#but then u come in !! :< n ur presence is just so gentle and soothing . n the more he sees you the prettier u get in his eyes.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

THE GREEN IN YOUR EYES MAKES ME FEEL WARM INSIDE ; MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

synopsis; in the comfort of a familiar bookstore, you find a boy. a pretty boy, who’s always reading, who doesn’t speak unless he has to. you’d like to get to know him — and maybe you will.

word count; 4.6k

contents; megumi fushiguro/reader, gn!reader, fluffy!!, lots of pining from afar, bookstore au, no curses au, reader is an overworked student bc uni is beating my ass, gumi is kind of awkward but hes cute <3, gojo mentioned twice (stay safe), can u tell im excited for christmas … :'3

a/n; bookstore employee gumi who hates every single customer except for you is so real to me

(@riaki its here …🙇‍♂️)

he’s there again. 

with a decisive step forward, you drag the door open, and the flutter of a bell resounds throughout the bookstore. a precious little jingle, alerting him of your presence. 

the boy at the counter gives you a glance. his navy eyes settle on your bundled up figure, and a flicker of familiarity blooms in the scope of his iris, a kind of recognition. something that makes your heart feel like a clumped up little ball of snow. 

(oh. it’s you.

you can almost hear the silent words fall past his lips.)

it only lasts for a second, barely even that, your gazes overlapping — then he’s back to reading. 

today, you recognize the book in his hands. the hardcover looks just a tiny bit worn, but still well taken care of. well-loved. and it’s a pretty rendition; a butterfly just above the title, snakes crawling on either side, vines stretching out across the scope of the image. there’s a kind of mystique to it. pretty.

wuthering heights, you read off the cover.

a little odd, in hindsight. you’ve only ever seen him read nonfiction. maybe he decided to broaden his horizons?

after a brief moment’s contemplation, your feet begin to move. taking another small step forward, inching closer, while the door falls shut behind you. blocking out the snowfall and colourful lights illuminating the street. 

mitten-clad hands go to brush stray snowflakes off your shoulders, as you shift from foot to foot, halfheartedly attempting to warm up your numbed toes. wallowing in the atmosphere of the cozy little bookstore; breathing in the smell of peppermint, the hint of freshly brewed coffee. from the boy, you assume — he’s got his usual mug on standby, a cute little black dog etched into the ceramic. steam rises from it, floating up into the air, and a fragrance of espresso wafts throughout the store.

low christmas music plays from the speakers, barely audible. pleasing to your sensitive ears and tired mind. it’s the usual mix of well-loved songs, for the most part, but then some you haven’t heard before. you can only assume he picked them out himself; pretty instrumentals, or low, gravelly voices, adding to that particular atmosphere simmering around you. nostalgic, a little melancholic.

the boy behind the counter looks angelic. 

he always does, when he’s reading — and he usually is. gentle, in the way he turns the pages, awfully delicate, keeping them still between his thumb and forefinger. lips pursed, brows just a tiny bit furrowed. concentrated, immersed. dark eyes trailing over the tiny letters, scanning the ink of the paper, twisting the syllables inside his mind. almost tasting them on his tongue, with the way he wets his lips. they look a little chapped.

for some reason, the sight seems to render you sort of speechless. frozen. like he’s a pretty bluebird seated on your windowsill, chirping softly in the wake of morning, and you’re afraid of scaring him away.

— his eyes meet yours, and you visibly stiffen.

it’s smooth, the motion of his hands. how swiftly he flicks the book shut, placing it face down on the counter with a twitch of his lithe fingers. not before slipping a pretty bookmark in between the pages, lilac-coloured, with flowers embroidered into the silky texture. you wonder if he made it himself. 

his voice spills out into the air, a little raspy. deep, but velvety, sending shivers down your spine. he clears his throat, and you watch his adam’s apple bob. ”do you need anything?”

a second passes. 

it catches you off guard, the mellow sound of his voice. when you’re so unaccustomed to hearing it. excluding the brief words you’ve exchanged paying for your novels, you’ve only heard it a select few times — mostly from afar, not-so-sneakily listening in on his conversations with the pink haired boy and pretty girl who sometimes come in and never look at any of the books. 

(there’s the tall guy with the not-so-seasonal sunglasses, too. but when he enters the store, all you pick up on are usually grumbles and threatening hand gestures.)

but now, that low, low voice is directed at you. 

it can’t be good for your physical health. or mental, for that matter. you’re not sure you remember to properly breathe, and you’re almost certain hearts aren’t supposed to flail the way yours is right now. 

when the boy behind the counter tilts his head, just by a hair, you’re finally snapped out of your little trance. stumbling for something to say, stuttering out a response, your hands grip at the insides of your pockets.

”well, um — i’m looking for a book.”

a moment passes. the song coming from the speakers changes into an instrumental, kind of jazzy. it’s nice.

”… a specific book,” you elaborate, under your breath. gnawing at your bottom lip, feeling a bit of heat on your ears. clearing your throat, as you step forward, tearing your mittens off with your teeth.

searching for a certain image, your numbed fingertips begin to tap at the cold screen of your phone. the warm air of the bookstore envelops your chilled knuckles, and a shiver runs through them.

the boy watches, silently, as you get closer. 

you don’t notice him glancing at your reddened hands, and when you look up to see a glimmer of something displeased in his eyes, you only assume it’s because you’re taking too long. speeding up slightly, you hear a low click of his tongue. his back straightens.

when he gets up from his chair, you notice that he's tall. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him do anything but sit behind the counter with a book in hand, either reading his own or scanning a customer’s. 

and, upon closer inspection — he’s maybe just a little bit too pretty for words. smooth, pale skin, a sharp jaw and defined cheekbones, dark eyes that hide a subtle kind of softness. pierced ears, a glimmer of silver on his earlobes, same as the rings on his bony fingers. his nails are painted black, a little chipped. and he’s wearing a big, bright green christmas sweater; one you really can’t imagine him picking out on his own, if his previous all-black turtlenecks and gray sweaters are anything to go by. 

while you fumble with the phone in your grasp, the pads of his fingers go to silently tap at the edge of the counter. a rhythmic motion; forefinger, middle finger, ring finger, over and over again.

it’s a little bit distracting. when he moves his hand a certain way, his big sweater sleeve rides up just a tiny bit, showing off the blue veins of his inner wrist. you think you catch a glimpse of a mole or two on his pale skin, and you swallow down a gulp, feeling a little like a victorian man seeing a girl’s ankle.

and then finally, you locate the image in question. swiftly showing him the cover of the book you were assigned to read. he squints a little, blinking drowsily, a flutter of his pretty eyelashes that has your heart skipping a beat. 

you clear your throat.

”i’m supposed to read it before christmas break, but i couldn’t find it at our library…” you tilt your head, a little sheepish. ”do you have it here?”

he stares at the screen for just a second more. then he’s angling his head to the left, finger pointing towards a corner of the store. ”it should be over there,” he hums. monotone.

a tentative smile forms on your lips. you thank him, and his eyes find yours.

all he does is shake his head, softly, brushing you off — a silent don’t worry about it. maybe a tad gruff, but you sense an acute gentleness to it. something tender, kind of. or maybe you’d just like to believe the kindness you sense in his eyes is real, more than just a delusion. 

but you don’t have time to dwell on it. the boy behind the counter goes back to reading, cradling the spine with his pretty hands. when he tries to grab the handle of his mug, one of the rings on his fingers knock against the ceramic, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance. 

you go to hunt down your own book, still thinking about his voice, how it trickled like honey from out his lips. 

the bookstore is entirely empty, tonight. no loud noises drilling into your groggy brain, no people to chatter amongst themselves and disrupt the illusion of peace you gain when you spend time here. a tiny respite, from your studies, from the stress and fatigue that you’ve come to associate with winter. hunting for christmas gifts, finishing late assignments, trudging through the snow. pretending that you have it all together.

but here, none of that matters. 

a sense of calm washes over you, as your eyes trail over the books by the science fiction section, and a soft sigh tumbles from your throat. gradually, your hands begin to warm up, and you look out the window.

outside, the world is blanketed by a veil of snow and frost, pure whites and murky grays as far as the eye can see. falling down to earth, smothering everything in a bitter chill. a cold, cold embrace. but when looking at it like this, from inside a cozy bookstore, with a pretty boy by the counter…

it's a breathtaking sight. 

little snowflakes descending, dancing in the wind. desaturating your world. if you close your eyes and focus, you think you can almost feel the wind nip at your fingertips, almost taste the fragrance of dried tea leaves and caramel fudge from the tiny shop across the street. almost bask in the green and red of the decorative lights in the skeletal trees, illuminating the city, buzzing with artificial warmth.

(your heart feels light.)

it doesn’t take long for you to find the book you need. keeping it safe and warm between your arm and torso, you walk back to the counter, gaze still lingering on the windowpane. the little snowflakes fluttering about, the glimpses you catch of passerby and their knit scarves in the darkness of the winter evening.

the boy behind the counter is as efficient as ever. he takes the book, fingertips resting exactly where yours just were, and scans it in a matter of seconds. you pay, and he puts it in a plastic bag, handing it to you — all while his copy of wuthering heights sits on the counter, pointedly, as if beckoning you to mention it.

before you can think to stop yourself, you’ve parted your lips. 

”is it good?” you ask. finger pointing at his book.

the boy blinks. eyelashes fluttering. once, then twice. he seems a little caught off guard, but still speaks within a split second. almost like he doesn’t even think about the answer. ”yeah.”

a hum buzzes in your throat. you shift a little, from foot to foot, plastic bag in hand. ”i’ve been meaning to read it,” you say, desperate to prolong the conversation, ”but i haven't had much time lately.”

a chuckle slips from your lips. it comes out sounding just a little exhausted. 

(he glances at the dark bags beneath your eyes, but you don’t notice.)

”i think i might buy it in time for christmas break, though…” you lift your gaze to meet his own. showing the briefest glimpse of a smile, polite. 

he doesn’t return it. lips pursed, silent, gazing at you with slightly lidded eyes. a navy blue, little splotches of a murky green blooming in the corners of his iris. they only appear when you’re this close. soothing, somehow. they’re pretty.

he isn’t saying anything, not a single word, and some part of your heart clogs up like a clump of wet snow. subconsciously, you trap your bottom lip between your teeth, digging into the soft flesh before letting go. cowering a little under his intense gaze.

did you annoy him? 

(he probably doesn’t want to talk to you. maybe he thinks you’re hitting on him, or something. are you hitting on him? that doesn’t matter. he must be stressed — it’s holiday season, after all. the last thing he needs is some annoying customer taking up his precious reading time. 

gosh, what were you even thinking?)

you’re just about to excuse yourself, mentally berating yourself for forcibly striking up a conversation with an obvious introvert — 

when the sound of something sliding against wooden material catches your attention.

you blink.

the boy behind the counter does a little cough. under his breath, clearing his throat. he wets his lips, in what you immediately recognize as nervosity — absentmindedly fidgeting with the rings on his fingers. 

”here.”

when you look down, a certain book is placed on the edge of the counter, right in front of you. wuthering heights.

another blink. you look down at the hardcover, and then back up at him, but he’s not meeting your gaze. if you look closely, you think you see a slight flush to his neck, red like a candy cane. 

”you can borrow it,” he says. a pause. then he continues, clearing his throat again, a hint of hesitance in his raspy voice. ”… if you want to, i mean.”

”… ah.” is all you can answer. barely a word, more of a weak little hum. an absent tremble of your voice.

outside the comfort and warmth of the bookstore, the wind whistles, digging its claws into the city. tiny whirlwinds of snowflakes dance from street to street, fluttering about joyously. you vaguely pick up on the song from the speakers changing, into a poppy christmas-themed kpop song.

a moment passes.

your muddled mind finally reacts. on instinct, sending little instructions to your frozen limbs. to your heart, face down on the floor, completely useless.

”oh — no, there’s no need!” you blurt out, putting your hands up hastily. waving him off. ”it’s fine, i can just buy my own copy!” 

but the boy only clicks his tongue, with that signature furrow of his brows. ”you’re a student,” he states, just a little gruff. but then there’s that kindness. ”you shouldn’t waste your money.”

you’re just about to protest, when he continues. ”besides,” he sighs. ”i’ve already read it. you can just bring it back whenever you’re done.”

and again, your instinctual desire is to protest. unsure of what to say, somehow exasperated by his trust. that’s what it is, isn’t it? trust. trusting a stranger, a customer he’s barely even spoken to, not to just take his book and then never return. trusting you to be a decent person. a good person.

isn’t that naive?

something sprouts like a snowdrop in a ridge between your ribs, though, and you know that it’s happiness of some kind. you’re glad, that he has something even vaguely similar to trust in you. 

glad that he’s acknowledging you, in a way. your presence, the sneaky glances shared between you. the comfortable feeling that sleeps inside your veins when it's just you and him, silently passing each other by, in a quiet bookstore that feels a little like heaven on earth. a safe haven, of sorts, with no incompetent professors, tight deadlines or numb fingers.

it’s just him, and cozy christmas music, and a pitter patter rhythm of your heartbeat that sounds a little like jingle bells to your muddled mind.

a lump forms in the back of your throat. you gulp it back down, and part your lips. an unsure question spills into the open air. 

