a moan, but you’re getting there.

The front door opens before you can.

Leo pulls away reluctantly, very reluctantly, and turns off the stove.

“That was fast,” he says, panting slightly and still very flushed. They’re not supposed to be here for a while, still.

A tall girl enters the kitchen, dark strawberry blonde hair pulled over her shoulder. She looks between you and Leo with a sour expression on her face.

“Calypso,” Leo says.

"...Hi."

[cafecourage]

VIO CONTENT PEKASE PLEASE DKJNEOIAJEPLENSENEIWN OIYUEB NWPL EHAHAHAHhSNJKNKNKSLMFDLKSFNKLNFEOIFNEOWIFNEWOFNEWOFIWEMV

Thy....... ok here you didn't give me an AU so I just f***ed around and found out.

Vio headcanons (for all Au’s and general)

General HC:

- Vio crochets. People can fight me on this!!! He crochets and knits. He does it to calm his thoughts, just to slowly zone out. Catch him plotting his own story in his brain while doing so.

- Speaking of stories, this man is probably an Author. He most likely had written a fluffed-up version of their adventure. There wasn’t really a point of him doing so but it did get all of his feelings out on paper.

- Out of all the colors I feel like he would get the most night terrors. It will lead to him having bad insomnia.

General Love HC:

- Indifference. That’s the base emotion he is feeling towards a Reader that ended up traveling with the chain. He does like you! Don’t get that wrong. It’s just the situation calls for his attention to be on the goal. The other colors are better at social interactions then him.

- Reader in a normal traveling with the chain au, would be from a more modern timeline. Not fully but like one of that mixed technology and Medieval fantasy-based era.

- It honestly was weird that you just hang out with Four with him in control. You seem like you just gain energy from just talking or interacting with the others and Vio isn’t…really… that social.

- It was a slow bonding experience. It started as you sitting nearby when he was reading or working on a project. Nether talking nor really minding the other's company.

Isekai HC:

- This man is super anxious around you. The sobs when you were also convinced, he killed green, along with your cries from his betrayal still ring in his ears even now. He hates knowing that you might not trust him anymore because of that. The other Colors think he is just overthinking it because you did welcome him back with open arms after.

- Vio is kind of just dancing around you when they finally realize you’re the voice and presence that they felt during their adventures. While the other colors jumped on to the opportunity to get to know you better. He just… can’t?

- You’re his and the other’s anchor. They consider you their (ex. Imaginary) friend. The one person that was always by their side. Cheering them through the toughest of times, and Vio feels like you would leave them if he even tries to get close.

- He really, truly wants to standby you. He wants to not feel guilty enjoying your hugs. He just… wants you to be happy.

Divide and conquer. That’s normally how Four dealt with supply runs. Four was accompanied by you today. Which meant the others were in town. So, Four decided to let the colors stretch their legs. It was nice for each of them to actually speak to you one on one. However, they had limited time and still needed to get the items before sundown.

With five people it should go a lot quicker than normal. So, with the promise of being able to hang out after. Each Color and you went their separate ways. Vio was almost done with his list of items. The last thing he needed was some more personal items.

“Sneak attack!!” A warmth from behind engulfs the purple hero. Picking him up briefly to give a small squeeze. You were smiling brightly down at Vio. “Hi again.”

It was a miracle that his brain didn’t just short circuit just looking up at them. “I- Hello??” One of the many things you’ve said on their journey came out as, Vio was scrambling for a sense of, for the lack of better words, ground to root himself to. “Why are you here?”

“Is it against the law to hug someone I am closed to?”

“No, but…” he didn’t understand why you wanted to shower him, in affection and love. But how can he ask you that? You’re always giving Four hugs and small platonic kisses. He didn’t want you to stop. He and his brothers loved and craved that warmth you brought with your presence.

Vio didn’t know if he was deserving of it. The others were, that’s for sure. Despite how rough blue is, how bossy Green could be or how much Red cried in their adventure. You always had the patience of a saint. It was him that tested that and found how far that patience went. “Viiiioooooo, earth to my favorite grape color hero!” He was finally put back down on his feet. “Are you ok?”

“Define ok.” He was quick to answer, after finally getting some semblance of his ability to think back. He took his chance to back away from your presence.

That wasn’t the right thing to say apparently as your face slowly twisted to a pout. “Are you mad at me?”

“Mad… at you?” He repeated to confirm he heard you correctly. You gave a small nod now doubting your assumption. “Why?”

