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stillmonsterz · 11 months ago

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10th Street

pairing: jake sim x reader, jay park x reader kind of (one-sided genre: raw sex with jake :/ summary: you go on a date with jay and it's looking bleak, but the bartender comes around to save the day. warnings: alcohol, unprotected sex, drug mentions, crypto mentions, jay is annoying and rich, oral sex.... word count: 5.4k and unproofread.

“What really gets me about these rug pulls,” Jay says, steepling his fingers and placing them under his clean-shaven chin, “is that they’re so damn predictable. Any asshole with an ounce of intelligence could immediately spot that an anonymous crypto project is obviously going to rug. I mean, it’s fucking ridiculous, right?”

“Right,” you say. Your eyes flicker across his face, taking in his features. You wonder if the sex will be worth this, but the cursory glances you’ve taken at his trousers have told you that it probably won’t.

Your date is Jay Park, this entrepreneur who has made a name for himself in your area’s tech scene. When he had initially met you in a bookstore, skulking out of the philosophy section to not so much as introduce himself as to remind you of his name and status, you had assumed that he would have taken you someplace nicer. Instead, he drove you in his McLaren just outside of 10th Street. He had paid for 4 hours parking and had jostled you down the cluttered sidewalk, his Ferragamos clattering. Jay had gripped your elbow as he navigated you past drunkards, children wandering the streets without parents, and women with glassy eyes.

Your voice was joking but belied some of your concern. “Where are you taking me, a traphouse?”

“That’s date number two,” Jay had replied jovially, looking back at you in the light of the setting sun, “if I decide that you’re worth the effort.”

You had bitten back a groan and continued following him down the street. Finally, he had stopped you outside of a seedy dive bar, with a hole in the glass boarded up with cheap planks. The planks themselves had been tagged with obscene phrases written in spray paint and Sharpie. Jay had pointed to one word and smiled at you with childish glee. “I wrote that one,” he had said proudly. “

“You have awful writing,” you had said flatly, crossing your arms. “And this place looks like a crack den.”

“That’s exactly why we’re here,” Jay replied in a wheedling tone, his grip on your elbow sliding down to your hand. He had interlaced your fingers together. “Come on, don’t you wish to shed the trappings of the social strata? Doesn’t this excite you?”

A protest had begun to rise in your throat, but Jay had already pushed the door open, pulling you along. The bar was dimly lit, the lightbulbs flickering in the grimy lamps. Stains cover the cheap plywood flooring, and as Jay led you to a table the planks made harsh squeaking noises. Industrial metal was playing from a tinny radio, and the one LCD TV mounted in the corner was displaying grainy footage of a football game. The patrons crowding around the bar and littering the pool table are what you would expect. Loud, raucous, with hunched backs, jerky movements, and thinning hair. The glances that some of the men situated by the pool table gave you were reason enough to flee, but Jay’s grip is as tight as a viper.

“Don’t mind them,” Jay had whispered, his face nothing short of elated. His head had surveyed the room, and a slow smirk settled onto his lips. His well-coiffed hair, youthful face, and understated yet expensive clothes had set him apart, something that greatly pleased him. He had turned back to you. “You’re probably the most beautiful woman they’ve seen in months.”

“That’s not hard,” you had mumbled, crossing your arms. Your seat was sticky and the table separating you and Jay was riddled with dents and chips.

“Oh, come on,” Jay had whined, spreading his arms widely. “Don’t be such a little princess. Isn’t this nice? This stripping of artifice, this beautiful and vulgar display of Americana? It’s exciting, isn’t it? Gets you kind of…turned on, right?”

You had raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sporting a half-chub, yeah.”

You had groaned. “You’re disgusting, Jay.”

“Stop,” he had muttered, holding up his hand. “I might go full mast….” Jay had stood up hurriedly. “I’m going to get us drinks before I inelegantly bust all over the table. What do you want, like a Cosmopolitan or some shit?”

“No…I kind of wanted a vodka cranberry?”

Jay had scoffed, opening his wallet in a way that showed you his black card. “What, are you someone’s fucking grandmother? Christ.” He had stalked towards the bar, and you had sat there, trying not to make eye contact with any of the barflies. Finally, your gaze had fallen upon Jay talking to the bartender, at whom he was wildly gesticulating. The bartender was nodding patiently, taking a slow swig of a clear liquid in a tumbler. His apron was stained, his plain black V-neck exposed his thin arms and chest, and his eyes sparkled with a youthfulness one wouldn’t expect to find in a place like this.

As you had watched the two of them, the bartender’s eyes had briefly slid towards you. His eyes had widened, then narrowed playfully before he went to prepare the drinks. Your chest had felt warm, but you stifled your smile as Jay had stalked back towards your table.

“I feel bad for that poor bastard,” he had said, sidling into his chair and slinging his arm on the back of it. “Imagine being shackled to this shithole.”

“I thought you liked this shithole.”

“Yeah, as a brief recourse from the ardors of being really fucking rich,” Jay had retorted. “Not for the rest of my life. I mean, goddamn. Look at that prick.”

Jay didn’t have to tell you twice. You took in his messy brown hair, his wide smile, his deft fingers. Then he had walked away from the counter, holding your vodka cranberry and an old-fashioned for Jay. His stride was sure, and he was only looking at you.

“Here you are,” the bartender had said lowly. “Here’s your old-fashioned-“ he had set the drink in front of Jay with little fanfare- “and here’s your vodka cranberry.” He had slid the drink towards you, making brief eye contact with you. He had been so close to you, you could finally make out his name tag – Jake, written in careful capital letters- and you could smell the moonshine on his breath.

“Yeah, thanks,” Jay had muttered.

“Thank you,” you had added softly.

Jake leaned away slowly, his eyes still lingering on you, before politely nodding. “Let me know if you need anything,” he had drawled before walking away.

Jay had taken a long swig of his old-fashioned and takes a look at the retreating figure of Jake before groaning. “He should have made it even more obvious that he wanted you. He should have just shoved his cock into your old-lady drink and swirled it around so we really got the picture. Fuck me, I guess.”

You had sipped your vodka cranberry and laughed. “Oh, come on. You’re reading too much into it.”

“I’m not,” Jay had insisted, pointing at you with an accusatory glare. “He was checking you out in this lascivious manner. It was disgusting. He was looking at you like you were some piece of ass.” He had taken another long drink of his old-fashioned, barely wincing at the burn.

“As opposed to you,” you had said sarcastically, “who only has pure intentions for me, right?”

Jay had laughed. “Hey, it’s different when I objectify you. It’s kind of like when a homeless guy calls you sexy on the sidewalk compared to when an apex predator like me calls you sexy. The point is, that bartender wants you, and it’s revolting.”

You had dared another glance at the bartender, who was blatantly staring at you while sipping his moonshine. “Relax. I’m probably just the first woman with a full set of teeth he’s seen in a while.”

Jay had snickered again. “That’s probably true.” Only a few moments of silence had passed before his voice took on a mischievous, almost playful lilt. “You know, you could probably get something from him…”

You had wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumbs. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” Jay had said with a shrug, “you could get some free drinks out of him if you flirted a little, take advantage of him. You could probably get him to bequeath his life savings, which could maybe buy you a used microwave or a footlong.”

Your mouth had gaped open. “Are you openly encouraging me to flirt with him?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you a cuck or something?”

Jay had laughed again, slapping the table. “Ah, you slay me.” He had reached over and pinched your cheek, an action that made you want to bite his fingers off. “Come on, just shove your cute little ass in his face and flirt. It’ll be funny to make him think that he has a chance with you.”

“I’ll pass,” you had replied. “I mean, it’s not really my thing to just play around with other peoples’ emotions.”

He had sighed and shook his head in disappointment. “Oh, what am I going to do with you? You’re so goddamn innocent. You’re saying that you’ll feel some modicum of guilt if you fuck around with him?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Jay had downed the rest of his old-fashioned. “Recalcitrance is for bitches and pussies.”

You had rolled her eyes. “Fine, so I’m a pussy.”

Once again, that finger had found its way into your line of sight. “You know who’s really a pussy? This asshole who had invested in this obvious pump and dump…”

As Jay rambles about crypto, you can’t help but look at the bartender. He’s behind the counter, cleaning a cloudy glass with a rag. When he notices that you’re looking at him, he smiles at you warmly before he looks at Jay and returns his attention to the glass.

Jay corrals you into having another drink, and you listen to his sophomoric opinions on modern society, the current film industry, his tech predictions, and his opinions on right-wing pundits. The only thing stymying your boredom from overtaking you are your furtive glances at the bartender- Jake, you remind yourself. Jake.

Finally, the two of you leave the shady bar, and Jay makes out with you as he presses you against his car. You close your eyes and think about Jake as his tongue probes inside of your mouth with little grace.

“Listen,” you murmur, pulling away from his lips, “I have a presentation early in the morning to give, so I’m going to have to cut this date short…”

“Oh, bullshit,” Jay says, groping your ass on the sidewalk, “you just don’t want to fuck me, is that it? Can you say that for me? Say that you don’t want to fuck me.”

You sigh. “I don’t want to fuck you.”

His hands comes off of your ass and he pulls away from you, shaking his head. “That’s all you had to say. I don’t get women. They’re always like, ‘Men never listen to us!’ Then they don’t explicitly tell us anything, we have to parse through their shit...” As Jay talks, he opens the passenger door. “Get in. Please.”

You slide inside of his car and he closes the door, even buckling your seatbelt for you. Then he walks over to the driver’s seat and drives to your place. He calls you a cock-tease and a winsome harlot and some other choice terms you can barely hear.

When he finally arrives at your place, he begs you for one last kiss. You oblige, he bemoans that he’ll never get to pound that tight strange, and he drives off, presumably to coerce someone into his bed for the night.

Against your better judgement, you take an Uber and walk into that bar on 10th Street alone. This time, the lustful eyes of the barflies are less disgusting than they are frightening. Thankfully, the bar area has been just about cleared out, and you take a seat on a stool with a peeled cover.

Jake is busy cleaning up a spill on the far end of the counter, but when he looks up and sees you his face brightens. He drops the cloth on the table and walks towards you with a goofy smile.

“Hey, babydoll,” he says lowly, eyes sparkling. He doesn’t bother masking the fact that he’s openly checking you out, his eyes lingering on your breasts before meeting your own stare again. “Was your date that boring?”

“He was…nice,” you reply, resting your head on your hand.

Jake laughs. “Yeah, nice, sure.” He shakes his head slightly, like he can’t believe his good fortune. “You want something to drink, babe?”

“Yeah, could you make me something nice and sweet? Nothing too alcoholic.”

Jake points at you, cocking his head. “I’ve got just the thing for you.” He busies himself behind the bar, pouring this and that into a shaker. As he does, he can’t stop stealing glances at you. Every time he does, he smiles and bites his lip before looking away. Finally, he pours a light-yellow drink into a cocktail glass, carefully affixing a lemon wedge to the side before gently sliding it to you. “It’s a lemon drop,” he explains in his slow drawl.

“Thank you.” You pull your wallet out of your purse. “How much is this?”

Jake shakes his head. “Nah, for a pretty girl like you, it’s on the house.”

A smile spreads across your face, and that warmth in your chest spreads. “Are you sure?”

“Surer than anything, babe.” He gestures for you to try it, pushing his mop of hair back.

You take a sip, and your eyes widen. “This is great.” You hold the glass by the stem as you drink it.

“Thank you,” Jake says almost shyly. “Glad that I picked up something useful from bartending this shithole.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Been working here for…ten years? Owned it for three.” Jake takes a long sip of his moonshine, resting his elbows on the counter. “Not my first choice of job, but when you’re an addict and you need money, you’ll take anything.”

Your mouth opens, but Jake quickly answers your question. “I’m clean now. Been clean for five years. My only vice is this.” He holds up his tumbler and shakes it before taking another sip.

“Do you make that yourself?”

Jake nods. “I make it myself, in the back,” he says, a tinge of pride in his voice. “This must be about…80% pure alcohol, I figure.”

“Can I try some?” you ask tentatively.

Jake laughs, his face contorting in disbelief. “Are you sure, babydoll? This could knock a grown man on his feet.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you say. You hate to back down from a challenge.

With another laugh, he walks over to you, coming around the counter. He holds his glass out to you, and as you wrap your hand around the tumbler he tilts the liquid into your mouth. Jake’s eyes are fixed on your lips, awaiting your reaction.

At first, it does little to you, and you’re about to say something snarky. Then the burning starts, flames licking at your throat, and you double over coughing. Your eyes are screwed up, filled with tears, and your hands clutch the edge of the counter.

You can feel a hand rubbing your back, the other hand gently stroking your arm. “Aw, damn. You took that like a champ.”

Through hacking coughs, you eke out, “I don’t feel like a champ.”

Jake continues rubbing comforting circles on your back. “I’ve seen men collapse to their feet from a shot of moonshine. You’re a little firecracker, ain’t you?”

“Thanks,” you mutter, turning to look at him through watery eyes.

“No problem. You want some water, babydoll?”

You nod, and Jake reluctantly lets go of you to retrieve some water for you. He returns to your side with a glass, holding it up to your lips. The water is like a soothing balm for your throat, and after a long drink you sigh. “Damn.”

Jake sets the glass down and picks up his own tumbler of moonshine, taking a long swig. “That’s moonshine for you.”

Your eyes widen. “How are you drinking that so…so…”

“Like it’s water?” Jake smiles at you cheekily, leaning against the counter next to you so that his elbows are on the edge and he’s facing you. “First of all, I’ve put shit up my nose that burned more than this. Second of all, I’m used to it. When you’re dealing with this day in and day out-“ he gestures widely at the bar- “you need something good and strong to get through it.”

“Your liver must be strong as hell.”

Jake laughs, setting his tumbler down. “It must be pickled at this point.”

You can’t help but laugh, and he playfully pokes your shoulder. “Don’t laugh at my liver. It’s the only reason why I’m still standing.” Then he stills, appraising you with a careful gaze. “I never got your name, babydoll.”

You tell him your name, holding your hand out.

He takes it and shakes it firmly. “Lovely name. Suits you perfectly. My name’s Jake. Jake Sim.”

He’s still holding your hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he murmurs. Jake holds your hand to his lips and kisses it, traces of moonshine wetting your hand. He flattens your hand and idly starts tracing your palm, his other hand circling your wrist. “You’ve got nice hands. Real nice.”

“Thank you,” you reply softly. “Yours are very rough.”

Jake laughs somewhat self-consciously. He stops drawing on your palm with his index finger. “Yeah, well, you don’t work at a place like this for damn near a decade without getting a few calluses and cuts.”

Your voice comes out as a whisper. “I like it.” You reach out and gently squeeze the tip of his finger, feeling the callus for yourself, before dropping it.

Jake smiles, but his eyes take on a dangerous glint. His finger trails from the palm of your hand to your wrist, his fingertips gliding over your veins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, both of you continued smiling at each other. Then Jake licks his lips, and he lets go of your wrist. His other hand now strokes your forearm. “Why’d you come back here, baby? Coming to this shithole once is one thing, but twice in the same night…”

You don’t see a point in playing games. “I wanted to see you.”

The smile drops off of Jake’s face, and he leans in towards you. “Yeah? No bullshit?”

“No bullshit.”

His other hand moves to rest on your knee, and his thumb strokes it through your jeans. “Your date didn’t do it for you?”

You shrug, picking up your lemon drop again and sipping it. “He was okay, I guess. He was weird.”

Jake’s voice is becoming low, his eyes serious. His eyes flicker over your body, settling on your thighs. This time, he doesn’t bother looking back up at you. “You don’t like weird?”

“Not that kind of weird,” you reply, your voice catching.

“You don’t like rich prick typa weird?” His voice is amused, and his hand creeps up your knee. “You prefer broke bartender at a shit bar typa weird?”

You lean in, your eyes locked onto his full, plush lips. The smell of moonshine has become less of a deterrent and more intoxicating. “Is that a problem?”

“The opposite,” Jake replies in a husky voice. His lips brush your cheek as he moves to whisper in your ear. “I’m flattered that a gorgeous lady like you has interest in me.” His right hand is now caressing your thigh slowly, intentionally. The other touches your face with his thumb.

“I’m surprised you’re flattered,” you reply, leaning into his touch slightly. “Women here must love you.”

“They love me to get free drinks out of me,” he says dismissively. “Besides…most women who come here aren’t a fraction as pretty as you are. You’re like a gem in a pigsty, you know that?” When you don’t say anything, Jake continues, running his finger along your jaw. “Your date must’ve been as stupid as hell to let you go.” He pulls away from your ear so he can look you in your eyes.

“He couldn’t do anything about it. I just didn’t want him the way-“

Jake’s eyes narrow, and he comes impossibly closer. “The way what?”

“The way I want you.”

There’s a pause, and Jake’s face is unreadable. When he does talk, his voice is strained, “Tell me you aren’t fucking with me. Tell me you’re serious. Say the word, and I’ll shut this place down and kick all these junkies out.”

You swallow, need and desire building up in the pit of your stomach. “I’m serious.”

Jake pulls away from you and walks over to the barflies, telling them to get their drunk asses out. They complain and groan, but they leave without much of a fight. Once they’re all gone, Jake locks the door. “Come here,” he says, beckoning you with his finger.

You walk towards him as if in a trance, and when you’re close he spins you around by the waist and kisses you. You readily kiss him back, your hands resting on his chest. His mouth tastes like moonshine, and you can even taste a hint of his sharp aftershave. Jake presses you up against the door, placing his knee in between your legs to trap you. The kiss starts off playful, but it grows hungry, and Jake seems as though he would swallow you if he could.

When he pulls away from your lips, a string of saliva in between your mouths, his eyes dart all over your face. Then he nods slightly, as if he’s come to some grand conclusion.

“What?” you ask, your hands snaking up to his cheek. “What is it?”

Jake pecks your lips gently and smiles. “I just realized…I’m not going to be able to take my time with you.” Before you can say anything, he wraps his arm around your waist and guides you behind the counter to a wooden door that looks liable to give one splinters.

When he opens the door, the smell of alcohol is almost staggering, and Jake’s grip tightens on your waist as if he had anticipated that reaction. Bottles of alcohol are stacked in crates on wooden shelves on the far wall. To the right rests three DIY pot stills, all using dented kegs. To the left, there’s a small faux-leather couch with chunks of it peeling off. You think back to Jay’s words about the artifice or whatever the fuck, and suddenly you wish there was at least a bit of pretense. But when you turn to Jake, he’s smiling at you like you had hung the moon in the sky yourself. “I know it’s no Hilton,” he begins sheepishly, but you shut him up by kissing him squarely on the mouth.

“It works for me,” you say, biting your lips.

Jake’s grin widens. “Shit, okay.”

You tumble together on the couch with Jake, your mouths connecting sloppily and wetly. You suck his tongue into your mouth hungrily, causing you to choke slightly. This only spurs Jake on further, and he grinds his crotch into you. Your hips rise to meet his, and you hump each other desperately and almost painfully. His hand crawls up your stomach, and he gropes at your breasts. Finally, he pushes himself off of you, settling into a kneeling position. Through the dim light filtering in through the cracks of the door, you can see that Jake’s lips are swollen, his hair messy, and his eyes wild.

“Take it off,” he grunts. “Everything. Now.”

Your hands fumble with the zipper of your jeans, excitement clogging throat. As you tug your jeans down, Jake unbuckles his belt, throwing it to the side. You kick your shoes off, shimmy your jeans off, and toss your shirt away, leaving you in only your bra and panties. When you’re suitably undressed, you look up at Jake.