”are… you really sure?”

”yeah.” he doesn’t even skip a beat. fingers tapping at the edge of the counter, over and over again. another slow moment passes. ”we can… talk. about it.” he coughs into his closed fist. ”once you've read it.” 

with a soft furrow of his brows, he averts his gaze. his voice comes out sounding soft, albeit a little rough around the edges. ”if you want,” he adds.

you’re so distracted by the flutter of his long eyelashes that you barely even feel your lips stretch into a smile. your hearts skips around happily within the confines of your ribcage, and you’re worried that you might look a little too excited — but how could you ever hide your joy, when he’s acting so dangerously, uncharacteristically cute?

”yeah!” you blurt, teeth peeking out when you flash him a bright smile. and finally, he meets your gaze. pretty eyes fixed entirely on you.

at your evident enthusiasm, his shoulders seem to relax. the rapid tapping of his fingers ceases, and he opts to simply bite down on his lip — attempting to obscure his own smile. but you see it, anyway; a tiny, tiny smile. the softest little curl of his lips. you’re entirely mesmerized, all the same. 

a hand goes to rub at the back of his neck, and he does that cute little cough again, and you wonder if the warmth sprouting in your chest will be enough to protect you from the snowfall on your way back home.

angelic; that’s the impression he always seems to leave you with. you wonder if he has any idea just how pretty he is. if he has the slightest clue. you wonder if you’ll ever be able to tell him, yourself.

you wonder if you’ll get to know him, someday. if you’ll ever get to know the pretty, quiet boy behind the counter of your go-to bookstore, who radiates a softness so palpable you wish you could stay there until spring blooms beyond the windows and melts the frosted glass. 

with tentative hands, a little shaky — not from the cold, but the anxious and excited tingle of your bloodstream — you reach for the book on the counter. taking it into your arms, cradling it gently, like it’s so fragile the pages could scatter away if you aren’t careful. with a steady hand on its spine, you begin to flip through the pages, until three little words on the first blank page catch your attention. 

without thinking, you repeat the little scribbled down sentence under your breath. hoping for something. more lulls of his voice, maybe, mumbling to yourself but hoping he’ll hear.

”happy birthday, tsumiki…”

the boy stiffens. 

a silent beat. then he clears his throat. ”my sister,” he explains, and you hum.

so he has a sister. a tiny fragment of his existence, now known to you, a little piece of trivia. you want to collect them, want to put them all in your pockets and carry them around, like little precious bells. 

”megumi,” he blurts out, sudden, and you look up from the book to meet his gaze. ”my name,” he elaborates. and then a pause. ”i work here.”

…

in a matter of seconds, his face reddens. ears and neck slathered over with that sweet cherry hue, blooming across his pale skin. a soft giggle slips from your lips, before you can think to bite it back, and that red hue exacerbates. 

”mm,” you hum, an amused smile on your face. eyes crinkling as you look at him, book safe and secure in your arms. ”i've seen you.”

megumi looks a bit like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. squirming slightly, shifting from foot to foot, tugging a little at the sleeve of his sweater. looking into your eyes, and then back at the counter.

it’s sweet. it makes you feel closer to him, somehow. like you aren’t the only nervous one here. like you aren’t the only person in this city who’s a little bit of a mess. 

(it makes the sludge piling up inside your brain feel just a little more bearable.)

”… thank you.” you smile. ”i’ll take good care of it. and i’ll bring it right back when i finish it.”

a low hum. megumi brings a hand up to fix his bangs, nimble fingers running through dark locks. absentminded — a nervous habit, maybe? ”don’t worry about it,” is all he says. 

again, that sweet dichotomy; a hint of something gruff, hiding an unmistakable softness. a little like snow. cold to the touch, enough to make you want to stay away, but then it melts on the skin of your palm. turns soft and warm beneath your touch.

unable to fully hide the smile still lingering on your lips, you allow yourself one final inhale — letting that scent of peppermint and espresso invade your mind, soothing every frazzled nerve inside your brain. then you put wuthering heights in your bag, protected and snug, and get ready to leave. 

it’s still snowing. if anything, it seems to have gotten worse, enough that all you see when you glance towards the frosted windows are little clumps of snowflakes. obscuring everything else.

just when you’re about to speak, say a little goodbye, a voice spills out into the air.

”… the snow’s supposed to get worse. apparently.”

his navy eyes carry a gentle hue, as they look into yours. maybe a little worried, like a protective mother wolf towards her cub. you blink, and megumi sees it as his cue to continue.

”you can stay until it gets better.” 

a brief pause. his signature cough reaches your ears, and it’s enough to have you smiling, even before he adds a tiny if you feel like it. nonchalant, or at least you think that’s what he’s going for. he mostly just sounds like an awfully caring person trying awfully hard to appear uncaring.

and again, a little smile slips itself into the curl of your lips. all giddy and nervous, a little flustered. but happy. now you won’t have to walk through the relentless snowfall outside, feel the wind chew at your reddened cheekbones. now you can spend just a bit more time with him, bask in those quiet, drawn out moments of pure peace, browsing through books while he sits and reads behind the counter.

”thanks,” you breathe. adjusting your knitted scarf. ”i think i'll look at the books a little more, then.”

megumi’s eyes soften. relieved, you think. hope. it’s a subtle shift, but still enough to notice, enough to see. little splotches of a mossy green sinking into that sea of ink blue.

you think he must feel a little embarrassed, though. like he’s gotten too close to broaching the line he’s set up between the two of you. because he quickly fixes his gaze entirely on a book in his hands, a new one — was it just waiting beneath the counter? 

you don't think much of it, but you note that he's back to his usual nonfiction. something on astronomy, you think.

and with one final glance at his tousled hair, you begin to stroll through the store. languidly, walking to whatever spine captures your attention. savouring the tiny words on the back of the books, wallowing in the peppermint and espresso that wafts through the air, only growing heavier while you’re busy admiring the white opaque frosting of the windows’ glass. 

at some point, the low whirring of a coffee machine buzzes from afar, and when you turn to the counter megumi isn’t there. 

a little later, when he comes back, he’ll be carrying two mugs — matching dogs etched into the ceramic, one black and one white. he’ll put one of them on the edge of the counter, closest to you, and then meet your eyes. give a vague nod towards it, but nothing else. you’ll notice the red tint to his ears, though.

and when you do, a warmth will blossom in your chest, enough to chase away the phantom ache of the winter chill soon to envelop you.

when the little bell of the bookstore jingles its jolly tune, and the door shuts itself as you cross the threshold to leave, megumi lets out a barely audible sigh.

he thinks his heart may be beating just a smidge faster than usual, a little out of rhythm. palms against the counter, he allows his eyes to flutter shut — trying not to acknowledge the heat he feels on his face when he finally begins to process your interaction. 

he smooths a hand over his face, skin just a little sweaty. chewing at his bottom lip with two sharp teeth.

god.

really, it was no more than a stupid twist of luck. that you happened to come in just when he started reading it, that you noticed and didn’t question him on any of the contents. that you believed him when he said he’d already finished it.

and, sure, maybe he was secretly really hoping you’d come in. really hoping you’d notice it, that it’d be enough to make you strike up a conversation with him, something, anything. 

he happened to see you eyeing it once, that’s all. twice, and then thrice, each on different occasions. tsumiki’s old collection came in handy, rotting on the dusty shelves of her room — although he has no memory of her ever reading it.

(he remembers some, though. remembers her reading a few of them to him, on nights he couldn’t sleep. remembers the soft lull of her voice, how the whole world seemed blanketed by a wool of safety.

he wonders if he’ll ever get to hear it again.)

megumi’s heart feels warm. despite everything. 

even though he didn’t even get past the first half of wuthering heights, and has no idea what the hell he’s going to be able to talk to you about. even though he thinks heathcliff is a dick and catherine is a brat, and wishes they could save everyone else the trouble and just talk to a psychiatrist.

even with the cold baring its fangs outside, and the cup of espresso sitting right in front of him, still untouched, made with the store’s shitty coffee machine. even in the ugly sweater gojo forced him into. even though he doesn’t even really know you, not even at all, and still somehow feels certain that you’ll come back with tsumiki’s book in tow.

trust. 

megumi thinks it’s a little weird, how just that single overlapping of your gazes when you first stepped in seemed to solidify such an abstract notion. he’s always had a sense of it, though — a sense of goodness. an ability to seek them out, those good people, bubbly and cheerful and so tragically hard not to love. 

no matter where he goes, he ends up finding them. like tiny sunflower seeds persisting beneath the winter snow. blooming when spring comes around, in a burst of golden vermillion.

resting his jaw on the heel of his palm, megumi allows himself to wallow in the solitude of the bookstore. tired eyes soaking up the words on the pages he flips through, slowly, utterly at ease. drinking his shitty coffee, trying to ignore the itchy feeling of the sweater on his skin, unable to forget the memory of your stupidly pretty smile. 

so pretty he thinks it might just keep him warm, all throughout winter, until you return once more. bringing with you the glimmer of snowflakes on soft skin, and a pleasant fragrance of tea leaves from the cozy shop across the street.

a single sunflower, persisting even through the cold. 

megumi smiles. a tiny curl of his chapped lips, while he flips the pages of his book. content in the knowledge that this won’t be the last time he speaks to you.

(now he just needs to read up on some good papers on wuthering heights.)

[chiyuuchu]

Hello!!! Your account layout reminded me so much of this song called Virtual Angel by ARTMS… I was wondering if u could do a story based off the song! It can be either todoroki or bakugou (leaning more on todoroki) but it’s fine, whatever u think will fit!!! The song is in Korean (bc it’s kpop…) so u can search up Virtual Angel English lyrics and there will be a ton of results! Love ur account!!! 🪽🪽🪽💕💕💕

Virtual Angel <3 (9th August 2024)

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Prompt! She’s there when no one else is, guiding him through his struggles and helping him thaw his frozen emotions.

a/n i’ll continue to write for everyone’s request! this song has inspired more plots for my future writing and speaking of kpop, stan kiss of life!

The sun was setting over U.A. High, casting long shadows across the school grounds. Shoto Todoroki walked silently through the empty courtyard, his mind as distant as the horizon. He had always been alone, even in a crowd, his heart wrapped in layers of ice that kept everyone at bay.

But lately, something strange had been happening. He had begun to see her—a girl with soft eyes and delicate wings that flickered and glitched as if they were part of a broken hologram. She appeared when he least expected it, standing just out of reach, her presence both comforting and unsettling.

“Who are you?” he asked one day, his voice low and cautious as he stopped in his tracks to look at her.

“I’m Y/N,” she replied with a gentle smile, her wings fluttering slightly before flickering out for a moment, then reappearing. “I’m here to watch over you, Shoto.”

He blinked, confused. “Watch over me? Why?”

She stepped closer, her expression soft but unreadable. “Because you need someone to. I’m here to help you, to guide you. But... you’re the only one who can see me.”

Shoto frowned, his heart beating a little faster. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was something about her that felt familiar, like she had always been there, just beyond the edges of his vision. But the more he tried to focus on her, the more her wings seemed to glitch, fading in and out of existence.

“I don’t understand,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Is there something wrong with me?”

Y/N’s smile grew sad, and she reached out, her hand passing through his like a whisper. “Because you’re special, Shoto. But it’s not time for you to understand yet.”

As the days passed, Shoto found himself increasingly distracted by Y/N’s presence. She was always there, watching him, guiding him through his training and offering quiet words of encouragement when he needed them most. But no one else could see her, and that was beginning to worry him.

In the quiet solitude of the training room, Shoto stood in front of a line of dummies, his breath steady but his heart racing. He had been struggling with controlling both his fire and ice in harmony—every time he tried, one would overpower the other, leaving him frustrated and drained.

“You can do this, Shoto,” Y/N’s soft voice echoed around him, though no one else could hear it. She stood beside him, her glitchy wings fluttering faintly. “Remember what I told you—balance comes from within, not from force.”

Shoto clenched his fists, his mind torn between his two halves. “It’s not that easy,” he muttered, the cold creeping up his right side as the heat flared on his left. “I’ve tried everything.”

Y/N stepped closer, her presence soothing. “You’ve been fighting against yourself, trying to control the elements instead of embracing them. You’re not just fire or ice—you’re both. Let them coexist, like two parts of a whole.”