Your shrug didn’t give him much of an answer. “Well, it just seems when Four is influenced by you he is more distant.” You paused trying to figure out what to say next. Vio on the other hand was mortified that you were able to read his body language so well. Actually, he should have expected it. That’s how you knew that the colors exist in the first place. “If I did anything-“

“No, it’s not you!” It was him. It was all him. Vio knows logically being still hung up about the past was ridiculous. Emotions are annoying. He isn’t built to deal with them. “I just thought.” There was no nice way to explain this to you though. “You were still mad at me.”

“Oh.” Well, this got awkward really fast. Vio kept up his indifferent front hoping that his cheeks weren’t still as red as his brother’s tunic. “But I like you a lot!” You took his hands suddenly. “Don’t get me wrong I was mad. But I know you’re a good person Vio! I like you; I like your brothers and I like Four!”

Ah. There he goes.

- The first of the Colors to realized he loved you in this AU. Which just makes everything even worse for him. Since he knows the other colors feel the same but are in denial because of your connection with Four.

- He could help the others…..Nah…. Vio wants to watch them suffer.

Cafe HC:

- Coffee? If he feels like death. Yes. Tea mostly though. He tends to get the blunt of the headaches. Tea also helps with his ability to sleep.

- He is the type of customer that comes in and stays for hours. In his case just writing and/or reading. You’ve only ever spoken to him a few times before. Mostly to get his order and asking about his day. Small talk!

- Slowly you learn more about him. You learn that he has brothers. Is an author, (you’ve bought his book and teased him about having it signed now.) Had traveled around the world a few times before.

- You’ve met some of his siblings before. They actually come as often as he does. Striking up more of a conversation than him. Sometimes even getting him to talk to you more…

It’s has occurred to you how much time has passed since you last saw a Vio. It was a long time. A few months honestly. It kind of hurt that he and his brothers just up and left without giving you a fair warning but, it’s their personal business and not yours. Yet…

You thought you five were close.

It’s fine. Maybe Link was around! They were his siblings and you could just go to the forge and ask. Though you weren’t too close to Link so maybe it would be a bit awkward to ask him about his brothers.

They are probably fine.

There is no need to worry, they are all seasons’ adventurers!

It seems like this day was just going to be a slow one. Where you couldn’t get your mind off of your friends. It was almost closing time so another day without any word from your favorite color-coded brothers.

You decided to clean the shelves early tonight. Leaving some smaller bits for the Minish that may or may not be inside your small cafe. Lifting the chairs onto the tables to clean the floor. Making sure they get every nook and cranny. To make your life easier the next morning.

As you picked up the finally empty tray off of the counter you were heading into the back. Until the door to your small shop swung open and a group of similar-looking Adventurers comes stumbling in. “(Y/n)!”

“Vio?” You turned around quickly, only to see him helping to keep one of his brothers up. They looked like they ran through ten monster camps just to get to your sleepy little shop. You felt dread came in full force as the empty tray slips from your grasp. You bolt to his side ordering the others to get in the store. “You lot are staying over here.” You didn’t ask it was a demand. No room for argument. “There are potions in the back. You can use what you need.”

“Thank you, Ms.” a larger man with a scar across his eye went in the direction you pointed.

You gather the knocked-out brother to help Vio. “Thank you.” He said sheepishly.

“It’s no problem,” You smiled back at him. “Let’s make sure your brothers are safe. I was about to get dinner ready. How does something hearty sound?”

“That sounds lovely thank you.”

- You might have not known Vio and his brother for long but they really do consider your small little cafe as a safe space. A little heaven that they don’t need to be a Hero.

- Now when he stops by on this adventure you tend to give him packs of supplies and a bunch of treats for the road.

- You also started writing him letters and care packages when you can. Now that you know that he is traveling around. Though you don’t know how the mailman knows where he is… that’s… not something your gonna question really.

[kikis-writing-world]

Bug in the System

Summary: Reader has a complicated relationship with Nathan, living and working with him. They’ve always been nervous to bring up prescription medication, so shit hits the fan when they runs out and their mood plummets.

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x GN!Reader that struggles with mental health.

Word Count: 2k

Rating/Warnings: Mental health - depression and anxiety are expressly mentioned and reader is in a bad low. Talk of medication and ramifications of not taking them. Mention of doctors. Brief mention of sex. Worries of the stigma around mental health. Lots of swearing because it’s Nathan. Unedited/Betaed. it’s almost fluff in Nathan’s asshole way, there’s a happy ending.

A/N: I blame @foxilayde​ that I’m suddenly writing for Nathan... I hated him when I watched the movie and now here we are. Idk, this idea hit me last night while trying to fall asleep and I couldn’t get it out of my head. I had to write it.