Jake’s shirt is off, revealing a dark mass of skin you recognize as tattoos. One of his hands has slipped into his boxers, and he’s staring at you. A moan escapes his lips as his eyes wander your body. “So fucking perfect,” he says, voice strained as he plays with his cock. “So goddamn beautiful. Play with yourself for me, baby.”

You tentatively tug your underwear down, collecting your arousal to coat your clit before stroking it with two fingers. You’re so sensitive that just the first touches cause you to whine in pleasure.

“Spread your legs,” Jake hisses. “Nice and wide…”

You oblige, widening your legs so that Jake gets a full view of your pearly pussy. He moans again, his mouth watering at the sight of it, at the hot, sweet smell. “Let me taste it. Let me taste it,” he begs, dipping his head down.

As his wide tongue touches your clit, you cry out in pleasure. Jake laps at your clit with fervor, his hands pushing your legs apart as he licks wide stripes. His mouth makes obscene smacking noises, and when he briefly pulls away to catch his breath, his entire lower face is slick with your arousal. “So good,” he mutters before diving back in. You squirm, knowing that you’ll cum quickly if he doesn’t stop, but Jake’s nails dig into your fleshy thighs, holding you in place.

“Oh, Jake, Jake,” you pant out, head leaning back. “Jake, I’m so close, Jake…”

Seemingly encouraged by your words, Jake continues attacking your clit, and two of his bony fingers slip into your vaginal walls, spreading you open. They pump themselves in and out, in and out, like the undulations of the ocean. Like that, he rips an orgasm from you, continuing to lick the arousal spilling from you as you ride out the wave of pleasure.

You lean your head back on the armrest of the couch, trying to catch your breath. Jake gently caresses your thigh as you come down from your high, peppering your neck with kisses. “Tasted amazing,” he says, voice ragged. “Tasted like paradise.”

Your brain is so fuzzy you can hardly piece together a coherent sentence. “That was so good, Jake.”

Jake smiles at you and gives you a kiss on the mouth, slow and gentle. You greedily lick your own juices off of his lips, even sucking it off of his tongue. As you kiss, you can feel the head of his cock poking at your entrance. “Sorry,” Jake says blithely, “but I need to fuck you right now.”

You nod. “Please.”

To his credit, he takes his time. He fucks into you slowly and carefully, wanting you to adjust. He’s not long, but he’s girthy and fills you well. He feeds you his cock inch by inch, moving in and out as so not to hurt you. Once you seem at ease, he pushes your thighs up so that your knees touch your breasts and fucks you at a faster pace. After a minute or so of that position, he seemingly gets tired of it, opting to place your legs over his shoulder. This allows him to hit a sweet angle, one that has you moaning.

He’s fucking you so quickly that your breasts begin to hurt, so you cover them with your hands. Jake swats your fingers with his free hand, the other wrapped around your legs. “Stop that,” he huffs out. “Let your tits bounce.” You let go of your breasts, and he licks his finger to swirl it around your nipples, marveling at their stiffness. He kneads your breasts as he pounds into you with grunts of effort.

Jake pulls out of you, and the loss causes you to cry out. He grabs you by your shoulders and pulls you around so that your head is lolling over the edge of the armrest. He hovers over you, one hand prying your mouth open. “Need to fuck this mouth of yours. Will you let me, babydoll?”

You pant out your assent, and he slides his wet cock into your mouth. First you kitten-lick the head, tasting your own hot arousal, then he presses his cock further down, treating your mouth like a pussy. As you gag around his dick, you play with his balls, fondling them with one hand. With the other, you play with your engorged, reddened clit. This doesn’t go unnoticed by him. “You’re amazing,” Jake pants out. “Playing with yourself while you get facefucked.”

You tap his stomach, and he pulls his cock out, stroking your cheek gently. “All good?” he asks tentatively.

You nod and spit somewhere on his floor before taking him back into your mouth. “So good to me,” Jake praises. “So, so good.” Once he’s done fucking your mouth, he pulls out and his cock on your cheek, almost playfully. Then he pulls you over so that you’re flat on your stomach, your head still hanging over the edge of the couch. He spanks your ass once, twice, then slips his wet, stiff cock into your folds, moaning as he does.

This time, his pace isn’t furious, but moderate. He pulls you up so that your back rests on his chest. He’s on his knees, fucking his cock into you upright. Your hips meet Jake’s, so that you’re bouncing on his dick. He kneads your breast with one hand, the other hand holding your waist. Your lips meet in a sloppy, rushed kiss before he pushes you down and grips your hips. He pounds into you with strangled moans, sounding more animalistic than anything else.

“You like this?” he asks, the question sounding less like dirty talk and more like a desperate need for assurance.

“I like it!” Your voice is tremulous, shaking as he thrusts harder and harder into you.

“That rich prick you were with couldn’t fuck you like this, right?” He punctuates his sentence by pulling out of you before slamming himself back inside with a groan.

You moan loudly, trying to clutch the armrest for support. “No, he couldn’t. He’s nothing like you.”

“That’s right,” Jake says, closing his eyes. “He couldn’t. He couldn’t make you purr like I do.” His thrusts become sloppier and faster, and you slip your hand down so you can rub your clit to chase your own orgasm.

Peals of moans spill from your lips. “I’ve never been fucked like this before, Jake.”

“I thought so.” Jake flips you over so he can enter you from the front, pushing one of your legs to the side. He slides in and out of you with ease, your juices having pooled on the couch. “You need to be fucked like this, don’t you?”

“I need it,” you choke out, your stomach desperately burning. “I need it, Jake.”

As he comes close to orgasm, you can feel his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck, a girl like you just begs to be treated like this.”

“That’s right,” you babble.

Jake doesn’t talk anymore, instead letting out low grunts as he comes close. Your second orgasm hits you first, and you scream out his name. The tightening of your vaginal walls is enough to bring him to climax, and with a final grunt and a low, “Fuck!” he spills into you. He pulls out of you and weakly rubs his cock to spill his last few spurts of hot cum on your stomach. Then he wearily collapses, leaning back on the opposite side of the couch.

Both of you recover from the heated session, and you gasp for air. After a while, you feel Jake’s hand on yours, and he pulls you onto him. He strokes your hair and kisses both of your cheeks. You wrap your arms around him and rest your cheek on his chest.

“I can’t just let you go,” he murmurs, fingers tangling in your hair. “I’m going to need you again soon.”

You look up at him, surprised. “Again? Soon?”

Jake laughs, his playfulness returning. “We’re going to rest up for a little, and then I’m going to take you again. We need two more rounds, at minimum. What do you say?”

“I say you’re insane,” you reply, any snark momentarily eviscerated by the residual pleasure spreading in your body.

“You like it.”

“Shut up.”

With another laugh, Jake kisses the top of your head. “You’re cute.”

You allow your eyes to flutter shut as you revel in his embrace, taking in Jake’s scent and comfort.

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hometoursandotherstuff · 3 months ago

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I almost passed by this normal looking 1928 brick colonial in Norman, OK, but I'm glad I didn't, b/c I love it so much. 4bds, 4ba, 3,599 sq ft, $795k. This lady has style.

I'm obsessed with that Love sofa table. Look at the color. Amazing.

So much inspiration.

Love the area rugs.

It takes courage to paint a large kitchen with lots of cabinets in a bright royal blue, but it works. They look like they were dated oak cabinets, so instead of replacing them again, this was a vibrant alternative for the cost of paint and new hardware, plus new counters.

Nice little powder room redo.

The family room. Note that the walls are actually gray. The color is in the furnishings, so it will appeal to more buyers. In this room there's a fireplace and shelving. If the new owner doesn't like the blue fireplace or pink shelving, it's easily changed.

A technique that I used to use to fill up walls- I'd buy huge posters and then giant cheap plastic frames. Really, they'd look just as good as these.

The home office looks like a lovely lounge.

Love the primary bedroom. Look at the architectural feature behind the bed.

Very large suite is 2 stories high.

The en-suite has a double sink made from a triple bureau.

2nd bd. is a good size. Note that the walls are still light gray. That was a good idea if you know you're going to eventually put it on the market.

Oh, how cute. A colorful bath with a matching fish tank.

The 3rd bd. is large. Love the stripes.

And, the 4th bd. has a fireplace and room for a home office.

Look at the putting green in the yard.

There's also a small patio and a 2 car garage on the .51 Acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/503-Shawnee-St-Norman-OK-73071/58739554_zpid/

#brick colonial homes #colorful homes #houses #house tours #interior design #home tour

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1-800-local-slut · 11 months ago

Text

House of Memories (Spencer's Version)

Spencer Reid x Black! Fem! FBI! Reader

A look at your life with Spencer through the eyes of his team mates

Warnings: none really, just fluff, the team being observant, adult objects (condoms, alcohol, etc.,), not a warning but a note: reader isn't in the BAU but she works in the FBI, through Emily's POV

“I wasn’t expecting an invite from you, Reid. Thanks for having me over.” The front door to the apartment opened. Emily was holding a bottle of cheap wine that she grabbed from the liquor store down the street when she realized she forgot to bring a house gift. It was a close call too, she was literally driving past it when she realized and had to make a very hasty u-turn.

“It’s no problem, thank you for coming! Derek, Garcia and Hotch are in the living room, Rossi’s in the bathroom and JJ’s coming late. Her loss though, I think she’d really enjoy Interstellar and if she comes late I know she’s going to complain. Come in, just take your shoes off if you don’t mind.” Emily nodded, after Spencer gave her a light side hug and accepted the bottle from her.

He wore a white tee-shirt, pajama bottoms, and smelt fresh. His hair was damp as well, like he’d showered a few hours ago but his hair is so thick that it takes a minute for it to dry. She noticed his light shrug, as if it wasn’t his preference but he would take it anyways.

Ghosting through the threshold, she bent down and slipped off her boots. She heard light chatter, music, smelt a vanilla and sea salt (it was a rough guess) candle burning, and heard the clatter of pots in the kitchen.

She couldn’t help it, her analytical mind working before she could stop it. Sometimes she would find herself profiling strangers even when it was rude. And profiling your coworker who invited you into his home was very rude.

Spencer’s shoes were thrown on the floor, one knocked on its side but still close together. As if it was an attempt on his end to be some sort of neat. Pairs of heels, pumps, boots were lined on the shoe rack but after doing a quick count, she noticed something. There were far more womens shoes than there were mens shoes. About six pairs of men's shoes to a 10 women’s shoe ratio.

Aaron, David, Derek make three, and the other three were clearly Spencer’s. Pen’s shoes obviously were one of those female shoes. The bright purple heels sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the browns, blacks, and deep reds of the female shoes.

‘Enough Emily, stop being rude.’

“Your house is beautiful Spencer.” She couldn’t help but look around in slight awe. She wasn’t expecting Spencer’s house to be so…neat? No, that sounds mean. Neat in a way that didn’t seem like it was all Spencer. Sure Spencer’s little unique touches were sprinkled about the apartment and she was still standing at the doorway.

There were pictures of nature hanging on the wall, of a young black woman standing in front of a large pond far from the camera. She wore a pink baseball cap and had her hands flung out as if to emphasize how big the pond was. Who was that? A secret lover? She looked familiar, like a face Emily had seen in passing.

“Oh thanks. I just moved in a few months ago so not everything is fully set up.” Spencer called from the kitchen, and there were three clicks from the stove. Then he slid out, wiping his hands on a towel. As she walked through the house, she noticed more.

Potted plants with lush green leaves, knitted plant holders hanging from the ceiling, a red and dark blue patterned rug on the floor in the hall. From where she stood, she could see there was a small dining area. A nice wooden table, with papers and files scattered all over.

She found her way to the living room and saw her coworkers engaged in whispers on the couch. More papers and files were on the small tables on either side of the couch, a contrast to the neatness of the rest of the house.

“Hey everybody, what’s up?” Emily asked. Heads snapped towards her, and she noticed Penelope’s eyes curved up in a mischievous grin.

“Hi! Come sit, come sit.” Penelope motioned next to her, Derek and Rossi sliding over to make room for her.

“Did you make it in okay?” Hotch asked and Emily nodded while she slipped onto the brown leather sofa. A dark purple hand knitted black was thrown over the back of it. Did Spencer take up knitting or was this just a nice purchase?

Spencer plopped down into the brown leather armchair and rested his feet on the pouf in front of him. Emily noticed how spotless the glass coffee table in front of them was.

The whole house was ridiculously clean. The wooden floors sparkled, the carpets meticulously vacuumed, the TV sparkled and the speakers next to the TV were flawlessly dusted. The large oak bookshelf that was up against the wall that was closest to the kitchen was also dusted and the books neatly organized.

When would Spencer have time to clean his house so thoroughly? They were on a mission all of last week, got back two nights ago and have been at work since then. Sure, it’s Spencer he could just be very clean but the way things sparkled, it was clear they were cleaned merely a few hours ago.

When they did go home it was late at night and they were back at work early the next day. Did he spend his whole Saturday afternoon scrubbing his floors, and preparing to cook for them? Spencer wasn’t the type to have a housekeeper, especially when he does his work all over and you can’t exactly leave FBI documents in the eye of the eye of a random house keeper.

“Sorry about the paperwork, I still have to set up my study. I have to put up my desk and everything.” Everyone voiced a consolation, some variation of ‘I don’t mind’ or ‘you should see my place’.

“Not the handyman?” Derek teased, wiggling his eyebrows. Spencer chuckled and shook his head. Spencer’s been smiling a lot more lately.

“I like keeping myself out of the hospital. Did you know every 45 minutes a piece of furniture falls on someone, and 25,000 people a year are treated at the hospital for a furniture related incident?” Spencer rattled off, emphasizing the numbers with his fingers.

Before anyone else could say anything, the doorbell rang. Spencer glanced back at the door, before he sprung to his feet with enthusiasm like he was expecting Emily and Penelope exchanged looks, giggling while Rossi lightly rolled his eyes.

“Of course he knows that. Also, did any of you know that Spencer moved to a new place?” Derek asked.

“Well I knew. I know where all of you live. But it was very considerate of him to invite us over.” Hotch nodded, taking a sip of a bottle of water. Not Spencer’s usual brand but she did notice a switch some time ago. From Purelife to Poland Spring.

“Did you see the coat? Hanging by the door rack?” Penelope whispered, motioning for everyone to come in closer. There was a devilish twinkle in her eyes, her brain working overtime.

“What, you think he has some… extra company? A secret lover?” Rossi chuckled. Of course she noticed, but she just thought it was Penelope’s.

“Maybe! Do you think?” Penelope asked excitedly, her hands flapping around with enthusiasm. Oh Penelope, ever the romantic. Derek giggled next to Penelope. He was lightly smacked by Penelope as a rebuttal and he giggled as if the slaps tickled him and they heard Spencer’s reapproaching foot steps along with an extra pair of heels.

They all turned, eager to see who it was. Would it be the woman in the photo? His mom? Someone else?

“JJ!” Emily exclaimed when the final member of their team came in. She twisted around in her seat, happy to see her friend. JJ wasn’t able to make it on their last assignment so it had been a minute since they’d seen her. For people who practically live together, spending almost every moment together while at work was normal. They’d all fallen into a natural balance of being around each other. Of course they’d missed JJ while she was out sick.

“Hi!” She held her arms open for hugs, while the entire team voiced their hellos.

“Sorry I’m late, the grocery store was ridiculous. You wouldn’t believe what I saw, some lady's ex boyfriend came there and she called the cops on him like right there in the store. Apparently, he gave her something on purpose. She got on the speaker and called him ‘Dirty Dick David’. And then they fired her for playing with the mic that way!” She told her story while passing out hugs and then plopped down in the opposite arm chair across from the one Spencer was sitting in before.

“What?” Spencer laughed while he sat back down.

“Right there it happened.” The whole team was laughing and Emily remembered that this was why she got along with her team so well. The easy laughter was so simple and refreshing.

“Woah, right there is insane! I guess she was sick of him.” Emily leaned slightly into Penny, allowing herself more comfort

“Imagine being at work and your ex who purposely infected you with something shows up to both you? I’d be pissed too.” Derek chuckled.

“I’ve been through three wives and never got a reaction like that, Dirty Dick David certainly had it coming.” Rossi added before they all laughed even harder.

Then there was a loud ringing noise. Spencer’s phone was going off and he patted himself down, lifting himself up checking to see if he was sitting on it. Then he got up, his face making a tiny expression like he could finally recall.

“I’ll be right back guys.” He ran into the kitchen and Penelope pulled everyone into a huddle.

“Okay, here’s what you missed JJ, you ready?”

“I’m ready?” She asked with an arch eyebrow and a nervous smile.

“There’s a bunch of lady stuff around here, like a coat and I don’t know if you saw the shoes but there are a lot of lady shoes. Rossi was in the bathroom and saw a bunch of lady stuff too, like a special face cleanser but he didn’t wanna snoop. I think he should’ve gone for it but whatever. Also I don’t know if you know but I know that Spencer doesn’t cook.

His house is also really clean like really really clean like it was just clean but when would he have gotten the time to clean it? I mean we got off work like three hours ago. Running theories? Spencer has a housekeeper, a secret girlfriend, or his moms visiting. Got it? Okay, got it.”

JJ blinked after Garcia’s rapid rundown, Derek nodding like he was able to keep up with that and Hotch all around looked displeased.

“We are guests in Spencer’s home, don’t go looking through his stuff. Maybe Spencer likes that stuff, that’s not any of our concern.” He frowned with a crease in his eyebrows.

“Yeah Garcia, besides if Spence did get a girlfriend then I think that’s great for him.” JJ chuckled and Derek rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

“I’m back! I picked up the shrimp and some wine. I also got some beers if you want any. The coolers are for me, you can have one but don’t take any of the pink ones. I like those ones.” A familiar voice sounded through the house.

The sound of socks hitting the floor padded through the house and a young woman walked in. The woman from the photo more specifically. Her hair was in long braids that curled around her waist. She was gorgeous, a red scarf was wrapped around her neck to protect her from the chilly winter air. More specifically she was familiar.

More specifically she was from a different team. More specifically a member of the HRT. The Hostage Rescue Unit. They’ve seen Spencer speaking with her a lot. They’ve teased him for their closeness multiple times, and knew they were a bit closer. But Emily didn’t know they were such close friends. For her to just walk into his home this way.

No offense to Spencer but when Emily said she was hot, she meant she was hot. Like she just stepped out of a magazine. And she never thought Spencer would have it in him to pull. Spencer was certainly nothing to sneeze at but my god was this woman attractive.

She was making her way through the house, to the kitchen lightly waddling. She held a bag of groceries and as if she could feel all the eyes on her she turned.

“Oh hi! I’m sorry, I ran out to the grocery store. I didn’t realize we ran out of shrimp but the food will be done soon.” She beamed at them and put one of her hands on her hips. And Emily did as profilers do. She profiled even if she didn’t truly mean too. She was wearing pajama pants, and a puffy coat that was zipped open to reveal a white tank top. Above all she radiated joy, confidence and comfort.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Hotch cleared his throat, and she nodded at the members of the BAU.

“You got the shrimp?” Spencer called, coming out of the kitchen, slipping his phone into the pocket of his pants. He came up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. She instinctively angled her head to his and pushed herself up onto her tippy toes to plant a kiss on his lips.

Penelope was on the verge of exploding, her mouth open in a wide grin. She let out an excited squeal. The two agents jumped upon hearing the high pitched noise and everyone on the couch turned to face her.

“What?! Oh my god, when were you gonna tell us?!” Penelope asked, bounding up from the couch. Spencer looked confused above all as Penelope raced towards him and his apparent girlfriend.

“I didn’t think I had to, we weren’t exactly shy about it.” Spencer laughed as he looked at Penelope basically bouncing up and down in front of him. She giggled and Penelope paused.

“Dude we thought you were just friends?” Derek questioned from the couch. Spencer shook his head, looking more and more shocked by the second.