He looked at her, her figure flickering slightly, but her eyes steady and full of belief. For a moment, the doubts that had always plagued him—the fear of becoming like his father, the resentment of using his fire—began to fade. In their place, a new resolve took root.

Closing his eyes, Shoto took a deep breath, letting go of the tension in his body. He visualized the two elements not as enemies, but as partners. The cold was his calm, his clarity; the heat was his passion, his drive. Together, they were his strength.

Slowly, he extended both hands, letting the ice and fire flow naturally, meeting at the center. Instead of fighting for dominance, they intertwined, swirling in harmony. The air around him crackled with energy, but it was controlled, purposeful.

When he opened his eyes, the training dummies in front of him were frozen solid, with delicate patterns of frost etched into their surfaces. At the same time, a thin line of fire traced through the ice, splitting them in two with precision.

He exhaled, a sense of relief and accomplishment washing over him. For the first time, he felt at peace with his powers—not as separate entities, but as parts of who he was.

Y/N smiled, her wings shimmering brighter for a moment. “See? I knew you could do it.”

Shoto turned to her, his heart swelling with gratitude. “I wouldn’t have done it without you, Y/N. You’ve helped me more than you know.”

Her smile turned wistful, and she reached out, her hand brushing his, though he couldn’t feel the touch. “I’m just here to remind you of what you already have inside, Shoto. You’ve always had this strength—you just needed to believe in it.”

As she began to fade once more, Shoto felt a pang of loss, but also a deep sense of connection. She might not always be visible, but her influence, her belief in him, would remain.

“Thank you,” he whispered, watching as she disappeared into the air, leaving behind a warmth that lingered in his heart.

And as he stood there, alone but not lonely, Shoto knew he would carry her guidance with him, wherever he went.

One afternoon during a class sparring session, Shoto paused mid-battle, his gaze flickering to where Y/N stood by the wall, her wings glitching and shimmering. He hesitated, just long enough for his opponent to land a hit that sent him sprawling.

“Erm.. Todoroki, what’s been going on with you?” Midoriya asked as he helped him up, concern etched on his face.

Shoto shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “It’s nothing. I just... got distracted.”

But it wasn’t nothing, and it wasn’t just distraction. His classmates had started to notice how often he seemed to be talking to himself, how his gaze would drift to empty spaces as if someone was there. The whispers began—quiet, anxious murmurs about whether Todoroki Shoto, the stoic and powerful student, was losing his mind.

One evening, as Shoto sat alone in the common room, Y/N appeared beside him, her wings flickering more than usual. She looked concerned, her brows furrowing as she studied him.

“They’re worried about you,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper.

He sighed, leaning back against the couch. “They think I’m crazy. That I’m talking to myself.”

Y/N’s expression grew pained, and she knelt beside him, her hand hovering just above his. “You’re not crazy, Shoto. You’re just... different. They don’t understand because they can’t see what you see.”

He turned to look at her, his heart heavy with confusion. “But why can’t they see you? Why am I the only one?”

Y/N hesitated, her wings glitching wildly for a moment before settling down. “Because you’re special,” she repeated, her voice barely audible. “But the reason... it’s something you have to discover on your own.”

Shoto’s life became a strange balance between the reality his classmates lived in and the world he shared with Y/N. He spent more time alone, retreating into the quiet places of the school where he could talk to her without worrying about the stares and whispers.

The common room buzzed with the usual after-school chatter, but Shoto sat apart from the others, seemingly engrossed in his own world. Y/N was sitting beside him on the couch, her glitchy wings softly flickering in and out of view. They were deep in conversation, her voice a soothing presence amid the noise.

“You’re making great progress,” Y/N said with a gentle smile, her wings briefly flickering out before reappearing. “But remember, don’t push yourself too hard.”

Shoto nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I know. It’s just... there’s still so much I need to work on.”

“Who are you talking to?”

The sudden question pulled Shoto out of his conversation. He looked up to find Midoriya and Iida standing in front of him, both wearing identical expressions of concern.

Shoto blinked, momentarily disoriented. “What?”

“You’ve been sitting here, talking to... someone,” Midoriya said, glancing around the empty space beside Shoto. “But there’s no one here.”

Iida adjusted his glasses, his tone serious. “We’ve noticed this happening a lot recently, Todoroki. You seem to be having conversations with thin air. Is everything alright?”

Shoto hesitated, glancing at Y/N, who watched the exchange with a sad, knowing smile. He knew they couldn’t see her, couldn’t understand the connection he had with the angel that only he could perceive. But how could he explain it to them without sounding crazy?

“I... it’s nothing,” Shoto finally said, his voice quiet but firm. “Just... thinking out loud.”

Midoriya exchanged a worried look with Iida. “Todoroki, we’re your friends. If something’s bothering you, you can tell us.”

Shoto appreciated their concern, but he knew they wouldn’t understand. How could they? Y/N was a part of his reality that was invisible to everyone else, and he wasn’t ready to let go of the comfort she brought him.

“I’m fine,” Shoto insisted, a little more forcefully this time. “Really.”

Midoriya frowned but nodded slowly. “Okay. But if you ever need to talk, we’re here for you.”

With that, the two walked away, leaving Shoto alone once more. He let out a quiet sigh, turning back to Y/N, who was now watching him with a soft, almost apologetic expression.

“They’re worried about you,” she said gently.

“I know,” Shoto replied, his voice tinged with frustration. “But they wouldn’t understand.”

Y/N’s wings flickered as she leaned closer, her presence a comforting weight against the confusion swirling in his mind. “You’re not alone, Shoto. As long as you believe in me, I’ll be here, even if no one else can see me.”

Shoto nodded, feeling a sense of calm return. No matter what his classmates thought, as long as he had Y/N by his side, he knew he could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

But the more time they spent together, the more Y/N’s wings glitched, and the more fragmented her presence became. Sometimes she would fade entirely, only to reappear moments later, her form flickering like a faulty video feed.

“Something’s wrong,” Shoto said one day as they sat together on the roof of the school, the sky darkening into twilight. “Your wings... they’re not supposed to do that, are they?”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes filled with a sadness he couldn’t quite understand. “No, they’re not,” she admitted. “But it’s because... I’m not meant to be here. Not like this.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, his heart tightening at the thought of losing her.

She sighed, her wings fluttering weakly. “I was sent to guide you, Shoto. But the more time I spend here, the more unstable I become. It’s because... I’m not supposed to get too close.”

Shoto’s breath caught in his throat. “Too close?”

Y/N nodded, looking away as if ashamed. “I’m not supposed to feel the way I do. Angels aren’t meant to emotionally attach themselves with the people they watch over. It makes us... vulnerable.”

Shoto stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. “But what if I feel the same way? What if... I don’t want you to leave?”

She looked at him, her eyes filled with tears. “Shoto, if I stay, I might disappear completely. But if I go, you’ll be alone again.”

“I don’t care,” he said, his voice firm. “I’d rather have you with me, even if it’s just for a little while longer.”

Y/N’s wings flickered, the light from them dimming slightly as she leaned closer to him. “Then I’ll stay,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “For as long as I can.”

As the days turned into weeks, Y/N’s presence became more fragile. Her wings, once vibrant and full of light, now glitched constantly, sometimes fading entirely for moments at a time. But despite this, she stayed by Shoto’s side, guiding him, comforting him, and helping him find strength in himself that he never knew he had.

But the price for her closeness was becoming too much to bear. Her energy was fading, and every day, she grew weaker. Shoto could see it, but he didn’t know how to stop it.

One night, as they stood together under the stars, Y/N’s wings began to glitch so badly that they flickered out entirely, leaving her looking almost human. She gasped, clutching at her chest as if in pain.

“Y/N!” Shoto reached out to her, his heart pounding with fear. “What’s happening?”

“I’m losing my connection,” she said, her voice strained. “If I stay any longer... I might disappear forever.”

He shook his head, panic rising in his chest. “No, you can’t. I need you, Y/N. Please, don’t leave me.”

Tears streamed down her face as she looked at him, her heart breaking. “Shoto, I love you. But if I stay, I’ll be gone forever. I need to go back, to regain my strength. But I promise... I’ll always be with you, even if you can’t see me.”

He stared at her, desperation in his eyes. “But how will I know you’re still there?”

She smiled through her tears, her form flickering like a dying flame. “You’ll feel it, Shoto. In your heart. I’ll always be with you, guiding you from afar. You just have to believe.”

And with that, she began to fade, her body dissolving into the night air, leaving only a soft, glowing light where she had been.

Shoto reached out, trying to grasp the light, but it slipped through his fingers, leaving him alone in the darkness.

Shoto Todoroki stood on the roof of U.A. High, gazing out at the horizon as the first rays of dawn broke through the darkness. It had been weeks since Y/N had disappeared, but he could still feel her presence, a gentle warmth in his heart that hadn’t been there before.

His classmates had stopped whispering, and the rumors about his sanity had faded away. But Shoto knew that Y/N had been real, that her love had been real. And though she was gone, she had left him with a gift—the strength to believe in himself, and the hope that one day, they would be together again.

As he closed his eyes, he felt a soft breeze brush against his cheek, he felt a soft breeze brush against his cheek, as if Y/N's presence was lingering in the air around him. He looked up at the sky, the dawn breaking with hues of pink and gold. The world seemed brighter, more vibrant, and he knew it was because of her.

Shoto had changed. The ice that once encased his heart had thawed, replaced by a warmth he hadn’t felt before. He no longer felt alone, even when he was by himself. Y/N's love had left an imprint on him, one that would guide him through the rest of his life.

As he turned to head back inside, a familiar glimmer caught his eye—a soft, fluttering light that seemed to be dancing on the edge of his vision. He smiled, feeling a sense of peace wash over him.

“I’ll keep believing,” he whispered to the wind. “I’ll keep our promise.”

And so, with Y/N’s love and guidance forever etched into his heart, Shoto Todoroki continued his journey, stronger and more hopeful than ever before. Though the world might never see her, he knew that she would always be with him, a silent guardian in the shadows of his life.

The classroom was quiet, the afternoon light streaming through the windows as the students settled into their seats. Shoto sat at his desk, his gaze distant as he replayed the conversation he’d had with Midoriya the day before.

“Midoriya,” Shoto had asked, his voice low and hesitant. “Have you ever wanted something so badly, but you know it can’t happen? Like… it’s impossible?”

Midoriya had looked up from his notebook, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I think everyone’s felt that way at some point. But… have you ever heard of manifestation?”

Shoto frowned. “Manifestation?”

“It’s the idea that if you focus on something hard enough, if you really believe in it, you can bring it into reality. I know it sounds strange, but sometimes, what we think is impossible can become possible if we put enough energy into it.”

Shoto had nodded, filing the idea away in the back of his mind. That night, as he lay in bed, he tried to concentrate on Y/N, her smile, her voice, the way her wings flickered in and out. He willed her to come back, to be real again, with every fiber of his being.

But now, a week later, there had been no sign of her. He was beginning to lose hope, wondering if he’d just imagined everything—if Y/N was truly gone.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden, loud entrance of Kaminari, who burst through the classroom door with his phone in hand, grinning from ear to ear.

“Guys, you’ve gotta check this out!” Kaminari exclaimed, waving his phone around as he approached the group gathered near the front of the room. “There’s this new VR game that just came out, and it’s insane! You can actually talk to angels in it—like, full-on conversations and everything!”

Shoto’s heart skipped a beat. He turned in his seat, watching as Kaminari pulled up the game on his phone, showing the others. On the screen, an angel with glitchy wings floated, her face eerily familiar to Shoto, though he knew it wasn’t exactly her.

“It’s so realistic,” Mina said, leaning in to get a better look. “You can customize everything—their voice, their appearance… It’s like they’re really there with you.”

Kaminari nodded excitedly. “Yeah, and it’s not just that. The angels remember things, like conversations you’ve had before, and they even give advice based on what you tell them. It’s wild!”

As his classmates crowded around Kaminari’s phone, laughing and talking about the game, Shoto felt a strange mix of emotions. Was this the result of his attempts at manifestation? Had he somehow brought Y/N back, but only in a digital form that anyone could access?

The idea left him feeling both hopeful and hollow. She wasn’t truly back, but a part of her seemed to linger in this new, unexpected way. Maybe this was the universe’s answer to his longing, a reminder that even though some things couldn’t happen exactly as he wanted, they could still find a way to exist.

He wasn’t sure what to do with this realization, but as he watched his classmates interact with the virtual angel, Shoto couldn’t help but feel a bittersweet comfort. Perhaps, in some small way, Y/N was still with him—just not in the way he had hoped.

Late that night, Shoto sat in his dimly lit room, the quiet hum of the VR console filling the space. The headset felt heavy in his hands as he hesitated, staring at the screen that prompted him to begin. He knew it wouldn’t truly be her, but the thought of seeing Y/N’s face again, even in a digital form, was enough to make his heart ache with anticipation.

With a deep breath, he slipped the headset over his eyes and powered on the game. The world around him dissolved into a soft glow, and slowly, the environment began to take shape—a serene, ethereal garden, bathed in the light of a setting sun. The colors were warm, golden hues blending with soft greens, and in the center of it all stood the figure he had longed to see.

Y/N was there, her glitchy wings gently fluttering, casting a shimmering light that reflected off the virtual petals around her. She turned to face him, a familiar smile gracing her lips.

“Hello, Shoto,” she greeted, her voice exactly as he remembered—soft, soothing, and filled with warmth. “It’s been a while.”

Shoto’s breath caught in his throat. Even though he knew she wasn’t real, the sight of her, so vivid and alive, made it difficult to hold back his emotions. He took a step closer, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I… I wasn’t sure if this would work,” he confessed, his voice trembling slightly. “But I needed to see you again. Even if it’s just like this.”

Y/N’s smile remained gentle as she tilted her head slightly, her eyes filled with a kindness that seemed to pierce through the digital façade. “I’m here now, Shoto. And I’m glad you found me.”

Shoto swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. “It’s not the same,” he whispered. “But… it’s better than nothing.”

The angel in front of him nodded, her wings flickering slightly as she moved closer. “I may not be exactly as you remember,” she said, her tone understanding, “but I’m here to help you, just like before.”

Shoto reached out a hand, hesitating just before his fingers could touch her. He knew it would feel cold, artificial—nothing like the warmth he associated with her—but the gesture alone gave him some comfort.

“Can you still… guide me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N’s expression softened, her wings fluttering with a faint glow. “Of course,” she replied, her voice reassuring. “I’ll always be here for you, Shoto. Just like before.”

And as Shoto stood there, bathed in the gentle light of the virtual garden, he allowed himself to believe, just for a moment, that this was real—that she was real. In this world, she could exist again, even if only in pixels and code.

It wasn’t the same as having her by his side in reality, but it was a connection nonetheless—a way to hold onto the part of her that had helped him through his darkest times. And for now, that was enough.

[ellsbclls]

you write hurt/comfort so beautifully, it makes me want to have tom comfort me like that ): do u think you could write something where he's taking care of you after a long day at work?? and if it's a little nsfw i wouldn't mind but u dont have to do anything ur not comfortable with. again L O V E ur work!!

thank you so much 🥺 i guess i just try to portray a type of love i think everyone deserves! but also thank you for giving me this idea because my mind went rampant. i also don’t know why the reader is a musician, but just roll with it i guess idk what happened there??? 

i hope this tickles your fancy! nsfw, so extended warnings will be under the cut! please do not interact if you're a minor!!

extended warnings: cue fingering, and some messy, needy sex in the bathtub 🛁✨

The steam rising from the bathtub makes light work of your weary muscles, menthol vapors kissing up your spine, soothing the knots scattered across the length of your back. You were in dire need of this, after the plight of a day you’d endured. A couple of hours in the studio had quickly spiraled into a six hour-session, with nothing to show for it but a lousy sixteen measures of brass ensembles — and by the good grace of your talent and patience, the artist has requested you drop in for their session again.

The thought makes you want to drown.

Instead, you opt to curl into yourself, softly pressing your cheek into your knee, watching the spindles of warmth waft up from your well earned bubble bath. In retrospect, the weight of your day didn’t fall solely on this new client — if you’re being honest, they actually had a lot of potential. You wouldn’t mind having your name tethered to a couple of their hits — but Tom had just returned home from a three month long shoot, and you’ve only been graced the luxury of his presence for less than 24 hours. Any time that isn’t being spent with him feels blasphemous, but since he has yet to return from his unknown whereabouts, you seized the opportunity to flush out as much irritability as possible before he returned.

You didn’t know just how tired you were until you were woken up.

A half an hour passes before you’re tousled from your dreamless slumber by a docile touch, familiar digits scaling the curve of your spine before they take a detour at the nape of your neck, carefully parting stray strands of hair to either side of your frame.

“Tom?” You hum, dulcet tones wafting through the steam akin to a dream as it ebbs from the rim of your subconscious.

“Yes, darling?” He muses, entranced by the frothy remnants of your bath soak as he dips his fingertips into the water.

“I missed you today.” You melt into his touch, allowing your head to fall to the side and survey his attire. His hair is all tousled, chestnut locks sprouting from the bottom of his backwards strewn baseball cap, and those honey-dipped hues you adore so much are creased with concern. You want nothing more than to soothe them away with the pad of your thumb, and so you indulge yourself, reaching over the edge of the tub as you continue to ramble. “I started the day already praying for it to be over with, and somehow, every single inconvenience fathomable decided to fall onto my lap. I mean — who the fuck needs seven different french horn tracks in an overture? A real band barely needs one.” Tom’s nodding along to your ramblings, but you both know that he doesn’t fully under the lengths of your frustration — just as you’ll never truly understand the inner workings of his own career. “The only thing keeping me together was the thought of coming home to you.”

“I’m so sorry, my love,” He coos, and continues to caress your back, working out all of the knots that the steam couldn’t relieve. “If it’s any consolation, I was only running late because I had to stop and buy some pancetta on the way home.”

“Don’t apologize. I assumed you would be back since all your stuff is still here.” You tease, mirroring his bemused smile, letting his world seep into your slowly booting brain. “Pancetta…” Not many people knew this, not even Tom before his first attempt, but the boy could whip up a mean bowl of pasta. You remember floundering across the bed the night before, identical to a little kid throwing a tantrum, moaning over just how badly you were craving carbonara. Silly of you to think that he’d take your melodramatic request in stride. “Are you-“

His enamored gaze is answer enough, but he pairs it with a chaste kiss to your forehead that has you nuzzling into his touch. “Only the best for my lil’ lady.”

You show a mere fraction of your appreciation with a swift, flurry of kisses over his cheekbones, pulling him closer by the downy bundles of his hoodie. Lovedrunk giggles and contented sighs bounce off the tiles before you’re both submerged in a comfortable silence, one that leaves the both of you free to shamelessly examine the other, one clad in their comfy, weatherworn disguise while the other dawns nothing but an enchanted smile. Even with the disparity between your attire, you both end up with flushed cheeks and dopey grins.

Hours, days, years seem to press on until you break the silence with a silly question, one that you ask in hopes of hearing his gentle, candied voice once more — or even better, his laugh. “What would you do if I was as big as a thumbtack? Would you still love me?” You query, a childlike sense of wonderment tinting your sugar-coated sigh.

He takes a second to ponder your questions, taking it into far more consideration than you had in bringing it to fruition. You can’t stifle the tiny puff of air that leaves your lips, the semblance of a chuckle, and Tom, with his wild brow and theatrical ways, whips his head in your direction, sending you a cautionary glare. “I suppose I would…” He starts, only to tap his finger against his bottom lip, drawing the suspense to its boiling point by the time you shove his forearm. “But then again, it doesn’t matter what size you are, there’s no limit to how much I love you.”

“Hmm,” you manage to vocalize. Your heart is now a star, an incandescent ball of fire caged beneath your ribs, and if he hasn’t gathered it by now, then he can bask in the warmth of your smile and know that for him, for him it is the sun.

You have to admit that you got ahead of yourself. One moment, you were binding your lips in a bruising, indulgent union, urging him to bask in the lovelorn rays of light he summoned, but only managing to pull him into the bathtub, fully clothed and unsuspecting. What was once your lukewarm oasis is suddenly a swirling cauldron of spearmint, teatree, and now unmistakable notes of him, sloshing against the edge of the tub as his frame struggles against the latent tide. There’s bound to be one hell of a mess waiting on the bathroom floor, but now that he’s settled in your grasp, you see no reason to fret just yet.

“Y/N.” His voice is deadpan, which can mean one of two things — he’s either overwhelmed with joy, or exhibiting a great deal of restraint in not drowning you right then and there. You choose to cancel out the latter, and offer the best attempt at innocence your babydoll eyes could muster, peering at him through your lashes with a teeth-rotting gleam.

“What?” You ask simply. His eye starts to twitch, and you only double down on your facade. “I just wanted to be closer to you.” Wading through the newly shallow body of water, half of its contents now dispersed across the tile floor, you make light work of his soggy hoodie, sloughing it over his head as he grumbles beneath it, giggling when it catches against that razor-sharp jawline of his.

“Well, you are very close now.” You notice how his voice drops down an octave, and you’re embarrassed to admit just how quickly the coil in your stomach tightens at the sound of it, how it already aches to be pulled taut. 

Tom seems unsuspecting enough when he captures your lips once again, his brims as delicate as baby’s breath against your own, tentative as they glide in a sultry dance. He doesn’t need to coax a confession out of you, the truth is already there, nestled in your urgent, needy pressure, in the whimpers threatening to spill into his lips. He’ll indulge in this little game for a moment longer — where you pretend that you aren’t desperate for his touch, and he pretends that he isn’t just as desperate to provide it — but once you fumble into his lap, clumsily grasping for more, and more, and even more of him, his resolve begins to crumble.

“I need you.” you whisper into the hollow of his mouth, golden-tongued and virtually earnest, coaxing a trembling sigh from the back of his throat.

He hums back, contented, basking in the intoxicating warmth of your silhouette, tracing the curve of your breasts with his knuckles. “Long day, my love?”

“Mhmm,” You demonstrate your point with a wistful sigh,  enveloping his great hands with your smaller ones, coating them in languid kisses until there was no skin left untouched.

You’re just too fucking cute, he muses. He can never say no to you, not even in jest.

Two of his slender digits roam the valley of your stomach, knuckles ghosting over your navel in their listless descent before they venture between your thighs, surveying just how badly you really need him. He dips his middle finger between your folds, tender and slick with your arousal, and emits a husky groan as he traces a steady line between your entrance and the spot just below your clit, ghosting your little bundle of nerves with each taunting caress. “You’re already soaked, my love. This all for me?” He coos, nudging your jaw with the tip of his nose, pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss against the column of your neck.

“All for you,” You sigh, digging your nails into the broad planes of his shoulder. “Please, Tom, please touch me.”

He finally spares you, thumb sloppily circling your clit as he plunges two digits into your opening, welcoming the lithe intrusion with a warm, velvety embrace. You slump into his embrace, nipples straining hard against the soaked fabric of his t-shirt, and raggedly whimper as he starts to work you open. The reminder of your nude form plastered against his clothes, albeit soaking wet, summons another pool of wetness to your core. You’re flooded with thoughts of delectable anguish — of denim kissing your hips, dragging against your bundle of nerves, as he ravages your bare little cunt, proving that you’re so desperate for his cock that you can barely wait for him to undress.

“Is this all you needed, baby? My fingers? You wanted me to stretch this pretty little cunt out?” He can’t stop the filthy words tumbling from his lips, especially not when your tiny mewls of pleasure are flooding his ears — you’re just so soft and pliant under his touch, so eager to be filled to the brim, it’s intoxicating to know that you’ll take anything he has to offer you. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m gonna give you everything you need. Gonna have you spilling all over my fingers and then — fuck! — then i’m gonna fill you up with my cock. How does that sound?

“Y-yeah,” You’re rutting against his palm at this point, grinding down to meet each thrust, to feel impossibly closer, fuller, ambling toward an orgasm that is already barreling toward you. As he finds a new angle, the pads of his fingers nudge against your g-spot, and the heel of his hand careens over your clit with such a delicious pressure that your thighs begin to quake. “‘M so close.” You whine, prompting him to punctuate each thrust with a curl of his fingers, dragging your orgasm from the pit of your stomach.

“Then let go, baby. Let go for me.” You need no further persuasion, your eyes squeezing shut as you teeter off the edge, with nothing but a raspy, desperate string of obscenities, clawing at the slope of his shoulders, and bathing his hand in sultry waves of nectar as it spills from your weepy little hole. His fingers are trapped between your fluttering walls, working you through your climax with nimble, tentative thrusts, stretching each wave of pleasure out until you’re trembling over little ripples.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” You feel so small beneath his gaze, teeming with endless pools of adoration, like you’re a freshwater clearing and he’s parched. It nearly distracts you from his fingers as they slip from your opening, but each receding wave of bliss is tethered to him, so you groan at the loss of contact. Your walls flutter hopelessly around nothing, chasing the delicious stretch of his digits in their absence, but you’re instantly qualmed by the sound of his zipper being pulled down, no doubt freeing himself from the waterlogged confines of his jeans.

“Can I?” You sink your hands into what little water still remains in the tub, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, but he swats your shaky hands away, adamantly shaking his head as a small frown of confusion forms between your brows. “You don’t wanna take ‘em off?”

“This is about you, my love.” He whispers, his free hand smoothing over the small of your back, stroking the patch of dew-ridden skin with his thumb. “And right now, all I wanna do is keep my promise.”

“You’re so good to me,” You whisper just above his lips, leaning back into his touch, peering between your bodies to survey his ministrations. You’re still a bit dazed from your first, earth-shattering orgasm, but the prospect of another has you buzzing with excitement, and Tom knows that look well enough to speed up his course of action.

Pearly veneers sink into the swell of your bottom lip at the mere sight — his cock is beyond compare. Even as its impatiently pulled through the opening of his jeans, it’s put on a mouth-watering display as he leisurely pumps himself, smearing tiny pearls of precum across his flushed, leaky tip with each upstroke. He’s far too enticing, far too pretty with his rosy cheeked, droopy-eyed charm, to resist, and you’re quick to replace his hand with your own, curling your fingers around the base and mimicking a couple teasing pumps before guiding him to your entrance.

Tom spreads his legs a little wider to accommodate you, the sensation of wet denim rubbing against your thighs, knocking your legs farther apart, causes a soft whimper to fall from your lips. It doesn’t take long for you to align the head of his cock with your entrance, teasing him with a couple of lascivious drags through your folds before you sink onto his length, reigniting the remnants of your last orgasm as inch after delicious inch prods your tender walls apart. By the time he bottoms out, you’re nothing but a trembling pile of limbs, and his lips seek out your own just to muffle your staggered breaths with a burning kiss.

You allow yourself a couple of seconds to adjust — no matter how or which way you take him, he still pushes up every crevice of your insides, demanding every square inch of your velvety heat. A wild flurry of crimson blossoms across the high planes of your cheeks as Tom nuzzles his forehead against your own, brushing his nose against yours, coaxing a melodious string of giggles from your chest while you scrunch up your nose. He presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips and smiles against the spot. “You look so pretty like this, my love. With that gorgeous smile of yours, and that pretty little pussy squeezing my cock.” You feel like you’ve got whiplash, trying to come to terms with how obscene he can be under such tender movements. “Just wanna turn you over and bury myself inside. See how tight you feel when you’re folded in half.” His hands reach down to rub gentle, circular motions into the small of your back, and you can’t help but pulse around him at the juxtaposition.

Once the uncomfortable stretch of his girth melts into pleasure, you finally start to work yourself over his length, and you swear you can feel every gorgeous ridge and vein of his cock as you rise up to the tip, only to plunge back down with a impish yelp, setting a clumsy, needy pace that certainly gets the job done. You don’t really find your rhythm until Tom helps you out, sinking his fingers into the supple curve of your ass, orchestrating a hard, punishing pace as he drives up into your sopping cunt, meeting you in the middle with each thrust.

All at once, the bathroom is washed in a crude symphony, the combination of your heavy panting and slapping skin intermingles with the shallow splash of water as it laps against the edge of the tub, punctuating the sinful drag of his length, and how the tip pounds against your furthest wall as you impale yourself onto him. You can feel another orgasm start to build, and since Tom has made it his solemn vow to not only study, but master, every little, scrumptious detail of your body, he senses it as well. 

“You got another one for me?” He asks between labored pants. His own orgasm is starting to peak over the horizon, following in the blazing trail you’ve set, you can tell by the way a thin sheen of sweat starts to build against his hairline, and his brows almost meet in the middle, as if the feeling of your pussy pulsing around his cock is unfathomable. He uses the grip he has on your waist to take control, using one hand to scale up the breadth of your back, and as his palms leave a blistering trail up, up, up your sides, he pulls you flush against his chest, attempting to plant his feet against the floor of the bathtub, 

He needs the leverage to piston his hips up into your own, to pound into your greedy hole at an unyielding pace — to keep his promise — and as you start to feel the tell tale edge of your climax cresting over your weary frame, you spoil his shoulder with sweeping, butterfly kisses and flood his mind with sweet, sweet nothings, luring him to the brink with the same dulcet tones you know drive him wild.

His hips stutter into your own, and before the words can even exit your lips, you’re dragged to the edge of bliss with a couple of rough, uncompromising thrusts that have you wildly spasming around his length. He joins you almost immediately, throbbing against your sensitive walls as he fills you to the brim, driving the mixture of your arousal further into you as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

Once he pulls out, he’s quick to wrap you up in a soothing embrace, planting kisses over every acre of skin he can get his lips on, but you’re too focused on the trail of cum leaking down your thighs to really indulge him, curiosity getting the better of you as you gently weave your arm between your bodies and collect the wetness on your thighs. You swear you can feel the rumble of his chest once you pop your fingers into your mouth, humming around the sodden digits, making a spectacle out of the addicting elixir pooling on your tongue, but his glimmer of reinvigorated stamina is put to rest by the sight of your drowsy, half-lidded stare.

“Why don’t we get you dried off? Then I can start dinner.” He hums against your cheek, punctuating his suggestion with yet another chaste kiss. It’s genuinely like he can’t get enough, and neither can you as you sleepily nod.

“Will you wake me up when it’s ready?” You sigh, teetering on the edge of slumber once more.

“Of course, my love.”

[littlesniggy]

My Man

Anon: Hii there hope ur having a great day . I just a Zoro female yandere reader and I think I'm hooked 😐 on yandere reader so can we have one with shanks and if its not to much to ask a part 2 of Zoro. You don't have to do the part 2 if u don't feel like it thought. [Female reader ]

Have a nice day💝

Hey Anon, thank you for requesting! I'm so happy that you liked my Zoro x Yandere! Reader! I don't know if I will make a part two of the Zoro one though. This one is not nsfw cause I think this way it's a little more sinister. It is also more of readers internal thought process than a lot of interaction with Shanks but maybe I'll write a part two (if people want to) that is nsfw.

Also warning for anyone who doesn't like reader not getting along with other crew members since this reader is jealous of literally anyone (Which is NOT normal behavior, for anyone wondering lol).

Warning: toxic behavior, mention of sex, reader needs to see someone with her issues, reader needs to chill, threats

Pairing: Shanks x Yandere! female reader

Word count: 1.6k

You were sitting at a beach together; warm breeze gently stroking your face, the soothing sound of the waves landing on shore and the cheerful laughter or the other crew members made for comfortable atmosphere. At least that should be the case. Your eyes were glued to you captain talking to Benn, booze in his hand and laughing his ass off to something his right-hand-man had said. Angrily, you clenched your teeth but tried hiding the fact that you were not pleased about this situation.

Why was he talking to Benn over there when he could sit and talk with you over here? You emptied your cup and filled it up immediately, wanting to drown this feeling of anger. Shanks didn’t seem to notice and kept telling story after story, much to his crew’s amusement. Fine, you thought, getting up from your place and staggering over to where he was. If he doesn’t want to come to me I’ll go to him.

The red haired male looked up when he saw you coming over, smiling his usual drunk and dorky smile and made you sit right next to him while draping his arm around you. “There you are! Why didn’t you come earlier? You were sitting there all by yourself, Y/n-chan!” he laughed, kissing your cheek with his wet lips, pulling you closer to him.

You giggled, leaning your head against his shoulder after giving it a small kiss as well. “I thought you would come over to me.” You answered, your sweet smile never leaving your lips. Shanks laughed even harder, his whole body shaking as he did. “You should’ve called me over then!” The rest of the crew joined in his laughter, making you feel embarrassed and angry at the same time. Internally, you would’ve loved to just punch each and every one of them for laughing at you but you needed to stay composed.

“Benn was just telling me how-“ but you cut him off, pulling his face towards you and kissing him as he was speaking. The man was surprised but didn’t complain, reciprocating your kiss which turned more and more heated by the second. The crew around your sheered you two on but you tuned them out. When you broke the kiss you looked into his eyes, then moved closer to his ear, biting at its shell. “Why don’t we find a more secluded spot and get some time alone?” you asked in a suggestive voice, feeling excited goosebumps on his skin. You just wanted to get him away from them. You wanted to have him for yourself!

.

.

.

It wasn’t that easy to get him away from his crew when you were on the ship. After all, he was the captain and it wouldn’t be good if he was missing the majority of the time. Each time he spoke with one of his men you just watched from afar, your stomach boiling with anger. You wouldn’t call it jealousy, this feeling – that was reserved for insecure people. You just wanted Shanks for yourself and yourself alone. That was something completely different!

Out of the corner of your eyes you saw Benn approach you with his usual stern expression. You liked him the least because he was the one your man spent the majority of his time with besides you. And that pissed you off.

“Everything okay, Y/n?” he asked. You smiled at him, nodding your head as a confirmation. “Sure. What should be wrong?” you wanted to know, eying him secretly. “You just seemed a little upset, that’s all.” “I’m fine but thank you for asking.” Benn nodded and looked over to Shanks who just finished talking. You were sure Benn wanted to talk to his captain but you didn’t like this idea. So, before he could walk over to the red-haired male you skipped over to him yourself, giving Benn no chance to talk to him.

“I love you.” You said in a low voice before kissing him on the lips, creating a barrier between Shanks and Benn who stopped in his tracks behind you. Shanks chuckled and looked down at you, a gentle smile on his lips. You wished you could look at his face like this forever but you were sure Benn would start occupying his time if you didn’t play your cards right.

“At the last port I bought this new outfit and I wanted to show you how it looks….interested?” you asked, pressing your body to his and kissing his bare chest. Shanks smile grew wider and he was already pulling you towards his room. “Captain, can I talk to you for a minute?” you heard Benn call out for him but you made sure to push him inside his room and closing the door behind you. Benn could get lost for all you cared.

.

.

.

You knew Benn got suspicious by the way he behaved around you. He was colder than to others and was always watching you. You didn’t like it. Who does he think he is?

But you had enough when Shanks pulled you aside one day with a slightly concerned look on his face.

“Y/n-chan, we need to talk for a moment.” You stomach dropped and you followed him tenuously to his room. He sat you down but didn’t take a seat next to you on the bed. “W-what is it?” your voice was thin, looking up at you boyfriend in concern. Shanks rubbed his neck, not knowing where to start.

“You see….the crew is getting concerned that I might be spending a little too much time with you that I should be navigating and being their captain. Don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with you but I can see how I might be neglecting my duties as a captain.” He said, looking quite uncomfortable. Anger started to boil in the pit of your stomach but you didn’t show it. Instead, tears started forming in your eyes.

“A-are you breaking up with me?” you sobbed, your vision slightly blurry due to the tears. Shanks immediately crouched down in front of you, taking your hands in his. “No! No, no, no, no, no! Not at all! That’s not what I meant!” he exclaimed, trying to calm you down. “Benn was just concerned about me and my job as a captain, that’s all. I wanna be there for you but you must understand that I also have to be there for my crew.”

That fucking bastard. How dare he try and push me away from Shanks?! You. Were. Furious. “I’m sorry I am clingy! I’m sorry I care about you! I’m sorry for being a burden to you! I’m sorr-!”

“Stop! No, don’t be sorry! You’re not a burden to me. Not at all! I love you, Y/n-chan! Stop saying something like this, okay?” he was really concerned; he didn’t want you to feel guilty about loving him and wanting to spend time with him. It was only natural, wasn’t it?

Shanks pulled you into his embrace, placing his chin on yours and stroking your back gently, letting you cry on his shoulder. He felt awful about this. He was making himself responsible for your crying. His presence helped you calm down along with his reassuring words that he was sorry and didn’t mean to hurt you. But you weren’t listing to him.

In your mind you were already making Benn pay for what he’d done. You wouldn’t be able to hurt, let alone kill this man but you would make damn sure he would never think about sabotaging your relationship with him again.

.

.

.

“How did you do it, Y/n?” you heard a familiar voice from beside you. You were sitting on a beach, watching the calming sea and hearing the screeching of the seagulls above you. You looked to the side, a warm smile on your face. Benn looked down at you with a frown, his body posture told you he was wary and on edge.

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” You replied, making him ‘tsk’. “We both know what you’re doing here, Y/n and I warn you. If you get in our, in his way of becoming the next pirate king I’ll make-“

“You’ll make me regret it? And how if I may ask?” Benn was silent, his eyes just boring into yours.

“What do you want to tell him? That I’m bad for him? That he maybe should consider breaking up with me cause I might get in his way?” you stood up, holding you chin up high with a smug smile.

“Cause that worked out brilliantly the last time, didn’t it?”

“You manipulated him.” He flat out stated but you just shrugged.

“Some tears here, some blowjob there, you gotta keep the man on his feet and interested in you. And I make damn well sure he will never get tired of me.” You said, slowly walking past him.

But before you were too far away, you turned around one last time. “Oh, and just so we’re clear. If you ever talk to him about me again in a negative way, maybe I’ll let it slip that a certain first mate tried to hit on me or even tried to force himself on me. I mean, what other reason would you have to make Shanks spend less time with me other than for you to have a chance?” you saw his face contort into a snarl, his fists clenching and unclenching. “He wouldn’t believe you.” You tilted your head to the side, the smile on your face not wavering.

“Wanna find out? He is my man and I don’t want anyone to come between us, understood?”

[inkykeiji]

anyways my ask was too long so i’ll continue here! i have a few songs that remind me of bmb and i’d love to share them with you clari!! go listen to mind games by sickick and sick thoughts by lewis blissett. makes me feel like i’m transported into bmb!! anyways i hope u have an AMAZING day and that u remember how amazing n loved u are :( Ur writing makes me so happy and i feel so much better just by sending you asks... have a nice day clari ❤️ - anon that asked about bmb&touya nii comfort

aaah i actually love both of those songs soooo much and i totally agree, they definitely have bmb vibes!! sick thoughts is on my bmb tomura playlist but i’m pretty sure mind games is on my touya-nii playlist hehehe <33 aw sweetpea thank you so much <33 i hope you do as well!!!! ily!!! and i’m so happy to hear that my work and sending me asks makes you feel better aaaah bb that is SO precious i’m so soft 🥺🥺 i’m sorry it took me a few days to get to your asks!!

AH okay let’s get into your amazing question!!!

touya-nii

okay hehehe i talked about this briefly in an ask a week or so ago, but touya-nii is a lot more in tune with his own emotions and, thus, in tune with yours. he’s incredibly perceptive, knows you inside out at this point—all of your little mannerisms and habits, every change in your tone, the way your voice wobbles on certain words—so he knows something is wrong instantly, before you’ve even started crying. his large hands are pulling you into his lap before a single tear drop has even fallen, before a sniffle has even sounded, cooing and murmuring to you as he cradles you to his chest. and it’s that action, that knowing sense, that breaks the dam in your chest, excruciating sobs tearing through your chest, entire body trembling under the force of them.

touya won’t make you tell him what’s wrong at first—he’ll let you cry it out, let you weep until your eyes are puffy and your head is pounding and you’ve run out of tears—before he demands, in his own loving way, you tell him what it is that’s bothering you so much. he can’t help if he doesn’t know what’s going on, he tells you, in that firm yet soft voice that is so distinctly him. after he’s borderline forced you to talk it out, he’ll indulge you in one of your favourite comfort activities (food, movies, sleep, etc whatever works for you <3).

here is also a lil ask about touya-nii comforting a reader who’s had a stressful week + panic attacks, if you want it!! <33

bmb!dabi

bmb!dabi is...overwhelmed. he doesn’t know how to deal with his own emotions, much less yours, but he still wants to help nonetheless, because seeing you in pain hurts him, too. there’s a little anger and irritation at first; not because of you, but because of his emotional incompetence, and he doesn’t realize you’re crying until you’re trying to swallow down rough sobs that have your chest stuttering. it takes him some time to work up the courage to come see what’s wrong—this is completely uncharted territory for him, so he’s quite cautious, but his love for you pulls him towards you whether he likes it or not. 

while touya knows exactly what to say and when to say it, bmb!dabi is very silent—he hasn’t a clue what to say, but you can feel his eagerness to help, can feel how badly he wants to make it better rolling off of him in waves as he hovers around you, mumbling out questions; are you okay? how can i help? and placing a hesitant but tender hand on your back, or an arm around your shoulders. it’s only when you lean into his touch, that he finally realizes what you need in that moment.

so he’ll wrap you up in his strong arms, allowing you to stain his t-shirt with salt water and tangle your fingers in the material as you tug him closer, letting you cling to him for as long as you need to, safe in his embrace. after your sobs have calmed a little, he’ll wordlessly pull you down onto the couch with him, your body in his lap, and put on a film or show he knows you enjoy. and he’ll continue with his soft touches, palm rubbing soothing circles into your back, or fingers tracing nonsensical patterns on your skin.

he doesn’t say much, but his comforting presence and his gentle touches are enough <3

[switchdnp]

i sent the ask about femdom and sub!dnp and CAN U PLEASE WRITE THAT??? PLEASE UR SUCH A GOOD WRITER IM BEGGING YOU

word count: 2533 

warnings: dom/sub themes, praise, teasing, fingering, blowjobs, dan eats pussy thank the lord, way way WAY too much buildup its ridiculous

a/n: hi yall my mental and physical health hasnt been the best lately so this took me like a billion years, i hope it was worth the wait !! not proofread at all and some of it written in the middle of a flare lmao so im super sorry if theres any obvious obnoxious typos!!

“Hey, are you sure you want to do this? We can always back out if you want.”

Phil hadn’t been expecting to say those words tonight, not when they were just going out for a small party, invited by a few of their friends for a celebration over something they couldn’t even quite remember. He especially hadn’t been expecting to say them in their current context, with him and his boyfriend in the bed of someone else–someone else who happened to be a woman—waiting together for her.

They’d met her at the party, a few drinks and a whole lot of flirting leading the both of them back to her house. Maybe it was just how sweet she was, how both Dan and Phil had been longing for the possibility of another threesome, too long a time since their last one (A whole seven months, actually, and honestly, they shouldn’t keep record of those things, but Dan demanded they mark the occasion every time.) But really, what most likely ended them up in this situation was how curious they were.

It had been so long since either of them had sex with a woman. Even when they invited in others to their bedroom, however rare that event was, they were almost always men. It wasn’t like they didn’t want to, it just seemed like for whatever reason, it never happened. So when the chance for such a thing happened to arrive, nothing was stopping Dan or Phil from snatching it up the second they could. They were both horny bastards, after all.

Samantha was her name, Sammy for short, and the way she held herself piqued Dan’s interest from the beginning, all the way back at the party. She was so confident, absolutely taking control of the room with her self-assured presence. He mentioned it to Phil absentmindedly, and Phil had burst into a fit of giggles, murmuring that Dan acted the same way.

“You must be attracted to yourself, then.”He’d laughed, taking another sip of whatever moderately alcoholic thing they were drinking together—always together, of course. They couldn’t not share anything, not even drinks.

“You’d be into that. Two Dans, going at each other.”Dan teased in return, chuckling at the way Phil blanched immediately.

“Surprisingly, no. And even if I did like that, I’d much rather be actually involved in the action.”

“Oh, so you want all the attention,” Dan continued to banter, wrapping an arm around Phil and kissing the side of his head, even as he frowned and cringed at the words. “well I can’t deny you that, you are pretty cute after all.”

“Is that the only reason you keep me around, to be cute?”Phil asked, giving into Dan’s affections and resting his head on his shoulder, wanting to be closer, as close as they could be in a public place. Dan didn’t get a chance to answer, however, because that’s when Sammy came over. She initiated the conversation so easily and flawlessly it nearly made Phil’s head spin, unable to imagine how someone could socialize with so little effort.

A few minutes in and they were already head over heels, Phil especially. She reminded him so much of Dan, had the same attitude and personality, even down to the way she smirked when she teased them, and giggled when she got teased back. It was so easy talking to her, like they’d known her for years, instead of what was probably only half an hour. The flirting and questions came naturally, questions about what they wanted to do, if they really wanted to do anything.

The decision was easy to make, and that’s how they’d ended up here. Dan was curled up with his head in Phil’s lap, too lazy to properly sit up until Sammy came back in the room. He took a deep breath, let out an even deeper sigh, and after a little bit of thinking he was ready to answer Phil’s question.

“I mean, I want to, I honestly do. I’m a little intimidated since it’s been so long, but it’s not like anything bad is gonna happen.” He muttered, tapping his thumb against Phil’s knee. Phil giggled, and brought Dan’s hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his thumb to try and sooth his fidgeting.

“Besides, it’s not like eating ass and eating pussy can be that different, right? And I eat you out all the time.”Dan added, making Phil whine and scold him. His cheeks were red, and as embarrassed as he was, Dan could tell he loved it. Before he could further fluster his boyfriend, Sammy was opening the door, walking in with the same confidence she’d had at the party. She’d undressed, down to her underwear, and somehow that made Dan and Phil feel self conscious about still having their clothes on. Just as Phil started tugging his hoodie off, Sammy stopped him, murmuring out a stern, yet gentle, “Wait, hold on.”

Phil froze like he’d been caught committing a crime, and Dan couldn’t help but snort at the expression on his face.

“Don’t worry, I just wanted to ask you what exactly you wanted to really be doing tonight. Before we actually got into stuff.”She reassured, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Her slick brown hair was pulled up into a pony tail, and it bounced every time she moved. If they were in any other context, Dan would’ve commented on how cute that was. As things were, he didn’t think now would be the right time.

“Well, we’re good for anything, really. Is there anything you had in mind?”Dan explained, knowing Phil would rather him speak for the both of him. He was much shyer, stumbled over his words in situations like these, and it was just easier for Dan to say what they wanted.

“Actually, I kind of wanted to maybe be the one in charge? If that was okay with you?”

That question set off a reaction in Dan’s head, a sort of rush of adrenaline shooting through his body, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Neither of them had ever been dommed by a woman, but the opportunity seemed incredibly appealing right now. He glanced over to Phil, and his boyfriend nodded in response to the question he didn’t even have to ask. He liked the idea too.

“Yes, we’re both okay with that. More than okay with it, actually.”Dan replied, his knees starting to feel a little weak as he realized what was about to happen. He’d never done this before. Sure, he’d fantasized about it, especially when he was a lonely teenager with only his hand and a whole lot of low quality porn to keep him content, but the idea that that fantasy was finally coming true was more than a little nerve wracking, and a whole lot exciting.

“Okay, how about you two start by getting undressed then, yeah? Make it quick, be good for me.”Sammy instructed, the grin on her face turning cheekier as she let herself slip into headspace. They both did as they were told, Phil struggling with his jeans a little more than Dan. Sammy chuckled playfully, helping him tug them down, and that relieved any of the excess nerves and tension in the room.

She let her fingers trace delicately along Phil’s thighs once the jeans were off, skimming over the sensitive skin, and dragging her pointer finger all the way down to crease of his hip. Her hand was dangerously close to his quickly hardening cock, but Phil knew it was far too early in the night for her to be touching him yet. He was familiar with that method of teasing, Dan using it on him all too often. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it though.

Sammy noticed the way he was holding back, trying to keep his hips from bucking, and she smirked at him.

“Good boy, just stay still for me.”She praised, her other hand drifting up to Phil’s chest now. She didn’t miss the way Phil quivered when her thumb brushed over a nipple, glancing over to Dan and asking “He’s sensitive here, isn’t he?”

Dan nodded, “Yeah, he goes absolutely crazy. I made him cum just from his nipples once, took a lot of work to get him there.”

Phil was just about to tell him off for bringing that old memory up when one of Sammy’s hands finally wrapped around the head of his cock, just the faintest of touches, but more than enough to take him by surprise. He leaned forward with it as she started to jerk him off, resting his head in the crook of her neck. Sammy reached up with her free hand to run her fingers through his hair, and that little jealous instinct in the back of Dan’s mind piqued at the sight, something in his chest growing tighter when he thought about how many times he’d been in the same position with Phil. But he pushed it aside, instead focusing on how gorgeous his boyfriend looked getting pleasured, his eyes fluttered shut and lower lip caught between his teeth now.

Sammy turned to face Dan as she continued to get Phil off, eyes glancing down to his hard, neglected cock. She gave him permission to touch himself, and within seconds Dan was wrapping his hand around the leaking tip, rubbing a thumb through his slit repeatedly. The sudden onslaught of stimulation was enough to have Dan shivering, his hips twitching sporadically.

After a few more minutes like that, Sammy switched her attention over to Dan, pressing their lips together first. It was odd, kissing someone who wasn’t Phil. Dan had almost forgotten he was capable of it. It was even more with Phil sitting right beside him, watching everything go down, and getting off to it. Before he knew it, Sammy was leaning back and spreading her legs, leading Dan down to where he could sit comfortably on his stomach in between them. Her hand tangled in his hair, and she pushed his head down, letting him know what she wanted from him.

He kissed over her labia, letting his tongue dip between the two folds, lapping up the growing wetness there. Sammy moaned, and Dan could hear Phil moan in time with her, hear the sound of skin slapping gradually speeding up, letting him know just how much Phil was enjoying this. They both spurred him on, encouraged him to try even harder as he licked over her clit, dragging his tongue slow and careful, almost hesitant as he tried to remember how exactly he’d done this with his old girlfriend.

“Just like that, keep it up sweetheart.”Sammy half-instructed half-groaned, letting herself get caught up in the sensations. It felt so good, too good, and for a moment she was almost worried about losing her composure. She whined again, and Dan’s confidence spiked. He buried his face deeper, alternating between sucking on her clit and circling it with his tongue. He was so invested he barely noticed when Sammy brought Phil over to let him kiss her too, her tongue slipping in his mouth.

She pulled away for a second to speak, “Phil, I want you to finger Dan for me, make him feel good and later I’ll let you cum, okay baby?”

Phil nodded and pulled the lube out of her bedside drawer, slicking his fingers up before circling one around Dan’s rim. Dan moaned against Sammy, the vibrations from his mouth making her thighs shiver around his head. She wrapped her fingers around Phil’s cock once more, dipping a thumb through his slit, and playing with the leaking precum there. He shuddered, hips bucking up without control now.

A second finger pushed past Dan’s rim, and he clenched tight around it, wanting to remind Phil of how nice that felt squeezing around his dick. He was successful, if the way Phil started finger-fucking him faster then, dragging his fingers in and out and rubbing roughly against his prostate, was anything to go by. His cock was practically throbbing now, wound up beyond relief and ready to cum at any second. Honestly, he hadn’t gotten this close this quickly in ages, and maybe it was from the extended foreplay, but Dan had a feeling something about the rush of a whole new experience was playing a part in how he could already feel his orgasm building in his gut.

Sammy was getting close too, he could tell, and he doubled his efforts in hopes of getting her there just from his tongue, it’d worked for Phil plenty of times, after all. Sammy’s fingers gripped tighter in his hair and pushed him even harder, as if trying to keep control of Dan’s mouth, use him in the best way possible. The thought, combined with Phil pressing in a third finger at the same time, was enough to send Dan over the edge, and he came whimpering into her, hips rutting pitifully against the soft bed as he rode out the last waves of his release. Phil pulled out his fingers when the stimulation started to border on painful, Sammy followed soon after, her lips parted, mouth dropped agape as she hit her high. It reminded Dan of how Phil looked when he came, and honestly, that shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did.

Just as Dan started to properly settle down, Phil was whining for the attention back on him, his cock now completely untouched, dark red at the tip. Sammy didn’t even need to give him instructions before Dan was pushing Phil’s dick past his lips. suppressing what little gag reflex he had left after years of sucking cock, and taking him down to the hilt. He swallowed around Phil, his throat fluttering on the tip of his dick, and Phil was cumming within seconds, not needing much after having been teased the whole night.

Phil panted as he came back down, falling back on the bed, and savoring how nice the cold sheets felt on his overheated skin. Sammy chuckled at the display, getting up and grabbing a wet cloth from the bathroom. She cleaned him and Dan up, praising them both for having done such a good job, and helping them shift out of subspace.

She climbed into the bed next to them, seemingly unfazed by the concept of sleeping with two strangers (if they could really be called strangers after all that) beside her, but Dan and Phil took it in stride. The mattress was comfortable anyways, more comfortable than the one they had at home. They could sleep here for the night.

– mod sasha

[patton-croc-agenda]

Completely Unrelated Ch.4

Warnings: Panic Attack

Pairings: Platonic Analogical, various romantic ships implied if you squint reallyyyyy hard

First: Chapter 1 | Next: N/A | Previous: Chapter 3

Logan was about 99% sure he broke a majority of the speeding laws he usually abided by as he rushed to get to his friend. A million different scenarios popped up in his brain, and Logan had to mentally shoot down the more illogical ones just to stay calm. Virgil lived in town, so it usually took him 10 minutes to get to his friend’s house (similar to how long it took Logan to drive to school), but in his panic and speeding he was able to get there in about 7 minutes instead.

Logan stumbled out of the car and up to the door. He rapped quietly, three times, and waited. About 10 seconds passed before he realized that if Virgil really was in danger, he probably wouldn’t answer the door, and considering how dark the windows were, he assumed Virgil’s dad was out. Logan tried the handle, and luckily for him it was unlocked. He wasted no time barging inside and stumbling up the stairs. He hesitated at the door to Virgil’s room, suddenly frozen in terror at what he might find. He shook off his nerves best he could, which was hard because they were (at least slightly) logical in this case.

Logan carefully opened the door, scanning the room. Nothing was really out of place, well, at least for Virgil it wasn’t. Logan fully stepped into the room and heard something from Virgil’s bed. Sniffling and gasping. Logan turned and saw a giant lump of blankets quivering on top of Virgil’s bed.

Logan felt guilty at the relief that washed over him. Virgil was having a panic attack. He wasn’t getting murdered, or kidnapped, or having a heart attack. At the sound of another shuddering gasp, Logan scolded himself mentally as he slowly walked over and pulled the blankets away from Virgil.

Okay, he took back his relief; his friend looked absolutely awful. He was curled up into a tiny ball, sweat clung to his face and hair, his eyes blown wide in terror. Logan felt suddenly very ill prepared for the situation at hand, as he had never seen Virgil have such an awful panic attack before. In fact, the only times he’d ever seen Virgil have a panic attack, Patton or Roman had been there to help soothe him. Logan was rather at a loss, except for the cold hard facts, and what he had seen the others do.

Swallowing his own panic, he sat down slowly next to Virgil and murmured to him.

“Virgil…can I touch you?” he asked in a tone he hoped was gentle. Virgil’s body shuddered as he gave the tiniest nod, but a nod nonetheless. Logan lightly took Virgil’s hand in his own and squeezed it.

“Okay, Virgil, listen to me. It’s Logan, okay? You need to breathe, remember? Like you taught us,” Logan tried to keep his voice steady as possible, and he gently put Virgil’s hand on his chest, his hand over it to help hold it steady. Logan took a deep breath. In for four seconds, hold for seven seconds, out for eight seconds. He repeated the process, and Virgil attempted to copy him. Eventually, Logan felt Virgil’s breathing calm down to a more normal pace. Slowly, he helped Virgil sit up and murmured soft words of encouragement as Virgil managed to calm himself down best he could.

“Alright, Virgil, can you speak?” Logan asked, hoping his tone was gentle. Virgil swallowed and quietly stammered out, “Y-yeah. Kinda.”

Logan hesitated a moment before awkwardly trying to put his arms around Virgil in a sort of hug.

“Should I call Patton?” Logan half asked, half suggested. Their fatherly friend was much better at this sort of thing. To his surprise, Virgil pulled away sharply and shook his head.

“NO! I-I mean…no,” Logan frowned and narrowed his eyes, causing Virgil to duck his head, hiding his face behind his bangs.

“Patton’s been coming over late a lot lately I…I don’t want to bother him again,” Virgil muttered, hugging his knees. Logan sighed.

“You know Patton would never feel bothered by your presence, nor do I, by the way. However, I do agree maybe we should let him rest if he’s been coming over late a lot,” Logan scooted closer to Virgil, not sure if his friend would appreciate the gesture or prefer to be alone. To his surprise, Virgil let his head flop onto his shoulder.

“Thanks for coming, by the way. Sorry if I made you panic,” Virgil muttered. Logan shook his head.

“You did no such thing,” Logan lied, before shifting to a more honest response. “I was, of course, a bit alarmed…but I assume the message you sent was the best you could come up with while in your state of panic. I’m glad you asked for help at all.”

Virgil smiled at that, looking down and picking at his jeans. Logan felt an itch to ask what had caused Virgil to have such an outburst, but then decided against it. Instead, he subtly pulled out his phone and selected Roman’s number and sent a text. Virgil had said he didn’t want to bother Patton, but he hadn’t said anything about Roman.

Logan: Roman, I’m at Virgil’s house and he had a panic attack. I calmed him down, but I don’t know what to do now.

The response was nearly instantaneous.

Príncipe es estúpido: woah what? why r u at his house so late?

Logan: It doesn’t matter. What should I do?

Príncipe es estúpido: uhhh idk i usually just distract him? like after patton or whoever calms him down i just try to get his mind off of what caused it

Logan: Okay, so what do you suggest?

Príncipe es estúpido: idk kiss him??

Logan sputtered, causing Virgil to look up from where he was staring at his knees.

“Who are you texting?”

“Roman.”

“What’d he say this time?”

“Nothing important,” Logan angled his phone away from Virgil, who narrowed his eyes for a moment before rolling them and directing them back at his knees, deciding to drop it.

Príncipe es estúpido: oh my god did u actually kiss him???? also is he ur crush because i’ve been trying to figure it out for years dude

Logan: No, I think kissing would make him panic more. I’d actually like to know how you came to the conclusion that kissing would be the best course of action here.

Príncipe es estúpido: its probably not the ‘best course of action’ or whatever but it would distract him

Logan: Well next time he has a panic attack I’ll make sure you’re around afterwards to kiss him.

Príncipe es estúpido: jhfghjkdlfshjgkdjksgkjfhdjhk

Logan pocketed his phone, deciding to take the first half of Roman’s advice and distract Virgil from whatever may have triggered his panic.

“So, Virgil, if you’re feeling up to it…do you think you could, erm, assist me on a project?” Logan asked, voice becoming sheepish. Virgil looked up at him and blinked, a tiny smirk curling onto his face.

“You need my help with something for school?” Virgil asked, sounding a bit too delighted. Logan scowled, but decided to concede.

“I…yes. That,” Logan muttered. He walked over to Virgil’s desk and picked up a piece of lined paper. He had left his laptop at home, so he decided to write the story out by hand and type it up when he got home.

“It’s a creative writing project. We must create a fictitious short story that is at least 500 words with at least one example of symbolism,” he said sitting back on Virgil’s bed cross legged. Virgil scooted to face him, mimicking his sitting position.

“Alright,” Virgil’s voice was still soft, and slightly hoarse, “so I assume you’ll be able to handle the symbol part. So, what do you need help with?” Logan bit his lip.

“I’m just…unsure on how to start, I suppose. I’m not good at coming up with creative ideas.” Virgil hummed thoughtfully, eyelids drooping slightly.

“Well when I’m having trouble coming up with something entirely new,” Virgil yawned, “I usually think about things that affect me in real life ‘nd apply those aspects to…fictional characters and scenarios,” he murmured, eyes drifting closed.

“Virgil?” Virgil snapped awake again.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just- sorry. Tired,” Virgil muttered. Logan sighed and smiled.

“Understandable. You can go to sleep if you wish, your advice was helpful. I can just go-.”

“No! I mean…stay…please?” Virgil asked, eyes round with wild panic again. Logan blinked in surprise before relenting.

“Alright, I’ll stay. Try to get some sleep, though,” Logan suggested. Virgil nodded and got up.

“You can use my desk, I’m gonna get ready for bed,” he said, padding out of his room. Logan looked at his paper and swallowed, finally starting to write.

Once, in a time unknown to all but those in the story, there was a boy made of sunlight and clouds…

~~~~~~

Taglist:  @patton-is-gay @fangirlfiles1 @leave-dont-disappear@considerablelogicality @allierox15 @give-me-a-minute-to-think@nienna14 @nye275 @winged-outlaw@sanspie122 @magical-awesome-kid  @thatgaydemigodnerd @thecrimsoncodex @alix-the-skeleton @desolate-darlin @hissesssss @strangegaycandy @justmyshitandmoreshit @ purplesoul-at-hogwarts

[butsomeofusarelookingatthestars]

Could u pls do something where u and Luke have been together since his Ranger days and ur basically a married couple but he doesn't see that ur hinting that he should propose and maybe one day u see the team and they're just like Luke wtf u playing at! 😂😂

God, I can really see this happening! Garcia would definitely give him a hard time! Enjoy

About Time

Fandom: Criminal MindsPairing: Luke Alvez x ReaderPrompt: Request

Description: You and Luke had been together for what felt like forever…but he still needed a little push from his team to realise what he needed to do.

“There’s been an accident.”

A stray tear slipped from your eye, slowly trailing down your face as you gripped onto Luke’s hand tightly. Only his touch could ground you right now. The soft beeping of the heart monitor almost soothing as you watched the rise and fall of his chest.

Seeing someone as strong as Luke look so vulnerable was terrifying. His eyelids fluttered as the pain medication rendered him unconscious. It was rare to see him looking this peaceful.

You gently caressed his face, calming him as you traced his strong jawline delicately. He murmured quietly in his sleep as you lightly brushed your lips against his.

“He’ll be okay.”

You glanced up at Spencer, forcing a small smile onto your face. You were so grateful for his reassurance. He tentatively reached out to place a warm hand on your shoulder – the affectionate gesture comforting.

“Thanks Spencer.” You looked up at him, patting his hand softly – thanking him for his kind support. The hurt in his eyes let you know he felt almost as bad as you did right now. After all, he had been the one to see Luke get shot. He was also the one who had remained with him the entire time, refusing to leave his side as he ensured that his friend received the best care possible.

As the frantic words of Emily rang through your head, you shuddered at the fear they had provoked in your heart. It had been the moment you had dreaded, receiving a call to tell you that Luke was hurt. But, it could have been a lot worse.

Your throat constricted at the thought of losing your boyfriend. It had been justifiably your worst fear when he had been in the 75th Ranger Regiment. It seemed almost cruel that he had survived Iraq only to be injured now.

You thought the sleepless nights and constant worrying had ended when he had been discharged from the army. Then, he joined the FBI. The Fugitive Task Force had been a different type of strain on your relationship – the long hours, frequent travel…the constant danger. But he wouldn’t have been your Luke if he wasn’t trying to help others.

You glanced down at him, pushing his messy curls back from his face as you tenderly ran your hands through his hair. It was strange to think that you had been together for so long.

Years had passed by, but it only seemed like yesterday the cocky young man from the Bronx had sweettalked you into going on a date with him. You never would have expected an outing at mini-golf to have turned into a loving committed relationship. But, here the two of you were remaining strong after years and years together.

“You know when he first asked me out I thought he was kind of an asshole.”

Spencer chuckled softly at your words, grateful for your attempt to lift the atmosphere. Even though the doctors had said Luke would make a full recovery, waiting for him to wake up was still nerve-wracking. The silence that filled the room only caused him to replay the horrific scenes over and over again in his head.

“I’m being serious Spencer.” You laughed softly, grinning at the thought of the countless times you had turned him down. Back then, you had been reluctant to go out with someone with Luke Alvez’s reputation. It had only been once you had seen the sweeter side to him that you had finally agreed to give him a chance.

Volunteering at the local animal shelter was the thing that gave him his shot with you. Something you were all too keen to remind him about from time to time.

“He had been out with practically every girl in the neighbourhood, breaking their hearts in the process.” Another tear dripped down your face as the emotion of the situation finally caught up with you.

It had been such a long journey to get here – the fact the love of your life could have ripped away so easily petrified you.

“I was just waiting for the right one.”

The sound of Luke’s gruff voice made both you and Spencer jump in surprise. He squeezed your hand gently as his eyes gazed at you dazedly.

“My ears were burning.” A playful grin spread across his face at your scowl and Spencer’s delighted smirk. Normally, his teasing comment would have earned him a playful hit on the arm. But, you were too scared to touch him given his injuries.

“It’s not funny Luke. You could have been killed.” You protested exasperatedly, sighing heavily as you saw him bite back a smile. Why did he have to make a joke out of everything? He rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand soothingly as flashed you a charming smile.

“I’m fine.” He replied, his voice calm and reassuring. “Thanks to Spencer.” He nodded towards the younger agent, extremely appreciative of his help in the field.

He turned back to you, his eyes softening as he caught sight of your tear-stained cheeks.

“I hate seeing you cry.” He slowly lifted his hand, gently caressing your face as he wiped away the remainder of your sadness.

A peaceful moment of silence filled the room as the three of you let the relief of the fortunate turn of events sink in. Luke had been extremely lucky.

You all glanced at the door as it opened to reveal the rest of the team, small smiles playing on their faces as they greeted their injured colleague. Rossi patted you gently on the shoulder as he stood behind you. All the team knew you fairly well given yours and Luke’s deep history and their presence had been a great comfort to you as you had sat in the waiting room with them.

JJ smiled kindly at you as she inclined her head. The blonde agent had been particularly caring towards you, knowing all-too-well the pain you were experiencing at seeing your loved one hurt in the line of duty.

Garcia entered last flashing you all a sheepish smile as she took in Luke’s wounded form and all the machines hooked up to him. The bubbly blonde had always been extremely nice towards you, but her emotions towards your boyfriend were incredibly complicated given the fact he had replaced her beloved Derek Morgan.

“It’s good to see you awake Newbie.”

Luke’s eyebrows shot up at the kindness in Garcia’s voice. He jokingly thought that perhaps he should have been shot earlier, if it would have gotten him in her good books.

You laughed softly, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek before you stood up.

“Now that I’ve seen you’re alive and you have good company, I’d best go home to check on Roxy. She’s been by herself all day.” You explained, smirking at the incredulous expression on Luke’s face.

“You’re leaving me for a dog?”

You giggled at the mock outrage in his tone, ruffling his hair as you reminded him that Roxy was in fact your substitute child. Besides, she would never make you sick with worry…unlike Luke.

The sound of the door opening once again made you all glance at the nurse who entered. A bright smile spread across her face as she approached Luke’s bedside.

“Oh, it’s good to see you up Agent Alvez.” She told him cheerfully, humming as she adjusted his pain medication. “You gave your poor wife quite the fright.”

Luke felt your posture tense, glancing up at you in confusion as you slipped your hand from his, drifting it to your shoulder to nervously adjust your bag. Your shook your head at her words, forcing a small smile onto your face.

“Oh no, I’m not his wife.” You told her, mentally chiding yourself for your failed attempt to inject false joyfulness into your voice. “Just his girlfriend.”

The words stung painfully and you could feel your composure slipping slightly, so you quickly made your excuses – placing a gentle kiss on Luke’s lips and bidding the team farewell as you rushed out of the hospital.

Luke frowned in confusion as he watched the door slam after you. Perhaps you were just emotional from all the day’s traumatic events. However, after the nurse left, he found himself even more bewildered by the judgmental looks his colleagues were shooting him.

“What?”

His question was greeted by a chorus of scoffs and eye rolls.

Rossi clapped a hand on his shoulder as he sat down in your vacant seat.

“For a profiler, you can be pretty stupid Alvez.” He muttered quietly, shaking his head at Luke’s obliviousness to his own girlfriend’s feelings.

Luke gaped at his insult, truly bewildered by his team members sudden change of behaviour.

“Yeah, the average couple usually gets engaged after around one to two years of dating.” Reid chipped in, rubbing his chin thoughtfully at his friend’s relationship problems.

His fact completely stunned Luke. He had never really considered the thought of marriage. It just hadn’t crossed his mind – particularly given the stressful and volatile nature of his work. Perhaps he had taken your strong relationship for granted.

You had never really voiced your opinion on the subject of marriage. He hadn’t even realised it was a big deal for you. Wasn’t it just a piece of paper?

He just assumed that you always knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. You were the only one for him. How could you think anything different?

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he rubbed his face exasperatedly, all the subtle hints you had made over the past few years suddenly coming flooding back to him. God, he was so stupid.

“She’s my wife in all but name.” He murmured under his breath, almost forgetting about the team’s presence in his room. He only thoughts were of you.

“You’re punching well above your weight with Y/N Newbie.” Garcia’s insistent voice made him jump in surprise, glancing at her as she plonked herself down on the foot of his bed. “Lock her down while she’s still insane enough to love you.”

The softness in her eyes and the playful grin on her lips told him she was only teasing him, but he still shot her a disbelieving glare. The rest of the team murmured in agreement at her words, urging him to realise what he had to do.

He nodded slowly, muttering about how he would make it up to you. It seemed like he had a question to ask.

A firm hand on his other shoulder pulled him from his thoughts. Tara glanced down at him, a smirk spreading across her face as she took in his furrowed brow and look of pure concentration.

“Alvez, don’t you dare propose from your hospital bed.”

Luke huffed as he sulkily sank back into the uncomfortable hospital pillows. He supposed he could wait until he was home to ask you, perhaps even plan something special.

Actually, on second thought…

“Reid, find me the nurse. I need my discharge papers.”

[butsomeofusarelookingatthestars]

Could u pls write something about dating Luke whilst he's still in the rangers??? I've read all ur other ones and I just need more 😭😭

So, this one is a little different, but I hope you like it! Apparently, I’m just on a Roxy binge recently

Canine Comfort

Fandom: Criminal MindsPairing: Luke Alvez x Reader

Description: Luke comes home on leave and introduces you to his new friend, Roxy. You’re surprised to discover that she isn’t what you expected.

Luke barely had time to react as you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. He was finally home…at least for a while.

You had been waiting for the day when he finally got his army leave ever since he had left for Iraq. The hurried phone calls and periodic letters just weren’t enough, you had to see him again.

Him joining the 75th Ranger Regiment had been hard on the both of you. Not only did you have the long distance to contend with, but the terrible worry that he would be hurt plagued your mind constantly. Having him back in your arms was everything you had hoped for.

You breathed in his familiar scent, laughing softly as his arms wrapped around your waist to pick you up with ease. He spun you around wildly, chuckling as your giggles filled the room. Before gently setting you back down to plant an eager kiss on your lips, sighing happily as you melted into his touch.

A loud whine caused you to pull away in confusion. Luke grinned at your bewildered expression, taking your hand in his as he glanced down at the companion he had brought home with him.

You gasped loudly as your eyes fell upon the large fluffy dog stationed at his feet, eyeing you with curiosity. In your excitement to greet Luke, you hadn’t even realised its presence.  

“Y/N, this is Roxy.” Luke introduced you, before erupting with laughter at the sudden realisation on your face.

“This is Roxy? I thought she was another soldier.” You scoffed, playfully smacking his chest in mock outrage.

Luke had constantly spoken about the mysterious Roxy to you and how much she had helped him settle into Iraq. The knowing grin on his face as you tried to hide your jealousy suddenly made sense.

“She’s gorgeous.” You murmured as she sniffed interestedly at you. But, you didn’t make a move to stroke her – a little intimidated by her size and the fact she was a military dog. Luke smiled softly down at you, sensing your slight apprehension. He squeezed your hand reassuringly before he crouched down, slowly leading you to Roxy.

“She’s a sweet dog.” He told you gently, nodding in encouragement as you reached out a hesitant hand. Roxy seemed to sense your nervousness and edged forward to lick your hand affectionately, as if trying to confirm Luke’s words.

Your lips curved into a small smile as she moved closer, brushing herself against your hand as if to demand your attention.

“She’s adorable.” You whispered as you welcomed her into your arms, stroking her soft fur soothingly. Luke smiled as he watched the two of you together, the scene was adorable.

Roxy had helped him some of the worst experiences of his life, so you being able to bond with her was quite touching. That had been the reason he had brought her home to meet you. Plus, he had been thinking more and more about the future, about his life after the rangers, and he had some things to consider.

He hoped you would understand.

You woke up startled as Luke tossed next to you, his arms flailing as he panted heavily. He was having a bad dream.

“Luke?” You croaked, your voice heavy with sleep as you tried to wake him. “Luke?” Fear had crept into your tone as you watched him start to mutter to himself, his head rolling as he battled through his nightmares.

You were terrified, too scared to touch him in case you distressed him even further. Then, you heard the door creak open and the patter of paws approaching the bed. Your cries had apparently woken up Roxy who had been sleeping outside in the hall.

She nudged Luke’s arm gently, gently grazing her teeth against his hand to pull him from his inner terror. Luke bolted upright, a thin sheen of sweat covering him as he struggled to catch his breath. You could practically hear his heart racing as he clutched his face in despair.

“Luke?” You asked quietly, placing a gentle hand on his arm to try to comfort him.

He tensed under your touch, refusing to meet your eyes.

“I’m so sorry Y/N.” He murmured shakily, nervously running a hand through his dark curls. “Just go back to sleep. I- I’m fine.” His voice wavered as a stray tear dripped down his cheek. He wiped it away furiously in the hope that you hadn’t seen it.

“It’s okay Luke.” You told him firmly, squeezing his arm reassuringly. A moment of silence passed between the two of you, before he collapsed into your arms. All you could do was murmur soothing reassurances that he was safe as you stroked his hair, tracing delicate patterns across his skin in an effort to calm his shaking form.

You knew he wouldn’t talk to you. He never had spoken to you about his experiences in the rangers. He didn’t feel like could. How could he tell you about the sights he had seen? The horrors he had witnessed?

It was his burden alone to carry…or at least that’s what he had told himself. He couldn’t bring himself to trouble you with the nightmares he faced and he had hoped that once he was back home with you he would be able to forget all about the past.

But, the horrors still haunted him.

It hurt to see him suffering like this, unable to help him through the pain. You knew he was physically exhausted and mentally drained. The ranger regiment was designed specifically to push recruits to their limits and past their breaking points. Although, you hadn’t imagined it breaking him down like this.

A small whimper caught your attention. You glanced down to see Roxy looking up pleadingly at the two of you, wondering what on earth was causing you so much distress. She jumped up onto the bed, curling up beside you and laying her head on Luke’s leg.

She seemed to know that her owner needed her comfort right now, licking his skin affectionately to try to calm him down. Her presence seemed to console him, Luke entangling a hand in her soft fur as his heavy breathing and rapid heartbeat finally began to ease.

You knew it wouldn’t be long until he had completed his tour and he had already voiced his thoughts about leaving the regiment soon. So, in that moment you decided that you had to do something. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, Luke needed help and you knew exactly what to do as you watched him and Roxy together.

He needed her.

You couldn’t stop the nightmares, but you could make sure he had all the help he needed to fight them.

Only a few days later, you would present him with all the documentation and paperwork awaiting his signature for the adoption of a military dog. It hadn’t been easy, but with a proud history of service like Luke’s his superiors had been convinced to allow Roxy to retire her services alongside her handler.

They would both be coming home for good soon.