You weren’t sure how to define the relationship you and Nathan had. He wasn’t your boyfriend - not only did that feel so juvenile, but also… he just wasn’t. There had never been a declaration of love between the two of you, no commitment to monogamy or even non-monogamy. The two of you lived together, worked together, slept together- it could almost be called a friends with benefits relationship, only… softer. You ate dinners together, danced around the house together, and cuddled together when watching movies. You also spent days, sometimes weeks at a time where you hardly spoke to each other when engrossed in a project. Did this form out of attraction, or emotion, or was it an inevitability when two adults - whose sexualities, attractions and availabilities lined up accordingly - lived together in isolation for an extended period of time? 

In summary: there was no easy way to define what was between the two of you, and you were happy there were no other humans around to ask. You didn’t feel the need to defend what you shared, but you had no desire to try to label it either.

Despite the friendly and casual nature of whatever the relationship was, there were still things that you had yet to admit to Nathan. The dwindling supply of medications tucked safely in a make-up bag inside the drawer of your bedside table felt like a ticking time bomb. You only had so many doses remaining and it wasn’t like you could walk down to the local pharmacy for a refill. Any supplies coming to the fortress of a home had to be called in, ordered, and helicoptered to you. There was no way to do it without Nathan finding out along the way.

You watched the pills slowly empty from their plastic bottles like a reverse hourglass. Despite the effects they had on your malfunctioning brain chemistry, they never quite tampered down the anxiety you had about opening up about your mental illness, let alone to someone like Nathan.

Nathan worked hard and played harder. He strove to be the best him he could be at all times. He accepted nothing less than perfection and no matter what the relationship between you two could be defined as -coworkers, employer/employee, friends, friends with benefits, lovers -  you didn’t want to disappoint him.

You avoided and avoided until inevitably, the last pill came out of the last bottle. It only got worse from there. Without the anxieties in check and the chemicals being balanced, the insecurity flared even worse. Your inner voice told you that you deserved the unhappiness flowing through you, that you should just stay in bed and give up since Nathan would kick you out of the house soon enough: he’d either get tired of your low mood, your falling productivity, or he’d discover your secret and be done with you.

He noticed. Of course he did. You stopped dancing, stopped cuddling, stopped fucking. Then you stopped eating, stopped talking, stopped leaving your room. You felt like you couldn’t get out of bed at all. You spent your time sleeping or curled up under your blankets in the dark room wishing you could sleep more. That or just disappear.

That was where Nathan found you, a month and a half after you’d run out of your meds.

“What the fuck is going on with you?” He barged into your room one morning… afternoon… you had no idea what time it was.

Nathan turned the light on and you could hear him pacing. “Are you sick? Do I need to call in a doctor? Are you even alive under there?! Hello?!”

You sighed, forcing yourself to sit up and prove you were alive, awake, and hearing him. The blankets dropped to your waist, revealing what you were sure was an absolute mess of a human. You knew what you looked like the last time you’d been brave enough to look in the mirror and you were sure it was even worse now.

Nathan cursed and you swear he nearly recoiled at the sight of you. “Are you in here dying on me or something?” He questioned. 

You weren’t sure how to answer, what you could possibly say to him.

“Hello?!” He snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Is anybody in there?!”

You blinked as he crowded you, hysterics growing as you seemingly ignored him. You could tell he was close to grabbing you and shaking you, and you didn’t know if your body could handle that. As it was, your muscles had protested sitting up. Instead, you leaned over and opened your drawer, taking out the zippered make-up bag.

You tossed the pouch at him, hearing all the plastic bottles click together as it landed at his feet. He bent down to pick it up, opening it carefully like he thought some sort of creature might jump out at him. His brows furrowed when he saw the bottles inside and dumped them out onto the mattress.

“Are these all empty? Fuck did you take these?” He questioned, panic rising in his voice. “Are you trying to OD on me or something? Shit.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, about to call for help.

“No.” You croaked. “Well, yeah. I took them… but… they’re my meds.” You gave in. “I’ve been taking them since I got here. I[was taking until they ran out.”

Nathan looked down at the bottles, picking one up as he read the label. “What are they for?”

“Depression mostly. Anxiety.” You shrugged, listing the simple ones.

Nathan was quiet as he read the bottles. You had no idea if he knew what any of them meant. It’s not like the labels read “Take one daily to stop the crazies!” The names, the dosages, the frequencies meant nothing to someone with no experience… but then again, Nathan wasn’t just anyone.

“How long?” He sighed, turning to sit on the edge of the bed.

You would have deflated if you didn’t already feel as low as you could go. Having assumed the worst, you weren’t surprised he couldn’t look at you.