“So how long has this been going on?” Emily asked with a laugh. She had to laugh! How could she not be happy for Spencer? He looked so happy, he literally hadn’t stopped smiling since she came into the door and they kissed.

“Like a year? I mean, I know we jumped the gun with moving, but my lease was up and I decided that this would work and I couldn’t find anywhere close enough to work. We decided to go for it.” Spencer added, scratching the back of his neck.

“You guys really had no idea? I mean I tell you guys that we go out every weekend, I have a picture of her on my desk. We literally come to work together everyday.” Spencer exclaimed, motioning around with his hands.

“I don't see you that often at work, they probably don’t really notice those things.” She rationalized to him and rubbed a hand over his chest. He never moved his hand from around her waist.

It all made sense. The candles littered around the house, the small basket of yarn and needles on the floor next to one of the arm chairs. The food even smelt too seasoned to be like anything Spencer could cook, the photos that Emily was just now realizing were taken of Spencer. The romance novel that Emily saw sitting on the glass coffee table. How spotless the entire house was. The shoes, the coat, Emily was just mad at herself for not recognizing the photo.

“Well. Way to go Reid, I didn’t know you had it in you.” She smirked at Derek’s remark and stood on her toes again. She whispered something in Spencer’s ear and he cackled with his mouth open in shock.

He was turning a bashful shade of red and his voice squeaked as he sent her away.

“I’ll be finished with your food soon, you guys.” Trailing into the kitchen, Spencer glanced over as if to check if she needed anything.

“Oh gosh, you didn’t have to cook for us! Thank you so much!” Emily exclaimed, realizing that she was just sitting there like a fish with her mouth wide open.

“Let her cook, why not enjoy dinner and a movie?” Rossi joked. It seemed like the shock had dissipated and JJ giggled, her blonde hair shining like the Sun and Emily noted how her entire face lit up like a star.

“Honey, can you come help me with these groceries?” Spencer nodded, following her into the kitchen. They watched, waiting to watch them fully go into the kitchen. Then like little girls at a sleepover, they leaned back into their huddle.

“Wow!”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.” Hotch tried to keep the peace before his team of impatient agents ran rampant. Emily herself felt like she needed answers and she needed them now.

“Did you see the way he looked at her? They’re so cute, I had a feeling when he came to work that one time smelling like perfume and wearing the same clothes but they were like all up on each other.” Penelope whispered excitedly.

“I always knew opposites attract. You know they make a handsome couple too.” The excitement died down for a second and everyone had to look at Rossi. Who even used that phrasing anymore?

“You’re so old, Rossi.” JJ giggled and Hotch shook his head. Rossi smiled playfully, the way he always did when they made fun of him for being ancient.

“What do they even talk about? I mean sure they have stuff in common but for a whole year? I wasn’t expecting that!” Emily exclaimed.

“Reid’s never short on things to talk about.” Derek teased and Penelope swatted him again.

“I mean I noticed he’d been a bit happier but I wasn’t expecting this! I guess you just never know.” JJ added in, glancing over to the kitchen to make sure the two weren’t standing right there.

“We can find out what they talk about.” No one wanted to admit it but they wanted to snoop so bad. So bad that when Penelope suggested it the best thing to do was to stop talking and be extra quiet so they could hear. Even Hotch, slowly reclined.

Over the clatter of pans, the soft clinking of bottles and things being put away, and dishes being taken out they heard her voice.

“Emily brought us some wine. Pink.” Spencer’s voice broke through and Emily tensed up. Oh god, what if they hated the wine?

“Oh my favorite. I’ve always liked that Emily. If it wasn’t for you, I’d go for her.” She laughed and plopped something into what sounded like a liquid.

Derek made some funny eyebrows at Emily and Emily felt her cheeks heat up. JJ and Penelope both grabbed each other to stifle a laugh. As bad as it was to listen to your teammate and his girlfriend's conversation, they couldn’t stop.

“Aw babe don’t pout.” Then a kissing noise.

“There’s that smile. Also I picked up some condoms, we were down to six and you know we go through those like crazy. Speaking of which, I was thinking, do we really need those? I mean I’m on the pill and at the rate we go we’d save more money just not having sex. To be honest we spend a bit too much money on that stuff anyways and I don’t want to replace another bed frame. I like this one and we literally just got it. That or we just need to stop having sex so often. The call is totally yours but that bitch who works at the front cashier keeps looking at me funny everytime she sees me walk up.” It took a moment for everyone to process what she was talking about. It really took a moment. An identical frown spread over both Rossi and Hotch, and Derek had to put his fist in his mouth to avoid cackling.

Oh god, this was an awful idea. Now there was just awkward silence. None of them could say anything even if they wanted to.

“So my options are death, death or going raw?” Spencer whined immediately. Emily focused her eyes on something else instantly, the patterned carpet on the floor, the TV that was showing different scenery as it was in rest mode.

“Oh my god, you are so dramatic! You’re not going to die if we don’t have sexy every day.” The sound of a spoon clattering down and then she broke out into a fit of giggles.

“But how do you know!” He whined again.

“Like I said, it's your choice. It doesn’t really matter to me, I’m just sick of always having to go to the store. And you’re squeezing my ribs.”

“I like your idea. Besides, we have abortion money.” She gasped softly and then broke into light laughter. JJ’s jaw dropped open and Derek snorted before he covered his nose. Of everything that was expected it wasn’t that.

“That’s awful, baby.” She scolded and Emily got a mental image of the two. Was she standing in front of the stove, the smell of food wafting through the house, Spencer standing behind her with arms wrapped firmly around her? If Emily wasn’t so uncomfortable right now her mouth would be watering. It would also warm her heart to hear how happy her friend was.

“I’m sorry.” He joined in on the laughter.

“Oh my god we’re being awful host! Plate up the soup and I’ll pour the wine.”

Once the two came back out, it was hard to even look at Spencer knowing that he had apparently helped break a bed frame. Even if he was holding trays of the most mouth watering gumbo.

“Who wants to watch Interstellar?”

#black reader #x reader #x black reader #fem reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x black reader #criminal minds #bau team

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sinsandsweetness · 1 year ago

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thinking about living across the hall from Frank…

-> always running into him at the most random times. in the elevator or the lovey super late at night or bright and early in the morning. When he’s on his way to a job and you’re coming back from work. Or you’re on your way to study at the library and he’s got his keys and a bag of groceries in his hands. Always giving you a little nod of acknowledgment but neither of you ever have the courage to speak. To actually say hi.

-> until one day where you get locked out of your apartment. You lost your keys or something. And with your luck, your roommate works the night shift at the hospital. You’ve got no way in until morning.

-> So you find yourself stuck. An hour goes by and you’re sitting on the dirty carpet hallway floor. Leaned up against the wall. Eyes fluttering closed because hell it’s been a long day. Frank, on his way home from work, makes his ways down the hall. Concerned at first by the sight of your body laying in the hall. But he gets to his door and it’s just you, half asleep. You give him a soft smile and he finally asks you for your name. You explain your situation and he nods in understanding.

“Well don’t just sit there. C’mon.” He’d wave you into his place, lunchbox in hand. Dirty from a day of construction. In desperate need of a shower and some food.

-> you’re reluctant to come in. Not because of Frank. Or at least not because you didn’t like him. More so… the opposite. You found him intimidating. Handsome. Rugged. You always enjoyed running into him. Smiling at him in the elevator. Trying not to blush too hard. But there’s just this aura about him that makes you a little nervous. Butterflies or something.

-> he’d tell you to make yourself at home while you wait to get ahold of your roommate. Or come up with a plan to get your keys. To call the landlord. Though you doubt they’d answer at this hour.

-> he asks if you’re alright if he showers, “I’ll be quick. You can help yourself to the fridge.” He even grabs you a beer and places it on the table in front of you. Cracking one for himself as he heads for the washroom.

-> it feels weird. Being in a strangers home. It’s empty. Sad almost. Grey walls. Nothing… personal. Nothing that tells you anything about the man. It’s clean. As clean as any of the suites in you cheap ass apartment can possibly get. But it’s bland. It’s a bachelor suite. He’s got nothing more than the necessities. The basics. You can’t help but think about Frank. In this apartment. Every night by himself. He must be lonely.

-> you saunter over to the fridge. Not particularly hungry, but feeling slightly awkward just sitting at his table and doing nothing. There’s enough to make a weeks worth of sandwiches. And a more than a few weeks worth of beer. You take a swig of your bottle.

-> when the water shuts off, you get back to your spot at the table. Checking your phone. The messages with your roommate. He’s probably busy. Drawing blood. Stitching people up. Doing whatever it is he does as a surgical intern.

-> “you get ahold of him?” Franks voice brings you back.

“Oh, no. He’s- he’s probably busy. Works at the hospital so… um… thanks for inviting me in, but uh, I can just wait out there.” You sling your bag over your shoulder, getting up to leave.

“Wait out there? All night?” He asks. Your gaze goes down to his shirt. A little damp where beads of water are running down his neck. Off his beard. You look back up. He’s got such pretty eyes, you notice.

“Yeah, i’ll be alright.” You give him a tight lipped smile. But he’s not having it.

He shakes his head, “here,” he grabs a blanket from the supply closet. And a pillow. A pillowcase. He fumbles with the makeshift bedding for a moment until he makes the couch up. It does look nicer than the stained hallway carpet.

“You can’t stay out there. There’s some real… weirdos in this area. Wouldn’t want anything happening to you.” His concern makes your stomach flutter. Even if it’s just human decency. Courtesy of not wanting you to get mugged or murdered.

“You really don’t have to-“ you try to deny the offer but he grabs your bag. Gently pulling it off your shoulders and placing it against the wall.

“It’s just for the night. I don’t mind. Seriously.” His eyes are serious. Brows furrowed in concern.

-> the couch is cozier than you expected. Worn and used in the most perfect way. It takes you no time to fall asleep. Frank on the other hand, is having some serious insomnia. There’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, right outside his bedroom. Sleeping on his couch. Probably making his blanket smell like her vanilla perfume. It’s making his brain all fuzzy. He can’t think. Well, he can’t not think. You’re wearing one of his tee shirts. He offered it up. No, he insisted. And when saying goodnight from his bedroom doorway, he couldn’t help but notice that your pants were folded up on top of your bag, and your bare legs gleamed in the dim light of the living room, as you fluffed up your pillow.

-> the two of you had some very interesting dreams that night.

-> Waking up to the smell of coffee, you’re blushing hard when he hands you a mug. He tells you he has to leave for work. Lunchbox in hand, jacket on.

-> He didn’t ask for his shirt back.

-> you wave Frank goodbye as you watch him head down the hallway, and at the same time, you see your roommate come out of the elevator at the end. Both of them exchange a nod and a glance. Your roommate jogs up to let you both into your place.

“You coulda came to the hospital. Coulda grabbed my keys,” he says plopping himself down on the couch. Rubbing his eyes. Long night for him as well.

“I didn’t even think about it. He just- Frank invited me in and I was so tired… I mean, it seemed like a better option than sleeping in the hall…”

“Well it was real nice of him. Maybe you should make him a dish or somethin’. Lasagna? Y’know, to say thank you.”

“You just want some lasagna don’t you?” You smirk, rolling your eyes.

Your roommate smiles back. A low chuckle escapes his throat. “The man let you sleep on his couch. You better be sayin’ thank you somehow.”

continued here

(Idk what this is tbh but um… let me know what we think??)

#officially writing for Frank now my loveys <3 #Frank castle x reader #frank x reader #Frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle imagine #frank daydream #frank castle

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hyuuukais · 9 months ago

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-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> gen, food mention, guns, somewhat vague description of a robbery, blood

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO -> BEFORE (partially written, wc: 1.0k)

"Welcome to my childhood house," you say, opening the creaky door, Minho following you through. "It's not that impressive."

With an awkward laugh, you sling your bag over a chair in the dining room to the left, kicking your shoes off in the process. There isn't much to say about where you grew up, the modest little house speaking for itself. Family photos littered the fireplace mantle in the living room, but aside from that, there wasn't much personality in shared areas. No one was home much now since you and your sister had moved out and your mother works long hours.

"Can I see your room?"

You swing around to see Minho leaning against the doorway with his head titled toward you. The action sends a small shiver down your back.

"No!" You blurt, and his eyes widen. "A girl's room is very personal."

He stares at you for a few moments before breaking into laughter. "Did you just quote 10 Things I Hate About You to me?"

"...I might have," you giggle, surprised he got your reference.

"You're wondering how I knew that, aren't you?" The way your eyebrows raise says it all. "How many times did you watch that movie again...?"

"It's amazing," you roll your eyes, a small smile forming on your lips. "You never stuck around to watch the whole thing, so I didn't think you'd know, okay?"

"What do you mean?" Minho seems genuinely confused, standing straight. "I did- ah, right, you fell asleep that time. You snore, by the way."

This makes you blush. "Everyone does."

"I'm messing with you," he sighs.

Rolling your eyes again, you walk past him and move down the hallway toward your childhood bedroom. When you open the door, you're greeted by the soft mint walls and fuzzy white rug surrounding your bed. You sit on the bed, plush blankets shifting. Minho slowly enters, walking around slowly, and suddenly you feel exposed. All of your silly phases and old hobbies out for him to see, past art awards displayed on your desk in the corner and a pile of dirty laundry in another. He stops on the other side of your bed, fingers finding the frame of your family photo, still lying face down on your nightstand, and your heart hurts.

"Don't," you whisper, not ready to see it again. Immediately, Minho pulls his hand away and looks over to where you're now sitting against the headboard, legs tucked into your body.

"What is it?" Minho nods to the frame. When you don't answer, he climbs onto your bed and pokes your side, making you jolt. "Earth to Y/n. What's the photo?"

"Just a family one," you shrug, and he's still trying to catch your eyes. "Before."

"Before what?" He questions, and you finally lock eyes with him.

"...before I got him killed?"

His eyebrows furrow at this, clearly confused. You don't object this time when he reaches over and flips the frame up. Everyone is smiling and happy, two little girls standing with their parents at some kind of theme park. You couldn't have been more than twelve when it was taken, one of the last family vacations you took.

"What happened?" Minho asks, voice low, turning his whole body to face you with the photo still in his lap.

"It was my birthday," you start slow, willing yourself not to cry. "I had just turned fifteen and I didn't get this one album I really wanted. My dad could tell I was upset and said it wasn't in stock when he went to order it, but that he could go now and check if the store had it. We could make a day out of it, and we did.

"The mall wasn't super busy that day, so we got food first. In the actual store, he asked me to go browse as he found the album and paid since he wanted the illusion of surprise still." You sniff, taking the photo in your hands. "So I left to wait outside instead. This guy bumped into me on the way out and I made some stupid comment about watching where he was going," your voice wavers. "When I turned around, I saw he had a gun. Next thing I knew, I was watching him threaten the cashier and my dad."

You pause, taking a deep breath. Minho hasn't said anything, patiently waiting for you to either finish the story or announce you were done, you didn't want to say more. But you did. This is the first time you've opened up to someone about this, not including Hyunjin or NingNing.

"I panicked and ran to my dad, but that must have freaked the guy out because he tried to attack me, but my dad jumped out in front of me and got hit instead." You look up at Minho with damp eyes, voice barely above a whisper. "I still remember the feeling of his blood seeping into my clothes. I still remember screaming, begging him to move. He bled out a lot by the time the ambulance got there."

"Thank you for telling me," Minho says when you're quiet again.

"If I hadn't..." you shake your head. "If I hadn't wanted that stupid album, he'd still be here."

"Don't do that," Minho grabs your face gently by your chin, forcing you to look at him again. "Don't blame yourself for something you couldn't have possibly predicted would happen. Y/n, that's not your fault. This is what you've been blaming yourself for?"

You nod. "If I wasn't being so stupid-"

"You were fifteen, Y/n."

And you can't hold it in anymore, sobbing and hiccupping into his shirt for the second time that evening. You stay like this for a while, and you don't know when you shifted into a lying down position, wrapping an arm across his stomach with a leg wrapped around one of his. His hand is in your hair, the other tracing lines up and down your exposed arm. Falling asleep is easy and unexpected, and when you wake up, he's been replaced with a large, purple cow plushie that was previously sitting in the corner of your room. There's a text from him on your phone waiting for you when you're about to ask where he is.

notes -> sooo....... y/n is starting to open up more to minho ! 😁 also, i will be closing the taglist at ch 25!

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom @puppyminnnie @tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta @borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer @babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw @s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @stayatinykatsy @ilovejeongin007 @btswestan @multifandomedsimp @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers @catchingskzzzs @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa @wyzminho @fic-for-readers @dreamerwasfound @imsiriuslyreal @lailac13 @palindrome969 @lixie-phoria @aalexyuuuhm @sunflowerbebe07 @st4rhwa @lukeys-giggle @jabmastersupriseee @judeduartewannabe @gaysontheprince @stepout-09-15

^^^ orange means i can't tag you

#-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143 #stray kids smau #skz smau #non idol au #stray kids #skz #lee know #lee know smau #lee minho smau #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x fem reader #lee minho x fem reader #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #smau #social media au

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gothic-aesthetic-gal · 2 months ago

Text

Old Scars (Part 1)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence, mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA, reference to past traumatic injury. Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏

I stared despairingly at the huge stack of paperwork my line manager had just slapped down on my desk. I sighed and bit the inside of my cheek. None of my male co-workers had to deal with her extra work. This was such bullshit.

"Ah, you are a life saver, (y/n). What would I do without you?"

Her own work, probably, I thought to myself, sighing in exasperation as she left me to my souless cubicle.

By the time i'd finished up, it was getting cold out. After taking a detour to try and stave off the inevitable return to my shitty apartment, I found myself in front of a particularly expensive shop. My feet were aching from the heels my backwards regional manager insisted on the female admin staff wearing and my head hurt from the tight bun my hair was scraped into. His smirk was etched into my brain, as were his vile words on his latest visit.

"You're a very attractive young lady, even with your face like that. Your body makes up for it."

I felt pure rage rising up again at the memory. It was the way he's said it as though he truly believed it was a compliment. The laughter of my coworkers rang in my ears. To them it was all a big joke and I was just too uptight to appreciate it.

What I wouldn't give to see the area manager humbled one day... but that was pure fantasy and I knew it. I wondered what he'd buy with his overinflated christmas bonus this time, while we were all given a meeting to explain why they couldn't justify a minor pay rise to ease the cost of living crisis in Gotham.

The twinkling lights of the high end window displays were a beautiful contrast to the bleary grey outside, and after another hellish day in the purgatory which was the cubicle farm, my heart warmed a little. Everything in the store was definitely well out of my meagre price range, but the inner child in me was drawn in to look at all the pretty evening dresses and jewellery. I shrugged to myself, figuring there's never any harm in window-shopping and a little indulgent fantasy. Even if I could afford any of the opulent dresses, half of them were really ball gowns, and what events was I ever invited to where you'd need a dress like that? No, those sort of parties were for Gotham's social elite - charity fundraisers, galas and that sort of thing, no doubt.

I was half expecting a staff member to immediately spot me in my regular civilian garb and herd me back out of the door like a stray dog but they seemed to be dealing with a particularly difficult customer at the tills. She was waving her arms around and pulling a "do you know who my husband is?".

I stifled a laugh at the image of her, in her ridiculous fur coat shouting frantically and looking like she was about to give herself a anyeurism, if the prominent vein on her forehead was anything to go by. I turned away from her soap operatics and back to the rails of clothes in front of me. I gently touched the fabrics, marvelling at the softness of the richest velvet. Gazing at cool silk like rippling water; nothing like the cheap imitation the rest of us were accustomed to. I got drawn into my own little world imagining who might wear each dress and for what occasion.

"Can I help you with something?"

The voice pulled out the rug on my little escape instantly. I felt anxiety rising in my chest but resolved not to panic completely.

"Oh, I was just browsing..." I said, faking the best dismissive tone I could.

"You're sure, I'd be more than happy to help. Do you want to try anything?" She pressed, a friendly tone rather than the suspicion I had anticipated.

Perhaps my work suit was giving a higher-end impression than I had realised... or maybe she was new here.

"This one is particularly lovely, don't you think?" She gestured to the garment I unknowingly had a hand on, pausing as she'd approached. She wasn't wrong, it was a rich purple, ridiculous really, with layers and layers of tule skirting, but somehow the fine cut and quality of the fabric, and the detailing made it look classy rather than like something out of 'my big fat gypsy wedding'.

When was I ever going to get the chance to try on a literal ball gown? I decided to play into it, after all, I could always say I needed to go away and review my options. They couldn't make me buy it.

"It is lovely," I murmured.

"Do you want to try it on?"

"If it isn't too much trouble..."

Before I knew it, I was being whisked into a dressing room. The shop girl came whirling in with the dress and began unfastening it for me.

"Shoe size?" She asked briskly.

I hurriedly blurted out my answer and she dashed back onto the floor.

I kicked off my uncomfortable work heels and removed my blazer, skirt and scarf. Somehow I felt even more like an imposter standing there in just my undergarments and a pair of tights. I hurriedly pulled the dress up and held it in place. Before I knew it, she'd returned and began fastening me up at the back.

I gasped, both from the air being pushed out of my lungs as she cinched the hidden corsetry, and in awe at what I saw in the mirror. I had never had particularly wonderful self-image, but since the accident, I'd really shrunk into the background. I had always been shy, but i'd become a total wallflower these days. I hated the public-facing parts of my job - if it was telephone or email correspondence, people couldn't react in their myriad shitty ways to my facial scarring, but sometimes I was on front desk duty. Those were the worst days for me.

She made a minor adjustment to my hair, pulling a few strands loose around my face. To my surprise, she hesitated as she saw my scars up close, but didn't recoil, or pull more hair out to try and hide them. Her delicate fingers lingered for a moment, hovering above where my eyebrow was split into three by the forks of red lightning which were still deeply scored into my skin. I had mostly made my peace with it, but it was other peoples' reactions to my face that caused me the most pain. The grimaces, the staring, looking startled, regarding me with pity, strangers asking me what happened, it could all just be too damn much some days. It was a rare and beautiful thing to have someone not react negatively in some way.

I knew I was lucky to still be in the land of the living, and that I was in remarkable shape considering what happened that day, but it had left an inescapable mark. I anxiously ran my fingers over my temple, over the metal plate holding my skull together somewhere beneath the skin. She pulled her own hand back away slowly.

"You look beautiful, miss," she smiled with a genuine warmth that made me begin to believe it. It seemed as though she could sense my sudden swell of insecurity.

The shop girl was young, couldn't be more than sevetneen or eighteen, and I prayed that she somehow retained her gentleness in a city as ugly as Gotham.

"Thank you," I said, tearing up a little.

The dress itself was surprisingly lightweight and not like some kind of Victorian horror complete with a hoop skirt. Instead, it looked quite modern, and had a lot of volume in the skirt due to the layers of tulle fabric, which meant that you could still dance with ease. I did a little twirl for good measure, watching how it flowed and moved around my form. The shop girl smiled at my childlike delight.

Unfortunately, my elation was shattered in an instant. A chorus of screams and panicked shouts, followed by a spray of gunfire hit us like a slap to the face. The shop girl's eyes widened in confusion and panic, and I grasped onto her arm to steady myself. We strained our ears, trying to make out what exactly was happening. My brain was struggling to make the jump from the moment I had just been experiencing to the very real danger we were now thrust into.

After a couple of agonising seconds, there was another round of shots, and I heard a gruff male voice shout;

"Everybody get down!"

"Try to stay calm," I whispered, my own voice shaking.

I herded us into the corner of the booth and desperately gestured for her to undo the corset, not wanting to have to run for my life in the stupid dress. I could hear crashing and footsteps, as though the place was being ransacked and bit the inside of my cheek as the girl shakily tried to loosen the cord for me.

"Check in the back, we don't want anyone calling the cops!" came a voice which sounded unsettlingly close by.

Suddenly, someone burst through the door into the dressing room. We froze, praying whoever it was, wouldn't round the corner, but sadly it was too late. The scraping metallic sound of the curtains of each booth being flung aside echoed around the room. I counted each one, feeling as though my heart had stopped beating altogether, sick with anticipation. They were going left to right, and would reach us soon enough.

The curtain to our booth was torn to the side, and an enormous man stood in the light. The shop girl let out a yelp of terror as she huddled behind me with her head in her hands.

"Found two hideaways!" He yelled out, lurching forward to grab at us.

In a blind panic, my body blocking him from the terrified girl behind me, I kicked and struck out like a feral street cat stuck in a trap. I got a few solid kicks in but was ultimately not match for the man towering over us.

"Quit struggling you stupid bitch," he spat, striking me across the face.

Dazed, and with my eye stinging already, I felt another pair of hands grasp me and haul me out into the open. The barrel of a gun was quickly jammed into the small of my back.

"Stop causing trouble if you want to live," he hissed.

A third figure appeared and roughly forced the girl to her feet as well.

"This one looks so scared she might piss herself," he chuckled.

"Leave her the fuck alone," I muttered through gritted teeth.

"Ooo, you got a mouth on you, huh, rich girl?" Said the one holding me at gunpoint.

"Mm the boss ain't gonna like that, maybe we should gag her," one of his companions snorted.

"Nah, leave it. I wanna see what he does if she gives him any back talk," crowed the third one.

They marched us out onto the marble of the shop floor. Both shoes had come off the moment i'd started to struggle against our attackers and the tiling felt cold as ice beneath my unsteady feet. I saw that there were three other men holding up the cashiers and the handful of customers as they huddled together in one corner.

"Look what we found in the back," announced the biggest of the three men, shoving us forward.

It was only then that I noticed everyone's attention seemed to be drawn to one man, a man who I couldn't yet see, on account of him facing away from us as he nonchalantly rifled through the nearest rack of clothing.

He was a fairly tall man, perhaps a little over six feet, wearing a long coat. It was well in need of a wash, covered in dirt and ashy, yet still obviously purple in colour - though perhaps not the vibrant purple it once was. His hair could best be described as messy; a straggly mop of green waves, with his natural brown hair showing through at the roots and in patches. His body language was odd, the way he held himself, with his shoulders hunched, unsettled me.

As he turned around, to see what his henchmen had brought in, I felt a pang of total despair. I recognised his streaky painted face from a recent news broadcast, and I knew instantly that we were in deep trouble. This was the man they called 'the joker'. I could hear the poor shop girl sobbing behind me somewhere, barely hiding her sheer terror.

"Ah more guests for our little party," he exclaimed, his voice and intonation seeming as erratic as his physical movements.

"What you want us to do with them, boss?" Grunted the shorter goon to my left.

"Put them with the others," he gestured, stalking forward.

I turned to watch as he approached the shop girl, my heart in my throat.

"And who do we have here?" He asked, in a tone mimicking gentleness, which was even more unsettling than his usual, more sinister way of talking.

"S-sarah," she choked out between sobs.

"S-sarah? What's wrong s-sarah? Are you s-scared?" He cooed, practically circling her like a big cat.

I felt sick watching him toy with her, and anger began to rise in my chest. Sarah nodded defeatedly.

"Please don't hurt me," she whimpered, unable to look him in the eyes.

"Oh now why would you think we are gonna do that?" He exclaimed.

She didn't seem to know how to answer.

"Just do everything we ask, and some of you will live," he grinned patting her on the head, "put her with the rest," he gestured dramatically to the others in the corner.

His goons did as he asked and shifted her to where the others were cowering in the corner. I bit my tongue as his attention now shifted to me.

"My my, what a pretty dress, I love the colour," he purred, barely three strides away from me now.

I said nothing, hoping he would somehow just lose interest. There was still the largest goon stood beside me, pistol jammed into my lower spine so I didn't want to antagonise either of them.

He got close enough to reach out and touch me, pulling off one of his leather gloves with his teeth. The red painted smile, already smeared and smudged, left its mark on his finger tips with the clumsiness of his action. I was trying very hard to keep a steady breath, refusing to panic as I knew it would only worsen my situation.

"What's the matter? Are you shy?" He asked, that fake empathetic tone creeping in again.

"No, I just don't find that a hostage situation lends itself to free and easy conversation," I snapped back, unable to suppress my anger fully.

He tilted his head to the side, a glint in his dark brown eyes as they searched my face, scanning, analysing. In defiance, I stared right back.

In my struggle with his henchmen, my face had become half obscured by the hair which had come loose from my bun, and my hands being behind my back, I had not been able to move it out of the way.

Suddenly breaking his stillness, he reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew a knife. The switch blade swung open with a characteristic clack. I bit my tongue even harder to try and subdue my panic.

He reached out his ungloved hand to rougly grasp my face. Everything within me was screaming to struggle free, to run for the hills, but I was stuck. I'd be shot down before I made it two steps, I knew that.

"You are beautiful," he mused, " tell me, does this," he moved the knife barely an inch from my face, "does this, scare you?"

I grimaced, unable to stop myself from recoiling at his skin touching my own.

"Do you ever wonder what life is like for the ugly?" He asked, flatly.

Undeterred by my shrinking away from his touch, he roughly used his fingers to comb my fallen hair back away from my face. Once the curtain of hair was lifted, my scars were revealed, and his face took on a curious, unreadable riot of emotion for a split-second.

"What's the matter, am I not as beautiful as you thought?" I muttered sarcastically, wanting to pre-empt his inevitable mockery.

He clearly liked to pick people apart, to try and tap into their biggest fears, so it seemed a sure thing that he would have plenty to say about my face. This only made me all the more dumbfounded when he put away the knife and his grasp on my face melted into something altogether tender.

His fingertips gently brushed over the deep valleys of my old wounds as though he was trying to read my story. I felt him follow the fork from my hairline at my temple all the way down, bridging my eye, down my cheek to the point mid way along the lefthand side of my jaw where it ended. As he did so, I saw for the first time up close his own grisly scars which formed a sort of permanent smile. The makeup he applied over the top made it harder to see from afar just how extensive they were. I knew from my own experience that the wounds had been more than skin deep, into deep muscle tissue. You could tell by how raised and pitted they were.

The man holding me at gunpoint seemed not to have picked up on this sudden change of pace, as he had plenty to say, even if the joker didn't.

"I shoulda warned you, she's a butterface," he chuckled, "you should do the other side to match, I already made a start," he gestured to the split eyebrow and puffy eye he'd given me on my good side.

The joker's body language rapidly changed again. I felt him tense up, even in his fingers against my cheek. It was as though every fibre in his body was taught suddenly, like he was a rubber band about to snap. His eyes seemed to darken, his irises almost like black pools against the black paint encircling them. I was suddenly very afraid.

He looked down at my face with an air of detachement, his tongue flicking against the inner corner of his lip.

"Would you excuse me for a second, doll?" He grinned, before his smile dropped flat again the moment he straightened up to full height.

"Give me the gun," he comanded of his goon.

"But boss..." the burly man protested, before removing it from my back and reluctantly handing it over.

There was a deafening crack and the smell of gunpowder filled my nostrils as my ears rang. Some of the hostages cried out in fear and for a moment I thought he must have shot me. I stumbled on the stupid dress, falling to the floor with a crash, dazed, my ears still ringing as I rolled onto my side, preparing for my seemingly imminent death.

Unexpectedly, my vision began to clear and the ringing dimmed down enough that I could try to collect my thoughts. I became aware of another figure in front of me on the floor. Someone was roughly pulling me upwards, trying to get me back on my feet.

"Up you get!"

Suddenly, I managed to re-engage my muscles enough to stand, swaying on legs that felt like jelly.

"There you go, see? You're fine," came a low voice to my left, practically right into my ear. I blinked hard as I began to make sense of what had just happened.

The joker shifted so that he was stood in front of me again, and gripped a hand under my jaw so that he could look me in the face. He turned my somewhat vacant face this way and that, as though he was checking I was still in there.

"Whoops! Probably should've told you to stick your fingers in your ears," he wheezed with laughter, releasing my face and waving the gun around casually.

My lingering confusion was cleared up when I realised the other figure on the floor was his own man. The others looked on, some unfased, some clearly very uncomfortable at this sudden decision to remove him from the equation entirely. He had shot him point blank, I couldn't bring myself to believe that it was in reaction to his insults. Surely this was just some kind of mind game going far beyond my comprehension... I didn't feel reasurred, I definitely didn't feel flattered, if anything it just showed the true unpredictability of the psychopath in front of me.

"Right, now that minor... detour is over, I want you all to stay calm, while we execute out little plan," he comanded, gesturing to the hostages.

Two of his men forced grenades into peoples shaking hands, pulling the pins so that they were forced to hold on to them, or risk them detonating. They produced a roll of duct tape and wound it around each pair of hands, so there was no chance of them tossing the grenades away from the group either. The others continued to stuff duffle bags full with the cash from the registers, and the jewellery from the display cases. I cursed the slow response time of the GCPD, although there was never a gurantee that their arrival wouldn't cause more of a bloodbath, since so many of them liked to shoot first and ask questions later. They had far too lenient of a threshold for 'collateral damage'.

I was expecting to be forcibly handed my own grenade, but instead the joker gestured to me. The way in which he waved me over was completely antithetical to the situation unfolding around us; it was so casual, as though we were long-time friends. Not seeing another choice, I gingerly approached him, and he, losing patience, roughly grabbed me by the arm and yanked me closer to him.

"These lovely people can stay here, but, uh, you..." he lingered on the word looking me up and down, as he taped my hands together in front of my body, "you, are coming along for the ride".

"Why?!" Was all I managed to get out as he shoved me roughly toward the front of the store.

He laughed, sending a fresh chill down my spine.

"Well, we have an opening, consider yourself the newest member of our operation," he said in a congratulatory tone.

Before I could respond at all, my head reeling in total panic, I was being tugged out of the door with my arms feeling like they were going to pop out of the sockets.

#joker #the joker #joker fanfiction #heath ledger #dc joker #dc comics #batman #the dark knight #the dark knight joker #ledger!joker #ledger joker #joker x reader #batman fanfiction #nolanverse #gotham fanfiction #gagwrites

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spindle-and-nima · 4 months ago

Note

What would you say are the essentials of a bunny enclosure? I'm trying to get ready to make one for my new apartment

Hello friend!

First and extremely importantly you need space. I strongly encourage a minimum pen size of roughly 3x5 (vet and shelter told me to make sure my pens were no smaller than that size for my rabbits but a bit bigger is good). If your rabbit is not free roam, you can certainly make it bigger (my pen is a 6x6 my rabbits are semi free roam). I use a tall dog playpen to build mine so that or a Z pen will make for easy building. You can get creative with how you block out an area but space is incredibly important.

As for what goes in it:

-litter box of course but what's important is size. Do not get a tiny corner triangle box it's unhealthy for their posture. Opt for a cat litter box that's big enough for your rabbits to sit comfortably in and turn around easily in.

-hay tower or rack. You can either hang a rack (you can literally get a metal rack basket for cheap from Lowe's or home Depot and just stuff hay in it) or a wood tower like what I have. Bunnies must have Timothy Hay available 24/7 in unlimited quantities so this is the way to ensure that. It keeps the hay from getting soiled though I do always add additional hay to the litter box. Keep the hay near the litter box to kinda just keep em poopin in the litter when they want a snack

-hides. You need at least 1 hide per rabbit. I have 4 hides for mine. I like the cute wooden Castle hides bc they are roomy and my bunnies like them a lot but really you can get creative with it. Just absolutely no igloos those are not good for rabbits or their postures (vet and shelter advice). You can do tunnels or cardboard boxes but yea hides are a necessity for rabbits.

-flooring. There's a lot of things you can do for flooring but you definitely want something to prevent your rabbits from soiling your carpet and most rabbits dislike smooth tile or hardwood (slippery on non padded feet). A few things I've seen people do are use pee pads and lay fleece, blankets, towels, or rugs on top which are good options. If you're like me and busy and want easy cleaning and a cute aesthetic, you can use EVA carpeted foam mats. They absorb well without letting urine leak through.

I would NOT advise EVA foam if your rabbits really chew and actually eat everything. while I find these dont give bunnies much leverage for biting, especially destructive ones will find a way and you don't want them eating these. My bungies are luckily not interested in chewing them so they work well. A handful of guest rabbits I've housed did well with them too. Even my more destructive guests didn't manage to bite through it well but I need to put that disclaimer because I'm kind of lucky with my rabbits behaviour.

They look like this and come in many colors:

Pretty good and I like them because they are easy cleanup (wash by hand but you can just pop the soiled square out and replace it with a spare so the pen is immediately freshened up. And you can clean the soiled ones immediately or if you're busy just set it aside to wash when you got the time.) these are not essential ofc you can just use the ol fleece or towel or rug thing. Since you are renting i would really reccomend putting puppy pee pads under whatever you choose to protect the flooring.

#bunny care tips and recommendations #bunny pen set up #rabbit essentials #bunblr #bunnies of tumblr #asks #long post #advice #have fun with your bunnies!#give the kiddos some enrichment too lf course but these are pen essentials #i hope this was helpful if not feel free to dm im happy to help

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cosyvelvetorchid · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter 2 of Death Becomes Them is up!

Reason on ao3 or below

(See ao3 for tags and TWs)

🩶

They turned into a typical suburban tree-lined street and pulled over beside the curb in front of the sixth house along. It was your average wood-built family home. Two storeys and an attic, with a wooden porch not too dissimilar to the one Tommy had along the front of his house, and a front yard that Tommy was not kidding about.

Green shrubs, all the exact same type and length ran along the edge of the porch, and a small grassy area in front that Buck was certain he could get out a measuring tape and each blade of grass would be the same height.

The only flaw was the two wide lines running parallel to each other diagonally across the grass, presumably from the gurney Thomas Sr was taken out on.

Tommy scoffed when he saw them. “He’d have hated that.”

He took the keys from the plastic bag and unlocked the door but didn’t open it straight away. His hand hovered on the large brass door knob.

“You don’t have to do this right now, Tommy. It’s okay if you’re not ready.” Buck reassured him softly.

Tommy sighed. “I have to. If I don’t do it now..” he let the sentence fall away.

Buck placed a gentle hand on Tommy’s back as he turned the knob and pushed open the door.

The house was emptier than Buck had expected. A shoe rack by the door; a sofa, coffee table and TV in the living room with a small dining table with 2 chairs at the other end. No artwork on the walls, no knickknacks and not a single photograph hung anywhere.

Tommy was frowning as he looked around, assessing the place.

“Did it always look like this?” Buck asked.

Tommy shook his head. “No. Last time I was here there were photographs on the walls, and a big rug here” he pointed to the centre of the living room. “There was my grandpas old drinks globe in the corner here and plants on the window ledge.”

Tommy walked through the living room and dining room and into the kitchen around the corner. It was just as bare. Wooden counters across two walls with only a microwave, a cheap looking coffee pot and a set of knives on top.

He opened the fridge and scoffed when he saw it was mostly filled with bottles of beer. “Some things never change.”

“He drank a lot?” Buck asked.

“I can’t remember a single time he didn’t have a beer bottle or whiskey glass in his hand.” He said it so matter of factly and so easily, showing that it was a normal thing for child Tommy to be seeing.

Buck followed him back through the downstairs and to the front entrance then up the stairs. The first door Tommy opened was his old man’s room. It followed the empty theme from downstairs—a bed, a nightstand on either side and a large dresser opposite. No homey touches or decor.

Tommy walked along to the next door and stopped. His finger tips trailed along the scratches halfway up the door. Buck squinted and could just make out the word ‘Lakers’ etched into the wood.

“You’ve always been a fan of the Lakers I see?” Buck smiled.

“Yeah.” He smiled back, but the smile slowly faded. “Got my ass beat for this, though.” He replied.

He pushed open the door and they walked into Tommy’s childhood bedroom. Except it wasn’t a bedroom anymore, not really; more of a storage room. A few dining chairs stacked up in the corner, an old scratched up coffee table and a couple of large cardboard boxes.

The bare floorboards creaked under Tommy’s feet as he walked to the center of the room and surveyed his surroundings with a somber look on his face. Suddenly his body straightened and he turned quickly and opened up the closet door and bent down. His hand reached to the back corner of the floor to find the familiar hole which he slid his finger into and pulled up the small length of floorboard.

“No way!” He laughed to himself.

“What?” Buck asked trying to look over his shoulder.

Tommy turned around with a small, rusting metal box in his hand and sat down fully on the floor to open it.

“What’s that?” Buck asked.

“My safe.” His fingertips caressed the items in the box. “It was something my mom got me. She said I should use it for things that were important to me.” He pulled out a set of cheap baseball cards. “Clearly my priorities were a little off.” He laughed to himself.

Some coins, a toy soldier and some other little childlike oddities came out of the box. Then Tommy’s hand stilled. He took a shaky breath as he lifted out a faded post-it note.

Buck leaned forward to read the beautifully cursive writing.

“Have a wonderful day at school, sweetheart. Love, Mom”

Tommy took a harsh breath. And then another. And another. His breaths were becoming short and fast and then a strangled sound came from his throat as his shoulders began to shake.

Buck immediately fell to the ground and wrapped his arms around Tommy as he broke apart with wrecked sobs. His body shook hard with every loud cry that became muffled when he shoved his head into Bucks neck.

It was all Buck could do to stop himself from breaking just seeing Tommy like this. He ran a hand up and down his back while the other softly ran through the hair on the back of his head.

“It’s okay.” He whispered. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

He gripped onto Bucks hoodie so tightly Buck had the fleeting thought that it might rip. That didn’t matter though; nothing else mattered.

“Just breathe, baby. Just breathe.” He could feel Tommy trying to gain control of his breathing. Eventually the sobs quietened but he kept hold of Buck.

Buck felt a big lump of guilt in his stomach. His priority was making sure that Tommy was okay but he couldn’t deny that it felt nice to have Tommy in his arms again.

He shook that thought away. This wasn’t about him, or them—it was about Tommy and what he was going through.

“Hey. Why don’t we go outside for a bit? Get some fresh air.” Buck suggested. Tommy nodded into Bucks shoulder before detaching himself and slowly standing up. As they made their way downstairs, Buck made sure to stick close enough to him just in case he needed to be leant on.

They both sat on the front porch steps quietly for a few minutes. Tommy rested his elbows on his knees and blankly stared at the street ahead. He sniffed and wiped his eyes.

“I miss her.” He said; his voice thick.

“Your mom? What happened to her?”

“She died. When I was 12. Drunk driver.” He answered.

“Oh god. Tommy, I’m so sorry.”

“My dad.. Things got so much worse after that.” He wiped more tears from his eyes.

Buck let his hand run up and down Tommy’s back in an act of comfort. Tommy blew out a heavy breath.

“I’m sorry. I..”

“No. No, Tommy. You have nothing to apologise for.”

“It’s just so stupid!” He said suddenly standing up. “I hated the man. And I mean truly hated him.” He began to pace around, getting more agitated. “Do you know how many times that I wished he’d died? Like actually hoped that he would die?! And now he has and.. and here I am crying about it. Crying about a man who never gave a shit about me my entire life! It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.”

Buck stood and closed the distance between them quickly, holding onto Tommy by his upper arms.

“Hey! You are allowed to feel things about this. About him, about him dying. That doesn’t make you pathetic.” He tried to reassure him but he shook his head.

“He made my life hell. And my mom’s. He doesn’t deserve anybody grieving. Yet here I am..” He tried to move away from Buck but Buck held him tighter.

“I don’t.. I don’t think you’re grieving him, Tommy. I think maybe you’re grieving hope.”

“What? I don’t understand.” Tommy wiped his eyes again.

“As much as you hated him, maybe there was a part of you deep down that hoped one day he would change. And now that he’s died, that hope has died too.”

“I.. maybe. I don’t know. I don’t know how to.. deal with this. I..”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to figure it out right now. It’s still fresh and raw.”

He lifted his arms higher and pulled Tommy into a hug. Tommy arms gripped tightly around his waist.

“Thank you.” Tommys voice was strained and raw.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do. After what I did-“

“Stop.” Buck interrupted, pulling back and letting go of him. “We should definitely talk about that, not least because I deserve to say my piece.” He had no anger in his voice, but his tone was clear. Tommy nodded, looking down at the ground. “But, right now isn’t the time. What you’re dealing with.. This is more important.”

“Okay.” Tommy agreed.

“We can take a break if you want.”

“I am actually starting to feel a little hungry.” He replied.

“I told you to eat some of that banana bread before left.” Buck reminded him and playfully nudged him with his shoulder. Tommy huffed a small laugh.

“Yeah I know, you were right.” He conceded. “Okay..” he said firmly, straightening himself up and shaking his head clear. “Let’s get something to eat and we can deal with the house later.”

“Good plan.” Buck smiled. Tommy locked up the house before they got into the truck and drove further into town.

“Hey, I was thinking.” Buck said after a while. “Maybe we should get a hotel for the night.”

Tommy’s head whipped to Bucks direction but Buck spoke before Tommy had the chance to say anything.

“Separate rooms.” He made clear. “I just think it’s a long drive back and you still have to speak to the funeral home and sort those arrangements—maybe it would be best to figure some things out today and finish the rest tomorrow.”

Tommy contemplated it for a minute before speaking. “Don’t you have a shift tomorrow?”

“How do you know that?” Buck asked.

“I, uh.. We still have our calendars synced.” Tommy admitted sheepishly.

“Oh.” Buck responded as though he hadn’t known, which was a blatant lie—he’d noticed a few days after they broke up. Much like the idea of throwing out Tommy’s things, he couldn’t bring himself to un-sync them.

“I’m sorry. I’ll un-sync them when we stop.”

“No!” Buck protested. “I mean, it’s fine. And-and you’re right I do have a shift tomorrow, but I’m sure Bobby won’t mind. It’s not like I take days off regularly anyway.”

“You sure? I don’t want my shit causing an issues for you at work.” Tommy argued.

“It’s fine, Tommy. I really don’t mind. I’ll call Bobby when we stop for food.”

They decided on a cheap diner in town and Buck found them a table while Tommy used the bathroom. Buck took the opportunity to call Bobby.

“Hey Buck, I came by earlier to bring back your cake dish but you weren’t there.”

“Uh, yeah I’m, uh.. with Tommy.”

“You’re what?” Bobby replied in a surprise. “I thought you were trying to not see him?”

“I was. Uh, but then he turned up at my apartment last night, and-“

“Buck.” Bobby chastised.

“No, Bobby—it’s not like that. His dad died.”

“Oh jeez.”

“Yeah. He was.. Bobby I’ve never seen him this way. He really worried me.”

“Well, I guess it’s good he someone to help him.”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m calling actually.” Buck said.

“What do you need?”

“Couple of days off? We’re up by Tommy’s dad’s place a few hours away. He identified the body earlier and he wanted to see his old house and.. he just needs some time for it to sink in and make arrangements. I don’t want him to do it alone.”

“I understand. Take as long as you need.”

“Thanks Bobby. And.. I’m only telling you because I need the time off, but please don’t tell anybody else about Tommy’s dad, or that I’m with him.”

“Buck, you know they’re all going to wonder where you are.” Bobby reminded him.

“I know.” Buck conceded. He contemplated telling Maddie he’d gone away for a few days to clear his head, but after what happened with her after she had Jee she’d just worry he was going to do something more serious. Bobby sensed his appreciation.

“Look, I’ll tell them I sent you the academy for a few days to help with training. But after that you’re going to have to tell them something.”

Buck sighed with relief. “Thank you, Bobby.”

“You’re welcome. And I hope Tommy’s okay.”

“I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“Bye Buck.”

“Who was that?” Tommy asked taking a seat across from Buck.

“Oh, uh, Bobby. I managed to get the next few days off. I had to tell him about your dad, but I asked him not to tell any of the others. I wasn’t sure if you wanted anybody else to know.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you.”

Buck opted for a burger and Tommy chose pancakes. They ate in silence for a while. Buck wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to ask Tommy how he was feeling and offer comfort where he could but he also didn’t want to spook him.

He’d been more open in the last 18 or so hours than he’d ever been and though Buck hated the reason why, he was grateful that Tommy trusted him enough to come to him.

“So..” Tommy asked breaking the silence. “How have you been?”

Buck looked at Tommy for a second before laughing. Not because it was actually funny, but because it was a ludicrous question.

“Really?” He said trying not to sound snippy.

Tommy immediately understood and gave a small laugh too. “Yeah, I’m sorry. Stupid question.”

“Do you want the honest answer?” Buck asked. Tommy took a second before nodding.

“Not great.” He said. “Awful, actually.”

Tommy opened his mouth to say something but stopped and looked out of the window instead.

“What about you?” Buck asked. Tommy turned his face back to Buck and held his eyes for a moment.

“Same.” He said, sadly. Buck was torn between being glad he felt like shit, and hating it. He was still in pain from what Tommy did but he’d never found it in himself to hate him. He could never hate him.

There was a tension in the air between them. Something not entirely uncomfortable. It wasn’t exciting and electrifying as it had been numerous times between them in the past, but there was an underlying current of.. something.

“So,” Buck said trying to break some of that tension. “Once we’ve finished here, I thought maybe we could go to the funeral home, if you’re up to it? You don’t have to make any decisions yet, but we can find out what the next steps are for when you’re ready.”

Tommy sipped his coffee and took a deep breath. “Yeah. I think I can do that.”

The funeral home was much nicer than the last one Buck had been in. Then again, this one hadn’t had a car plough through it. There was soft string music playing gently throughout the place and fresh flowers dotted around.

“Can I help you, gentleman?”

They both turned around in the foyer to see a tall, bald and gaunt looking man in a black suit. His long thin fingers crossed together in front of him.

“Yeah. Yes. My.. my father passed away yesterday. I need to, uh, make arrangements.” He told the man. Buck noticed his breathing changing and took his hand and laced his fingers in between Tommy’s, who squeezed his hand in return.

“Let me first say that I’m sorry for your loss.” The man said.

“Thank you.”

“We offer a range of services to help honour the death of a loved one. If you’d like to follow me, I can take you through process. Do you have the relevant paperwork?” Tommy handed the forms the hospital had given him to the man. “Thank you.” The man gestured for them to follow him.

An hour later, they walked out of the funeral with plans in place for the collection of Tommy’s dad’s body from the hospital and basic funeral arrangements made.

Tommy chose a basic wooden casket, and a burial site in the cemetery closest to the house—it didn’t matter where, he was never going to visit. He chose not to have a service or memorial—the bastard didn’t deserve one. Due to the death being of natural causes the hospital would release the body straight away and so the burial was to take place the day after next.

Tommy sighed as they sat back in his truck.

“Was it me or did that guy look-“

“Like a corpse? Yeah.” Tommy replied. Buck sucked in his lips to prevent himself from laughing but couldn’t help the snort that came out. Tommy huffed in response, which made Buck laugh. They both began giggling.

“Billy Boils looked more alive.” Buck said and Tommy barked out a loud laugh in response. Suddenly the car was filled with raucous belly aching laughter.

An elderly woman, dressed in mourning clothes, walked past the truck and looked horrified at the two men laughing wildly. They didn’t notice.

Buck wiped tears from his eyes as their laughter began to wind down. “How are you feeling?” He asked.

“I’m.. I don’t know honestly. I’m glad I got this done though. Thank you coming with me.” He looked at Buck so softly that Buck had to hold himself together. He wanted to pull Tommy into his arms again and keep him there. This big, usually stoic and confident man who somehow looked smaller; the weight of his past trauma and current feelings weighing him down.

“Of course.” He simply said instead. Tommy gave a soft half smile at Buck using his words. “But I think that’s probably enough for you today. We should get to a hotel and get some rest.”

“Yeah. I think there’s one near here.”

“Wait, I just realised—we don’t have any clothes. Or toiletries. I don’t even have a phone charger.”

Tommy pulled out of the parking space. “It’s fine. I’ve got all that stuff in the back.”

“Well, yeah it’s your car.” Buck said knowing Tommy was referring to his emergency go-bag; the one all first responders kept in their cars. “But I don’t have anything.”

“Actually you do.” Tommy glanced at Buck before back to the road ahead.

“You.. you still have it?” Buck asked, surprised. A few months after they started dating they each added a small bag of essentials to their trunks for the other. Mostly in case one of them was in the hospital it would save the other from having to go to their place to pick up things.

“I kept meaning to take it out but kept forgetting.”

Buck wondered if this was a situation like his own and Tommy simply didn’t want to get rid of things that were his. That thought was doused quickly remembering it was Tommy that didn’t want to be with him so it was more likely that he did just forget.

They found the hotel and booked 2 rooms, only arguing when Tommy insisted on paying for them both given that Buck wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for his dad dying. Buck gave in, allowing him to pay.

“Okay. Here are your room keys, gentleman. Rooms 118 and 119.”

They both looked at each other and laughed.

“Is everything alright?” The lady at the desk asked, confused.

“Uh, yes. Everything’s fine. Thank you.”

They made their way up to their rooms and stood awkwardly in front of their doors.

“I..”

“Do-“

They both spoke at the same time.

“Sorry.” Tommy said.

“It-it’s okay.”

“What were you going to say?” Tommy asked.

“I was just going to say that I’m going to jump in the shower then maybe go downstairs for a drink at the bar. If-if you want to join me?” He well aware of how pathetic he sounded and was trying to hide his nerves in asking.

“Oh.” Tommy said. Buck immediately felt a flush of embarrassment heat up his face.

“You don’t have to. It’s-it’s fine, really.” He waved the key card over the lock and it clicked open.

“No, that’s not.. I.. I was going to say that I’m exhausted and thinking of ordering room service for dinner if.. if you wanted to join me?”

Oh. That wasn’t what Buck was expecting. Although it made sense that Tommy probably didn’t want to be alone.

“Uh, sure. Yeah. Just let me shower and change.” He told him.

“Don’t rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

This time. Buck couldn’t help but think.

#911 abc #911 #911onabc #tommy kinard #bucktommy #911 buck #evan buckley #buck x tommy #evan buck buckely #bucktommy fic #tevan #tevan fic #bucktommy fix it fic

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therugcollective · 1 year ago

Text

Exploring the Rich History of Rugs: From Antiquity to Modernity

Discover the Fascinating Journey of Rugs through Time: A Comprehensive Guide

Dear rug enthusiasts and history aficionados,

Welcome to an immersive journey through the captivating history of rugs—a journey that unveils the stories, techniques, and cultural significance behind these timeless treasures. In this blog post, we'll explore the evolution of rugs, from their ancient origins to their modern-day presence in our homes.

Rugs have transcended centuries, bridged cultures and serving as artistic expressions. As we delve into this post, be prepared to be transported through time, uncovering how these woven marvels have left an indelible mark on civilizations worldwide.

Join us as we unroll the rich tapestry of rug history, one section at a time.

Section 1: Origins of Rug Weaving

Tracing the Beginnings of Rug Craftsmanship

In this section, we'll journey back to the dawn of rug weaving—a time when nomadic tribes and ancient civilizations first wove these functional and symbolic creations. We'll explore the earliest weaving techniques and designs, showcasing how these rugs have evolved into the exquisite pieces we cherish today.

Section 2: Rugs in the Ancient World

The Silk Road and the Global Reach of Rugs

Our adventure then leads us along the Silk Road, a bustling trade route where cultures converged, and rug weaving flourished. Discover how these rugs became sought-after commodities, adorning the courts of emperors and sultans. Dive into the intriguing stories behind iconic carpets like the Pazyryk and the Ardabil Carpet.

Section 3: Renaissance of Oriental Rugs

When East Meets West: Oriental Rugs in the Renaissance

In this section, we'll delve into the captivating fusion of Eastern and Western influences during the Renaissance. Explore the timeless allure of Oriental rugs, renowned for their intricate patterns, rich colors, and enduring elegance. Learn how these treasures captivated the Western world, shaping interior design for generations.

Section 4: Rugs as Cultural Artifacts

Rugs: More Than Floor Coverings

Rugs hold stories, beliefs, and traditions of the communities that craft them. This section uncovers the cultural significance of rugs across different societies, from the symbolism of motifs to the rituals associated with their creation and use. Rugs are more than decor; they're cultural artifacts.

Section 5: The Evolution of Rug Craftsmanship

Innovations in Rug Making Techniques

Time brings progress, and so do rug-making techniques. Discover the evolution, from hand-spun fibers to modern mechanized looms. Learn how technology and design innovations have shaped the rug industry into the vibrant, diverse field it is today.

Section 6: Rugs in Contemporary Design

Modern Rugs: Blending Tradition with Innovation

In our final section, we bridge the gap between history and modernity, exploring how rugs continue to be vital in interior design. From minimalist concepts to avant-garde creations, contemporary designers seamlessly blend tradition with innovation, breathing new life into the ancient art of rug weaving.

Conclusion: Threads That Connect Us Through Time

As we conclude our journey through the history of rugs, we reflect on the enduring legacy of these woven wonders. Rugs that grace our homes today carry with them the stories of generations past, connecting us to traditions, cultures, and artistry. Rugs are not just decor; they are threads that bind us across time.

We hope this blog post has deepened your appreciation for rugs, revealing the rich tapestry of history they bring to your space. As you explore the world of rugs, remember that you're not just acquiring decor; you're preserving a piece of history.

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#large area rugs #oriental rugs #rugs #area rugs #rugs for sale #8x10 area rugs #kitchen rugs #8x10 rug #eco-friendly rugs #9x12 area rugs #Machine Washable Rugs #Bedroom Rugs #Living Room Rugs #Cheap Rugs

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softshuji · 4 months ago

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Tell me more about fugitive hanma 👀👀👀👀

Goddddddd

Okay listen.

During that time when he's a fugitive, it seems fun at the start, all that running, living on the road. He thinks it gives him a thrill to constantly be chased and have the police on him all the time, constantly looking over his shoulder and staying in different hotels or living out the back of the car he just stole. He uses fake names wherever he goes, and no one, not a single person ever has the pleasure of using his real name. He steals credit cards to pay for whatever he needs, only buys enough for a few days since he knows he won't be staying in whatever area he's in for long, just long enough to get information and stay ahead of the tail.

But honestly, when he really thinks about it? All this running is getting tiring. What first was fun now seems like a chore- he can't remember the last time he had a full night of sleep, or ate a meal that wasn't cheap takeout on the back of his bike or shacked up in a hotel room so he can use the shower and sleep with a gun under his pillow, or used his real name in fact. Most people are starting to seem like a blur to him, and he's constantly changing phones and using burners so he can't be traced or caught. Sometimes on the police radio he'll catch wind of someone having seen him and he'll sigh, big and deep, and move onto the next town.

Until one day he fails to stay ahead of the curve. He's been so fucking tired lately, and he can't remember the last time the sound of sirens didn't wake him up from a short nap, but he's driving fast on the motorbike - sirens getting closer when the engine dies and splutters and he comes to a standstill in the middle of the road. He can see them on the curve of the street, flashing lights that he knows are coming for him.

He looks around and it's the dead of night- lights off in every house and apartment save one..a tiny thing clustered on the corner, where the bedroom light still flickers with life. And without really thinking about it, he dumps the newest bike behind a car in one of the neighbors garages - a problem for another time- and knocks your door.

He doesn't expect you to answer, not at this time, not when it's so late and honestly you'd be smarter not to. He looks rugged he knows that, the road hasn't exactly been kind to him. His hair has grown out and there are tired eyebags and dark circles under his eyes too but you open it, a sliver, and ask him in the sweetest voice he's ever heard. 'can I help you?'

Something knocks in his chest. You've got one of those cute face masks on, a pink pretty nightgown with stars on it and you're half hiding behind the door, and he coughs into his hand, looking over his shoulder once and makes up some lie, the only one he can think of that might get you to let him in.

'Hey sweetheart, my phone has died and I'm a pretty long way from home, would you mind letting me use your phone princess?"

And you look up at him, pretty eyes taking him in, all 6'4 of him looking a little beat up, a little worn, but a funny warmth coming from him still, and you step away from the door.

And let him in to your house and into your life.

#god im gonna lose my mind for him #i want him so deathly bad it makes me sick #tokyo revengers #hanma shuji #hanma x reader #tokyo rev #sorry i lost my mind

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aliveinacoffin · 1 year ago

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Hello. Can i please request a part 2 of Hating You As Well? It was so good! 😩 Can part 2 be Aizawa’s and readers relationship developing and getting better throughout the year or something? Maybe throw in some aizawa getting a little jealous over reader’s relationship/friendship with another hero (maybe midnight or snipe)? Thank you so much! Feel free to ignore if you don’t want to write a part 2! xx

AAAHH I LOVE YOU GUYS FR 😭😭😭 and but of course, i live and breath to serve yall munchkins.

Hating You As Well

(And Loving You Just As Much)

Part One, Part Two (you're here dummy), Part Three

Aizawa still isn't honest with his feelings, but you weren't exactly one to jump ship and demand a relationship. So now, in this grey area, you two are forced to co-exist, while other feelings grow and fester.

Fem!Reader, She/Her pronouns

TW!: Slight descriptions of violence, nothing too crazy, suggestive language

You two didn't speak about what happened on the couch afterward. You not wanting to bring it up and him just avoiding you. You got most of your papers graded, and when Aizawa finished with his portion, he rushed out of the living room. Your heart dropped to your stomach, watching him leave without a word. Sighing, you went back to your papers, trying to just get them done.

___________________________________________

The next morning was silent, the night before Aizawa hadn't come out of his room at all, and you watched his door, trying to listen to what he was doing. The next morning, you hadn't slept in, getting up early to go on a run. You knew Aizawa wouldn't be awake at this hour, but he probably would soon. So you started a large pot of coffee and grabbed a sports drink and made your way out.

The wait in the elevator was tedious, but you took the time to adjust yourself. Thinking about your life, thinking about him. Did you really like Aizawa? Maybe (yes), but did he like you? Maybe? I mean, there would be no other reason for him to also lean into a kiss, the feeling of his strong and large hand haunted you, fingers reaching around your shoulder blades. Dammit Hizashi, you spitefully thought to yourself.

But what would've come from it? Would there have been an awkward moment of 'where do we go from here?' or would there be an admission of feelings, but what feelings? Would there have been an unspoken moment of understanding?

You shook your head, willing away unnecessary thoughts. The elevator doors dinged open, and you happily trotted out, all you needed was an early morning run to clear your head, and everything would be fine.

___________________________________________

Okay everything was not fine.

When you came back, very sweaty and gross from your jog, you should work out more damn, Aizawa was already up. The slut* was walking around with absolutely no shirt on, and only the tightest goddamn pair of black boxers ever. His defined and scarred body on full display, lean but built body, languidly lounging around in the light morning sun. His dark and long hair was up in a messy bun, with a few strands of hair falling out. The scar beneath his eye was on full display, only adding to that rugged and overtly masculine look.

Cheap shot you bitch.

He was sipping coffee while leaning on one of the kitchen counters. Oddly on the one that faced the front door. He watched you pant in, immediately going to the cupboards to fill yourself a glass of water. You felt his eyes watching you, felt them watch and analyze every curve and scar, every dip and bump, every beauty and imperfection. You downed your cup, not acknowledging him in the slightest, lest you show the effect he had on you. Neither of you said a word to the other, not even a head nod to show that you had seen the other. Just ignoring him for the time being, with no complaints on the other end.

At the staff meeting later that day, you happily sat by Hizashi, joining in his excited chatter.

"I know this sounds cheesy, but I can't wait to see the students come back again! I've missed them." Hizashi swooned, a sad puppy dog look on his face.

You laughed and opened your mouth to join into his lighthearted admission before another voice cut you off.

"I don't, the little bastards have already gotten in enough trouble. I can't imagine what it'll be like when they move in." Aizawa grumbled out, looking in front of him with a disgruntled look.

You and Hizashi froze, just staring at him for a moment. He usually sat on the other side of you 'loudmouths,' usually too tired to deal with the shenanigans that you, said blonde, and Nemuri got up into. (Usually just passing notes between all three of you with the smashabiltiy of your coworkers and other heroes (also dicks, but not from the person you'd think)) So it was shocking to see him willingly sitting next to you three while earning a death glare from Anan, whose spot he'd stolen.

"Don't act like you don't love them you Tsundere. You'd probably eat your arm if it meant they were happy." You teased, sighing while you poked at him.

He deadpanned you for using such an outdated term but just grumbled while hiding his face in his scarf. Hizashi elbowed you, wiggling his eyebrows at you while smirking. You were confused for a second before you realized what he was implying, hitting his arm to make him stop. He yelped, angrily muttering curses at you while he looked down. Principle Nedzu loudly cleared his throat, standing up straight while looking at all of you. He clapped his soft hands, signing the beginning of the meeting.

___________________________________________

Well that meeting was a waste of your time. All the meeting was about how we should pay a little more attention to the students now that we're all in dorms. Those who work at night, namely Hizashi, Aizawa, Nemuri, etc., were asked to make sure they don't sneak out and do room checks randomly. Heroes who work in the day, you, Anan, Ken, and others were asked to make sure students acted right during the day, and stayed inside school property. Simple enough but...

"That could've just been an email." Nemuri sighed, peeling off her mask and putting her hair up. Ken was doing the opposite, putting down his cement-like hair and flattening it against his head.

"Agreed. I understand communication is important, especially during such difficult times but..." He sighed, rubbing his flat face.

"It's super annoying. We should all get coffee cups that say 'this meeting could've been an email' on them and just use them every time we have one." You sighed, adjusting yourself to make yourself more comfortable as well.

"Well, now that that's over, and we don't really have anything else to do...wanna go out for drinks?" Hizashi perked up, green sunglasses perched on his head, hair still gelled up.

"It's one o'clock in the afternoon." Aizawa scowled, looking disapprovingly at the man.

"I think he just wants to hang out rather than drink." You slung your arm over Aizawa. He scowled at you but didn't move your arm.

"No, I'm totally gonna drink." Hizashi said while walking backwards, already calling a cab.

"Oh yeah me too." Nemuri agreed, nodding her head.

___________________________________________

"I don't know why I came." Aizawa was acting pissy, laying down his head on his crossed arms, glaring at the loudmouths around him.

"Because you loveee us, admit it!" You sang, stirring the drink in your hands. You weren't drunk per say but you were definitely looser and happier now. "Cmon, won't you drink a little?" You looked down at him, smirk on your face.

He scoffed and looked away, sitting up straight. "Someone needs to get you home, and we share a living space, so I'm forced to babysit."

"Dawww, it's okay to show your emotions." You tugged on his uniform sleeve, putting yourself in his personal space.

"Hey!" Hizashi called out to you, definition more drunk than you were. "Let's do karaoke!" He motioned you over, pointing to Anan, who was already singing. You happily jumped up, waiting behind Sekijiro to sing.

When it was your turn, your singing was horrid. It was off-key and loud. Most of your friends just laughed and egged you on, spurring you to sing louder and worse. Still, even in your fuzzy mind you recognize on pair of dark eyes just staring at you. Not in a negative way, no, there was something in his face and eyes that made you quiet down some. Just so he knew you were singing for him.

___________________________________________

You don't know how you got home, but you did. Looking at the time, it was seven PM at night. You groaned, rubbing your head while your other hand limply hung off the couch. An oversized jacket was forced on you, baggy, and so so warm.

"Drink this." You looked up to the dark presence above, squinting at the harsh contrast of the shadow to the bright apartment. You got up and groggy drank the water.

"Thanks." You sighed, looking up at Aizawa.

"Sure. Just try to be more responsible next time. You have an image to uphold." He snatched back the cup when you finished, which you realized had prints of black cats on it.

"Mehmehmehmeh." You made a face, mocking him in a high-pitched voice while making a puppet with your hand. The man you were making fun glared at you from the kitchen, activating his quirk while washing your dish.

"I'm being serious. Anyone could've walked in and seen a UA teacher acting a fool at a bar." He growled, now in the drying process.

"Ahh, it was one drink! And plus, none of our dear students are gonna walk into a bar." You got up stretching, scratching your leg while walking past him.

"It was more than one drink!" He called out to you.

"One, ten does it matter?" You replied, entering your bedroom and shutting your door behind you, ending the conversation.

The next morning, you found yourself with a jacket you'd never had before. It was baggy, many sizes too large for you, and something right out of a goth magazine. You don't know where you got it from, but it was warm and comfortable, plus it smelt nice, so you added it to your closet.

___________________________________________

The students finally arrived and settled in the dorms, now UA dorm life was in full swing. It was peaceful to see such vibrant characters and youth constantly surround you, it filled you with a new vigor. That was, until now.

Loud crashing woke you up in the dead of night, and you immediately jumped up into action. You didn't yell or scream. Instead, you grabbed a flashlight and a small knife. You slowly opened your bedroom door, crouching out and keeping close to the wall. There was a large imposing figure standing in the middle of the hall, leaning against the wall while fussing with their boot.

Taking the chance, you kicked off the wall and laughed yourself forward. Landing on the interlopers back, you wrapped your arm around their neck, using your free hand to press the switch blade on their face. Your legs immediately wrapped around their muscled frame, trapping yourself onto them.

"What the fuck are you doing in my home." You growled in their ear, putting pressure on the knife to start to dig into their cheek.

"Getting my dumbass kids." Aizawa growled out, hands trying to rip you off of him.

You froze for a second, eyes going wide and mouth going slack.

"Huh!?" You yelled out, toppling off of your roommate. Knife clattering somewhere into the kitchen.

Aizawa turned to you, pissed off and resuming his fussing with his shoes. He tilted his head in your direction but not looking at you. You sat on the ground, still processing everything.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Did I get you anywhere?" You finally came to your senses, scrambling up to check him. Grabbing his chin, you tilted his head back and forth, inspecting.

"I'm fine. I've got to go." He ripped his head back, leaning away from your touch. He finally got his boots of fully, walking into the kitchen and to the front door.

"No you're not, I cut you." You ran into the kitchen, pulling out the first aid kit from under the sink.

"It's fine." He was already at the door, but you ran to him and grabbed the back of his shirt.

"No, it's not, I could've really hurt you." You had grabbed an antiseptic wipe and a bandaid to clean up the cut you made on him. It was small, a nonconsequential wound. But you still took delicate care to cleaning it and covering it up. He didn't get the chance to see what kind of bandaid you put on him, but he felt that it was small.

"As if." He mumbled, eyes fluttering closed as he accepted your gentle touch. There was no bite in his tone, like he was just saying it to say it, to keep up an image. You pulled back, and gave him a once-over.

Aizawa opened his eyes again, and turned to the door to hide his face from you.

"Now you can get your dumbass kids, asshole." You smiled softly, and even if he couldn't see your face, he registered the softness in your tone. The fondness.

When Aizawa got done with yelling at his two problems children, he turned and stomped away, leaving them to be angry at him.

Midoriya remembered something for a moment and hesitantly turned to his rival/best friend.

"Hey Kacchan, was there a Hello Kitty bandaid on his face?" Midoriya seemed a little dumbfounded. It couldn't be true, Aizawa with a bandaid on his face, let alone a Hello Kitty one?

"Hah? The fuck are you talking about?" Bakugo was still clearly pissed, but he was more taken aback than angry.

"That little pink sticker on him, I could swear I saw Hello Kitty on it." Midoriya responded, adamant that he did see it.

Bakugo was silent for a moment, and the freckled boy thought he was ignoring him. So he just sighed and returned inside.

Bakugo smirked a little, now fully remembering. Yeah, he was.

___________________________________________

The next morning you decided to ask what happened.

"My two biggest problems decided to sneak out and fight. It hasn't even been a week, and they're already trying to kill each other." Aizawa angrily muttered into his cup of coffee.

You stared at him for a second, pursing your lips. "Did you expel them?" You tilted your head, eyeing him warily.

"I wish." He chuckled, drinking his coffee.

"Ah, so they're your favorites." You smiled, wiping your hands and heading to serve yourself a plate of food. You heard the stern teacher sputtering behind you, coughing as a result of his reaction.

"I have no favorites, and those two would never be them." He responded, setting down his cup heavily.

"But you didn't expel them. You just gave them house arrest and chores. Your favorites." You shrugged, turning around to smirk at him.

"Well, it..." Aizawa shook his head, face pulling into one of anger as he looked for an excuse. He gave up, flopping his hands down to look at you. "They'll learn. They just need more discipline. It's hardly a call for expulsion."

"Let's see," You set down your toast to count examples. "Sneaking out after curfew barely a few days into moving into dorms, destructive of school property, assault on another student, three students snuck out without permission to save another classmate, Midoriya being the ringleader, anddd..." You screwed up your face, and you tried to remember more. You snapped your fingers and pointed at the scowling Aizawa. "Oh! First day, you should've expelled Midoriya and transferred him to another class, but you didn't." You leaned on the counter and tilted your head. "Instead, you let him stay in the hero course because you believed in him. Plus, that whole unwritten speech about Bakugo when he was kidnapped? There was nothing in our notes that said anything of what you said. But you said it anyway, from your heart."

Aizawa had a carefully neutral face, just staring at you while you grilled him.

"So my only crime is believing in my students." His voice was monotone, any semblance of emotion wiped from his face. If it were anyone else, you would've thought they were pissed at you or angry. But you knew better, you recognized that face from last night. The 'I'm pissed because I expected better from you' face.

"No," You grabbed your plate and walked past Aizawa to lounge in the living room, patting his shoulder as you walked. "Your only crime is having a huge heart, but the inability to even show you even have one."

___________________________________________

There was no real reason for you to be here, you thought to yourself. You barely helped out when the kids picked out their ultimate moves, and you were definitely not one of the teachers who regularly trained with the kids, but you still found yourself being dragged to go to the hero licensing exams.

You adjusted your hero costume, pulling down and pulling up the outfit where need be.

"Why am I coming again?" You asked Aizawa, turning to him to see he was already staring at you.

He shrugged, "Principal Nedzu just said you were to come." He looked away, fiddling with his phone while he waited for you to get ready.

"Well, sure, I got that, but he didn't email me, and I don't exactly see why-" You were still pulling yourself together, grabbing an over-the-shoulder bag and checking whether or not you had your keys, your wallet, and extra makeup and other stuff you might need.

"Are you ready yet? At this rate, we'll hold up the whole class and make them late." He interrupted you, crossing his arms impatiently.

You deadpanned him and adjusted the strap. "Yes, I'm ready. Dick." You stuck your tongue out at him while he held the door open for you, trying to push you out.

"You need to watch your mouth more. Who knows who's listening." He scolded, pressing the elevator button. The elevator dinged open, and you two stepped inside. Aizawa went to press the floor button, but you beat him to it. He gave you a look.

You smiled. "I like pressing the buttons."

"What are you, a child?" He scoffed.

"Then you'd be a predator." You shot back without thinking. Both of you realized what you meant by that, but before you could spit out on explanation, the door opened again.

Hizashi strolled in, whistling a tune. "Hey guys!" He cheered, ignoring the tension behind him. "What's up?" He turned around, looking at your blushing face and Aizawa's blatant ignoring of you.

"Nothing, what are you up to?" You chuckled, rubbing your head.

"Gonna go out and be a radio host and communications guy." He smiled, but you heard the strain in his voice.

Your bashful attitude dropped, and you held out a hand. "Hey, don't spread yourself super thin." You advised, voice full of worry.

The elevator dinged to all of your last stops, and Hizashi strolled out before the two of you, walking backward to face you.

"Don't worry about me! I'll be fine." He waved you off, turning around to walk normally with his hands in his pockets.

"I worry about him sometimes." You admitted, stuck in place. Aizawa walked out before you, holding the elevator so it didn't close on you.

"He's fine, trust me. Hizashi doesn't think about much other than music and having fun." He shrugged, looking off.

"That's because he thinks through you. He speaks Aizawa and thinks Aizawa." You stepped out, walking out the bottom common room to the main grounds of UA.

Aizawa shrugged, not saying anything as he followed you. You looked out to all the excited students, the air buzzing with conversation.

Aizawa got his classes' attention, speaking to all his students.

"Now listen up. This is the most important test of your life, and only fifty percent of the whole student body will pass." That made the class tense up and freeze, dramatic whispers grew between them. "Even though some of you are in trouble." He made direct, unashamed eye contact with both Midoriya and Bakugo, "You will all take the test. Now let's go before we're late." He led the class in the bus, you two being the last ones in.

"They're your favorite." You sang, tapping your knees. You two were sitting in separate seats, but you two were as close to the edge as possible.

"Keep your voice down." He snapped but didn't deny it.

___________________________________________

Ms. Joke was awesome.

She shamelessly flirted with Aizawa, if not being a bit pushy with it, and teased him.

You knew of her, you had some run-ins with her when you first debuted. She was a light-hearted, strong woman who had a good sense of humor, she often used to make you double over in full-out belly laughter. But there was something different this time, she was funny, that didn't change, but you weren't laughing so hard you cried now.

"Eraser," Ms. Joke was barely holding back laughter now, "Your fly is down."

You and Aizawa sat next to each other while Ms. Joke was two seats away from you two. That... wasn't all that funny....huh. Maybe Aizawa's bitterness rubbed off of me? Aizawa just sat there like he hated the world, but especially her right now.

"I can't believe you have a full class! Usually, you would've expelled someone by now. You must actually like your class." She turned to him, and you leaned over.

"Right! I think he has a secret soft spot for all of them, but especially-" You exclaimed, excited that some outside of UA had noticed this.

Aizawa cut you off by putting his hand in front of your face, now angry at the world, Ms. Joke, and you.

She laughed, and you giggled. "You're so predictable! Date me." Ms. Joke immediately turned to him.

"Shut up." He scowled, and she just laughed in response.

You sat back up now, looking at him teasingly. "If I have a say-"

"You don't."

"I think you two would make a great couple!" You grabbed Aizawa's shoulders and leaned him to the loud woman, and she just laughed in response. Strangely, you could see her breath from this angle, but you could also see Aizawa's hair float up for a mere second before it dropped again. An action so small and unnoticeable that if you hadn't been so close, you wouldn't have seen it.

You let go, and she leaned to you two, a slightly angry look on her face.

"But c'mon, you both know what's going to happen in just a few seconds." Her eyebrows were slightly furrowed, a strained smile.

You looked at the dark man beside you, really he sticks out pretty bad here, and gave him a confused and slightly scared look.

You heard her say something earlier, but you had no idea what it meant, let alone now.

"And yet, you didn't say a thing to your class. Every year the test is always different." She rested her chin on her fist, looking determined out on the field. Aizawa was blankly doing the same, but there was a different look in his eye, one you recognized. One of a teacher who knows what his students can do.

You were shifting on your seat, watching class 1-A break up into factions, trying to understand what the other woman was saying.

"It's a tradition during the exam, most if not almost all of the students have equal footing. Except for one." She dropped her hand, sitting up straight. You were watching her, a feeling of foreboding coming over you as she delved more and more into her dramatic rant.

"UA has a serious disadvantage. Showing off the country's top schools sports program to the whole country, which showed off not just your students' quirks, but their weaknesses and their fighting styles too." Your eyes widened, and you turned back to the field. Watching the majority of the class you grew to care about deeply, be unknowingly followed. "It's a little funny, isn't it?"

That made your heart race, surprise written all over your face. Aizawa ignored her, eyebrows deepening.

"If you actually liked your class this year, you should've warned them about this. It happens every time your school takes the exam, UA is immediately crushed." She said, and to prove her right, a crowd of students all aimed for one group. Yours.

You looked at Aizawa, wondering why he kept quiet about all this. He glanced at you briefly before nodding his head back to the field with the tiniest of motions. That feeling of dread was replaced with pride as you watched Midoriya effortlessly kick away a storm of balls with one kick. From this angle, Ms. Joke assumed you turned away from Aizawa, feeling a little awkward that she had now seemingly made you upset. What she didn't see was your proud smile, your smirk of arrogance. Yeah, they'll be fine.

"I don't really see a reason why I should've warned them. Nothing would've changed if I did, either way, they would've had to deal with it." You and Aizawa watched as your students effortlessly dodged and moved, using their quirks to the best of their abilities to take back the advantage that was stripped away from them. It was taking everything in you not to just cheer out for them, not to scream, hell yeah!

"Real heroes turn around any situation. Besides, when they become pros in the spotlight, they'll have to face villains who already know their quirks." His voice was stern and sharp, with no room for argument. "Perhaps at UA, we look further ahead than other schools." Even though he still had that monotone voice, Aizawa had a passion for his students, one that he barely contained.

A dark shadow fell over the laughing woman's face, now at an angle where she could see the both of you. She watched with bated breath as you watched Aizawa. Smiling while she huffed out a nose laugh. She recognized that look, looking down at her ring finger, she fiddled with the gold ring. There were rings decorating all her other fingers, but the one on that ring was the first and most important one. She's made that face hundreds of times at her own wife, and only a fool would mistake it for anything else.

___________________________________________

“‘UA looks further ahead than other schools’, huh? That’s pretty condescending of you to say Eraser.” Ms. Joke piped up, the two had been going back and forth, but you decided to ignore their banter in favor of anxiously watching the students, afraid. “There are as many kids who want to be heroes as there are stars in the sky. The strength of that will has nothing to do with being famous.” Ms. Jokes face had gone back to being serious, and it made you a little unsettled. The woman, in even the short amount of time you’d known her, had taken everything with a grain of salt. Never the one to take offense to someone's words or actions. But here she was scolding Aizawa. They really were the same. They hide the same deep love and care for their students, and the moment someone says something slightly mean, they pop off.

“If you act like you’re the stars of the show and look down on everyone else, then you’re only showing off your true weakness.”

While her words were true, they seemed a little misplaced. Aizawa constantly humbled the students to remind them that no matter how far they got, they would always have room to grow and improve. Not just in their physical strength, but their mental capabilities as well. Maybe it was about the students themselves? Bakugo and Monoma were the students that popped up in your mind immediately.

“You’re right, we will take your advice and make sure our stars don’t think they’re the only ones who shine.” You nodded, sliding your eyes over to her. She nodded, a small smile on her face. Aizawa looked over at you in a questioning manner.

“Our students are great and all, but sometimes they need to be reminded that they’re not the main character, even if they act like it.” You smiled slightly, easily finding Bakugos yelling from in the arena.

“...Agreed.”

___________________________________________

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the test ended. Rubbing sleep from your eyes you walked by Aizawa while he went through the paper work he now needed to fill out.

“You know, I’m starting to see why you’re so tired all the time.” You laughed, tapping the stack of appears in his hands.

He gave an airy laugh, “Sometimes I think they do it on purpose.”

“Well, I can do some it for you. I don’t spend as much time with the kiddos like you do, but I’m sure I could get the hang of it.” You offered, slightly pouting your lips.

“You’d probably mess it up, or mark them in that atrocious pen you have.” He shook his head, tilting the papers away from you.

“Huh?! Why do you have such little faith in me!? I’m trying to be nice, you-” Kaminari was with his usual group of friends, but he was side-eying the two of you, snickering while watching your interaction. “Jerk.”

“Good save.”

“Shaddup.” You punched his arm, snatching some of the papers away from him. “I can do this, no sweat, and I promise to use a normal pen.”

He glared at you, before sighing and shaking his head. “Fine.”

Ms. Joke trotted up to you two and offered to do joint training. Aizawa accepted the offer and walked away, loading all the students onto the bus.

She turned to where you were still standing, trying to organize and smooth out the stolen reports. “My real name is Emi Fukukado, by the way.” She held out a business card in her gloved hand.

You took it appreciatively.

“Thanks!” You introduced yourself in turn, shaking her hand.

“Hey, between us two, you and Eraser would make a pretty cute couple.” Fukukado said nonchalantly, smiling easily.

“Hah?!” You exclaimed, freezing on the spot. Your face grew hot, and you tightened your grip on the jokesters hand.

Fukukado pulled away, smile never going away. “I recognize that look in your eyes when you look at him, and Aizawa doesn’t put up with just anyone you know.” She laughed slightly, putting her hands on her hips. “Trust me, my wife looks at me like that all the time, and we’ve been married about ten years now!”

“Hahhhh?! You’re married?!”

___________________________________________

“You didn’t know? She always wears her wedding ring.” Aizawa sat down heavily beside you on the couch, grunting while he leaned forward.

“She wears like, ten. How would I know?” You shrugged, pulling down the black pen behind your ear, unglittered unfortunately, to continue your journey of legal HPSC papers.

“Didn’t you know her when you were younger?” He raised an eyebrow to you, his dark hair out of his face and into a bun.

“Yeah, but we weren’t friends. It was more like, you’re a young woman in the same male-dominated field as me, if anything goes down we’ll have each other's backs. Not friends friends. I literally just learned what her name is.” You turned your attention to the work, already halfway through your stack, while Aizawa was just starting his.

“Women are weird.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah? You’ve known Hizashi since high school and you still deny you two are literally best friends.” You rolled your eyes, remembering how vehemently Aizawa denied the two literally aren’t two peas in a pod.

“Because we’re not. We’re good friends.” You groaned and flicked a pen cap at him. He growled at you, but otherwise turned back to his work.

“Anyyyways, I still feel kinda bad that Todorki and Bakugo failed. That test was really important, and they’re the only two in 1-A who failed.” You sighed, eyes running over Bakugo’s paper.

“That’s their own fault, if they had seen above their own hubris, they would’ve acted better and passed. They will learn to do better at the retake.” The dark-haired man shook his head, sighing.

“True, it was their own pride that was their downfall.”

“Make sure to mark the date in your calendar, it's about three months from now.” He added nonchalantly, now fully focused on the papers.

You looked up and made a confused face. “Why would I need to, I’m not their homeroom teacher?”

He didn’t respond for a moment, avoiding eye contact. You saw his ears go red slightly at the tips, perking up. “Because you went with me to the first exam, why not help me at the provisional?”

“W-well, I guess. But I won’t be of much help.” You looked away, remembering the words Fukukado told you the other day making you go hot yourself.

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds now were the ticking clock and the sounds of papers shuffling and pens scraping.

It was nice.

___________________________________________

“Wait wait wait-” You were laughing now, holding a hand over your mouth. Hiazshi was smiling at you, and Midnight was shaking her head in disbelief. “He got naked?”

“He didn’t get naked, his quirk made his clothes phase through him. So he ended up naked. There’s a difference.” Aizawa shook his head, sipping his coffee.

You laughed out loud now, leaning on Hizashi’s shoulder while he joined with you.

“I was shocked at first too! I mean, yeow! Everything was out.” That only spurred you on more, tears gathering in your eyes.

“Oh man,” You sighed, wiping away those tears. “I hope they helped him out with his costume, I mean, there’s no way that's safe.” You shook your head, sitting on Hizashi's armchair now.

“They did, they made it out of his hair, so it would phase with him.” He nodded, stuffing food in his mouth. You quirked an eyebrow but ignored it.

“That must’ve taken forever.”

“Yes, it did.” Aizawa butt in, now fully paying attention to the both of you. You couldn’t see Hizashi smirk, but you were caught off guard by such aggressive behavior.

“Oh,” You looked away, now feeling slightly awkward. “What was the point of them visiting, anyway? I mean, not that it’s bad to introduce the classes to the big three, but why now?”

Aizawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “To have them talk about the work studies.”

The air in the teacher lounge shifted, now to a tense one. There was a meeting the day before the new term started, an open discussion on whether or not UA students should be allowed to even let them participate in them. Just like the internships, it was a heavily debated argument. You, Aizawa, Snipe, and Anan were against it, saying it well it went last time would only embarrass/harm UA’s reputation further. Nemuri, Sekijiro, Ken, and Ectoplasmi were for it, their reasoning that the students would need the practice. Others fell in between and allowed themselves to be swayed by the opinions of others.

“Oh.” That was all you said.

“Yeah.” That was all he replied with.

When the school day ended, Aizawa met you at home. He angrily kicked off his boots and hung up his capture scarf by the door. You turned around from the sink, hands wet from washing the dishes.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He looked up at you, standing at the doorway. “I don’t agree.”

“I don’t either.” You turned back, immediately knowing what he was talking about.

When the HPSC had first sent the letter to UA stating they would like the school to participate in the work studies, the teachers erupted in conversation. When the staff didn’t agree, Aizawa stood up an brought all the attention to him.

“Did we forget what happened the first time we allowed our students into the hands of the HPSC? My own students had gone off and could’ve gotten killed. I had no idea, thanks to the lies administered by the commission. Do we need a repeat of that?” He sat back down, looking angrily out at his fellow staff. You stood up beside him.

“I agree, who knows what danger is out there, and we all know from the past that the Hero Commission will just lie to us.”

Snipe nodded in agreement beside you. Ectoplasim stood up. “I assume your classes will have their provisional licenses now? Our students have grown since then, and they now have the ability to make their own calls and decisions.” He rebuttled. This statement only made a fight break out.

In the end, your side lost.

Aizawa was leaning on the counter beside you, hands clutching the counter in a white-knuckled grip. “They lied to us, three students could’ve died.” His voice cracked at the end, face screwed up in anger. You whipped your head at him, looking at him wide-eyed.

You decided not to say anything about his emotions, instead, you dried your hands and turned to him fully.

“Want to spar?” You offered, holding out his goggles. Aizawa stared at them, then stared at you for a long moment. He snatched them up and quickly put them on. Wordlessly, he got back dressed in his hero outfit, and you complied by getting your shared duffle bag and followed him out. You both had decided to share a bag, hey, it would be easier to carry one than two, since you spar so often anyways.

___________________________________________

The next few weeks became hell. Immediately something was brewing, you, Aizawa, and other UA students were invited to an important meeting hosted by Sir Night Eye. You’ve heard of him, mostly through what you know about All Might, but you have never really seen him in action. He was a pretty cool dude, if not a little too serious for your liking. You could only deal with one grumpy man in your life, you didn't need to. There were also friends you made through your line of work, like Toyomitsu/FatGum, Takagi/Rock Lock, and Mr. Brave, you never learned his name, interactions were always brief, but friendly.

You mostly just listened in, you didn’t really have any new or helpful information to hand out to aid in the meeting. You had become slightly boring ever since you became a hero at UA, hero work slightly slacking now that tests and assignments stood in your way of aiding your friends. That is why you had an uptick in your sparring matches with Aizawa, no excuse to fall behind.

Takagi spoke up, questioning why your students were here in the meeting. Toyomitsu, in a burst of passion, declared that the students had valuable information to share. He then introduced himself, and when his attention turned to your side of the table, you waved at him happily.

Aizawa looked at you through the corner of his eyes, a small smile on his face. You elbowed him in response, brushing him off. Aizawa was called to speak, and his leg started to bounce from under the table, only you noticed.

“The bullets effects seem to be different from my Eraser. When my quirk is activated, I don’t attack the quirk itself, instead, I temporarily affect the genes themselves, but no permanent or harmful damage is done.”

“Immediately after Takami was shot, we rushed him to the hospital to have him looked at. We found his quirk was deactivated, but thankful after his rest he was returned back to normal.” That was a relief, not only were the effects of the bullet temporary, like Takagi had said, but the effects weren’t harmful in the long run. When it was revealed that the contents of the bullets were filled with human blood, everyone froze. Disgust filled you, wondering what kind of person would do that.

“A man named Kai Chisaki is the young Yakuza head of this group, and is turning his daughter's body and blood to make the bullets.” You had decided to tune back into the conversation at the worst possible moment, or maybe you tuned out during the worst conversations of your life, your body tensing up as horror filled you. Aizawa sat slacked beside you, his eyes widening in horror as well. Tears sprung into your eyes, and your hand immediately flew up to cover your trembling mouth. How..how could anyone do that to a little girl? Let alone their own daughter?

The meeting went on with the same tense and angry energy, people piping up with their own angry opinions. You watched with a feeling that you were floating outside of your body as Nighteye folded more and more into himself. The pressure everyone putting on him only added to the guilt you knew he carried.

The meeting was over late into the afternoon, and packets and folders of information were handed out to all of you. Aizawa was to patrol more in the designated at night, and any possible chance you were to follow yours.

Now you were situated in Aizawa’s car, his hands gripping the steering wheel while you leafed through both folders.

“Lock Rock is right. There’s no need for them to be there.”

“I know.” Your voice was watery, sniffing while you tried not to cry onto the packets. “But we don’t have a choice.”

There was silence when he rolled up to a red. A large hand came into your peripheral, pulling the folders away from you. Aizawa threw them in the back of his car, and you heard them scatter.

“Don’t worry about that now, we can go through them when we get home.” You looked up at him, and while his expression was still guarded and hard, there was something soft hidden in his face. Maybe it was the way his eyebrows were turned up ever so slightly, or his sad eyes, either way, you nodded.

“I just hope we can save that little girl. She’s so small, and she must be so scared.” The light turned green, and he resumed his journey.

“We will, I know we can.”

___________________________________________

The next few weeks were hellish, after school you barely saw Aizawa, and he in turn hardly saw you during breaks/lunches/and during the weekends. You worked from sun up to sunset, using as much time as you could. During the day he worked with the others to make sure everyone was updated on information, whereas during the night you caught up on both your school work and added your own information. You left coffee and easy lunches for him to take out, and he left you jelly packets and energy drinks.

Finally, there was one day when both of you were home, lying exhausted on the couch together. You were lying on your back, hands covering your eyes while you rested your legs on his. Aizawa complained at first but made no move to stop you, too focused on his iPad sifting through and adding important information.

“Apparently, Nighteye has picked out people he thinks are assisted with Kai Chisaki. He’ll try to find out more before we move further.” He said out loud, not doing anything to get your attention.

“Good.” Your voice was raspy and tired, flopping your hands down you could barely keep them open. “I’m so tired.” Your voice was filled with pure exhaustion, running on less than thirty hours of sleep for the whole week.

“Me too, I can feel this coming to an end.” You could still hear him clicking away.

“God I hope so, I just want to save her already, I’m starting to see Eri in my goddamn dreams.” You shook your head, tears hotly running down the corner of your eyes. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe it was because of how emotionally drained you were, but you just couldn’t hold back the floodgates.

You heard Aizawa stop tying, but you didn’t dare look over at him.

“Me too.” His voice was filled with utter grief.

___________________________________________

Finally, it was the day.

Nighteye had found one of Chisaki’s minions and tracked down the spot where they had been keeping Eri. Now everyone had gathered around in a large group, waiting anxiously in the bright early morning for their commands. You were following Aizawa tiredly, energy absolutely sapped out of you. Aizawa walked up to Midorya, who was surrounded by the only other UA students.

“I am moving with the Night Eye agency.” You peeked out from behind the dark man, waving happily at your students, string to hide how tired you were. “Do you understand what that means?”

Midoriya nodded, a hard look on his face. Aaizawa turned back to you, grabbing your shoulder to push you away. “What was that about?” You asked, confused as you turned and waved goodbye.

“He still hasn't earned my trust for running off last time, so I told him I expect him to do things right this time.” He looked down, still walking to get in position.

“You’re such a hardass.” You smiled, shoulders bouncing while you looked away.

“Good, then they stay on their feet and do their best.”

___________________________________________

Chaos quickly erupted outside, and you were stuck batting away villains with clubs of pure light. You swung around your makeshift weapons, filled with electricity and a feeling of burning pain. Police surrounded you, blocking your view of not only the entrance but of your allies.

“This way!” A strong hand grabbed your arm, and you turned and growled. Your guard dropped when you saw Aizawa dragging you inside with him. Quickly, you put as much light as you could in your pockets, quickly closing them so they wouldn’t escape.

“I’m getting kind of worried, man.” Takagi admitted, looking around for any dangers.

“I wonder if anyone leaked information.” Amajiki admitted aloud, but the chief rebuttled him.

“If they had, one would think they’d be smarter to avoid us.”

“They all should be used to working together already, a bond formed through devotion to their boss. They might feel ashamed now, Chisaki and the top brass haven't even shown themselves yet. They’re probably underground getting ready to flee or hide right now.” Aizawa pipped in. All of you were still running down the impossibly long hallway, hearts racing as one.

“No, there’s no way. That villain busted out the doorway as soon as the chief rang the doorbell, no one just does that. Plus, with how big these guys sound, there's no way they’d just leave.” You shook your head, mind swarming with what was to happen. Kirishima looked over to you, conflicted on whether to agree with his homeroom teacher or his history teacher.

“Either way, we’ll take them down.” He decided to say, not favoring either theory.

Suddenly, Nighteye skidded to a halt, stopping in front of an indent in a wall. He seamlessly opened a secret door, and everyone was thankful for his foresight.

Three henchmen popped out of the darkness, trying to take the group by surprise. However, they were unable to be successful with Bubble Girls and Centipeder's quick thinking. They stayed back with Nighteye’s order to make sure they didn’t come after your group, and you rushed down a concrete hallway, only to be halted by a dead end.

Takagi called out to Nighteye in anger, but Midorya and Kirishima quickly resolved the problem by kicking through the thick wall that had been placed up. The room suddenly became less solid and started shaking around in an ocean. Panic filled the room as it rolled and changed around you, shoving you all around. You, Aizawa, and Toyomitsu formed a triangle.

“Eraser, can’t you get rid of it?” Takagi yelled out, but Aizawa just shook his head.

“Not if I can’t see the main body.” He called out, voice strained as he fought off nausea.

“We need to hurry!” Your voice wobbled as you tried to find steady ground, “If they’re changing the building, then they can escape before we can even get to the end of the hallway!” You tried to step forward, but the mere action of moving knocked you off kilter, so you stood, fighting off gravity as you tried to move. You have to try!

The room stopped moving as violently, and Lemillion took action to run ahead, moving through another hall. You wished you could follow him, try and at least be there for the kid. A scream ripped out of your throat as the ground under you disappeared. You landed on your stomach, the breath knocked out of you on the dirty floor. Aizawa heaved you up, looking around and assessing the situation.

Three villains made themselves known, launching themselves at Amajiki. Eraser quickly stepped up, erasing the blonde quirk before he could do serious damage to the kid.

“Suneater-!” You called out, trying to stop his stupidly brave act.

“Go! I’ve got it.” He turned to you all, nodding towards another hallway, the others ran ahead, but Midoirya, Aizawa, and you staggered for a moment.

“Make sure you tie them up, my quirk will wear off soon.” He jogged off, the green-haired boy behind his teacher.

You nodded at him. “I believe in you, do your best.” You nodded at him before following your companion. Quickly you lost Toyomitsu and Kirishma, as they were sucked into and trapped in another room.

“We have to keep going, there's no time.” Aizawa pulled you forward, trying to get you to keep moving.

“I know, it just feels like we’re purposely being split apart.” You followed him, worry filling your entire being.

Takagi locked the room in place as soon as it started to move again, even if it was a tight fit, it allowed you all to push forward.

“Stand back, he’s coming from the places I haven't locked down.” Takagi held out a hand to stop you all from moving forward, and you watched as the end of the hallway rushed towards you all.

Midorya rushed again, kicking away an entrance point. The path never cleared, so the young boy continued his assault. The wall immediately retracted, clearing away the path for you.

“What the hell..?” You wondered but were quickly cut off by the room changing once more, separating the main group into smaller groups. You were stuck with Aizawa and Midorya.

The wall dropped again, revealing two Takagi’s, and you stood in confusion between the two of them. Aizawa was fast and quickly attacked the fake Takagi before it could attack Midoriya. Himiko Toga was forcefully revealed, squealing while she chased after the boy. As effortlessly as he could, he dragged the crazed girl away, but not without getting stabbed in the shoulder.

Once more the room shifted, and tunnels of dirt and concrete erupted from the walls, you all looked around widely, trying to see where the dirt was coming from. Midoriya took action almost immediately, shooting up to kick where he thought Mimic was. The boy revealed the villain, and in an instant he erased his quirk, watching him fall to his death.

“The League betrayed them?” Aizawa questioned looking out to where the two voices had come from.

“Seems so, and they used us to aid in their scheming. Though, at least we're on solid ground now.” Nighteye adjusted his glasses, looking forward to the dark hallway, police officers scattered around.

You took a moment to recap and interrogate Irinaka, but that led him into an angry frenzy.

“As officers of the law, we cannot let them escape.” The chief held up his gun, his underlings looking around as well.

“It sounded like they were escaping, we should focus on our top priority for now instead of going into a circle.” You said, looking around. Takagi agreed with you, deciding to split up the pros with the mission and the police with the League. He decided to stay, you pulled out a small knife, handing it to him.

“Just in case.” He nodded, face still screwed up in pain.

His speech renewed the hope in your heart, you and Aizawa shared a glace and immediately ran ahead to save Eri, trying to catch up before it was too late.

Following in Midorya's shadow, he bounced ahead of the villain lying on the ground, smashing the wall in front of the group. There a sight for only the strong-hearted was seen, Chisaki and Togata were already engaged in battle, with the electric blonde already having a considerable amount of damage. Aizawa immediately yelled out commands, ordering you to round up the fallen villains. Already quickly rounding up the three villains, you were hit in Chisaki order to Chrono. Aizawa called out to Midoriya, but his body screwed back to look at you. You grunted in pain, feeling like your body was put under molasses. Chrono had gotten straight through your side, cutting a clean medium-sized hole in your midsection. And before anyone could stop him, or help him, Aizawa blinked.

The ground erupted in spikes, sending you flying through the air. Thankfully, you landed in a hole in the ground before you could get caught by the spikes. Aizawa and Chrono were already down there, the latter of the two setting atop Aizawa. Both of you were practically paralyzed, with Aizawa immediately incapacitated by his quirk. He spent the time monologuing about Chisaki, explaining the relationship that Eri had with the others in the Yakuza. Shut the hell up you scum. You couldn’t even growl out loud. Straining as you tried to get him, you were behind the two, and he must not have even realized you were down here. You heard Aizawa grunting as he slowly moved away, you watched as Chrono took out Aizawa’s own knife, opening and getting ready to stab the man with it.

You took out a small piece of light from earlier, the electric gold energy lighting up the dark room.

“Huh?” He looked around to see you, and in one fell swoop, you slashed along his Achilles heels. “You bitch.” He groaned out, dropping the knife to clutch at his heels. At the same time, Amajiki appeared, stabbing his arm with one of his food quirks. There you saw the teenage boy surrounded by police officers, guns ready. He just glared at them in defeat.

The officers helped you up, someone pulled down the bandages on Aizawa's face, and he quickly removed the effects of the quirk. You were taken in an ambulance and Aizawa was taken up to the ground floor.

“Wait! I can still help!” You tried to squirm out of their grasp, but Aizawa shook his head ‘no.’ Tears sprung in your eyes, did you do bad? You did your best. Still, you were forced into an ambulance.

___________________________________________

You were in and out of consciousness the first day, one part of the injury, but mostly out of laziness. Lack of sleep finally caught up to you, forcing you to pay your debts. Still, it wasn’t like you were out of it, you could hear voices, smell the clean hospital air, feel the thin sheets below you, and taste your dry mouth. Different types of voices visited you, your friends, you recognized dimly. But there was one who stayed as long as they could, and whenever they spoke, you turned your head to them, smiling and appreciating the smooth bass. A large and warm hand felt your forehead, then checked your cheek. But their touch lingered on your cheek, gently cupping the part of your face.

“Hmm, s’warm.” You mumbled, not really awake as you squished your face further in the hand.

“So weird.” But they never pulled away.

___________________________________________

The next day, you were fully awake, still in a little bit of pain. Thanks to quirks and advanced medical technology, your wound was mostly closed. It was still tender to the touch, and still able to open, but as long as you were careful, you’d be fine.

Now you were hungrily inhaling the food the nurse had dropped off, Aizawa watching you in muted disgust.

“Wha’?” Your mouth was still full, flakes of rice and meat juice surrounded your mouth.

“You eat like you’re an animal and not a fully grown woman.” He shook his head, eyeing you like you were gonna eat him next.

“I’m hungry dick!” Still, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, eating more delicately. Aizawa rolled his eyes but stopped to watch his hands.

“I have a favor to ask of you.” He didn’t look at you.

You wanted to tease him, but there was something about his demeanor that made you hesitate. “Yeah, what do you need.” You set down your food, gently sitting up to stare at him.

“The little girl, Eri, her quirk is unstable and dangerous.” Aizawa looked up now, reaching behind him to grab a small packet of papers. He handed them to you, continuing to talk. “So is her emotional state, there’s no telling when she’ll get upset and activate her quirk.”

Multitasking, you opened the folder while listening to him Rewind. She can rewind the state of a person, down to nothing. You looked up with worried eyes.

“She’ll need someone who can stop it, and watch over her.” His words hung heavy in the air, and he was tense now, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Of course, what will you do with her?” He still hadn’t relaxed, hands clenching.

“I was thinking that she could live with us. We could watch over her.” Your eyes widened, mouth parting slightly.

“I-why me? I’m not exactly mother material.” You laughed nervously, looking at him confused. Why does he have to rope you into everything he does? Would you even be good enough to watch over the girl?

“She doesn’t need a mother, she needs someone to help her. And I..we live together, so it makes the most sense.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. Yet he was still tense, but why?

You looked down at your own hands, looking over her patient file. She was a traumatized little girl who needed help.

“What i…-what if I mess something up, what if I’m not good enough?” You voiced your concern, voice wavering already. When did you get so emotional?

“You won’t be doing it alone, I’ll be there.” Aizawa's voice was soft, comforting you. You looked up at him, staring into his soft eyes.

“But why me?”

“Because it’s always you.”

___________________________________________

You, as well as the other students, were released from the hospital not too long after the raid. The drive home was silent, both of you sleepy for different reasons. You were getting used to not sleeping all day, and Aizawa was exhausted from watching over Eri all night. Even if Aizawa never put on the radio, even if you hit every red light, even if the late-night roads were quiet, neither of you spoke about what he said in the hospital. Not even when you were in the hospital.

Tiredly you both made it back home, stumbling in the dark room.

“Aizawa wait.” You held out a hand, getting his attention while he poured his cup of coffee. You turned to him, “Where is she gonna sleep? There’s only two rooms.”

Aizawa gave you a blank face, overpouring his cup, hot coffee spilling out from his hand and to the floor.

“Aizawa.” You repeated, his face still blank.

___________________________________________

“I could sleep in the living room.” Aizawa offered, both of you had your hair up/out of your way as you looked around the shared living space.

“Well that’s not fair to you, I’ll just sleep in the living room. You can keep the big room, which I still haven’t gotten over, by the way, and she gets the smaller room. You’ll be right there for her and I can just hang out.” Your hands on your hips while you stared out into the living room, staring down at the beige couch.

“I shouldn’t let you take the living room.” He shook his head, shooting down the idea immediately.

“Why not?”

“One, because you’re a slob.” Aizawa looked over to you, “Two you have far too much stuff, and three you’re a woman.”

“Okay one, kiss my ass.” You faced him as well, crossing your arms. “And what does me being a girl have to do with anything?” You gave him a dirty look.

“Oh don’t look at me like that, I mean, if anyone needs their own space it should be you.” He waved you off, turning around to head into the kitchen.

“Well, Eri above anyone needs her own room, sooo…” You shook your head at him, giving him a look while he rustled through the cabinets. You thought for a moment, and a terrible idea came up in your head. Aizawa looked over at you, jelly pouch hanging out of your mouth.

“What terrible idea do you have.” He looked at you warily, still hanging into the snack through his teeth.

You shook your head, making a disgusted face.

“What?” He prodded.

“You’re not gonna like it, I don’t even like it, but we could share your room. We could buy another bed and separate the room into two.” You slowly lifted your hands in a questioning manner, your voice high.

Aizawa stared at you, one of his eyes raising in an annoyed look. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Well, what other idea do you have?”

He looked around, thinking for a moment before he groaned very loudly. “You just want to have the bathroom in the room, don’t you?”

“I’m merely making the conscious decision for the both of us considering your situation.” You held your hands up in a non-accusing way, trying to fake some sort of innocence.

“Fine.” He grunted, turning around to wash the dishes in the sink. You tried to ignore the implications of what sharing a room meant, far more intimate than sharing a home. Walking past, you willfully ignored his blushing ears.

___________________________________________

Aizawa’s time was spent between watching over Eri and working as a teacher. So you didn't see him often for a while, whereas you were suck with redecorating and adjusting your home. You started off slow, just buying kid shit for her, like books, stuffed animals, and cubbies. But when it came time to put together said cubbies and bookshelves you let them build up, and you very pointedly ignored moving the beds. Aizawa was too busy for you to ask, and you sure as hell couldn't, or was it wouldn't, who knows, do it all by yourself. So you called the one man who you knew would help you.

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

“No lift with your legs.”

“I am lifting with my legs! Hurry up jackass, I’m gonna drop the bed on my foot!” You groaned with the effort, damning yourself for wanting such a heavy frame.

Snipe sighed, rolling his eyes at you while he backed up. He had one hand holding the bottom of the sideways bed, the other supporting the top. Ever so gently he led you out of your old room and into Aizawa’s room.

“Okay ready? I’m gonna set it down, and you have to do it with me.” He looked back at you, his sharp eyes piercing.

“Yup.” Your voice was strained, trying not to drop the bed. Following his lead, you turned the bed slowly and dropped it. You sighed, leaning over on your knees while you caught your breath. “Fuck.” Looking up, the bed was in the middle of the room, and you needed to shove it to the other side of the room, opposite to Aizawa’s

“I got it.” Snipe waved you away, immediately going to drag the bed in place.

“Thanks.”

You knew Snipe would answer your call, often times you hung out outside of work, and on the rare times he hosted an outing, you went with him. He stood back up, the muscle shirt he was wearing doing wonders for his body, showing off his toned arms and flashing you his exposed sides. And for a man whose quirk was a gun, he sure as hell did have a slutty waist.

“Alright break time.” You walked out of the room, Snipe following you with laughter.

“We’ve barely started.”

“And now it’s break time.” You filled up two cups of water, handing one to him. Your hands brushed briefly, his course fingertips quickly ghosting over yours. There was a beat of silence, he made direct eye contact while he took a sip from his cup.

It’s not like you haven't thought about it, even before Snipe showed his face you knew he’d be hot under there. It was sometime after the final exams in the first term, he had been retelling the embarrassing story of his run-in with Hagakure. You had laughed at him loudly in the warm night air, tears springing to your eyes. You could feel his eyes on you, even if you couldn’t see them.

“Why do you wear your mask all the time?” You asked out loud after calming down. He stared ahead, and instead of responding he just tugged it off.

He looked at you with brilliant grey eyes, little targets in them. He had dark and thick eyebrows, long pretty eyelashes, and his full lips pulled in a smirk. Across his face was a gnarly scar, it looked like he had been slashed at an angle across, leaving behind a slightly raised thick wound.

“You’re face is a little lighter than your body.” You said stupidly, brain short-circuiting.

He just laughed and looked back out into the courtyard.

“I know.”

You cleared your throat, willing away all of the not-very-safe-for-work thoughts that filled your head.

“I have to wonder, why are you and Aizawa sharing a room?” Snipe sat on the table, leaning back to watch you. His thick thighs were highlighted when he sat down, shorts leaving nothing to the imagination, and you swore he widened them when he caught you looking. Damn these slutty men.

“It’s nothing like that,” You waved him away. “Have you heard about the little girl that's going to be living here?” He nodded.

“Her name is Eri, and her quirk is unstable, so Aizawa has guardianship over her so she doesn’t accidentally kill someone. Which means that she’s gonna live with him, which means she’s gonna live with us.” You sighed.

“But why does that equate to you and Aizawa sharing a room?” He waved an arm, looking at you curiously.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you’re jealous, Snipe.” You smirked, but it dropped. “Eri immediately gets a room, that’s a given, but I wanted Aizawa close by, but he thought it’d be inappropriate for me to sleep out here. So now we’re bunking together.”

Snipe hummed, closing his eyes and looking away. But out of the corner of his eyes he peeked at you. “You could always spend the night at my place if you need, Sejikiro doesn’t mind guests over, since he’s usually out.”

Before you could respond, a presence made themselves known.

“That’s completely inappropriate.” Aizawa snapped, holding a bag of groceries.

“Hey, Aizawa.” Snipe turned in his direction, waving hello.

“Why are you here?” He greeted back.

“He helped me move my bed, and he’s helping me put together the bookcases and Eri’s bed.” You peeked over, looking at him. Aizawa was just angrily looking at Snipe, who was staring back.

“You couldn’t have asked me?” He was pissed at you now?

“You’ve been busy.” You shrugged, stepping out to try and cool the angry man.

“I would’ve helped, you just needed to ask.” Aizawa growled out. “Now I’m here, so you,” He looked over to Snipe, who was just lazily watching the whole conversation, “Can get out now.” Aizawa sidestepped the door, motioning for him to leave.

“I’m already here now, plus if we all three work together, I’m sure it’ll go by quickly.” He tried to soothe the stern teacher.

“I’m sure you’re very busy, get out.” Neither Aizawa nor Snipe moved, silently challenging one another.

Snipe got up without a word, and on his way out he turned to you. “Call me whenever you need help, you have my number.” He waved goodbye, Aizawa slamming the door in his face.

“What the hell was that?” You asked in disbelief, watching the man you lived with as he strutted across the room. He threw the bags on the groaned, angrily opening the edge door to shove the food in there. “Hello?” You got closer, standing right behind him.

“I didn’t know you were calling other men to come by our house alone. You can’t do this when Eri comes in.” He was basically throwing in the food now, the poor grapes and carrots chucked to the back.

“Like Snipe isn’t our friend, what was going to happen? He helped me move the bed.” You were leaning over him now, anger now filling you. It’s been a while since you fought, the song and dance you both created had shifted over time.

“He’s your friend, not mine.” Aizawa stood up. “Plus, anything he did I could’ve done easily, there was no reason to call him. I live here too.” Aizawa got in your face, glowering.

“You’ve been busy. I’m not going to bother you-”

“It wouldn’t be a bother! All I’ve been doing is making sure Eri’s healing process goes as scheduled, nothing I couldn’t have left to help you.”

Both of you just stood there, breathing angrily in each other's spaces, chest to chest.

“Why do you care so much? Aren’t you happier that I’m taking the work off your hands?” You asked, anger ebbing away.

Aizawa said nothing in response, looking away slightly ashamed.

“Because I don’t like other people in my house.” Bull.

“What about Nemuri or Hizashi? You have no problem with them coming over? Or Anan and Sejikiro?” You asked, genuinely confused.

His shoulders slumped, eyebrows slightly going up. “It’s different.”

“How? In what way?”

Aizawa’s tired eyes looked at you, and you realized what Fukukado was talking about.

“I recognize that look in your eyes when you look at him..”

“It just is, if you need my help, you can just call me. I’ll be there.”

___________________________________________

The first thing you noticed was how small she was, and how stringy and thin her hair was.

You were sitting in the hallway of the front door, wearing a Hello Kitty jacket and baggy sweatpants. Eri was clutching onto Aizawa’s hand painfully, but he made no move to pull away.

“Hey, little one.” You made no movement, both you and Aizawa letting her decide what to do. He was just staring at her, gauging her reactions.

She said your name, asking whether or not you were you.

“Yes I am, did Mr. Aizawa tell you I was a hero?” You asked softly, smiling at her. She nodded, one hand on her face.

“And I’m going to be living with you too?”

“Yes ma’am.” You nodded dutifully.

“Why, uhm..” Her voice got quiet, and she mumbled into her hand. Aizawa crouched down, getting on her level. He whispered something in her ear, and she nodded shyly. She turned back to you, big eyes filling with tears. “Why didn’t you see me in the hospital?” She asked, looking down while her voice wavered. In turn, your eyes filled with tears, guilt ripping you open. You swallowed away your tears and leaned forward.

“I’ve been busy getting your room all ready for you. Remember when Mr. Aizawa asked what your favorite animals and colors were?” You asked.

She turned back, eyes widening as she nodded.

“Well, want to go see?” She nodded enthusiastically again. You slowly got up, holding a hand out for her to grab. She did gratefully, but she never let go of Aizawa’s forcing you to walk side by side as you walked to her room.

You opened the door, and she gasped, running in and looking excitedly at everything. You and Aizawa watched in adoration as she squealed, never moving from the doorway.

You looked over at him and saw he was already staring at you.

“What?” You asked, laughing while a bashful blush spread across your face.

“You’ll do great, I don’t understand why you were so worried.” He shook his head, a small smile on his own face, ears burning hot.

You exhaled out of your nose, smiling as you turned back to Eri, who was watching you two. She just slowly crawled up to you two, slowly hugging both of your legs. Her grip became tight, and you and Aizawa shot each other’s worried looks.

“What’s wrong honey?”

“Eri is something wrong?”

She looked up to you two, face red and eyes watery. “You guys are like mommy and daddies.” She sniffed, “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

You frowned deeply, eyes filling up again with tears. Aizawa started to blink rapidly, inhaling deeply as he looked up.

“Oh Eri, you could never hurt us. I promise to protect you.” You hugged her tiny frame, soothing her shaking. Aizawa joined you, hugging her just as tight.

“We’ll always be here for you, alright?”

That was a promise neither of you would break, no matter what happened.

___________________________________________

they make me mentally unwell,,AND BEFORE YOU ASK YESS I'LL WRITE A PT 3 its just this was already 12k words, and i knew that it would jest get more unreasonable the more I wrote,,,soooo,,,they make me so ill I just,,,

Also I know eri doesn't come home till later, but lick my bawls,,,I'm forcing parenthood on them

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