“I was diagnosed in junior year-”

“No, I mean how long have you been without your meds?” He interrupted you, turning to stare  you down.

“A month.” You shrugged. “Almost two.”

“For fucks sakes.” He grumbled, turning to his phone again and typing away.

“I’ll pack my shit. Just, give me a few days and I’ll go.” You mumbled, laying down on your side and facing away from him. You didn’t want to watch him posting for a new assistant or scheduling the pick-up or whatever he was doing. You’d wallow for a bit, probably take a nap, and then you’d pack anything here that was important. Fuck the rest. You didn’t have the energy. You didn’t care.

“The fuck are you talking about?” He asked distractedly, like he hadn’t heard you as his cogs of his brain jumped to life. He did that a lot when he was preoccupied. He would hear your voice, realize you’re talking, but not absorb the words. Sometimes he needed to ask 3 or 4 times until you gave up and texted him instead.

“I’m bringing in a doctor. You need to get checked out before you start back up on anything. You’re not supposed to go off of these without supervision. Says so right here. Black and white.” He chastised you.

You frowned, looking over your shoulder in confusion. You saw him still typing away on his phone, holding one of the empty, orange-tinted bottles in his hand. He set it down, picking up another. He took a picture, looking over the label quickly for himself before setting it back down.

“What are you doing?”

“Sending him the labels so he knows what he’s walking into. Why the fuck would you just stop taking your meds?” He sniped. “Why didn’t you get more? I fucking ask you if you need shit and you just conveniently forget your pills?”

You picked at a thread of the blanket, not wanting to watch him as he grew angrier with you. As soon as you were in good health and his conscience was clear, he’d be rid of you. You were sure of it. It was more than you’d expected to be honest.

You heard the quiet noise from his phone, indicating the email had been sent. That meant his attention wasn’t divided as he rounded back on you.

“Why won’t you answer me? It’s like fucking talking to a wall or something. If I wanted one-sided conversations, I never would have brought you up here. Why didn’t you get more?!”

You took a shuddering breath before answering. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“Know what? That you take medication?” He scoffed in disbelief.

The room was quiet as you didn’t answer, but you could practically hear his brain processing, whirring like a computer with a squeaky exhaust fan.

“Hey, look at me.” He ordered, his voice dropping in volume to a kinder tone, but it was still not a request. It was a demand. You sat up again, looking at him stare at you with dark, angry eyes.

“When a program isn’t working, do you throw away the whole CPU or do you debug it and fucking find the fix?” He asked. You didn’t answer, assuming it was rhetorical.

“Your software is fucked, and these,” he picked up one of the bottles to hold up between you two. “These are the fix. Why the fuck would you be embarassed about shit like that?”

You shrugged your shoulders, dropping your gaze again. “You’re…” you struggled to find the words, but Nathan jumped on your train of thought frighteningly quick.

“Me?! So it’s my fault? I eat brown rice and salad and work out every day so I’m some health nut hippy who wouldn’t understand, is that it?”

He was putting words into your mouth, but he was essentially getting the point. You were scared he would reject you, mock you, think less of you.

He crawled towards you on the bed, cupping your chin a little too tight as he lifted your face. He was clearly done having you look away from him. “I’m a fucking reclusive genius who lives in the middle of ass fuck nature and only lets people come and go with a goddamn keycard! Do you not think I’m self-aware enough to realize that? A fucking prodigy, multi-millionaire by 15, CEO of the most successful technology company in history. The President calls me and I hit ignore. Do you really think I’m not self-aware enough to know we all have our own brand of fucked up?” He laughed.

“If you need these to get through it, to be my little genius-” He released your jaw to cup your face in both hands, giving it a shake. “To keep up with my shit, to live here without losing your mind at the isolation, to be my dance partner and dinner partner and movie date - then fucking take them. Would I be having to tell you this if it was for your blood pressure or a heart condition or something?!”

His phone buzzed and he released his hold on you, leaning back to read the message that had just come through.

“Doc’s gonna be here tomorrow morning. Gotta keep you hydrated until then and you should try to eat.” He summed up the message as his eyes skimmed the screen. He tucked his phone back into his pocket before slapping your blanket-covered thigh. “What are we eating tonight? Your choice.”

“I’m not hungry.” You mumbled.

“Not an option!” He declined as he stood off the bed. “What are we eating?”

You sighed, letting your head fall back as you thought. “Grilled cheese?”

“And tomato soup? Coming right up.” He leaned over to you, cupping the back of your head as he pulled you close enough to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. I’ll bring it in when it’s ready.”

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl @din-damn-djarin @dinthisisthe-wayson @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata​