#going to talk to upper management about the coworker. but like it's never done any good before I don't see it doing anything now

[house-in-the-backyard-trees]

So my coworker said she was going to go do landscaping in the last hour before I left for the day which was fine. It was getting to be around 12:45 and she wasn't back in so I went to check the garbages and see where she was. I got to the last garbage can on pump 7/8 and she got out of her car. I don't know if she was in it the entire time bc she likes to do the garbage behind the dumpster. But it's really frustrating being the one stuck on register doing all the work while she goes outside and sits in her car and does whatever. I feel like we shouldn't have to babysit her. I got so mad at her I started shaking and I slammed the money counter down on the counter and counted my drawer in like 2 minutes and we didn't say a word to each other and I went and stood in the office and sent a message to my manager about her. Like when will anything she do be enough to upper management for her to get fired? or is she just gonna be here forever, just letting her get away with anything and everything?

[extra-v1rgin]

‘cause it’s the prettiest night

Aki x reader • Sfw • 5.1k

Aki gets drunk, you take him home

Cw/Tw • Consumption of Alcohol, Himeno being Himeno

Through the grapevine you hear about the shit show that was division 4’s encounter with the eternity devil. The rumors of the event encourage you to be happy that you got stuck doing busywork and filling out all kinds of forms. It means that the paperwork filled out that will tell you the full story will find itself in your office, even if it won’t make it’s way to your desk for another few weeks. For now you settle for listening to the jokes cracked in the break room about the new recruits flowing in and the never-ending hotel floor.

Its the time of year where more workers flow in, high-school graduates looking for a paycheck or committed workers finally done with training. The dark truth is that most won’t last a month, either quitting or dying.

Until then the suggestion of a proper, cheesy get-to-know-you, meeting floats in. You don’t know if upper management is behind it, but these sorts of events tend to be ushered in yearly. A few times in between you might venture out with one or two of the others you like enough to bother getting to know.

A date is picked, just another week out. You skipped the one a few months back (because Aki wasn’t going either) because you were swamped with paperwork. You’re busy enough even now, that you don’t quite manage to figure out if Aki is going this time either. Drinks alone aren’t alluring enough to coax you to the restaurant, but you are intrigued to find out if any other fiends show up.

There’s talk of a hybrid too, a devilman. Something not entirely anything at once. It sounds more interesting than the normal rumors that float through the cubicles.

When the official invite is whispered through the walls you offer a hesitant acceptance.

—-

The first few minutes are always the worst. You don’t know why you don’t just start showing up late, but the impact of being one of the first there is too enticing. So you show up, hide in your car until someone recognizable enters, then claim whichever seat you find most appealing that night. Inevitably reoccurring coworkers file into the same kind of position around you, no matter which seat you choose.

It’s followed by awkward and stilted conversations with whoever else is present at first (usually Madoka, who is stiff and unwelcoming). The atmosphere never quite grows thick enough to deter you from your timely habits. It dissipates soon enough once a few others make it through the door. A few minutes of chewing your tongue is worth it.

The chatter gets gradually louder while you fight over the food and pay. Whichever poor waiter has come to serve you listens to the long list of platters everyone calls for depending on whatever their personal taste is.

Aki shows up right on time. He always is there promptly at 7, only late once. You made sure to tease him for weeks after.

Others stare at the fiend and hybrid that stroll in behind, you’re attention is solely on Hayakawa.

He looks the same he as he always does. You’re wearing more lax clothes, black tie swapped out for something colorful, suit jacket left behind. Aki is still, completely dressed up in his work uniform.

When he tries to walk past you drag him down to sit down beside you. “Where else were you gonna sit? Nobody else is gonna tolerate your presence.”

The man scoffs, even as he settles down. “I think you have it the wrong way around.” He surveys the food spread across the table, piling his plate with whatever he finds savory enough. Aki looks over to your tray, stealing the beer in front of you.

You don’t often drink, especially not beer. As much as you try, the sour taste never gets any easier on you. On occasions like this you might manage a drink or two just for the social environment. Mostly you’ll hide your distaste behind polite smiles.

“You should ask before taking others’ things.” Your complaint is flimsy, he knows well enough about your distaste.

He frowns and takes a sip of your drink. While you watch the amber flow down his throat you turn your attention to his charges for a brief moment.

It’s clear why Aki needs a drink. Power, the fiend you’ve vaguely heard about, has claimed several trays of karrage for herself. She eats the chicken nearly whole, gnawing at the bones. Someone tries to steal a drumstick for themselves and nearly gets a few fingers bit off.

Denji seems calmer only by the smallest amount. He has gathered up just as much food for himself, but isn’t as aggressive at protecting it. You’re still careful to nab stuff when he isn’t looking, but not scared enough to stop stealing it.

When you glance back over at him the glass mug is already empty. You’re already in the process of waiving a waiter down and ordering a few drinks when Himeno walks in.

Even though you’ve filled your stomach with warm food and drink a sour taste creeps up the back of your throat. Himeno always shows up to these things. Any excuse to drink you suppose. The thought brings a sly smile to your face, as rude as it is.

She sits right across from Aki, leans over to grab a drink and down it. He gives a soft grin in return, and you try not to outwardly grimace.

Your distaste for the woman is not the biggest secret out there, but you’re mature enough not to start a war with her. It’s tempting to scoff at her borderline alcoholic tendencies and crass mouth. Once she’s had a few drinks it only gets worse, more extreme.

For the second act of the night you’re stuck watching Himeno down glass after glass while she holds Aki’s attention. Even after years of knowing the man you still can’t figure out what he wants from her. The woman isn’t shy, he would have to be blind to miss her interest. There has to be a reason that he hasn’t acted on any feelings, feelings that he hopefully doesn’t have in the first place.

While Himeno tells vulgar stories, you turn your attention elsewhere. It’s easy to listen to what others say as you pick at your food. Conversation flows easily when there’s a few different topics bouncing around the table. The only taboo subject is work, after Fushi lamented the loss of his new buddy. Being paired up with a devil is annoying, but they’re much less susceptible to death.

When Makima enters things quiet down for a moment. She looks formidable. There’s a regal elegance that draws your eyes across her figure and towards her face. The red and orange eye that survey the restaurant are hypnotizing.

She sits at the head of the table. Aki and Himeno break away from whatever world they were trapped in to stare at her, as does everyone else. Even once the chatter begins again it’s slow and hushed. Every time Makima adds something to the conversation it grows still again.

When they begin to drink you give up focusing on whatever the rest are talking about. Piles of glasses begin to take over the table.

Aki is beautiful beside you. There’s always beauty in being able to see the small new pieces of him. As each round of beer is served to the trio he cheeks grow redder. When he downs the glasses foam builds up around his lips, a few stray drops of alcohol crawling down his neck. It inches down before soaking into his collar, still done up stiffly.

Makima drinks in slow but large gulps. Nothing escapes past her mouth. She leaves no lipstick marks against the glass, though her lips are an unnatural ruby red. There’s a vague pinkness on her cheeks. It’s hard to tell if it was there before.

Himeno is clearly the looser so far. Her tie sits in her lap, collar undone a few buttons down. It’s a pretty typical sight, the only surprise comes from the fact that she still hasn’t built up more tolerance.

All the glasses begin to spread over more and more of the table. Nobody is watching the trio quite as closely as you are, though it’s the most interesting thing happening. Even Denji seems vaguely intrigued even when his chin is still sticky with vomit. You catch him trying a few drops lingering to the sides of the mugs. His sour face is reminiscent of you own whenever you drink.

Aki and Himeno keep downing drinks. They both have some hidden determination, clear in Aki’s focused eyes. Overtime they grow hazy until he’s completely out of it, drooling on the table. The uniform suit jacket is finally shrugged off, as he folds it up to rest his head on.

Himeno hasn’t given up just yet. She probably won’t stop until she vomits in another person’s mouth, if anyone will get that close to her. Your focus has remained on Aki, and now that he’s retired your interest in their drinking game has dissipated.

Only one blue eye stares up in your direction. His other is shut tight, cheek pressing against the smooth table. The pupil is so dilated that the crystal circle of color around it is barely visible. You blow stray hairs out from his face, forcing his bangs apart.

Leaning down you murmur against his ear, “Aki-kun, how drunk are you? Can you see how many fingers I’m holding up?” You wave three fingers right in front of his eye.

He peels his hand out from where it’s pinned underneath your shoulder, to bat yours away. “Fuckin’ annoying.” The man speaks around his slow tongue in a clumsy way. It pries a quick laugh from your mouth.

The corners of his lips twitch in a way that suggests a smile. It’s not quite committed to the action, but with how much Aki’s face is set a perfect grimace his smile muscles might have atrophied. Either way you’re glad to see him have just a glimpse of joy.

Fushi leans over your way, an offer of shirtama on a plate extended over to you. “Are you gonna take Hayakawa-san home?”

His friendly grin doesn’t look sly, or suggest any amount of knowing.

“Oh! I didn’t plan on it, but I guess he’ll need one now.” The half-truth slips from your teeth easily. The restaurant, the same one you always meet at for company gatherings, is only a block or two from the nearest train stop. It’s warm enough that you could’ve taken the train and walked here comfortably. Regardless you drive your car, an old piece of shit, every single time.

Mostly it ends with you dragging whichever one of your coworkers has gotten drunk enough to need the help. Usually it’s Himeno, much to your chagrin, though occasionally she’s sober enough to make the short walk home. You’ve also shuffled a good amount of senior hunters into your car, which occasionally means you get an extra bonus if anyone is sober enough to remember. It’s never Aki. He typically drinks only two or three beers throughout the entire night. Other than a slight drag at the end of his words, he always seems sober.

You’ve been waiting for this day for a long long time.

It sounds creepy when you say it like that. There’s no better way to put it. You drag out your shitty car, pay for too expensive gas, and take home coworkers you barely know, for the hope that instead Aki will be curled up in your passenger seat. It’s begging for a scrap of his attention that you’re so rarely rewarded with.

One in a million chance, and you’ve won the lottery.

Fushi leans a little closer. Your eyes focus again. “You’re always the designated driver.” There’s maybe a little bit of a tease in his voice, a little bit of a question.

“Sorry, but I haven’t been able to convince myself that beer tastes good yet.” That part is the full truth. Getting drunk off vodka or tequila is a few quick shots, beer is slow and leaves shit on your tongue.

He laughs and pulls away again, turning to chat with the other’s.

Your gaze turns back to Aki. His eyes are barely open, thick downward swooping lashes hiding the slivers of his pupils that are visible. “Do you want to go home yet?” Your voice is gentle against his ear. You murmur right up to it, needing to be heard over the chatter.

“Yer fine to go whenev’r.” A slight country boy accent flows in. You know he used to live in a secluded area out west before the gun devil attacked. The tone has crept in before, usually when he’s tired or looses his temper enough to let his poise slip.

“Well ‘yer’ joinin’ me, so don’t fall asleep before then.” Moisture from his breath lingers on your throat. It’s not close enough to brush up against his nose, but you can feel the distance.

He grins sharply. “Don’t make fun.” The man could tear out your jugular.

You jerk back a little. “Alright cowboy.” A small bubble of laughter pops in the back of your throat. Aki rolls his eyes and shoves his face back in between his arms.

You let him have peace for a few more minutes. People are still eager to chatter. Makima has long since stopped drinking, but Himeno is gulping down another still. Power has devoured an entire chicken farm with how much karaage she’s eaten. The fiend has finally settled down, curled up and clutching her bloated stomach. It’s rare to see her face repercussions for the gluttony she so often displays.

Denji is curled up in the corner still. Drunk Himeno is often a menace to anyone nearby, but even a vomit filled kiss is a little much for her. You remember how she had looked when the boy introduced himself, announced how young he was. It’s another item on a long list of reasons why you hate her. Even without the beer there’s a bitter taste on your tongue.

You approach him in the corner like a wounded animal. He looks up with hazy eyes and heavy weight on his shoulders. “Do you want me to take you guys back now Denji-kun?” You’re surprised by how pudgy his face is. It’s your first good look. The tips of your toes rise up to nudge his knee.

“How come you’re drivin’?” When he looks up you can see sticky remains of sick on his chin.

You try not to let your tone grow too tender. It’s easy to remember how queasy adults made you when they fixed you with that sad smile and sweet sayings. “Your buddy can barely walk right now, so I’m taking over. Unless you want to drag him and Power-chan back.”

Denji’s wide eyes make him look younger as he shakes his head. “We can go now. These guys are lame anyways.” A hint of a grin pulls at the edge of his lips. It’s reassuring that he isn’t completely down.

“Do you know how to unlock a car?” You dangle your keys in front of his face. “It’s not fancy like Aki-kun’s, you’ll have to do it manually.”

He jumps up like an eager dog to grab the metal ring you keep everything on. “Don’t try anything,” you warn. It’d be impressive if Denji got the thing to start in the first place, he might earn a joyride if he succeeds and any attempts. “It’s way in the back. Whichever car looks the worst is probably mine.”

The boy snatches your keys, and saunters out the door. You’re surprised nobody pays much attention to his exit.

Coercing Power out the door is much more difficult. Though she complains of stomach pains and clutches her middle, the fiend is still licking chicken bones, gnawing off a few pieces of a meat still stuck to them.

“We’re leaving.” You nudge her horns with your feet.

She blinks hazily and pulls herself upwards. “Says who? I haven’t commanded it yet!” Power waves a wet bone in your direction.

“Don’t you want to go home?”

The fiend gasps. “How dare you assume that! Tis my own mind that I know best.” You don’t know if fiends can get drunk, but there’s a wildness in her eye.

Madoka pushes his glasses up and gives you a serious look. “You gotta use reverse psychology. It’s like talking to a toddler.” He speaks like Power isn’t there, though she does ignore is words. “Watch this.”

He turns to the fiend. “Power-san, I’m surprised you’re still here. Usually the superior is the one who goes home first.”

She picks her head up. “Huh?! Why didn’t the other human say that? I shall not let you trick me!” The girl stands up and is out the door before you can point her in the right direction.

Madoka, as stiff as ever, leans back and lifts his drink back up.

Your smile breaks out slightly wider on your face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You stumble backwards and fall into your seat again besides Aki. His face is plunged into his arms again. When you scratch the back of his head he doesn’t stir at all.

“Aki-kun,” you singsong in his ear. “Get up.” You poke into his skin harder.

The face that greets you is still as cute as ever. There’s a streak of drool across his cheek. Aki’s bangs are more uneven than usual, sticking up and out in odd places.

“We’re leaving,” you inform him. It looks like he hasn’t absorbed the information quite yet, but you’re already folding his jacket over your shoulder and tugging him up by his sleeves. Slowly the man stands up, knees shaking. He puts most of his weight on you, but you still manage to make a quick exit. You stop for only a brief moment to thank Makima, who offered to cover the cost for tonights meal as well as the drinks. Most devil hunters are compensated well for their work, but the amount of beers Aki downed would’ve burned a hole in his pocket. She waves off the appreciation and says, “Goodnight.”

When you’re no longer protected by the warmth of close company and insulated walls Aki shivers. You sling his jacket back around his arms, careful to make sure it doesn’t slip down. If you’re lucky the car will be a few degrees warmer than the outside air. It’s likely the damn thing won’t warm up fully until you’ve arrived back at Aki’s place.

Denji is curled up in the back, car already started and huffing out carbon monoxide. Power is sitting next to him, feet kicking the passenger’s seat. You dump Aki into the front, rubbing your shoulders. Later you’ll fax him the receipt for your chiropractor appointment.

Even drunk and mostly asleep he tugs the seatbelt on.

You run around to the drivers seat. As you pull open the door you can spot a few new scratches along the keyhole. When you slide into your seat you do your best to glare at Denji through the rearview mirror. He doesn’t catch the feeling of your eyes burning holes into his head.

Shifting your gaze to what’s actually behind you, you pull out slowly. Despite the fact that you’re used to dragging coworkers home, you don’t have the best track record when it comes to driving. Your car insurance rates are through the roof, only affordable because you don’t have to pay for any other kind of coverage.

You drive home painfully slow. Normally you’re a bit reckless, even when you’re sober as a stone. The fast nature of Tokyo’s roads encourages you to push through yellow lights and drift around the corners. The first time Aki sat in your passenger seat he looked like he was going to throw up.

Though you still break too roughly and completely miss a stop sign he doesn’t stir. The entire car is strangely quiet other than the squeaking of Power kicking the back of Aki’s seat. Some older song crawls out of your stereo, full of static. The words are unfamiliar, but you can follow the tune.

Aki’s apartment doesn’t have assigned parking, something you’re thankful for. There’s a small gap right near the front that you can squeeze into. You’ll probably scrape against one of the cars on the way out, but you can’t drag the trio all the way across the concrete.

Power springs out easily, racing through the doors and all the way upwards. Denji and Aki both take a bit of prompting, but you manage to coax them out of the car. The boy is stable enough despite his clear exhaustion. Aki sways on his feet. It’s been nowhere near long enough for him to have sobered up, but you wish he had. When the man leans over your head his hands trace your waist.

The night air tickles your nose and fingers. Beside his body there’s pockets of heat that you hide within. Both the teens have charged forward, leaving you with silence. Aki occasionally murmurs something aloud, always too slurred and quiet to understand.

“Thank ya, for takin’ us back,” he finally gets the words out. As he says them his cheek nudges against yours, mouth right against your ear. Your stomach flips several times over, you feel drunk yourself.

Aki’s house is dark. You can hear water running in the bathroom, and see light peeking through another one of the doors. You don’t know who is where, but that doesn’t matter at the moment. Aki’s room is the 2nd door on the left.

It’s neat inside. The bed is made. Pajamas sit folded at the edge. You’re glad you won’t have to ruffle through his drawers, a bit disappointed too. The man pulls away from your side to curl up in bed.

“Don’t sleep yet, I haven’t even taken your shoes off.” You haven’t taken your own either. He’d yell at you if he was sober. If he finds your footprints in the carpet tomorrow you’ll get a late scolding.

Aki mumbles something unintelligible. His loafers are stubborn. The man double knots the laces and no matter how much you tug they don’t come loose. The strings are pulled tight enough that you can’t slip the shoes off without undoing them.

Suddenly he leans forward until his head hangs over your own. “Ya gotta pull here.” Aki tugs at a small little loop at the side and the whole thing unravels.

He grabs your hand in both of his and guides you to the other shoe. “Should’ve taken ‘em off before.” You tug both loafers off and set them underneath the bed.

Taking a brief moment you slip your own off too. You might be able to avoid a scolding still.

“If you wanted them off at the door you could’ve done it yourself.” You fold his suit jacket and place it off to the side. He fumbles with the buttons on his shirt. Sliding upwards you help with the movement. “What would you do without me?”

His head drops down to sit on your shoulder. A calm quiet envelopes the room. His warm cheeks rub against your skin. Aki’s arms hang limp at his sides, letting you do all the work. Once the fabric is undone he stretches his arms out. You can’t tell is he’s trying to be playful or just moving on autopilot. Either way you choose to indulge him.

Tugging the shirt off his body you toss it in the corner. Scooting even closer you pull on the sleep shirt. It’s baggy and old, covered with a fades logo from an unfamiliar band. Your hands brush against the sides of his stomach.

Your thighs brush against his. Letting your fingers wait along his waist it’s hard to pull back. With a brief shift you could topple into his lap. His bed is soft, you could sink into the mattress and fall closer.

Instead you dip off the edge of the mattress. Tossing the pants at him you tell him to change all the way. Seeing him nude, as appealing as the idea is, is something you’ve seen before. Whether it is helping him with wounds or just stuck in uncomfortable situations his naked body isn’t unfamiliar. Still, none of those situations had been anything other than forced circumstance. This isn’t.

“Can you do this part yourself?” Aki’s eyes are closed as his head bobs gently. It seems like he’s not absorbing your instructions at all, but there’s not much more you can do. Taking the bottoms you press them into his hands. His grasp of then is weak, a gentle reflex.

You stand up and stumble out the door. You’ll give him peace for a moment. In the end you suspect he’ll end up sleeping in his boxers or work pants anyways.

It’s quiet outside, pitch black. You weren’t paying attention, but whoever was in the bathroom is gone now. Tracing a finger against the wall you feel the wood until it breaks and you step into the kitchen.

There’s more dishes in the sink than you’ve seen before. Aki’s home often looks spotless, nearly uncomfortably so. Around the table leftovers from breakfast sit. You can imagine the spectacle that the trio make in the mornings.

You don’t love anyone enough to fully clean for them, but you find a place in your heart for Aki as you put away cans of jam and spices. He has a proper breadbox, instead of just jamming the loaf back into the bag, so you use that. The table (and floor) is still coated with all kinds of spreads, accompanied with breadcrumbs, but you leave it for now.

As you set the water to fill up the sink and soak the dishes you finally head towards your original goal.

There’s a low hum the fridge sings. It’s fuller than you’ve found it in the past. Your kitchen back home has mostly leftovers and tv dinners shoved inside of it, nothing like the fresh produce Aki uses. You’ll sort through his cabinets properly and steal whatever’s appetizing later.

Reaching into the back you grab a can of sparkling water. It’s the shitty kind that claims it tastes like fruit, when it’s a pale attempt at flavor. Aki has strange taste, strange to you at least.

You grab a box of crackers from the pantry, alongside a large bowl. It’ll be a miracle if he makes it to the bathroom before his hangover kicks in fully. Himeno couldn’t even make it away from Denji’s mouth.

You’re not an expert in having to deal with hangovers, not when you hardly deal with them yourself. The amenities you’ve grabbed are simple tips shared in magazines to fill space. Hopefully at least some of it will do him good.

When you peek into Aki’s room again he’s tucked into the bed. His pants are shoved into a pile on the floor. He’s curled up still clutching the pair of sweats you offered, meaning he probably couldn’t find the energy to do more than remove his pants.

You peel the bottoms free from his grasp and deposit them back on the floor with the rest of his clothes. Sitting on the bed you’re careful to not disrupt him. Taking out the small trove of items you spread them over the nightstand. The water chills your hand now, but it’ll be warm by morning. Aki will probably be too sick to notice.

Avoiding turning around and admiring the sleeping man you push yourself into his bathroom. It’s hard to read the medication labels in the dim light, but you sort through everything until you find simple painkillers. They find a place beside the rest of the items you brought.

There’s not much you can do to extend your stay.

Kneeling beside him you whisper a quick, “goodbye.” You brush your fingers through his hair and finally take out the ridiculous topknot he insists on wearing all the time. His hair spreads over the pillow, stuck up in a stiff and awkward way. Ruffling the dark locks you watch them settle into a more natural position.

His cheeks look a little more like their natural color, red fading back to a subtle pink. The slumber he’s fallen into seems like a result of the late hour rather than the alcohol consumption. Pausing for a moment you take in the sight of him. Cool shadows mold his skin, his hair looking more blue. If his eyes were open they’d reflect the moonlight, even if it doesn’t permeate the room.

You wish you could stay. It’s tempting to curl up beside him and soak in his presence. Your fingers skim over his cheek one last time. His warm skin lights your fingers ablaze.

The feeling carries you up and out of his room.

The entire home is absolutely silent on your way out. It’s a little unsettling as you creep down the hall. You steal a can of soda from the fridge and crack it open. It must’ve been bought for Denji or Power, Aki would never drink something so unhealthy.

It’s a strange sort of silence once you close the door. The walk there wasn’t particularly loud, but it felt warm and comfortable. The shadows seem more threatening now, the air slightly colder. You regret now that you don’t often wear a jacket. The suit provided is boring and indistinguishable from anyone else’s, but it’s sturdy and well insulated.

Awkwardly jogging towards your car you shiver in the chill air. As you slide in you’re quick to turn on the heat. The car still smells a little bit like Aki, a combination of booze and cigarette smoke. Underneath there’s a hint of whatever body spray Aki uses, warm and musky. If the scent belonged to anyone else it’d be unappealing, but it’s so uniquely Aki that you’re glad the smell permeates the air.

It lifts your mood the whole ride hime, even on the walk to your own apartment. You carry the feelings of his breath against your neck and hands on yours while you curl up in bed.

—-

In the morning you have a single notification on your small phone.

Thank you.

[pies-writes-and-more]

Hii how about an Ushijima x GN Reader where they're married and then got into a fight which stretches into days of the reader ignoring Ushiwaka and he'll get reminded of what happened with his parents and all that, angst to fluff btw. (You could also changed anything you want in the plot, just please make it an angst to fluff, I can't handle angst endings ;-;) that's all thamk you vmuch!

word count: 3,613

pairing: ushijima wakatōshi x gn!reader (as usual, pls let me know if you find something gendered!)

warnings: sad angsty vibes at the beginning, a lot of worry but it's all fluffy at the end!

a/n: bare with me yall, this might not be that great lol i feel like im losing my touch with writing so im sorry if it shows. thanks so much @mistomu for requesting this though! (i also can't handle angsty endings so i hope this was good enough!!!) this idea is v based on my own feelings so i hope it reads nicely! EDIT: the original post says “she seemed...empty” when Ushi talks to Tendō, which is totally my bad. Thank you to the anon who let me know! I’ve corrected it now :)

haikyuu masterlist

This fight was not like other fights you had had with Ushijima. You loved your husband and all of his quirks, and yet, when you showed up at home with a duffle bag packed, asking your mom to just stay over for a few days, you had cried for hours, wondering if Ushijima was slowly falling out of love with you. Was he really just too busy? Or was Ushijima Wakatōshi falling out of love with you?

Tournament season was always really difficult for the two of you - you never got to see him as much, but with how busy your own work was getting, the two of you thought maybe it would be okay this time around. Especially after you two had gotten married and moved in together - maybe things would be okay.

As you leaned back in your seat, staring at the wedding ring on your finger, you wondered if it was ever going to be okay again. Or maybe this was just the new normal. You had told your mom you'd just be going out for some fresh air, and yet you didn't feel like you were in a good state to be driving. So here you were, in some random parking lot, staring out the window like all the energy had been drained from your body as you replayed that night over and over again in your head.

You could remember almost every word that was said in that first argument. It hadn't helped that Ushijima was exhausted from training - all he had wanted to do was come home, and flop onto the bed for some much needed sleep. But that's what he wanted to do every night and you were struggling at work and needed any level of comfort. You just wanted him to hug you, to hold you and tell you things were going to be okay.

But when you had tried to tell him you needed him, Ushijima had held up his hand tiredly, barely even looking at you as he commented, "Not tonight, Y/N, I'm tired."

His legs had dragged themselves into your shared room, a dismissive air left behind him. Your brow furrowed as it sank in - why did everyone dismiss you so easily? You told your boss you had needed more time to get the project done, and even though he told you you could take your time, he ended up throwing you under the bus to upper management. Your coworkers all seemed to be taking their sweet time on their own portions, no one was helping, and you wanted to pull your hair out in clumps.

You felt like time was slipping past you too quickly, like your whole days were consumed by work, and yet all you wanted was to be comforted by your partner. A hug that told you that you were doing just enough.

But instead what you got was a husband who clearly wanted sleep. And maybe you should've given it to him. But why did his needs always seem to trump yours? He needed a certain diet so you went out to buy all of his new ingredients, helped make new dishes for him to try. He needed to get up in the mornings and always seemed to do so so loudly, so you had to give up on precious moments of sleep. He had a game this year on your anniversary, so you planned a different date and he just came along for the ride. Now he was too tired, and you just had to sit here and pretend like everything was fine.

Maybe I should have just sat there, maybe I should have pretended things were fine, you thought to yourself as you slunk further into your seat. Maybe we could've talked about it the morning after, maybe I could've just crawled into bed with him and cuddled him then. Maybe then we wouldn't be arguing.

Your phone rang for the 5th time since you had sat yourself here in this parking lot. You knew it was Ushijima, calling again to make sure you were okay, to ask where you were, to nag about your whereabouts. But no, you decided in your petty attitude, this time he could wait for you.

Ushijima and you had been far from the world's most perfect couple. You had known the two of you had vast differences in the ways you loved and the ways you communicated. And yet, there was something so attractive about the way he existed when you first met him. He was honest, determined, and knew exactly what he wanted from life. Sure, he wasn't the most informed when it came to how to talk to parnters or how to communicate his thoughts regarding relationships, but the two of you used to laugh about it, you used to treat every little disagreement as something that you could both work on. So when did it start becoming things that only you were working on? He used to at least spend some time with you - or try to - when things got busy... but this season felt different.

You were not a perfect partner, and you knew that. You kept things buried inside of you, you let things boil up, you didn't communicate, as Ushijima loved to point out to you, but was it so bad to want him to understand that sometimes you wanted him to initiate things? He knew you liked to be hugged some days when it was hard at work, so why had he never come to you and hugged you without you asking? Why hadn't he ever thought about doing anything other than coming home and sleeping?

Your mom's words rang through your mind yet again as you stared off into the clouds - could you be losing the man you once considered your soulmate?

Ushijima's heart fell once more as he heard the beginning of your voicemail once again. Every time he would wait for that little beep letting him know he could leave a voicemail if he wanted, and every time he would hang up right before he had to say anything. Because what was he supposed to say?

He stared at the empty couch in front of him as he stood in the living room, as if you would magically pop out of the cushions to let him know this was all just a trick. A prank. A joke.

That's what this had to be right? It was just a joke right?

Ushijima gripped his phone a bit tighter as he scolded himself internally for thinking that. Sure, maybe after the first night, it could've been a prank. But this was the 3rd night in a row that you had been gone when he came home. He had glanced at your closet, noting that some clothes had disappeared, some of your shoes too.

A pain tugged at his heart as he remembered the yelling match the two of you had gotten yourselves into - he strained his memory, trying to remember just what the climax of it had been. He hadn't hugged you... hadn't consoled you, even when you were crying while the two of you were arguing, this time he hadn't reached out to you to hold your hand, wipe away your tears.

This time he had been so tired from training, he just stood there, staring at you with that blank face he always reverted to. You told him he was always too busy to think of you, and he had told you he was trying to be the best. Because the best is what makes him worthy, the best is what keeps money coming in. He was doing this for himself, sure, but he was doing it for you too - he wanted you to be happy in your future. And yet, you seemed so unhappy with him now.

Ushijima took his phone back out, fingers typing out another text to send your way:

Please Y/N, please just let me know you're okay. We can talk this out. Please come home.

Ushijima stared at the text as it joined the many others he had sent you. Three days and he hadn't heard so much of a peep from you. He had Tendō check in on you sometime yesterday, just to make sure you were alive and not murdered somewhere. You had told Tendō you were alive, but refused to say anything more than that.

"Must be some big argument, huh?" Tendō had hummed when he called Ushijima to update him. "They seemed... empty." And that had made Ushijima feel even worse.

He waited a few minutes, watching eagerly as if waiting for you to respond but no response ever came. Why wouldn't you just talk to him? Why did you always have to hide everything inside? How was he supposed to make things better if you didn't say anything? How was he supposed to know you were upset with just your tone of voice?

The volleyball player winced a bit as he thought back to how hurt you had sounded when you first begged him to just hold you. Why hadn't he just reached out and hugged you? Had he been so exhausted he couldn't just hear about your day?

As if on cue, Ushijima felt another pang in his chest as he thought back to how similar the argument you two had sounded to the ones his parents used to have. Yelling and crying, both of them always sounding angry and hurt.

He had sworn off relationships at first, reminding himself that volleyball was all that really mattered. He wanted to be the best, wanted to reach the pinnacle of volleyball and he didn't need a relationship to get there. He didn't want to get hurt - he had watched his parents both cry quietly in different rooms, watched as one parent would always ignore the other and disappear, until one day his dad was packing his bags and leaving.

Is that what you had done? Ushijima's eyes whirled around the apartment, looking for any sign that you would be coming back. Your clothes weren't all gone so you had to come back right? Your favourite foods were still in the pantry, the accessories you had received from friends were still on the bedside table so... you had to come back right?

Volleyball had been all that mattered to him... until he met you. Ushijima met you and suddenly it didn't matter if he could get hurt - he wanted to be with you. Every moment of free time he had, he wanted to be with you. When did that stop? Ushijima stretched his mind, trying to think of why he hadn't hugged you, why didn't he just console you, comfort you, after what was obviously a long day for you too? He had promised before that he would get better at reading your body languages, keep you in mind even during his busy days... hell he even promised you that he would actually start planning dates together... and yet the last time the two of you had actually done something together was maybe 4 months ago.

Ushijima bit his inner cheek, staring at his phone again - letting you go wasn't an option. If you were going to leave, he wouldn't let you go without showing you he wanted you there. If you wanted to leave, he would make damn sure it wasn't because you thought he didn't want you anymore.

Your phone rang again, but this time, when the vibrations stopped, you received a notification that a voicemail had been left. After all this time, you had wondered why he never just said something after the call. You finally picked up your phone, listening to the voice message he left you:

"Y/N?... I'm not... not good at these things. But I know that's the problem isn't it? I've promised you so many times before that I'd get better at this stuff... and instead of hearing how hurt you were, all I could think about was how tired I was. I'm sorry, Y/N... I'm sorry for all of it. But please, please don't just get up and leave. None of this matters if you aren't around for me to share it with - volleyball, the tournaments, the sponsors, none of it would be here without you always supporting me so please, please just pick up. Or just come home. You don't have to stay if you don't want to... but please come back just to talk... I don't... I don't want what happened to my parents to happen to us. I won't let our differences separate us because everything that you are is everything I love. I fucked up - I can't promise I'll be perfect but if you're willing to just give me one more shot, and I know you've given me countless times to fix my shit, but if you give me one more chance, I promise I'll work harder. I'll do better."

You could hear the hurt in his voice and it took all your willpower not to crumble and hang up right there, call him back and cry. You hated hearing that sound in his voice - knowing he was probably tearing up, knowing he was probably sulking around the apartment. But... why should you run to him when he still hasn't solved anything? What was he saying now that was any different than what he usually said?

"I called my trainer... he agrees that I should be able to have a few rest days. So for the foreseeable future, I'll be taking Thursdays off, or at least I'll be coming home earlier every day if I need to be there for Thursdays. I know one day isn't a lot, and I know it's not much until I can actually act on it, but if you're okay with it, I'd like to spend some of those days off with you... I want to be someone you want to be with for the rest of your life, Y/N... I know I haven't been that in a long time. But if you let me, I want to make up for everything I've messed up on... There's food here waiting for you... I ordered your favourite. I don't even know if you've eaten yet or if you want to see me... but it's here for you if you want it. I'm sorry... and I love you, Y/N, I know I don't always act like it, but I do."

You didn't realize until the message ended that you were crying. Tears were streaming down your face as you tried to weigh the options laid out in front of you. Maybe it was just you being hopeful, but you could've sworn that the man you had fallen in love with, there was just a glimmer of him in that message.

You listened to it over and over again, letting yourself cry and sob into tissues you had stashed away in your car. Why couldn't he have said all of this before? Why couldn't you have just let him sleep? Why did everything have to blow up so fast?

Maybe it was time to try and fix things, you decided after you turned off your phone. You swallowed hard as you turned your car on, desperately wanting for all these awful feelings to go away. If Ushijima was genuine in person, maybe... just maybe the two of you could work things through.

Ushijima had jumped at the sound of someone opening the front door, eyes glistening with tears he had refused to let fall as you came in. The two of you shared a glance, your face showing the awkwardness you felt as you entered the once tense environment.

"Hi," was all you said, your eyes flickering over your favourite food spread out over the dining table.

"Go ahead," Ushijima nodded quickly, rushing to your side to get you a plate and put your favourites on it. He picked the biggest pieces of each dish, setting the plate down at your usual spot and gesturing to you to feel free to dig in.

But you just stared at him, the hurt in your eyes not disappearing even though Ushijima wished it would. You shifted on your feet, wishing you could pretend like nothing had happened, that there wasn't this uncomfortable feeling sitting in your stomach, that Ushijima was just doing a nice thing for you because he was a good husband and not because he was trying to apologize.

"Ushi-" you started uncomfortably, playing with your fingers in front of you.

"No, me first," he interrupted quickly, swallowing hard. Your eyes gazed over him, noting that the normally put together volleyball player suddenly seemed so small, his hair unkept like he had been running his hands through it over and over again, still wearing the shirt he had probably woken up in. "I sorely messed up, Y/N... I'm sorry for getting upset with you when you were just asking for comfort. You've told me countless times before that you appreciate talking when I come home, a hug... some time alone... and I always seem to forget that. But I promise if you come back home, I'll be better. I was thinking we could get tickets to that movie you wanted to see, or... maybe take a trip somewhere," he continued desperately. Ushijima's hand shot out and grabbed yours gently, clasping his own hands around yours. "I'm sorry, Y/N... I'm so sorry. But please... I don't want to go about my life without you around. I don't want to be one of those kids of divorce that are never happy with their own marriages so I promise... I promise I'll work on it."

You hesitated, watching the desperation in his eyes. Funny how Ushijima always seemed to talk more when you were upset, you thought to yourself, chewing on your inner cheek. "Let me eat something and then you can continue apologizing," you teased gently, attempting to lift some of the tension.

Ushijima's eyes lightened slightly as he nodded quickly and pulled out your chair for you. You smiled to yourself, wondering if maybe there was hope for you two after all.

"I'm serious about Thursdays," he told you as you started to eat. The moment the food had touched your lips, you realized just how hungry you were, stuffing your face quickly with the dishes. "We could have a standing date... watch movies or maybe go out to dinner. Try to cook something together maybe?"

You let out a choked laugh, shaking your head, "Ushi, last time we tried to cook together, we almost set the apartment on fire."

"I'll just hand you the stuff you need, I won't touch, promise," Ushijima insisted, but you could see the little smile at the corner of his lips.

You sighed after you after a few bites, looking up at him as if calculating just how ready you were to fix things, "I need to know that we're both giving and compromising equally... I feel like I'm always doing what you need me to do..."

Ushijima nodded, mulling over this for a moment, "You have done a lot for me, and I'm very grateful for it. But you're right, I need to do more."

You gave a small smile, playing with your food for a moment, "I'm sorry I didn't just tell you what was wrong... I know I blew up. In my head, I had been thinking about everything for so long, but I know that to you, it wouldn't make sense why I got angry so fast. I know a hug really isn't that big of a deal but-"

Ushijima shook his head, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your fingers, "If it matters to you, it's a big deal. You deserve to be comforted, to find solace in our relationship...If you'll give me a warning when you're upset, I'll do my best to hug your emotions away." You nodded and Ushijima seemed to hesitate for a moment, "Can I hug you now?" He asked quietly and you let out a little laugh because Ushijima rarely asked if he could hug you, normally you would just find yourself wrapped in a bear hug.

You nodded and Ushijima wasted no time, pulling you away from your seat and tugging you into a tight hug - it had been a long 3 days after all. He pulled away for a moment, cupping your face in his hands as he just looked at you, silently promising to himself that he would do everything in his power to never be without you again.

Maybe some couples just weren't meant to be together, maybe it had been for the best that his parents had split up. But you and him? You two were a couple destined to be together, it was fate, and there was no way he would be letting any of his dumb mistakes every mess that up again.

You silently thanked any and all of the gods that had led you to this man - arguments or not, you did love him and it was nice to be reminded that he loved you too. And Ushijima worked on it - continuing to remind you over and over again as the evening passed, even as the week ahead went by. So sure, you guys weren't a perfect couple - but sometimes, when Ushijima just held you, pressed that kiss to your lips, made your heart skip beats... sometimes it felt like you guys were as close to perfection as mere mortals could get.

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[limerental]

while digging through my wips, I found a whole fully finished ficlet so here's that I suppose!

a frinfran corporate office au

*

While her fellows in the office yearn for the weekend with a religious sort of zeal, moaning and gnashing their teeth less and less as their pitiful two days off from their corporate hell finally approach, Fringilla has always dreaded Fridays. 

There is never enough time in the work week to do everything that needs doing, always one more memo to write and one more report to look over. Contrary to her coworker’s apparent belief, the world does not stop turning over the weekend, and every Monday brings a backlog of briefs and voicemails and messages to slogs through. 

She frets over falling behind, always seeming to miss her next promotion, always landing just shy of the accolades that others achieve, offered formulaic praise for her tireless work but never more than that. 

She has already fallen behind, her dear family so quick to remind her of the successful lives of her older siblings and cousins. Her mother calls her each Sunday night with news and gossip, and Fringilla sits in her pristine kitchen with the phone crooked against her ear and makes the appropriate noises in the right places and feels her dread grow all the while. 

Fridays also allow for business casual office wear. Fringilla does not observe the practice, keeping to her rotating wardrobe of neutral-toned power suits and simple jewelry, but sometimes, she looks at how the women and even the men in the office dress each Friday and wonders how exactly they make the simple act of wearing clothing seem so effortless. 

She fears there has been some memo she missed, not just about fashion but about socializing at all and about hobbies and music and TV shows. About friendship and romance. About life.

In the evenings, Fringilla goes home to her luxury apartment alone and looks out over the glittering lights of the city and sips at a glass of red wine while her microwave low calorie meal heats up and frets and dreads and wonders.

Then, there is Francesca.

*

Fringilla hears about the merger with the new firm on a Wednesday morning and is immediately anxious of the flood of paperwork that will no doubt be her responsibility if she wants any of it done promptly and done right. Despite the fact that Nilfgaard Industries is an ever-growing, multi-national company, she feels as though she is the singular member of corporate who cares if things are done properly and on time.

She voices this concern at the morning’s planning meeting and is told that if she is so worried, perhaps she can handle their integration. Perhaps she can have lunch with their upper management this Friday afternoon. Yes, there's that new seafood restaurant near the business district, yes, get out of the office for a moment on the company's dime.

Fringilla frets.

For one, she is allergic to shellfish, which is a secondary anxiety to knowing just how dreadful she is at small talk.

Friday looms, and she aims to soothe her fears with frantic googling and only worsens them. Francesca Findebair is beautiful and successful and happily-married, smiling in her corporate headshot alongside impressive achievements and titles. For more diminutive companies than Nilfgaard but no less respectable, especially for her age.

Only a year older than herself, Fringilla notes miserably.

She considers feigning illness. She considers inventing a crisis. She considers admitting to her severe seafood allergy and ordering lunch alone in her little office per usual. She really is swamped with work. Her file cabinets need dusting. Her pen collection is in desperate need of reorganizing.  Her label maker probably requires a recalibration.

But she imagines the disappointed grimace of her superiors. Imagines someone like her supervisor, Cahir, going instead. He probably doesn't have to rehearse possible topics of conversation. He probably doesn’t have any allergies at all.

On Friday, Fringilla summons all of her courage, punches the address of the seafood place into her GPS, and heads to the restaurant.

The woman who meets her on the sidewalk outside is more beautiful in person than in photos. She smiles warmly and offers a hand, and Fringilla tries not to tremble as she shakes it. Her palms are smooth as butter. She looks like a woman from a magazine, her skin warm-toned against the steely winter-grey of the city. 

Fringilla feels her body flush with heat the longer they clasp hands. She almost forgets to let go, even as her palms grow embarrassingly clammy.

“Francesca,” says the woman, touching her elbow as their hands unclasp. “You’re Fringilla Vigo? You look different than your photos.”

Fringilla thinks of her own headshots, greyscale and simple. She has not thought to update them in a few years. She is rarely photographed for press releases or marketing opportunities and has no social media. She cannot think of the appropriate response. Has she already failed to make an impression?

“Don’t worry, it’s not a bad thing,” says Francesca, laughing softly. Her laugh is musical and airy. “You look much less stiff in person. You have a gentle eye.”

“Oh,” says Fringilla, the reassurance doing nothing to ease her worry. “Um.”

“Ah, I’ve been too forward. I’ve made you uncomfortable. My apologies,” says Francesca , dropping her hand from Fringilla's elbow. She immediately misses it. "I meant only that it is a relief not to meet with another brown-nosing man who thinks himself better than me."

Fringilla nods with a tight smile, thinking how many times she has been accused of exactly that.

They enter the restaurant together and are promptly seated in a booth beside a large potted plant. Fringilla stares at the plant to avoid watching Francesca so closely as she peruses the menu but soon cannot resist looking.

Francesca's style is unique, feminine and artistic and colorful, while still remaining appropriately professional for a corporate setting. Her crimson beaded earrings match the color of the hair clips pinning her intricate braids, and she does not cover the dark freckles across her cheekbones with foundation. 

Fringilla feels both plain and overdone. 

She is wearing her favorite pinstripe suit in dark pewter and has never felt self-conscious wearing it. For years, she has kept her hair close-cropped and simple and enjoyed the practicality. Now, she feels stiff and formal next to Francesca's effortless beauty.

"You're staring," says Francesca. "Is there something on my face?"

"Is that a ficus?" blurts Fringilla, redirecting attention to the plant beside them. "I think it's in need of watering."

"I'm fairly certain it's plastic."

"Ah. Right."

"You're nervous." Francesca smiles, and Fringilla's nerves increase tenfold, her stomach fluttering. "There's no need to be. We're equals here. No corporate nonsense. No politics. This is just lunch. You haven't even looked at your menu."

"I'm um." Fringilla swallows, steeling herself. "I'm allergic to shellfish."

Francesca laughs and sets aside her menu.

"Why didn't you say so? I can barely stand seafood myself. Especially this overpriced nonsense. Do you always neglect your own needs for the good of the company?"

"I don't know," Fringilla says honestly. 

Francesca stands, and for a terrifying moment, Fringilla fears that the woman will walk out, that she's stupidly blown this whole thing. But Francesca doesn't look angry and doesn't storm away.

"We'll go somewhere else," she says. "Do you have any other allergies or ailments I should know about? Or do you plan on waiting to reveal the next one when our food is on the way?"

"No that's-- I'm sorry," she says quickly. "Anywhere. We can go anywhere. I'll eat anything. I mean-- Cats. And oh, you meant food allergies of course, I um."

Francesca smiles at her without pity and without judgment, and she loses her line of thought.

They walk together from the restaurant, Francesca waving an easy goodbye to the perplexed hostess. The weather is as brisk and grey as when they arrived, and Fringilla has eyes only for Francesca beside her. She almost stumbles in her heels on the sidewalk trying to keep up.

Francesca appears amused.

"Are you always so easily flustered?" 

"You're very pretty," Fringilla blurts and wishes the city street would swallow her. But Francesca only smiles her same disarming smile and touches her arm as they walk.

"In that case," says Francesca, "why don't we call it a date? Nevermind that your boss is so graciously paying for it."

Fringilla really does stumble, Francesca tightening her hold on her arm to keep her from faceplanting.

"But you-- you're--"

"Married?" Francesca shrugs and twirls a gold ring on her fingers. "Tax benefits."

"Oh," says Fringilla. She feels like she's lost the plot of the afternoon. If there is a social script for this situation, she has certainly never thought to study it. "What does that mean?"

"It means I would like to meet you again next Friday. Somewhere you would like to go. And I'll be paying."

"I-- I don't know what to say." 

"You can tell me no. I won't be offended. But I don't think you want to say no."

"No," Fringilla admits. "I don't."

She feels as though she may pool into liquid on the sidewalk, but she knows she does not want to say no.

"It's time you stopped making yourself so small," says Francesca. "Your resume is impressive, Fringilla. There's no reason you shouldn't be number one in your company."

"Oh, I mean, I--"

Francesca nudges her, her beaded earrings dangling.

"No more excuses. You owe yourself more than that."

Fringilla has never met anyone like this woman. She wonders if she should be offended or frightened. No one has ever seen through her defenses as easily as this. Is this a test? Or a joke?

"Why do you… why are you saying this?"

"Because I think you're very pretty as well," she says. "With gentle eyes. And if we're to work together, I want us to be able to be honest with each other. As a mutually beneficial partnership."

"Right," says Fringilla. Honesty. She can try that, though it feels absurd and impossible. 

Honesty.

She finds Francesca beautiful and compelling. She wouldn't mind listening to her talk on and on, though ordinarily she would rather sequester herself away instead of sit to talk with anyone for any length of time. She would like to hear her laughter again.

She takes a deep breath. "I like pizza," she says, "but I'm allergic to mushrooms. And certain lotions. And birds."

Francesca laughs. For all her intensity, she laughs so freely and sweetly.

"I'll keep that in mind," she says, and their shoulders bump. "Pizza it is."

In the end, Fringilla has little reason to dread another Friday again.

[kpop---scenarios]

Day One: Mutual Masturbation

Pairing: CEO! Kyungsoo x Reader

Warning: Mutual Masturbation, Language

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Welcome to day one of Kinktober

When the company you worked for had announced that they were doing a Halloween party this year, you already knew exactly who you were going to dress up as. 

You had a really hot boss, who also sort of seemed like a Mafia leader, or a well paid hitman, he just gave off those vibes. He never smiled, rarely talked unless he absolutely needed to. He looked mean, and many of your coworkers feared him, but not you. You would be lying if you said you weren't fascinated by him because you most definitely were. 

Standing in front of your mirror, you laugh at yourself, your makeup done as well as you could to try and look like him, your hair was pinned back to look like a short haircut, and you wore a similar suit to him, not to mention the name tag you added for flare, saying 'CEO Kyungsoo.' You chuckled at yourself, and knew you would have to avoid all the higher ups until they left so you didn't get into any trouble from them. 

From the moment you walked into the party, you heard the snickers and the gasps of your coworkers about your costume. You had a few people come up to you and tell you that you were bold to dress as him, but they respected it, and they also helped you avoid all of upper management all night. As it got later, you watched as the last of them left out the door, leaving just the workers to stay and enjoy their time as long as you all wanted. 

You finally came out of the crowd that you had been hiding in, laughing and drinking - a lot in front of everyone, and they all laughed along with you, until all their faces went straight and shock spread across them as they pointed behind you. With a drink in your hand and a smile on your face you turned around and saw CEO Kyungsoo standing there with his arms crossed. "I've been looking for you. Interesting choice of costume." He says, looking you up and down.

"I thought so. I wanted to dress as something scary." You wink, which earned you a chuckle from him. 

"Oh come on, I'm not that bad here." He says, looking around at the people wide eyed because he wasn't yelling at you. "Am I?" 

"Nah, you're fine. They all fear you, which is what you want." You say. 

Before he could reply, a song starts playing that makes you laugh. "I don't want anybody else. When I think about you. I touch myself"

"What are you laughing at?" Kyungsoo wonders. "You don't touch yourself?" He asks. You scoff. 

"Ha. Hardly." You say. "More like every chance I get." You say, the liquor in your body makes you a little more truthful then you usually would be. 

He seems to perk up a little at this information, moving closer to you. "Do you do it here?" He asks. 

You nod your head. 

"Under your desk? In the bathroom?" 

"Both. I like the thrill of possibly getting caught." You admit. 

"I would love to see that." He whispers. 

"I would love to see you do it too." You reply, taking a sip of your drink. "Meet me in your office in 5 minutes." You say, turning around and walking away, disappearing behind a corner. 

Kyungsoo looked around the room, looking to see if anyone was paying attention to him, but they weren't. He turned around, heading towards his office which was at the very end of the hall. He takes a deep breath as he turns the knob. He looks in his office and sees you sitting at his desk, your feet on his desk with your legs wide open and your fingers rubbing your clit in a circle. 

"Is this what you wanted to see?" You whisper, your button down shirt open, revealing your breasts. 

"Oh fuck." He groans, closing the door. He goes to lock it but you stop him. 

"Don't. It's a lot more fun this way." You smile. Kyungsoo walks towards his desk, leaning over it to get a better view of you and your pussy. He licks his lips before he stands up, unzipping his pants to pull out his already hard cock. He wraps his hand around his length, slowly pumping it as he watches you, keeping the same ready pace as you. 

"Do you like what you see?" You ask in a moan, your other hand cupping your breasts, pinching at your nipple. 

"God, yes." He groans. 

"Don't you wish you could touch?" You smile. 

"Can I?" He sighs, moving closer to you. 

"No touching." You grin. "Not until you cum." 

Kyungsoo stands in front of you, jerking his hard dick, picking up his pace as he watches you rub your clit faster. You watched him jerk himself, using his pre-cum to lube his cock, his hand working faster now. Your eyes dart between him and the large windows of his office. You see a few people down the hall, sending adrenaline rushing through your body. 

"Oh god." You cry out, teasing your nipple some more. Your eyes continue to dart back and forth as the people slowly move closer, you're on the brink of your orgasm. "I'm gonna cum." You cry, your legs snapping together with your hand still on your clit as you cry out - loudly. Kyungsoo follows suit, shooting his load onto his desk, slowly pumping his cock as he milks himself for everything. 

"Shit." He breathes, his chest heaving. Your eyes dart to the window and the people are gone. A smile spreads across your face as you try to come down from your thrill of ecstasy. 

"Well that was fun." You laugh, beginning to get dressed, Kyungsoo moves towards you. 

"Where do you think you're going?" He asks, grabbing your wrist to stop you. 

"Back to the party." You laugh. 

"Oh no." He smiles. "We're just getting started." 

[romiantic]

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒕𝒂 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒙 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓!𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌!𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ࿐ྂ

彡 ❛ 𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 ❜

彡 𝗳𝘁. ryota kise

彡 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: fluff with very little angst

彡 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.3k

彡 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: suggestive theme at the end

彡 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: all characters are 18+. also can we talk about how BOMB this song is 🤧 y’all sleepin on this song fr

·˚ ༘ੈ✩‧₊˚ ╰┈➤ ❛❛ 𝙄 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙒𝘼𝙔 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝘿𝙊 𝙄𝙏 ❜❜

❝ 𝐘/𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐘𝐎 𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐔𝐏! You have two minutes till showtime.” Your manager, AKA, older brother, barged and announced to you like he didn’t update you almost five minutes ago.

You did your usual of sucking your teeth and rolling your teeth every time he barged in and interrupted your call, you replied with annoyance in your tone, “AJ I know! Can you wait a minute? Damn, so impatient for absolutely no reason.”

“I’m sorry who’s the one with hundreds of thousands of fans screaming their name and waiting for their ass outside? Me or you? Oh okay. Anyways, end yo little call with yo boyfr-”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” You interrupted, becoming irritated with your brother and simply wanted him to shut the fuck up. A great manager and brother, yet way too uptight for his job.

AJ rolled his eyes and muttered something but you flipped him off and pretended not to hear him until he left your dressing room. You gave your attention back to your phone, giving a cheeky smile to the blonde boy on your screen. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a nervous look growing on you but from what you could tell, he was choosing what shirt to wear to his photoshoot. Leaving him to be seen with a no top on and a pair of denim jeans.

Though it was typical to see your best friend’s exposed upper body, it was a sight you never got used to. His well-toned body, results from years of playing basketball in middle and high school, making your face hot, adding on to the nervousness you were already facing from your upcoming performance. Along with the pearly white smile he flashed at you creating a sick feeling in your stomach, something that you made you clench onto it and try to ignore. Now was not the time to be drooling over your best friend, who interrupted your stare with a laugh and said, “Are you gonna keep staring or are you gonna take a picture?”

Of course, he’d ruin it with some cocky line like that, you rolled your eyes and sucked your teeth. “Boy calm down, ain’t nobody wanna was staring.”

“Your nervous face said otherwise.”

“Akekeke, don’t you have a photoshoot to go to?”

Kise replied with the same energy as yours, “And don’t you have a performance to go to?”

You held up a finger to a screen then crossed your arms, “Aht aht, don’t worry about me now. Worry about yo lil pictures with that famous ass Russian model.” You wanted to roll your eyes just thinking about the brought-up woman but it would make it seem like you’re being jealous for no reason.

Kise let out a small laugh, adoring the irritated look that was starting to creep up on your face. “Somebody sounds jealous.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a scoff, “Oh please, like I would be.” You looked at the time on your watch and noticed it was about one minute until your performance. Your eyes widened at the time and hurried, you quickly ended the call with Kise, “Shit, fuck! I gotta go perform but I’ll call you back when I’m done.”

“And I’ll be waiting for you beautiful when you get back.” The golden-eyed boy winked at you yet you cringed and scrunched your face. “You’re so fucking corny Kise.” You hung up the call, grab any other pieces missing from your outfit, and headed out of your dressing room.

You traveled quickly around backstage, passing by many coworkers and background dancers waiting for you, to head into the small tunnel for artists to come out on stage. You stopped at the exit and gulped as you scanned the stage. An outside arena with hundreds of thousands of fans cheering your name, waiting for your appearance.

Usually, you would be at ease with concerts this large but for some reason this time is different. Unknowing the reason nor cause, you started to feel anxious, your hands mildly shaking and your throat going dry.

There was something in the back of your mind attempting to not make you perform, something telling you to not do it, it won’t be good, people will hate you. A voice there to influence thoughts, hoping that you would fall into the trap and just give up on singing. Though of course, you wouldn’t listen to that voice, that voice always lingered around whenever you were brought to perform, no matter where you were.

The only thing to distract you and keep you safe from that tiny voice is someone who you’ve longed to love. One who just settles your nerves, bringing comfort, and removing all anxious thoughts. One who would deem you as one of the greatest artists he’s ever listened to, maybe it’s opinionated but he loves you too much to disagree.

The now dawdling thought of his soft voice whenever he spoke or his flirtatious nature when you two joked around made a familiar feeling grow greater than before. Something replaced the anxiousness that was growing, a feeling that replaced the nervousness and calmed your shaky hands. Something that was the thought of Ryota Kise, he was like the medicine to all the pain you’ve suffered. A remedy to your anxiety, one of the many causes of the cheeky smile social media often sees you with.

Someone who you grew up and spent all your life with, always noticing how protective he was of you or the way he hummed one of your pre-recorded tracks that he was the only one to listen to. Celebrating one of your songs had hit #1 on the Billboard chart and the way he helped out whenever you hit writer’s block.

Every single thing, noticeable or not, made you grown to love the boy, starting from a platonic, playground friendship blooming to many years of trying to figure out if you are romantically in love with him. Growing familiar feelings of butterflies mixed with the thought of just wanting to cup his face and kiss him whenever he was around.

Just the ultimate feeling of wanting to be buried in the blonde boy’s arms and explain the blooming love for him made you want to sing the song you wrote for him. A new single that you never wanted to put out since you wanted only Kise to hear it, including that the song was your way of telling him what you felt all these years.

Though something changed your mind, something in your brain told you to tell everyone around you that you’re singing solo, no backup singers or dancers, only you on that stage. In this performance, you just had to do it yourself, nothing but you, the stage, and the microphone.

Everyone was confused by the last-minute change of plans but went along with it. They rescheduled it to where your first “official” song to start the concert with was right after your solo performance. You gave thanks to your team and took some deep breaths. You made sure your Bluetooth set was on and working properly in your ear, AJ handed you a mic and brushed off any wrinkling from your outfit and any smoothed out your hair. Uptight about his job yet made sure his little sister was looking the greatest for her performances.

You took deep breaths again, shook off any bad nerves, and walked on stage. The already excited crowd enraged and their volume expanded as they saw you stand before them. Everyone waving their signs that said, “I love you y/n!!” or “Y/N is so beautiful!” You waved to the audience and stopped at the middle of the stage, walking closer to the front of the stage as well.

You turned on the mic and tapped it to see if it was working, “Mic check one two, can you guys hear me?” The crowd immediately responded yes, you continued on to talk to them, “Okay good, have been getting technical difficulties with my mic and I really don’t feel like switching mics three times. Anyways, afternoon to all my lovely fans who made it out here or to those that are watching me live. I love you all and thank you for supporting me, I truly am grateful for every single one of y’all.” Everyone screamed out how much they love you and adore you, showing off their merch that they bought and waving the homemade posters.

You smiled at their response and cleared your throat as you introduced the song, “Thank you, I love you too. This first song is one that has been sitting too comfortably in my heart. A piece that came from genuine emotions and feelings I’ve tried to bury yet couldn’t no matter how hard I tried. It’s something that I never planned on dropping but I just felt like the world had to hear what I had to say. Hopefully, you guys enjoy it cause I did when I was writing this song at two in the morning before I snuck into the studio and recorded it. Was it worth it? Definitely. Now I may introduce to you, Not Another Love Song. A contradicting title isn’t it?”

You took a large breath in and out, you took a position as you waited for the beat to drop. As soon as you heard the familiar melody start, you sang, “I don’t wanna mess this up, could it be too much to say I’m in?”

The crowd lowered down and became silent to hear your new single, grasping the beautiful new lyrics you were singing and just vibing along with it.

You yourself were placing emotion as you sang, not noticing how proudly you sang the chorus or how you were smiling at the crowd the entire time. One thing was clouding your mind to even pay attention to those details, the same thing that more than likely pushed you to sing the song.

As you sang, the feelings for your best friend grew stronger, butterflies in your stomach, and the deprivation of his touch grew on you. Not even realizing how much you missed him until you turned initially to smile at AJ and your team yet saw a familiar face appear as well. You questioned it but then turned back to continue singing to the audience, only thinking that mind is playing games with you.

“I'm finna take my time, my mind, my rules. This ain't no crimе makin' love to you, though you ain't say this. But I had a hard time waitin' for you, boy. Like ooh, boy, you, boy. Got me where you want, just gotta say and it's on, it's like, ooh, boy, do you know you got me like where do you go when you're alone?”

As you sang, you noticed the crowd growing silent, their eyes widening, and their jaws dropping. You were utterly confused at was catching their attention, you turned to your team and your brother pointed behind, giving you a goofy smile as well.

You turned around to what was the cause of this silent commotion and right along with everyone else, your jaw drop and your eyes widened. The flirtatious, handsome model that everyone knew of was standing in front of you with a bouquet of roses in his hand. He walked up to you and smiled greatly, closing in the large gap between the both of you.

Seeing him walk closer to you made you want to say forget concert and sing the rest to him. Half of your feeling was already poured out, not even knowing he was listening to all of it. You didn’t think he would even be here since he had a photoshoot, not standing on an outside stage with a bouquet of roses and dressed in casual attire.

He handed you the roses and kissed your forehead, telling you, “Alone with you, away from the world, where else would I be when I’m alone?”

No response came from you, not even a single gasp or a sniffle to signify that you might cry. The way you responded to his presence was something that shocked the arena, everyone watching you on live, your team, and even the two of you yourself. Who would’ve thought you would be bold enough to grab his face and kiss him right then and there? You snaked your arm around his waist and pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. He responded back by wrapping his hands around your shoulders and hugging you tightly, holding onto you to make sure you wouldn’t separate from him.

You pulled back from the kiss and smiled, softly combed his blonde hair, and expressed, “I love you, Kise.” Saying his name like it was something you’ve been aching to say, a name that you’ve buried away yet brought out today. A name that sounded so lovely and romantic when you say it.

Kise expressed as well, “I love you too y/n. I’ve always loved you and I will never stop loving you.” He kissed you again, he removed his hand from your shoulders and trailed around to find your hands. He removed your hands from his waist and instead intertwined them with his.

He felt you smile when he held your hand and smiled back. He stated in between kisses, “You know I’m staying on this stage to hear you finish that song right?”

“It’s fine, I need someone to do my next performance on anyways.” He looked at you and you did nothing but wink and mischievously smiled at him. Kise had a small idea of what he could expect but suppressed it to enjoy the soft moment he wanted between the both of you. A moment that he’ll never forget and a concert that will always be remembered for everyone around you.

彡 it’s like 5 am and I’m tired 🦧 the only thing that kept me up was the fact that I don’t have school plus I loveeeeee kise

彡 also the show olivia

彡 I don’t think I ever mentioned to y’all how much I love his ass but now is definitely not the time 😁

彡 I’m convinced if it silent black hair blue eye powerful men weren’t my type, cocky and flirtatious ones would be runner up

彡 anyways hope you guys enjoy + pleaseee listen to the song, I highly recommend plus ella mai is VERY underrated

bye babes, drink your water, stay hydrated, and remember that you are the baddest bitch on the planet 🥰 no matter what ANYONE says

𝐏𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝟏𝟖:𝟑𝟎 💗

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟣 𝗄𝗈𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗈. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Imagine Singing Shower Duets With the Stranger Next Door and Then Your Water Goes Out:

A/N: What an unnecessarily long imagine title, lol. And it still doesn’t quite explain the imagine. Oh well. I saw this prompt on Pinterest last night and immediately thought of this silly, quick idea with Sam.

Prompt: “So we’ve never met but our showers are on opposite sides of the same apartment wall so sometimes we’re showering at the same time and we sing duets AU.” - @awfulaus

Tip Jar

    It wasn’t unusual for showers to be a favorited part of the day. It was unusual for the reason showers were one’s favorite part of the day was because you shared a fairly thin bathroom wall with the stranger next door who happened to shower around the same time as you and enjoyed singing duets with him. It was even more unusual that your next-door neighbor, who you’ve been singing in the shower with—separate showers bordered by the wall, of course—for several months now was still a stranger. The two of you were always apparently just missing each other in the hallway or going downstairs to check the mail, and the few times you’ve gotten the nerve up to go and knock on his door, he was gone for work, which could last anywhere from a day to a couple of months. All you had with your stranger-neighbor was a name—Sam—sporadic texts with a number exchanged via shower conversation, and the shower duets.

    And yet here you were, excited to hop in the shower and chat or sing with your shower buddy. You leaned into your shower and pounded on the wall separating yours from his and waited for a minute until you heard a muffled voice from the other side of it, then a couple of pounds back. Smiling, you started up the water and adjusted it to the correct temperature, then began to strip. It was harder now to hear Sam’s voice over the water but he was talking to someone else—perhaps his equally elusive coworker, Bucky—so you didn’t mind. 

    You were flipping through music choices on your phone before getting in when you heard the other shower turn on. Another pound sounded from the wall and you leaned in to give one return, narrowly avoiding water splashing on you and your device, then hollered a hello.

    “Sorry about that,” you heard Sam’s deep voice holler, “Bucky’s complaining about a job we have in the next couple of days.”

    Hearing that you’d be without your singing buddy soon, for who knows how long, made you a little sad but you tried not to show it. Instead, you stepped into the shower, keeping your upper body out of it until the music was decided on, and hollered back, “How is your friend Bucky?”

    “Hey, he’s not my friend!” Sam said, clearly offended. His voice was closer now as he got into his own shower.

    “I’m not so sure about that,” you replied, “The two of you spend way too much time together to just be coworkers. Coworkers, maybe. Friends, clearly. Roommates? … Oh my god, they were roommates.”

    You could hear Sam’s short, wonderful laugh from the other side of the wall. “I’ll show you friends. Also, shut up, we’re not roommates!”

    “Maybe someday,” you admitted, ignoring his demand for quiet, “after you’ve returned to your natural habitat once again.”

    “Maybe it’ll align with the rare moon that you decide to stop chickening out and coming over to say hi.”

    “Hey! You’re hardly around and you could come over and try to say hi too!”

    “I have!”

    For some reason, hearing that Sam had also tried to visit you while you had been out made your heart flutter. You tried to play it cool, as if Sam could see you attempting a casual lean on the shower wall while you dipped a foot under the running showerhead to lightly splash the water.

    “So, what’s on the music agenda?” You glanced at your phone and picked out a random name. “I’ve got Twenty One Pilots because my playlist apparently chose emo rights today.”

    Sam laughed again, this time a more genuine one. It was deep and smooth and you bet his chest would do that rumbly thing if you’d ever get the chance to put a hand on it while he did so.

    Clothed. Completely clothed. In a completely normal, clothed situation. Why would you ever be nude and touching your stranger-neighbor-friend’s chest? No one said the situation was nude.

    Boy, were you glad for the wall separating your shower from Sam’s at that moment because you were just… on fire today.

    Sam, completely oblivious of your mental infighting, answered your music question, “I have… whatever the first playlist my finger touches says I have.”

    “Ah,” you said with an understanding nod, “Playlist Roulette. I’m down.”

    You quickly flew through your recommended playlists and, without looking, let your thumb land on one. The duets were afoot.

===

===

===

    The universe had brought you and Sam together for shower duets and casual conversation in any scenario that wasn’t face-to-face. That could only last so long before Madame Universe decided she wanted some better entertainment, so she decided to shut down your water just before shower time, only minutes after Sam texted you and told you that he returned from his week-long job. 

    You stood in front of his apartment door now, hands gripping your towel and travel bag of toiletries so hard that your knuckles turned several shades lighter. You were rehearsing what you were going to say, trying to remember how to talk like a normal person, and debating whether you really needed a shower right now or not.

    You really did, so you knocked. 

    The door a couple of minutes later and you were finally face-to-face with the buff, gorgeous, sweats and tee-wearing, boyishly smirking Sam that you had been singing shower duets with.

    You didn’t know that it was possible to feel your stomach all the way down into your toes. It was happening anyway.   

    “Why, [Y/N],” Sam drawled teasingly and held out his hand, “how nice it is to finally meet you in person.”

    You tried to be normal but you couldn’t help but focus way too hard on how your hands were suddenly clammy as you took his larger hand in yours for a shake.

    “Wish it was with better circumstances,” you managed.

    Sam stepped to the side and beckoned you inside. He didn’t seem bothered by your clammy hands. “Do you know why you lost water?”

    “Apparently the universe hates me,” you joked as you glanced around; his apartment was almost identical, mirrored image of yours, minus his considerable lack of decor. “No, but actually I was scheduled for water maintenance because of some trouble in the apartment above mine, but no one decided to inform me of this, and also no one decided to inform me that the maintenance guy had stopped by while I was at work, so I missed him.”

    Sam gave you a sympathetic nod. He walked past you and into the open kitchen, where he leaned his hip against the island counter. “How long do you have to wait?”

    You gave him a strained smile. “He has Friday, Monday, and the weekend off this week and next. Using up his vacation days before he loses them.”

    It was Thursday today.

    Sam made a face but then came to the same conclusion you had, that there was nothing to be done about it, and shrugged. “Well, good for him.”

    You snorted. “Bad for me.”

    He placed a hand over his heart and gave you an offended look. “Excuse me, I thought this was a wonderful opportunity for us to get to know each other.”

    “Oh, my bad for not considering this over the fact that I can’t use my shower or sink or toilet for the next few days.” You rolled your eyes.

    Sam smiled and it hit you like a ton of bricks. How dare he be so goddamn attractive in your greatest time of suffering.

    “Well,” he said, “you’re welcome to use mine, although I’m sure the lack of duets will make it much less entertaining.” He snickered, then nod towards the hall. “First door on the left; I’m sure you can figure it out.”

    “Thank you, by the way, I really appreciate the help.”

    “No problem. Like I said, nice to meet you in person finally, and it is an opportunity. You want a drink when you’re done?”

    You blinked. He actually wanted to hang out?

    “Sure.”

    Sam nodded and gave that smirk again. 

You spun around and started walking to the bathroom and tried to play it cool as you felt his gaze follow you, slowly looking you over and lingering a little bit longer than needed. Not that you really minded.

You made it into the bathroom and immediately got down to business; you didn’t want to keep your host waiting, after all. You were about to step under the rushing water of the shower when you hesitated, then grabbed your phone to put on a song. Then you got in, started singing and scrubbing, and a couple of minutes later, you heard Sam singing too, from the other side of the wall that the kitchen and bathroom shared.

[writinglizards]

There isn’t, Actually

Summary: Yennefer and Geralt start dating. Jaskier...doesn't deal well.

Warnings: No real warnings, but there is no happy ending! Don’t @ me about it, you’ve been warned.

Read on Ao3

"Really wish you didn't do this to yourself, love," Priscilla says. She's seated at the breakfast bar in his kitchen, a mug of warm tea in her hands. She gazes down at where Jaskier's curled up on the floor, his back to a cabinet, head in his hands.

"Yeah," his reply is muffled by his knees, "I know."

"It's not healthy," she points out needlessly.

"I know." And he does. That's part of why it's so fucking frustrating. He should just...get over it. They're friends. They're just friends and he's...glad they're friends. He is. The rest of it shouldn't matter. Geralt dating anyone, even Yennefer, shouldn't matter.

"Darling, you'll be over it in a week," she says, gulping down the last of her tea and rising. She combs her fingers lightly back through his hair as she passes him on her way to the sink to rinse out the mug.

"I hope you're right, Pri."

* * * *

He's not over it in a week.

He tries not to let it bother him, tries to leave the thoughts alone so they'll heal. It feels like an open sore, aches like a bad tooth, a knife through the ribs. He's okay at ignoring it when he's distracted but at night, alone, with nothing else to focus on--

"Jask, are you coming tonight or not?" He bares his teeth at the phone and imagines he looks fierce and angry instead of like he's in pain.

"I think...probably not. I've got a lot of work to do over here, you know. Teaching...things..." It's a weak excuse.

"You can just say you don't want to go out. It's fine," Geralt says, voice tight and a little angry, "I'm sure this has nothing to do with Yen being there, hm?" The knife in the ribs twists, breathtakingly painful.

"No," he says, voice weak, "No, Geralt, I'm just. Busy."

"Sure. Well, let me know when you're not...busy." He doesn't even say goodbye when he hangs up. Jaskier tosses his phone on the couch and crouches down in the middle of the living room, presses his palms to his eyes, and wills himself not to cry.

* * * *

He goes the next time Geralt invites him out, against his better judgment. He's trying to prove to Geralt he's fine, that he doesn't have a problem with Yen, that he can be an adult about this. He only hopes that's true.

They meet at the little brunch place he and Geralt have been frequenting since just after they'd met, and Jaskier's cautiously hopeful. It's just brunch. He can survive a single brunch with them, with her. It's. It can't be that bad.

He is, of course, wrong.

They're both late, a little rumpled, and Jaskier can see the edge of a fresh hickey peaking from the collar of Geralt's shirt. His hair looks like it's had fingers run through it. Yen's outfit is prim, but her makeup's a little smudged. Jaskier tries not to dwell on any of it.

"Sorry," Geralt says as he takes his seat across from Jaskier. Yen slides into the booth beside him and he tugs her closer, and arm over her shoulder, "got a little, uh, carried away." His grin is apologetic, a little conspiratorial. What can you do? it asks Jaskier.

"Mm." It's all he can manage with the sick, unpleasant feeling churning in his gut, green-eyed and vicious. He pretends to be engrossed in the menu, despite knowing it like the back of his hand. He's. Not sure what he might do otherwise. Something embarrassing, probably.

They order in a stilted kind of way. Geralt makes small talk, as they wait for their food, catching Jaskier up on the goings-on of the ranch he works at, which is more than three quarters a report about the horses and only about one quarter actually things his coworkers have done. He asks about Jaskier's classes, the grading, how he's doing.

He almost expects Yen to butt in, insert herself, but she just sits placidly at his side, smile fond. He wishes she'd give him a reason to hate her, a real reason and not the painfully twisting one in his chest. That's not fair to her. Of course she loves Geralt. Who wouldn't?

He miraculously makes his way through the meal contributing very little to the conversation except when pointedly asked. If he were thinking straight, he'd know how suspicious that was, but as it is he just wants to escape, wants to curl up in his bed at home and pretend very not to cry. He wants to feel numb again, like he did when Geralt told him he'd started sleeping with her, the way he had when they'd decided to try and make this thing work.

They say a weak goodbye afterward and it's...lacking. Jaskier can feel it, like static in the air, like a looming thunderstorm. Geralt doesn't look like he's noticed at all.

"I'll see you later?" he asks, and he's not even looking at him, eyes glued on Yen where she's leaning against the hood of his beat-up truck.

"Yeah," he says, "of course." Geralt nods, as if that settles it. Only then do his eyes slide back over to Jaskier.

"Thank you. For today. I know you don't care for Yen, but it means a lot to me, you two getting along." Jaskier doesn't trust his voice, so he just nods. The knife twists, sinks a little deeper.

Geralt claps him on the shoulder before he turns back to the truck and Yennefer. Jaskier doesn't stay to watch him open her door for her, doesn't stay to watch them drive away, just starts walking. Once, Geralt would have driven him home. Now, he takes the bus.

* * * *

Anyone with eyes can see your pining. You're lucky Geralt's an idiot.

Figure it out.

The texts are from an unknown number, but Jaskier's not an idiot.

Mind your own business, witch.

He rolls over in bed and tugs the covers up above his head and doesn't check his phone when it pings again.

* * * *

"You can't just shut everyone out," Essi says where she's reclined back beside him on the bed. He's tucked under the covers, hiding his head beneath the sheets.

"Ah, but I can, Essi darling," he says, not moving an inch. She shifts to drape her upper body dramatically over the lump of him.

"It's pathetic, Jaskier."

"I'm pathetic," he snaps back, "if you hadn't noticed."

She shifts off him, taking the extra sheets covering his head with her. He scowls at her as she settles down beside him again, now face to face, her head on the second pillow. "I don't understand why you didn't say something sooner. I understand why you can't now, but--"

"He's my friend, Essi," he says, and that's true even now, even when he's missed the last four calls and ignored every text since the brunch. He can't face him right now, not when the hurt pulses hot in his chest, makes his eyes burn to think about it, "and he loves her."

"So?"

"So?" he echos, "so he loves her, Essi. And she cares about him it's--Geralt doesn't let himself have what he wants. He deserves this."

"And what do you deserve, Jaskier?"

His eyes burn. "I don't know."

* * * *

Essi doesn't leave him until he gets out of bed, but it just means he moves the pile of blankets to the couch. A slightly improved environment, he begrudgingly admits. At least now he can nurse his heartache with the tv on in the background.

He doses off at some point, exhausted in the overwhelming way that's exclusive to emotional turmoil and wakes slowly to the sound of someone in his kitchen. He's been out of it enough lately he just assumes it's Pri over to make sure he doesn't starve himself to death. She’s. A good friend. His best friend, really, not counting Geralt. If only he could be in love with her. He rolls to face the back of the couch and yanks the blankets a little higher when he hears the footsteps exit the kitchen, as if he can hide from her scrutiny that way. Except it's not Pri.

"So who broke your heart this time?"

"What are you doing here?" Jaskier hisses but very carefully doesn't move. He doesn't want to be having this conversation at all, but especially not face to face.

"You quit answering your phone and Pricilla told me you were sulking when I called her." He shoves Jaskier's feet to the floor and sits at the end of the couch. He sets a mug of something on the coffee table in front of Jaskier and curls the other mug close to his chest. Jaskier can just see him over the edge of the blanket. "So. Who broke your heart this time?"

"Who says anyone broke my heart?"

Geralt just sighs. "You haven't done this since Valdo left," he says, and that's not a reminder he wants right now or ever, thank you.

"Yes, well--" he clears his throat, sits upright (there's something terrifyingly vulnerable about laying there with Geralt at his feet). He snatches the mug off the table and curls it close to himself, burrows as deeply as he can between the arm and the back of the couch, knees tucked to his chest. "--it's--" nothing, he wants to say, but this is Geralt. "I'm getting over it."

"What happened?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it does," he says, eyes too solemn, too concerned, "it always does, Jaskier." His chest aches. The knife twists, always a little deeper. He's bleeding out so, so slowly.

"He, uh," he clears his throat, "he's started seeing someone else. We're. Um. Kind of done." It's a partial truth. They'd never been seeing each other in the first place.

Geralt's quiet for a beat. "You really liked him," he says, and Jaskier's eyes are burning.

"Yeah," he admits quietly. It's so close to the conversation he wants to be having, the one he won't let himself. Geralt deserves to be happy. He's not going to ruin that. "It's okay though. We, uh. We didn't work very well together, really. I don't think--" he cuts himself off, tears in the back of his throat. "I don't think it would have ever meant to him what it meant to me anyway."

"Jask," Geralt sighs, sets his mug down, and before he can parse what's happening, Geralt's pried the mug of tea out of his hands and tugged him into his arms. He freezes, panic swelling in his chest, but Geralt hums softly, runs a hand down his back, and that's all it takes for him to burst into tears. "Ssh, Jask, it's okay." It's not okay, nothing's okay, but he just clings and cries and tries not to get snot on Geralt's shirt.

Geralt lets him cry himself out, tucked against his chest. Afterward, he hands him back his tea and a box of tissues, miraculously produced from god knows where, and sits silently by as Jaskier sniffles and finishes his drink. He can't help but compare this to last time, when Valdo had broken his heart, when Geralt had sat up with him for hours before tucking him into bed. He'd known even then he was a little in love with him. He'd mourned the time he'd lost when he'd lost Valdo, the things that had, at one point, made him so fond of him. This is...different. Mourning the time that could have been and never was. The little things he still loves and will never be able to have. Like losing a limb. Like losing something vital.

"What do you need, Jask?"

You.

"To sleep for a week," he says instead, voice rough, eyes stinging again. Geralt makes a soft, sympathetic noise.

"Will you be okay? Want me to tuck you in?" It's a little teasing, but there's an underlying tension there, suddenly.

"You have to go." It’s not a question.

"I've got to pick Yen up from work in about fifteen minutes, yeah," he admits, and something in his chest gives. The knife slips that last little bit forward to puncture his lungs.

"Okay."

"You sure?" Geralt doesn't look totally convinced, but he's also fishing for his keys already.

"Yeah." If he says more than a single word, he'll cry again. Can't have Geralt being late over him.

He rises from his spot on the couch and dips down as if to hug him. Instead, he presses his lips to his forehead, brief and light. "There's someone out there who will love you, Jaskier. You'll be fine."

Geralt leaves after that, key turning in the lock as he sets the deadbolt behind him.

No, he thinks, sitting in the middle of a murder scene, the metaphorical knife yanked from the wound with the brush of a kiss. Blood seeps from that wound, a wound he can't see or touch but can certainly fucking feel, sharp and painful, there isn't, actually.

[peachyteez]

second chances ≫ DAY ONE, STRANGE NURSE.

as a feral wolf hybrid that was violent with all of the employees assigned to him, seonghwa was subjected to be put down. however, jiyu being the softhearted feral hybrid nurse she was, she decided to save seonghwa no matter what.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: currently empty, but if you would like to be added, feel free to let me know!

✧ notes: featuring bunny!soobin because i couldn’t resist.

next。

hybrids. half human, half animal. humans that not only possess an animal’s features and personality, but also have the ability to shapeshift into their respective animal.

owning a hybrid wasn’t something uncommon. as a matter of fact, it’s an idea actually encouraged by society. of course, there were people who take advantage of their authority over hybrids and force them into unspeakable, sometimes even illegal, acts for their own benefits or pleasures.

and jiyu despised them.

she never understood how some people have the heart to selfishly exploit their own hybrids. hybrids were practically considered humans, too, were they not? so why treat them as if they were worthless?

“jiyu!”

a voice snapped her out of her thoughts. looking up, she noticed yeonjun, one of her coworkers and deskmate, staring at her with a raised eyebrow.

“sheesh, i called your name three times and it was like i didn’t even exist!” he whined.

jiyu lightly scoffed before she continued typing up a progress report for one of the hybrids under her care. “sorry, got lost in my thought again,” she apologized. “but what’s up?”

yeonjun handed her a stack of files. “can you enter these into the system? some are new and some have to be...” he trailed off, trying to find a soft way to put it.

jiyu knew what he meant. “okay. just leave them here, i’ll get to them once i’m done with soobin’s report.”

“ah, the new bunny! how’s he doing?” yeonjun asked, seeming eager to know about the condition of the new bunny hybrid that was recently admitted into the recovery facility.

jiyu smiled as she saved the document. “he’s making progress. he spoke a little more today compared to when he first came in.”

yeonjun sat down next to jiyu. “that’s good to hear. poor guy was so timid before,” he reminisced.

jiyu took the top file and started sorting through the contents. “he was. he barely spoke a full sentence.” flipping through the contents of the file, jiyu realized it was for a hybrid that was about to be put down. “park seonghwa...” she read the name aloud.

yeonjun leaned over to take a peek. “oh, yeah. he’s under my care, but he got transferred over to the feral ward. probably has some hatred or distrust against humans since he keeps attacking the nurses that come in for his checkup,” he said.

jiyu kept silent as she looked at the picture of the wolf hybrid attached to the file. she frowned. no hybrid deserved to be put down. but alas, she didn’t have any say over the matter since upper management makes the final calls over matters like that.

“jiyu, you can go on your lunch break now,” yeonjun nudged. “it’s twelve–thirty.”

standing up, jiyu strectched her arms over her head. “just leave the files on my desk. i’ll finish entering them in when i get back,” she said before leaving the office. yeonjun hummed in acknowledgement.

jogging down the hall, she came to a halt in front of one of the hybrid’s rooms. “soobin, can i come in?” jiyu asked with a knock to the door. hearing a faint ‘come in’, she entered the code into the keypad and the door automatically opened. peeking inside, she noticed the bunny hybrid wrapped in his blanket and watching TV.

she softly chuckled before closing the door. “look what i brought for you,” she said in a sing–song voice before taking out a bread packet from her white lab coat pocket.

his ears perking at at the familiar sound of the packet crinkling, his head whipped over in her direction before making a leap with his blanket for the packet. taking it from jiyu, he softly smiled. “thank you,” he softly said before sitting back down on his bed. he opened the packet and nibbled on the pastry.

jiyu sat next to him and gently rubbed his head. “did the nurses take you outside yet?” she asked. the facility had a little field area outside for the hybrids.

soobin nodded his head. “i met a golden–retriever hybrid outside! his name was beomgyu,” soobin proudly stated. “he’s really energetic, though...” he sheepishly added.

jiyu chuckled at soobin’s newfound enthusiasm. “is that so?” she vaguely remembered yeonjun telling her about beomgyu’s endless amount of energy once he fully adjusted to the facility. “did you have fun with him?”

“yep! we made—”

before soobin could continue telling jiyu about his time outside, a loud crash echoed from down the hall, followed by a scream. startled, soobin yelped and hid under his blanket.

gently giving his a few pats, jiyu immediately got up. “i’ll be right back soobin,” she said before frantically running out of the room and towards the source of the sound.

jiyu saw an open door to one of the rooms down the hall and assumed that was where the crash came from. looking in, jiyu’s eyes widened at the scene in front of her.

a hybrid was cornering a nurse, ready to pounce. the hybrid’s back was facing towards jiyu, making it easier for her to sneak up behind him and give him an anesthetic shot. the hybrid stumbled around before falling to the ground, completely losing consciousness.

with a sigh of relief, jiyu observed the state of the room. papers, medicine bottles, and medical equipment were scattered everywhere. “what happened?” she asked the nurse as she extended a hand out to help her stand.

the nurse was slightly trembling. “i–i was g-giving him h-his weekly c-checkup and all of a sudden he just...he just...”

“he attacked?” jiyu finished for her. seeing the nurse frantically nod, she sighed before shooting the nurse a soft smile. “you can go take a break. i can take care of things in here.”

“t-thank you!” the nurse gratefully said before scurrying out of the room.

jiyu’s eyes scanned the condition of the room once more before going to look at the name plate outside next to the door. she almost choked on her spit. park seonghwa.

“well, yeonjun definitely wasn’t lying,” she mumbled to herself. she took a look at the unconscious hybrid. “now how am i suppose to get him onto the bed...”

ten minutes and a few cracked joints later, jiyu sighed in relief when she successfully hauled the wolf hybrid onto his bed. she spotted the numerous toothless plushies lined along the side and her heart melted. turning away, she started cleaning the room. while picking up and organizing the various medicine bottles, she felt her heart drop to her stomach when she heard soft growling behind her.

slowly turning around, she was met with seonghwa’s glare and bared canines. without her hearing or even noticing, the anesthetic wore off on seonghwa and he had huddled into the corner of the bed and the wall.

the most logical option she had was to slowly back out of the room and close the door, but something about seonghwa made jiyu stay rooted in her spot. the longer she looked at the growling hybrid in front of her, the more she realized how scared he looked rather than intimidating.

“you’re scared, aren’t you?” she mumbled, mainly to herself but seonghwa managed to understand with his enhanced hearing. as if to prove her wrong, he started growling louder.

jiyu realized he must’ve been nonverbal if all he’s done so far was growl at her. she slowly put her hands up. “i won’t hurt you, buddy,” she softly reassured. seonghwa’s eyes quickly flitted to the open door then back to her. she softy smiled. “no one else is going to either.”

she gestured to the toothless plushies, trying to get seonghwa to loosen up and relax. “you really like toothless, don’t you?”

seonghwa glanced down at the multiple plushies next to him. his eyes slightly softened and jiyu swore they were filled with a child–like curiosity and sparkle. she couldn’t help but chuckle, causing the hybrid’s attention to shift back onto her. fortunately, his growling stopped, but he still had a hard stare.

“will you let me clean up the rest of the room?” she asked. seonghwa didn’t say anything, but he didn’t object. as she cleaned, seonghwa’s eyes were trained on her figure, following her every move.

he was quite confused. normally, others would’ve left his room out of fear when he growls at them, yet this female stayed and even talked to him.

“there, all done!” jiyu chirped when she put the last bottle on the shelf. glancing at the clock, her eyes widnened when she realized her lunch break ended five minutes ago. “oh my god, i need to go,” she mumbled before turning to seonghwa. “it was nice meeting you, seonghwa. who knows, maybe i’ll come by again later,” she smiled before leaving the room.

seonghwa stared at the door after she closed it. she really was a strange nurse.

yeonjun weirdly stared at jiyu when she came back late. “where were you? your break ended ten minutes ago.”

jiyu bit the inside of her cheek, debating on whether or not she should tell him the truth. “would you believe me if i said i was in park seonghwa’s room?” she meekly asked.

yeonjun practically choked on air. “you were where?!” he shouted. jiyu slapped a hand over his mouth while sheepishly smiling to her other coworkers who looked over at them.

“don’t scream,” she chastised as she uncovered his mouth.

“b-but you don’t even have a scratch on you!” he resorted to whisper-shouting. “are you joking around with me?”

jiyu rolled her eyes. “no, you idiot, i’m not. i really was in there. he was about to attack a poor nurse and i just happened to hear the commotion and help out.”

yeonjun raised an eyebrow. “yet he didn’t attack you?”

“...i guess not.”

“huh, interesting. i wonder why,” yeonjun pondered. “he usually attacks everyone that comes in to check up on him...”

suddenly, a light bulb went off in her head. “transfer him to me.”

yeonjun almost fell out of his chair. “pardon?”

“i didn’t enter his put–down proposition into the system yet, so the higher ups don’t know about it. transfer him to me. plus he doesn’t attack me, so i’ll take care of him.”

yeonjun stared at her like she grew a second head. “y-you want to take park seonghwa. the violent wolf hybrid,” he said, making sure he heard her right.

“yes, yeonjun,” she deadpanned.

after a moment of hesitation and contemplating, yeonjun slowly nodded. “alright. but the moment he’s violent with you, let me know, okay?” he pulled up seonghwa’s file on his monitor. “there, i emailed seonghwa’s file to you.”

jiyu smiled. “thanks!” she cheered before turning to her computer to create an application for her new patient. 

park seonghwa; wolf hybrid.

[bungou-stray-dingus]

Hello, I'm back! 💕 May I please ask for a serving of soft!dom Ranpo with a smol, shy female s/o scenario please~ and if you don't mind, maybe add a dash of daddy kink? (But if you're not comfortable with that, it's okayyy) THANK YOU ♥️

a/n : OOOOH a little bit of spicy snack boy >.^ SAY NO MORE! ALL MY LATE NIGHT INDULGENCES HAVE PREPARED ME FOR THIS MOMENT! GOsh I hope this is good because I am SWEATING writing this. But Ranpo is a whole snack.

T/W : Slight NSFW, A little Dash of Daddy Kink, Soft!Dom BB BOI, Fluff;

Ranpo

This boy loved how sweet and innocent you were, you were as sweet as the candy that he binge eats. But it wasn't just your sweetness or your innocence, you were also on the shorter side. Honestly, according to him, you were the dictionary definition of the perfect little cinnamon bun, which is what he called you often. Not only were you innocent and sweet, but you were also shy, which he was perfectly okay with. He didn't like talking much, so the two of you found a way to talk with your eyes and different facial expressions. Ranpo had brought you up to the Agency members once, and they (Dazai mainly) had begged him to bring you in, they wanted to meet you, the girl who had managed her way into Ranpo's secluded, snack filled life.

When he had first brought you to the Agency to meet everyone it was a big deal for him and you, he could tell how nervous you were about meeting his coworkers who had in a sense become family to him, but he had reassured you that they would all love you. "Not as much as I love you obviously, but how could they not love you? You're amazing Y/N." His hand way on your thigh, he was always touching you in some way, especially out in public. You were clearly the most beautiful girl in Yokohama, and he wanted everyone to know that you were his and his only. If anyone even looked in your direction he would squeeze your thigh, or his hand would trail down to your ass and give it a light squeeze causing a small squeal to escape your lips, your face dropping as you tried to hide from the strangers gazing eyes.

The train ride was short, when you got off the train Ranpo kept his hand on your lower back, hovering just above where your back curved to your butt. If needed, he could swiftly move his hand down, reaching under your skirt to pinch one cheek, letting any man who's eyes lingered a little longer than necessary know that you were taken by him. He brought you into the Agency building, watching your facial expressions as you took in the coffee shop on the lower level, breathing in through your nose, letting the smell of coffee fill your nostrils. You closed your eyes, sighing and smiling to him. "Adorable. I could kiss you." He said, you hadn't noticed how close he had gotten until you felt his breath, hot against the lope of your ear. His teeth grazed against the sensitive skin and your body shuddered. "R-Ranpo... there's people..." You were highly aware of the man behind the counter watching the exchange between the two of you.

"I don't mind. You're mine, aren't you?" His words were not much more than a whisper, his lips were moving lower down to your neck. His hands were on the same downward course, inching teasingly slow down your backside. Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his nails dig into your upper thighs, right below the hem of your skirt. "Of course I'm yours... B-but... they're waiting upstairs." You tried to get his mind back on track. It wouldn't be unlike him to try to take you right there in one of the booths. It's not that he was actually into doing things in public, but he had a one track mind, and when he suddenly felt the urge, he acted on it no matter where you two were. He had riled you up many times, leaving you a flustered frustrated mess until you got back to the privacy of your own home.

He sighed, pulling away slightly as your words brought him back to the moment at hand. "We stay for twenty minutes. I need to get you home to deal with what you've caused." He murmured, his voice low and sultry. You felt the heat pooling between your thighs, but you had to keep a straight face when you met his coworkers, you had to make a good impression. Your teeth tugged at your bottom lip as you tried to contain yourself, rubbing your thighs together, literally trying anything to get a grip on yourself. It felt like your knees were shaking, and Ranpo noticed immediately. "Mmm, my little princess, you're not as innocent as you want people to believe. Be patient for Daddy, won't you?"

He led you over to the elevator, and the sexual tension between the two of you felt like a thick fog. You didn't know how long the two of you could hold off. He was practically undressing you with his eyes already, and it didn't matter how loose his pants were, you could see the slight bulge growing between his legs. As soon as the elevator doors shut he had you cornered against the wall, his arms on both sides of your head. His lips crashed into yours, his knee pushing your legs apart before bringing his leg up to drag across your most sensitive area. You moaned into the kiss, bucking your hips against his leg, desperate for his touch. He pulled away, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he looked down and saw the small wet spot on his pants. "So needy, you're already so wet for Daddy. I might just make you wait a little longer, how about that?" You didn't have time to answer before the doors slid open and he grabbed your wrist to pull you out.

The office door opened and out stepped a beautiful woman, her hair was short and black, adorned with a butterfly clip on the side. Her eyes were a beautiful magenta, but you could tell by looking at her that she meant business. Her outfit seemed very business like, a knee length A-line skirt and a white button up with red heels. She looked you over, and you couldn't tell if it was a look of approval or disapproval, but it made you slightly nervous. "So this is her?" She asked, looking over to Ranpo, her eyes scanning over his face as she waited for his response. You didn't like the way she looked at him, the smug smile spreading on her lips as she stared at him a little longer than necessary. "This is her." Ranpo finally said, a hint of pride mixed in with his tone. The jealousy that had been slowly trying to creep it's way in had all but vanished when you heard him say those three simple words. He moved his hand down to intertwine his fingers with yours, giving your hand a soft squeeze to help calm your nerves.

The woman turned on her heel and walked back into the office, not another word spoken, and you could have sworn that you sensed a feeling of agitation emitting from off her. You tried not let her mood affect you too much, even though the look that she had given Ranpo would bother you for a while, especially considering they worked together and saw each other almost every day... was there something there that you had to be worried about? Your stomach sank as your pessimism took control, all of your doubts and fears formed into one. Not even his hand in yours seemed to calm your nerves, and the feeling that was once sexual tension that had been building inside you turned into flat out tension.

You couldn't really focus on all the people in the room, they had their eyes on you, but you couldn't seem to lift your gaze from the ground. "She's just shy, isn't my little cinnamon bun precious?" Ranpo said, the feeling of his thumb brushing along your cheek should have been enough to calm you, but even still, the only thing you could think of was him possibly doing the same to the beautiful bob haired woman. He began his introduction, pointing around the room as he said everyone's names. "Kunikida, Kenjii, Atsushi, Tanizaki, Naomi, Kyouka, Dazai, Fukuzawa, and last but certainly not least, Doctor Yosano." When his hand motioned to her the pit in your stomach only grew larger. He said her name with a sort of devoutness. He had never told you anything about this woman, he had never brought her up to you at all, yet he looked at her with almost the same eyes he would give you after a long day of work, when you were the only person he wanted to see... apparently that wasn't the case though... maybe he had more than one person he adored. "Everyone, this is Y/N." He said your name the same way he said hers, but that didn't make you feel any better. In fact, it made you feel worse. Did he think of you the same way he thought of her, or did he think of her the same way he thought of you? Either way, it didn't seem very good.

"Ranpo-kun, can you come over here for a minute?" Her voice might have seemed seductive to anyone else, but to you it was piercing, like a needle going straight through one ear and out the other. The hardest part to handle was the fact that he obliged, leaving you to stand in the middle of the office so he could walk over to her. She shifted her long, slender legs, folding one over the other and leaned back on the desk she was sitting on. You could tell what she was doing, you had done the same type of pose multiple times at home to try to get Ranpo's attention, and the worst part was that it was working for her just as well as it worked for you.

Your eyes were focused on what was going on across the room, unaware of the man that had been making his way over to you. He tapped your shoulder lightly and you quickly turned around, having to look up to actually see his face. He was obviously a very charming man, and extremely cocky, you could see that in the way that he smiled down at you. "So, you look a little uncomfortable. How about I show you around the office?" You tried to remember the mans name from the ones Ranpo had listed off. Tanizaki? Atsushi? Kunikida? No.... oh, that's right. He was Dazai, the one that Ranpo had warned you about before you had even come here. Apparently he was a flirt and a natural born charmer.

Ranpo had wanted you to try to stay away from Dazai unless he was around, but your emerald eyed boyfriend was currently being held up by the beautiful doctor, so you might as well have a little fun. Of course you would never do anything to actually hurt Ranpo emotionally, you couldn't bear the thought of losing him, but you weren't going to just stand by and watch as Yosano clearly flirted with your boyfriend, whether he noticed it or not.

"Is there anywhere that you'd like to see first?" Dazai asked, leaning against the desk as he stared at you, his eyes shut, a small smile on his lips, his head cocked to the side. You could definitely see now why he was the heartthrob of the Agency.

"The coffee shop... downstairs... i-it smelled really nice. I'd love to have a cup." You said it softly, so soft that nobody else had been able to hear you at all, even Dazai had barely made out what you said, but he heard enough. He nodded and pushed himself away from the desk, wrapping his arm loosely around your waist as he led you to the door. You weren't expecting him to be so touchy, and you weren't sure if this would be considered going to far.

You used the time alone with Dazai to learn more about Ranpo and Yosano's relationship, finding out if it was platonic or if there was something more there. When you finally heard the full story you felt awful for even assuming, and even more awful for thinking that leaving the office upstairs to go with Dazai was a good idea.

Meanwhile, Ranpo had finally finished his conversation with Yosano. She had been talking to him about how cute he and you looked together, and that she wasn't used to seeing someone shorter than him. She was proud of him honestly, that he had found someone that he seemed to be truly in love with. She saw how he would open his phone occasionally while sitting at his desk, and his eyes would open for only a second to read the text, then his eyes would close and a wide smile would spread across his face as he leaned back in his chair. She knew before he had even brought you up that he had found someone, and that someone made him truly happy. That's all she wanted for him, he was like a brother to her, and she believed that he deserved nothing but the best.

He turned around, thinking that he would find you still standing in the middle of the office, or maybe sitting on the couch talking to Naomi or Kyouka, but he saw that you were gone, and not only that, but Dazai was gone too. He didn't want to make a scene, of course not, but thinking of you being anywhere with Dazai had him slightly irritated, maybe even... jealous. He had no reason to be jealous obviously, he knew that you would never actually make a move on Dazai, but it wasn't you that he was worried about. You were shy and soft spoken, if Dazai tried anything on you, you would be too nervous to say anything about it or tell him to stop.

His eyes shot open, flashing his beautiful emerald green irises to everyone in the office. They knew he meant business then, clearing a path for him to the door. He already knew where the two of you had went, he thought it was quite foolish of Dazai to try to even take you out of the office in the first place. First thing, he would know exactly where you were, his ultra deduction wasn't just used for crime cases. Also, you were HIS, so it took some nerve for Dazai to sweep you off somewhere to be alone with him, especially when Ranpo was around. He wasn't exactly angry about it, no, just irritated and he wanted to show everyone in the office that you belonged to him, specifically Dazai.

You were at the little booth in the front of the small cafe, sipping from your coffee cup, trying to avoid Dazai's stare. When you put your cup down his hands immediately moved to capture yours. "Wha- What are you doing?" You stammered out, trying to pull your hands away, but his grip was tight. "You have your doubts about Ranpo, and I'm not going to tell you whether you're right or wrong about them. But I will tell you that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon. It would be an honor, a great privilege if you would commit a double suicide with me." His eyes were twinkling, filled with excitement at the possible prospect of having someone to do the fateful dead with him.

"I... uh... uhm... no thank you." You yanked your hands away, and just as you were about to get up you felt a set of strong arms wrap around your waist. You turned your neck to see his green eyes staring into yours, and you couldn't think of anything to say, so you shifted your body in his arms, burying your face in his shoulder. He tsked at Dazai, shaking his head at the man at the table. "I'm not shocked, just disappointed that you would attempt such a thing with MY girlfriend. I know that she is absolutely gorgeous, stunning even, but she is mine. I don't share any of my sweets, her included." His voice was stern, and you could only imagine how he would look. The thought of his face, matching the serious tone in his voice, it had a fire burning deep inside of you.

He led you to the elevator, leaving Dazai at the table in silence. You still didn't know what to say, but Ranpo had an idea of how to make you talk. You had been staring down at your shoes as you waited for the elevator to come down from the top floor, but Ranpo didn't like your silence, not at all. He grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him. "You belong to me, isn't that right my little kitten?" You hummed in response, but that wasn't enough. He shook his head and got closer, his face mere inches from your own. "I want to hear you say it." You were putty in his hands, and you loved when he was domineering like this. It turned you on and he knew it, he knew exactly what he was doing. "I'm your's, Daddy. No one else's." You whispered, and you could have sworn that you heard him moan.

The elevator doors opened and he pushed you inside, slamming his finger into the button repeatedly to close the doors. He pressed the top button, but as soon as the elevator started moving he pushed the emergency stop button. When he turned to look back at you his eyes were lidded, a darker version of the beautiful emerald green. That look alone had you practically dripping, and you were rubbing your thighs together, trying to feel anything, any type of friction. He was leaning in the far corner, watching you with a smirk. "Mmm, Daddy's little kitten is so impatient. Do you need my help?"

He walked over to where you were, moving to stand behind you. You grinded yourself against him as his hands traveled agonizingly slow up your thighs, under the hem of your skirt until he reached your panties. "You're soaking already, has Daddy been keeping you waiting too long?" He was kissing along your neck, biting it occasionally as he toyed with your over sensitive slit making your hips buck into his touch. "Let's see how many times I can make you come before someone saves us, hmm?"

A/N : I WAS SWEATING WHILE WRITING THIS AND I REALLY DO HOPE THAT IT'S GOOD BECAUSE I WAS LIKE "OOOHHHH MY GOSH HOW DOES ONE SERVE SOME GOOD FUCKIN FOOD!!!???" BUT I REALLY DO HOPE YOU LIKE IT!

[kurtstinypurse]

27 with klaine, I’m begging

#27 - Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.

I’ve actually had two anons request this one, so I’m making this a part 2 of my last prompt, with coworkers!klaine - per popular demand ;-)

read the first part here

-

Blaine can’t remember how they got here.

The vague logistics are obvious - he knows they left the bar together, remembers the cab ride from the way Kurt’s palm felt like a searing brand where it rested heavy on Blaine’s upper thigh, but the rest of it has blurred together, entirely unimportant.

It’s all pointless when it’s led him to Kurt’s apartment, on Kurt’s couch, on Kurt’s lap, kissing him.

More than kissing him, actually: fingers of one hand knotted in Kurt’s slightly sweat-dampened hair, other hand rucking up Kurt’s sweater and searching out his skin, soft and smooth and irresistible, alternating sucking Kurt’s bottom lip into his mouth and then his top one, rocking his hips down slowly, infuriatingly slowly, somehow holding himself back enough to allow the heat to build instead of rushing through it.

And he feels Kurt underneath him, too, the way Kurt’s fingers shakily unbuttoned Blaine’s cardigan moments ago and shoved it off his shoulders without so much as breaking their kiss, the way he now has his hands on Blaine’s ass, encouraging him along to ride the undulating waves of the friction they’re creating together, already so much but nowhere near enough.

They’ve barely spoken since they kissed - in fact, it had been an unspoken agreement to leave and to share a cab and for Blaine to come up to Kurt’s apartment, and it’s odd, really, how certain of all of it Blaine had been.

How certain of all of it he still is.

But he’s certain, too, that he needs more, and he’s pretty sure Kurt does, too, from the way he throws his head back against the couch cushions with a shaky breath of a moan when Blaine begins to mouth across Kurt’s jawline and down his neck, taking his time sucking slow, purposeful kisses everywhere he can reach, on every bit of skin that’s exposed. 

If he were completely sober, Blaine would be reveling in the fact that he’s even being allowed to do this, that he’s learned the softness of Kurt’s lips and the salty-sweet taste of his skin, that he’s beginning to learn the way Kurt sounds when he moans and the feeling of Kurt’s cock hard and pressed against his own, even through their pants.

But he’s not sober - he’s not entirely wasted, plenty coherent enough to know what he’s doing and that he wants this and that Kurt wants it, too, but he’s drunk enough to be able to put the wonder and amazement and every other thought out of his mind and focus on this, on figuring out how to make Kurt feel good and actually making it happen.

The rest will come later.

So Blaine pulls back enough to look at Kurt, lifting slightly up on his knees on either side of Kurt’s lap and pressing Kurt further into the back of the couch, leaning their foreheads together, their breathing coming hot and ragged between them - and Kurt looks incredible like this, cheeks flushed from booze and heat and desire, eyes dark and lust-blown with only a ring of dark blue left visible around his pupils, mouth kissed red and swollen and god, what Blaine wouldn’t do to see those lips wrapped around-

“Blaine,” Kurt breathes out in a stuttered exhale, his hands sliding up to rest on Blaine’s bare chest, up under his undershirt, and Blaine realizes he’s just been staring, realizes he’s gone still, realizes that Kurt is nearly trembling underneath him, and Blaine needs to-

He needs to do something.

In as fluid of a motion as he can manage, Blaine pushes himself up off of the couch and up off of Kurt, instead sliding down onto the floor in front of him, gently pressing at both of Kurt’s knees to encourage his legs to part - and he can’t help but feel a tiny thrill at the way they fall open so readily, at the way he can hear the hitch of Kurt’s breath and possibly even a soft whimper, too.

There’s no way to describe how it makes Blaine feel other than powerful, like he’s in control of giving this to Kurt, of taking him apart in hopes of putting him back together, and Kurt is letting him do it, trusting him to.

The powerful feeling persists through his uncoordinated efforts to unlace Kurt’s boots and pull them off, then the sloppy awkwardness of their joint maneuver in getting Kurt’s pants off, too, and then-

And then Kurt’s fingers are twisting in Blaine’s curls, pulling him closer as he leans in to ghost his mouth along the outline of Kurt’s cock straining in his underwear, sucking briefly at the head of it, reveling in the taste as well as the moan that it elicits, low from Kurt’s throat.

Again, if Blaine were sober, he’d want to take his time - draw it out, strip Kurt naked and kiss and savor every part of him, and as much as he still wants that, hopes he’ll have another chance to do it, maybe, someday, he’s far too impatient, the anticipation of months of possibly-mutual stolen glances built up for far too long.

There’s no hope of waiting another second.

And so Blaine reaches to hook his thumb under Kurt’s waistband and tug his underwear long enough to free his cock, to wrap his hand around the length of it, then wasting no time taking it into his mouth.

The weight of Kurt on his tongue, the feeling of his lips stretching around him is incredible, turning Blaine on beyond belief as he sinks as far down as he can manage, and he can’t help but moan at the combination of all of it, nearly overwhelming his senses.

It’s been a long time since he’s done this, not just been intimate with someone but ached so desperately to give. He’s a thousand times more focused on Kurt’s release than his own, and though he’s achingly hard and feels himself straining against the fly of his pants, it doesn’t matter - all that matters is the way Kurt reacts when Blaine swirls his tongue around the head of his cock, the way Kurt moans when Blaine takes him in deeper, the way Kurt begins to tremble underneath him, fingers digging more insistently into Blaine’s curls. 

But by the time Kurt is shifting restlessly and panting and moaning underneath Blaine’s hands and his mouth, Blaine is becoming more desperate, too - he reaches down to unbutton and unzip his pants, shoving them down past his hips far enough to slip his hand under his briefs and jerk himself off, too, not caring that it’s his own touch because it’s still connected, still in rhythm with what he’s giving Kurt, still on the path to the pleasure and the heat and the release that they’re searching for together.

“Blaine, I’m- Stop, I-”

Kurt sounds completely and utterly undone, and when Blaine pulls off to look up at him, he looks it, too - debauched and lost in the feeling of all of it, and Blaine did that, Blaine made him this way.

And Blaine needs to pull him through it.

He makes the split decision to push up off of the floor and climb back onto Kurt’s lap, one hand pressed into the couch cushion beside Kurt’s head, knees once again straddling his lap, taking another moment to look at him, to breathe him in and look and memorize just in case, before he leans their foreheads together and reaches down to grasp Kurt’s cock in his hand again, intent on bringing him over the edge.

Even untouched, Blaine is too wound up to properly kiss Kurt while he does it, instead staying impossibly close as their breaths mix hot and heady between them, as he pays attention to Kurt’s soft noises and whimpers to know when he has the right grip, the right touch, as he feels Kurt’s hips bucking up underneath him with an intensity that proves he’s right there at it, close, almost.

When he feels Kurt’s hand snake between their bodies to find Blaine’s cock, too, wrapping around it with surprisingly sure, steady fingers, Blaine is done for, too.

It takes only a handful of strokes for him to come, spilling hot over Kurt’s fist as his orgasm sparks through him like a firework, bright and bold and in pure technicolor, leaving him shaking and breathless and collapsing against Kurt’s body, just in time for him to feel Kurt come, too, and Blaine is close enough to feel it ripple through Kurt’s body, only letting go of Kurt’s cock to clutch him nearer, pressing as close as he can possibly get.

“Oh my god,” Kurt laughs shakily once they’ve begun to come down from it, and Blaine hums in agreement, pressing slower, gentler kisses to Kurt’s jaw, as if it can soothe him, help him, ease him back out of it.

“Was that okay?” he asks quietly, feeling like he should, as he musters all of his energy to lift up enough to look at Kurt, feeling weak and boneless but just needing to check, needing to be sure.

“So okay,” Kurt breathes, rocking up enough to capture Blaine’s lips in a kiss, softer and sweeter than any they’d shared before, making Blaine’s toes curl at the tenderness of it and of the weight it holds - a silent affirmation that this isn’t it, that they can be more, that this is just the beginning.

And Blaine allows himself to sink into it, reveling in the feeling instead of being afraid by it, instead of questioning it, only pulling away when it’s turned into a press of their smiles more than anything else.

Of course, there’s one more thing.

“Did you- Did you really already know who I was?” The question comes out sounding tentative, but Blaine is suddenly desperate to know, slightly afraid of the answer, unsure of what it means either way. 

Kurt smiles slowly, lazily, shifting to lay down on the couch and tugging Blaine down along with him, pulling him close.

“Blaine Anderson,” he murmurs, and Blaine has never loved his name more, has never heard it quite like this, like the beginnings of the melody of a soft, sweet song that only Kurt knows how to sing. “I did a project with Tina, back a couple months ago. She talks about you a lot.”

He can’t help but laugh at that, a breathless, genuine giggle bubbling up and out of his chest, and he tucks his face into Kurt’s neck just because he can - just because he can.

“I didn’t know yours until I overheard it tonight,” Blaine admits softly, feeling silly and oblivious for it, for not having known, for not having thought to ask Tina long ago. “But I... I’ve been seeing you around the building for months now, and I just... There’s something about you.”

Kurt lets out a soft, happy hum, trailing his fingers up and down Blaine’s back, tracing small, weaving patterns along the path.

“Something good, I hope.”

Lifting his head up, Blaine feels no hesitation in pressing his lips to Kurt’s in a slow, languid kiss, whispering the words into it when he speaks.

“Better than I ever could have expected.”

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 10: Myofascial Release

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Shane and Sy decompress after an emotional evening, Shane finds it difficult to get out of her own head and live in the moment, but Sy knows exactly how to help her, and not to be a complete hoe and spoil things, but…things get steamier than ever between our favorite therapist and patient duo.

Oh snap! You’re behind! Get on track here!

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings:  Language, mature themes, alcohol consumption, the smut you’ve all been waiting for so patiently! (I hope it lives up to your undoubtedly high expectations!)

Author’s Note: Oh gosh, y’all, I am so nervous to post this. Somehow it doesn’t feel like my smuttiest smut. And like, all previous chapters have been kind of leading up to this moment. The good news is, I’ve decided to continue writing this story after the sex. I’ve got some ideas about where to go from here, and I want to keep it going. Plus, it feels wrong to write all of this and then just drop them without a big picture resolution. They’re gonna go through some shit, though. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

@thisismysecretthirstblog

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Her living room was cast in the low light of the floor lamp she had left on. Intending to come home after dark. Alone. She hated walking into a dark house by herself.

Well, tonight, she wasn’t alone. And although Sy had been to her house before, this was different. They were officially a couple, and they were no longer waiting to express, to the fullest extent, their true affection for one another.

Ever the hostess, despite her nervous tension, Shane asked Sy if he wanted anything to drink, rambling off several options somewhat awkwardly.

“I’m fine, darlin.’” He assured her, stopping her at some point in the rant, before she was completely done. “Do you need something?”

“Umm, I think I should have a glass of wine.” Her eyes darted to the kitchen across her serve-through counter space and landed on her fridge. “I’m…I’m really nervous.”

"Why don't we watch a little TV for a while? You get you some wine, and I'll put somethin' on. What are we watchin', sunshine?"

"Ummmm, something light? Funny? Something I've seen." She wouldn't be able to process anything new or heavy right now.

"I'm on it." he kissed the top of her head and left her side for the sofa, where he plopped himself down like a comfy hound dog, and picked up the remote to her Smart TV.

She smiled as she busied herself in the kitchen. She decided she wanted a snack with her wine. She got a plate of cheese and crackers together first. Then she remembered she had some venison sausage one of her coworkers had brought in, and put that on the plate, too. She got out a chilled bottle of her favorite, cheap moscato and a stemless glass. She couldn't go in there without something for Sy, so she also got a glass of ice water ready for him. She put the whole spread on her big serving tray and took it to the living room.

Sy was already halfway through the first episode of Parks and Recreation.

"I saw this in your 'Watch it again' group, and thought maybe you'd like to re-watch it. I've heard you talk about it a lot, and I've never seen it." He didn't complain at her for taking forever. He just lit up when he saw her. Like it was the first time. And not the hundredth.

"That's perfect, babe. I brought some snacks out, too. Some cheese and crackers, and this really good sausage one of my coworkers brought me. You like deer?" she asked.

"One of my favorite pet names." he teased. "I do, though, yes."

They ate, and laughed, and watched about four or five episodes, it was hard to keep track. But after approximately half the bottle, Shane had summoned some courage. She started playing at the texture of Sy's jeans, running a fingernail across the coarse fabric.

"Hang on, love bug. I want to know somethin.'" she looked up at him, mildly confused. "I'm trying to think of a reason you need to get tipsy to sleep with me that I shouldn't take personally." he rubbed her upper arm, comforting her as no one had done since she was a small child. At least not that she could remember.

"No, Sy. It's not like that. You aren't the problem at all!" she paused. He let her gather her thoughts. She appreciated that he knew she intended to continue and that he didn't rush her to do it. He was patient. And kind. And all of that should have made this whole night easier. But somehow it didn’t.

“I’m the problem." She confessed after a long pause and a deep sigh. "I mean, I’m in my head about it all, I know. But it’s been…almost six years since I’ve slept with anyone, five and a half, at least, and I can’t seem to wrap my head around it now that I know it’s going to happen again.”

He pulled her body into his, squeezing her tightly for one of his soul cleansing hugs.

“Sunshine. Everything will come back to ya. We’ll just go as slow as ya want. I got all night.”

“Okay. Well, I guess, since I’m a bit sleepy from the wine, we should head to bed.”

Sy affirmed the idea, and made to help her put their snacks away in the kitchen.

She got out containers for their leftover food while Sy stoppered the wine, put it in the fridge, and washed their glasses.

She felt his warmth before she felt his touch. He stood behind her, radiating his particular brand of heat for a moment, and taking in the scent of her hair near her right ear. She heard a low rumble from someplace deep in him which slowed her efforts at the counter. His hands were light but very much present on her hips. A whisper against the fabric of the casual but feminine floral dress she’d chosen for the night. But she felt it like the weight of her favorite old blanket, heavy with years and warm comfort.

He kissed her temple, chaste and unassuming. But still full of desperation. She could tell that he was ready. Even without the alignment of their bodies completely giving him away.

“Don’tcha think this stuff can wait a couple hours, darlin'?"

His baritone, breathless in her ear, was soothing her back into the mindset of being with him. His feather touch still lingering at her hips and waist. She thought back to those seminars she'd gone to on manual therapy where the speaker talked in depth about the fascial tissues running all across the various muscles in the human body and how trauma to one part could cause tension in another like a snag in a sweater and how he taught the participants techniques to undo that trauma through myofascial release. Sy was slowly managing to unwind and unbind the taut fibers of her heart and relieve that pain that Elliott, in particular had set into place so firmly when he'd hurt her. Lied to her. Cheated on her. Gaslit her. Made her feel like she'd never be loved if she left him. Made her question the very idea of what love meant. Because if what they'd had was truly love, she didn't want it. Wanted no part of the games or the abuse or the manipulation.

Without fully realizing it, during this time of reflection and healing, Shane had given up the task at her hands and turned to Sy, open to his treatment, as he'd always been so open to hers…or mostly. And she let him kiss her, reciprocating. And hold her, returning his enveloping embrace. She even let him pick her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, resting them on his…all too well-defined bilateral gluteus maximus that she'd had to pretend to ignore for weeks. In the therapist side of her brain, alarm bells were going off. "His knee isn't fully healed! You're gonna undo all of the work you've both done so far! He's gonna hurt himself carrying you around!" but she ignored them and trusted him as he walked to her room.

Shane wanted to say that her bedroom was one of splendor. Immaculately made bed, and overall, the picture of tidiness. The reality was much, MUCH different. Glasses half full of water were everywhere (she may be forgetful, but at least she was optimistic), at least one coffee mug sat on the nightstand from the previous weekend when she took a morning cup of tea in bed with her George Harrison biography. Laundry overflowed from a sorting hamper in the corner, and her bed sat, unmade, littered with crumpled pillows, sheets, blankets, and the pajamas she'd slept in last night. She wasn't the kind of person to make her bed for reasons other than having company over, like the fancy company you had to give a tour of your whole house. She'd tried to be that person numerous times, but it never seemed to stick.

Tonight, though, the guilt that came with sub-par housekeeping skills wasn't plaguing her. Right now, all she felt was the weightlessness of being with Sy, wrapped in him, kissing him, and fully ready for what was about to happen between them, as he fell with her onto her bed. Their heads clunked together awkwardly, invoking a mutual wince, followed by bouts of laughter and playful kisses.

He hovered over her a moment, just taking her in. His fingers ghosting her forehead and cheeks to clear it of the whisps of hair obscuring her face. He seemed to examine her in methodical quadrants. Learning the curves and colors and every wrinkle, freckle, and pore. She was still fully clothed, but she'd never felt so bare and vulnerable.

He left her eyes for last. His gaze drowning her delightfully. Random song lyrics came to mind, "the serenity of a clear blue mountain lake" and she thought yes. That is the precise aesthetic of this man's stare. His expression was inscrutable. She wanted to say he looked happy and content, but she didn't want to presume.

He began tracing the floral pattern on her dress with his fingers, and said, "I really like this dress on you."

She laughed, "Oh, that's the beginning of the oldest line in the book. You know you've already got me in bed, right?"

"No, I…" he chuckled, embarrased. "I mean it sincerely. Seeing you in flowers like this…makes me think they bloom right from ya."

She propped herself up on her elbows, dumbstruck by this uncharacteristically poetic side of him she'd just been shown. She stroked the side of his face.

"The man who came up with the original pickup line is rolling over in his grave attempting to kick himself for not thinking of something so beautiful."

"Yeah?"

"HELL yeah. He would have gotten WAY more lucky with a statement like that."

"You're probably right." he said, pulling her up to hold her in his arms.

"If for no other reason that it would have landed him a higher caliber woman than the floozies that he probably got."

He moaned his ascent against her neck, and continued, "Which would have meant a lot more getting lucky down the road, right?"

"Traditionally speaking, I'd say yes." she laughed, her fingers in his hair, which was barely long enough for the action.

"Okay, I know I said I liked the dress, but…" he tugged at the hemline tucked just under her hips and pulled it off her willing body.

"About time, cowboy!" she smiled, breathless.

He continued kissing her as he unhooked her strapless bra and tossed it aside, into the abyss, where the dress had gone. She was so dizzy from him that she barely noticed he was laying her down until her warm back hit cool sheets. She could feel his touch everywhere at once, despite the fact that he was really only making two or three points of contact.

Shane trembled as Sy peppered her soft body with kisses. She couldn't recall shivering like this before, especially when there was nothing but warmth, even heat, around her. His beard grazing her hips and thighs was sending tremors through her unlike anything she'd ever felt. She was a goner, and he hadn't even truly begun.

His breath against her skin was like lightning in the clouds. A storm began forming within, and all around them from his work on her…and eventually in her. He took the time to remove both of the shirts he was wearing--plaid cotton blend and thick white jersey. She reached out to run her fingertips over his chest, covered in a manly stand of thick, dark hair. It ran over his pecs and down his abdomen…farther, she knew, than was exposed right now.

She wanted to touch him. To return the favor. To stir in him the same tempest he'd stirred in her. She unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. She was a little surprised he wasn't resisting her, but pleased, all the same. She took the heavy weight of him out in some shock…she'd caught outlines and silhouettes often since they'd been together, but he hadn't let her go this far yet. It had made her feel a little slutty at the time, but now, she understood. He was…protecting her, in a way. She handled him curiously, gently, as he'd been with her. Her apprehension, however, grew with him.

"Sy, you're…I…" she wasn't sure what to say. But she had concerns about being rent in two by him.

"I think I remember tellin' ya you wouldn't be laughin,' sunshine." he grinned at her, breathless as she stroked him.

"You were right. But don't get too used to me saying so." she smirked back at him.

He pulled away from her, reluctantly, but eager to get back to tasting her.

She couldn't comprehend what he was doing. But it felt incredible. No one she'd ever been with had made her feel like this. Like her blood was effervescent and her body was aglow like embers. His reaction to her was as much a part of the pleasure as his ministrations themselves. She could tell he was enjoying himself which fed her desire.

She felt a tension coiling inside her, something similar to climaxes past but she could tell, much more intense. What was different? Other than Sy, she didn't know. But it was working. She moaned and writhed into him.

"Yeah, sugar. Let that out. I wanna hear it." he quickened, driving her mad and sending her spinning into her bliss, incomprehensible words and sounds escaping her, growls of satisfaction escaping him, but he didn't stop.

She felt his fingers working inside her to pull another climax from deep within her. This was new for her, as well. Not only was he putting her first, but he was making her a priority in double measure before taking anything for himself. As that pressure built in her again, she felt his gaze on her, hungry and adoring, and she heard his grunts of exertion and she thought, lust. She wasn't sure how many of his digits he'd managed to slide into her, but it felt splendid, and she wanted more. She gripped his arms to convey this desire, words caught in her throat. He dove headlong back down to her, adding his mouth to the onslaught of his hand, and before she could get out more than a "Fuuuu" she was falling apart again, her body spasming and writhing beneath his utter oral perfection. Eventually, she finished the word when she ran out of air and had to take in a large gasp on the "uck."

She watched him kiss around her thighs and hips, in awe of him in his entirety.

Breathless, she asked, "Why are you so good to me, Sy?"

"Well, a wise woman once told me, 'good go to heaven.'" he looked coyly up at her. "I think I'm there, sunshine."

"Ya know, you're the best patient I've ever had." she smiled.

"Well, I should hope so." he boasted as he kissed at her breasts, nipping at the taut, dark bud in the center. She gasped. He let go and continued his ascent.

He had a point. Who could have qualified as a "better" patient than him when he'd given her so much? Even more than what they were doing tonight. His kindness. The love he had always shown her, even when she wasn't ready to see it. His strength, but also his vulnerability that she seemed to be the only one ever to see. Combine that with the fact that his mind was basically a steel trap for her every word and it would have made him more than perfect enough for her.

But as he broke away from her kiss to take off his jeans, she marveled at the shape and size of his whole body. Those thick, strong arms, the broad, defined torso, the massive, powerful legs of an avid runner, and a face that God Himself would probably be jealous of, if He was capable of the feeling. This gorgeous exterior that Michelangelo would have killed to sculpt, combined with all of his other amazing qualities, and he was almost too perfect.

He cuddled up next to her, reached up, and caressed her face, still flush with pleasure.

"I could look at this face, and nothin' else for…damn… hours. Maybe days."

She blushed and cast her eyes down, and half whispered, "The feeling is mutual."

"Then why're you lookin' away, darlin'?" he tilted her chin up. "That shy business is cute and all, but you don't have to hide from me, sweetheart."

"Again, it's not you, it's me." she chuckled, nervously.

"You wanna call it a night, for now?" he asked without a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"You're kidding, right?" she raised her eyebrows. "You did all that work getting me ready for you, and I won't let that be a wasted effort." she pulled him to her and into a deep kiss, rolling onto her back and bringing him with her.

"Oh, sugar, that wasn't no wasted effort. That was time well spent. No matter what." he said in short bursts when he could pull away from her lips.

He lifted himself up and over her, kneeling between her legs, already open for him. She thought he should know how ready she was. Thought it should be painfully obvious. But he asked anyway.

"You ready, sunshine?" he asked, as he opened the condom and rolled it on…damn he was slick! She hadn't even noticed him get it from wherever he'd had it. She presumed his jeans pocket, which would explain much. She had been very distracted by his naked perfection.

"Yes. Please." she had been struck with an urgency as they stood here on the verge of everything.

He sunk slowly into her, the contentment of coming home spread over his face, the bliss of being whole spreading over hers. No, she thought. She was more than whole. She'd always felt mostly whole during sex. Sy made her feel as though she was overflowing with herself. And not just because she was overflowing with him. The way he moved in her, over her, with her, it was like he was afraid she'd turn to vapor around him before he could finish. Like she was nothing more substantial than a bubble full of smoke, and he thought she may burst and disappear. Although, you couldn't tell from the tight grip he kept on her. A bruising grip that she thought might have had a chance of popping a football. She didn't care. She wanted him to touch and hold her like this until they had no more to give each other.

As they built toward their mutual undoing, the world and everything in it faded away. There was no personal drama or injury. Nothing but the euphoria of this newfound oneness. The caresses and thrusts and groans of pleasure were the only things that mattered. Each other, and what they found therein.

“Shane.” He whispered to her, his pinnacle nigh.

“Sy!” She whimpered, that familiar tension approaching its apex.

He kissed her, as if he meant to permanently emboss her onto the bedding and onto his lips. She reeled as she came undone, little sparks of light obscuring her vision for a fraction of a second. He followed her closely, breathless and spent.

He laid down beside her, as close to her as possible, and began drawing mindless circular patterns on her stomach and around her breasts.

“Wow.” She said, almost under her breath.

“How ya feelin,’ sunshine?”

“Mmm, boneless. Dazed. Half wishing we’d done that weeks ago. I didn’t have a clue what I was missing.”

“Oh, I think you had an idea.” He said as he neatly doffed and disposed of the prophylactic in the waste can by her bed.

“Okay, a bit.” She chuckled. “It’s not like you can hide that…thing.”

“And I don’t try to, darlin’!” He kissed her forehead “Well, I don’t hide it just anywhere, put it that way.” He smirked at his dirty joke and she swatted him for it.

“You’re bad!”

“And you love it.”

She couldn’t argue. She loved his badness and his goodness and everything in between.

Up Next: Chapter Eleven- Discharge Plan 

[youllallriseintheink]

Prison Cell, Chapter 3

Sorry this took so long- it got so long that I had to split it into two parts. Anyhow, from this point forwards, you can expect a lot of violence, so be warned. This chapter will have a lot of interpersonal stuff, and the final chapter will be pretty much entirely action.

---

Sammy unlocked the door. On the other side of it was a demon. The demon. The one that had stolen her blood.

Its body was humanoid and wearing a suit and white bow tie, but its hands were made of ink. The top of its head was covered in black ink, which spiraled up into horns and spilled down its face, leaving only its mustache, mouth and chin visible. Seeing it in the light for the first time, Susie recognized it as the bottom of Joey’s face.

“Joey?” Susie asked, her voice full of wonder and fear.

“Once,” the demon said, and its voice was not Joey Drew’s. It deep, and rough, and horrible. “But I have taken over. Don’t worry- I don’t want this any more than he does. Once I find a way to separate humans from ink, I’ll go back to my dimension and free all of you to yours.” The demon turned and beckoned Susie to follow him. “Come.”

The demon led Susie through the basement, seemingly one large room full of very strange things. Pentagrams littered the floor. Scattered iron cages contained a few emaciated, ink-covered people. Shelves full of sharp tools and unknowable ingredients lined the walls.

“I can still hear him, you know,” the demon mused, taking a syringe and a number of bottles from a shelf, “Joey. His mind. I can see into him. Learn how to manipulate humans. I asked him how to crush your insurrection, and he said that I’d need to destroy your little story.”

The demon led Susie to a door and opened it, and when he did, she lost all her breath.

It was Norman, chained to the far wall. He was wearing the same clothes he had been when he was taken away several weeks ago, but now they were hanging off of him at sharp angles. Susie ran to him, and he cringed away from her. He didn’t want her to see him like this, or to feel how thin and bony he’d gotten.

“What did you do him!?” Susie demanded.

“Nothing beyond the obvious. You see, you thought that some of you could overcome us with physical power. That was your story- that your hope and your resilience would lead to freedom. I needed to show you that rebellion only forces me to take your strength. This isn’t something I wanted to do. Strong, healthy people do better work, and unfortunately Joey’s desire to manage the studio is in me. But... you forced my hand.”

The demon then pulled Susie Campbell up by the collar, pushed her against the wall, and put the syringe to her throat.

“He can’t protect you now,” the demon explained, perfectly calm. “His ability to do so was always under my control, and you made me take it away.”

All Norman could do was bury his head in his hands and listen to her whimper. The chains were too short for him to reach her, and he didn’t stand a chance against the demon anyhow. Not like this. The demon released her blood into one of the bottles, then reinserted the needle, working at an unhurried pace. He repeated the motion several times before letting her go. She fell onto her hands and knees, faint from blood loss.

---

Utterly haunted, Sammy escorted the two sickly individuals back to the music room, carrying with him the two first-aid kits and a message that Joey had written. The second he entered the recording studio, The instruments went silent. A bassist got up from his instrument and tackled Sammy to the ground.

“Okay, someone get these two to the infirmary and look after them,” the bassist ordered, “And Johnny, get the rope. We have a loyalist to hang!”

“Wait!” Sammy cried, “I carry a message from your lord!”

“Can it! You let this happen to them. Why would we listen to your stupid ‘message?’”

Meanwhile, Jack Fain picked up the message from the ground and read it. “Guys! It says if three days go by without incident, they’ll release our prisoners! Let’s not do this. Please.”

The man who’d tackled Sammy got up, snatched the message out of Jack’s hands, and skimmed over it. “Huh. You’re right. Fine. Take him to the elevator and I’ll take this to Abby. Hopefully she’ll actually use it.”

---

Abby read over the letter.

To the upper levels,

A lot of violence has occurred between the upper and lower levels recently, so let me make myself clear: I do not want war, and no matter what level you come from, you should not want loyalists to die. Without our work, you would starve. I’m sorry to have done what I did, but I think you all needed a reminder of what’s coming for you if you keep interfering with our work. I do not wish to have to do this again.

Simply put, be peaceful, do what’s needed of you, and everything will be fine. As a final peace offering, I will release your prisoners three days from now if the rebellion stops entirely.

-Joey Drew

Abby knew the letter was full of lies. That thing wasn’t Joey, and it wasn’t forced to keep them here. She knew that the others knew that, too, and she knew that now that the upper levels had tasted hope, complete compliance would be even more impossible than before. This so-called war was going to happen sooner or later, so she needed to make sure they started at an advantage. She called on Henry to help her make a plan, and called everyone into the recording studio that night to announce it. Thankfully, it seemed to satisfy even the most rebellious of souls.

---

The door to Susie’s room opened, and Abby stepped in. Susie's eyes opened weakly.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry you had to miss the meeting tonight. Big things are happening, and I thought I’d let you know about them.”

“Okay,” Susie said.

“So... Joey, or, his demon, rather, has threatened to come down hard on us if there are any more signs of rebellion- and we both know that there will be. He also promised to release our prisoners if there are three days of good behaviour. So, I’ve decided that we’re breaking out the same night that our prisoners are released. The plan is for someone stealthy to go down there in the dead of night, steal the keys, and come back. After that, we’ll leave in groups of seven in order to sneak out of the portal. We’ll do it as quietly as possible, but we’ll also be packing axes and spears made from the knives you brought up. Hopefully there won’t be too many causalities.”

“Why seven?”

“We’re expecting to have ten injured people, and we’re not leaving anyone behind. There are going to be 68 of us in total, assuming that none of the prisoners died, you know, I thought that one per group would have the least chance of really compromising a group’s chances of escape. Plus, smaller groups will be quicker and quieter.”

Susie nodded.

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ll be better by then. And Norman is fine, too, by the way. Well, physically. We looked him over and he doesn’t have any issues aside from the obvious. He won’t talk to any of us. I don’t know what that’s about. Maybe some kind of spell.”

Susie should have felt something in regards to that, but she was honestly too exhausted from the blood loss.

“Alright. I’ll let you rest now- but tomorrow, I’m going to have to ask you about everything you saw down there- especially anything that might help me plan. Goodnight, Susie.” With that, Abby left.

---

The rebellion required planning, and management. Every axe was pulled off the walls and moved into Sammy’s sanctuary, along with the knives- just in case a loyalist decided to take them away one night. Two people guarded the elevator on each floor and at all times, and not to keep loyalists out. Loyalists were allowed right through, but any especially rebellious souls had to be kept from ruining their plan. Henry and Abby were busy planning the groups and drawing up an easy-to-follow map to the portal room. Every department head struggled to keep the remaining workers to their jobs. It seemed pointless for them to work jobs they’d quickly be fleeing from, but it was essential in order to keep suspicions to a minimum.

---

It was the night before the march. Most were turning in early, knowing that tomorrow, they would have to be on their guard well into the night. Susie had tried to do the same, but she couldn’t sleep. There was too much on her head. Too many factors that had to align if she was ever going to make it out. The horrifying possibility of facing the ink demon again if they failed. And her mind, despite there being there bigger fish to fry, kept going back to Norman, if they could ever have what they had once had again, and if Norman even wanted that anymore.

“Has Norman talked to you, yet?” Susie asked Grant once he entered their room. Since Norman hadn’t rejoined them, there was no real reason for them to still be roommates, but they’d stayed roommates anyhow, just out of habit.

“No. As far as I know, he hasn’t talked to anyone.”

“I saw him speak today. Wally wanted to help him carry something, and Norman snarled at him to back off. So, it’s not a spell- just mental stuff from being imprisoned. I wanna help him, but he won’t talk to me. Can you try?”

“Sure,” Grant said. “I can’t guarantee it’ll work, but I’ll try.”

“Okay,” Susie said, biting back tears. “I just wanna know that he’s in a place where he’ll be able to handle things tomorrow. And... I know that this is the last thing that should be on my mind, but... can you ask why he’s avoiding me?”

“Oh, Susie. I...” Grant tried to find the words to comfort her. “I’ll talk to him.” Honestly, it didn’t seem like Norman was the only one who had to pull themselves together for tomorrow night.

Norman wasn’t used to being pitied. Even as a kid, after all he’d been through, his adoptive family had known that he was a problem child who needed to be set straight before he got even bigger and his aggression became more dangerous. He’d never wanted pity, either, and now that he had it, he couldn’t say that his opinion on it had improved any. He never thought he’d miss his coworkers looking at him like he was a frightening beast. Though he did cut the long, greasy hair he’d grown while imprisoned as soon as he had the chance, he’d been half-tempted to just wash it and keep it, just to somewhat retain that beastly image.

Mostly, he wanted a way to cope. He wanted to talk with his sister, or go for a walk in the woods, or somehow get out of the sight of these people without isolating himself in one room. That had been what he was doing in his off hours- both because there was little else he wanted to do and because he didn’t have the stamina he used to. It wasn’t Susie’s room. Honestly, he’d been too scared to even look at her.

Norman knew of the plan. Honestly, it had happened so quickly after he was released from his imprisonment that it was a little hard to take in. Yes, late tomorrow night, he and everyone else would end up escaping or die trying, and Norman would either reunite with his sister and put his life together from there, or it would be the end of him. It was happening, but it didn’t seem real.

There was a knock at his door. Norman pulled himself up and answered it. It was Grant. Well, out of everyone in the studio it could have been, Grant was the most tolerable.

“Hey, Norman. You... wanna play some cards?” There was a little pity in Grant’s voice. Thankfully not too much.

Norman ushered Grant into the room. They sat down on the floor, and Grant started shuffling the cards.

“So, you ready for tomorrow?”

“I guess. Kind of hard to believe it’s happening.”

Grant’s face lit up. “You’re talking!”

Norman shrugged. “It’s easy when it’s you."

“Uh, thanks. Do you want talk about... you know, what’s happened?”

“No,” Norman said, and the two played cards in silence for a while before Norman spoke up again. “Is Susie okay?”

“She’s fine. She’ll be strong enough to make it out, assuming the plan goes well.”

Norman’s face was unreadable. “Good." A long pause. “Y’know, she’s childish, and shallow, and stupid. But she was impressed with me because I was strong and I could protect her. And so, you know, she was pretty, and we did... things together. I thought that could be all it was, but she was sweet and kind to me and I went and caught feelings for her. Of course, shallow attraction based on one thing won’t last now that I look like starving stray dog, but whatever. So long as she’s okay. She’s a good girl. So long as she’s okay.”

Grant just stared at him. “Have you... looked her in the eye recently?”

“What?”

“Uh, sorry. It’s just that you’re usually so good at figuring this kind of thing out that it borders on the supernatural, and right now, you’re really, really wrong. This entire, organized rebellion started with her trying to put together a rescue team for you. She wanted to be the first one down in loyalist territory, for you. She’s actually the one who sent me, because she’s worried about how you’ll do tomorrow.”

With the last line, Norman’s face went from appreciation and disbelief to twisted anger. “For God’s sake! Joey didn’t cut my fucking legs off!”

“Well, she can’t know how well you’re doing if you avoid her. Look, if you aren’t up for it, I can go back and try to comfort her, tell her you’re fine.”

“No. No. I’ll do it. And I’m sorry that I’m not my most pleasant right now.”

Grant smiled. Nothing ever changed- the best way to get Norman to do anything was to offer to do it for him. Susie slept in Norman’s arms that night, knowing it could be their last chance to be together.

[sapphirewolf1122]

Daydreams

Summary: Deku starts lusting after you and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

Word Count: 2,519

Izuku has had a huge crush on you.

At first, you were just a coworker. The two of you had started together at Nighteye’s agency after graduating high school; though it had been taken over by Centipeder after Nighteye passed, it was hard for Deku to think of it as anybody else’s. 

While Deku had started off as a sidekick, you were an intern combat trainer; you were a master martial artist and wanted to learn to help train heroes. 

Though Izuku hadn’t had much interaction with you at first, soon you both bonded over the difficulty of meeting the demands of a new job. He soon found out that you had ulterior motives for being here. You wanted to move your way up in the agency and eventually try to get a hero's permit.

Your quirk was Daydreams; you had the ability to catch glimpses of another person’s desires. 

It worked best if you were touching them or if they were daydreaming at the moment but otherwise, you could still get enough information to use it against them through illusions. You could cause the daydreamer to see what they desire right in front of them, distracting them.

But your parents hadn’t believed that it was something that would be any good for hero work and therefore hadn’t let you apply to a hero course. Still, you kept at it, figuring out how to best utilize your quirk in a fight while also exploring multiple fighting styles.

You actually reminded Izuku a lot of Shinsou, perhaps with a more upbeat personality. But the fact that you’d had to persevere with less of a flashy quirk was something that Deku found really admirable. And he found talking to you strangely easy, something he’d never experienced when speaking to a girl. Perhaps hanging out with the girls from his class had really helped him!

He didn’t even really know he liked you until one day, he was talking to you and he started wondering what it would be like to kiss you. He had a very vivid image of just leaning in and doing so right then and there. Maybe he would start off slow, and then build it up as he—

Izuku shook his head vehemently as he tried to shake the image. You looked at him with confusion.

“Are you okay, Deku?” you asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“Y-yeah, of course! Why wouldn’t I be okay? Totally fine!” he tried to laugh it off but stopped when he saw that you didn’t seem convinced. “Uuuh...are you okay?”

That caused you to laugh, making him sigh in relief. “I’m fine, Broccoli Head. Let’s go, you have to get ready for that mission and I have some training to do.”

You got up and started walking towards the locker rooms. Izuku trailed behind you, watching as you walked. His eyes traveled up your legs, landing on your butt. It was rather nice to watch you walk, to observe how your butt moved, how the curve of your cheek....what the hell was wrong with him?

He should consider himself lucky that you didn’t make a habit of using your quirk needlessly, otherwise you would surely never let him hear the end of. It could even mean the end of your friendship!

~~~~

You were sparring with one of the pros at the agency, working mainly on hand-to-hand combat. With how dedicated you’d been to your martial arts studies, even some of the long-time pros had some difficulty keeping up with you.

Right now, you had the upper hand. Your opponent was a large man who focused too much on brute strength than actual technique. You decided to practice using your quirk while fighting and mentally reached out to your opponent. However, you couldn’t get much off of him; he was too focused on the fight. In order to get a proper reading, you’ll need to make contact for a few moments.

However, before you could move in to do so, you were caught off guard by a sudden image flashing in your mind. This caused you to hesitate and you just barely managed to dodge out of the way of a wide blow by your opponent.

What was that?

It reminded you of when you were still getting the hang of your quirk. You’d tended to get random flashes from the people around you, especially during class when daydreaming was usually at its peak. But nowadays, it normally caused a very vivid daydream for it to just pop into your head like that; yes, you’d activated your quirk but you’d had a specific focus. 

Before you could shake it off, however, the image flashed again. This time, you caught sight of a set of hands holding onto a waist, seemingly lifting the person up. 

This time, you had to perform a roll in order to get out of the way and called a time out. Your opponent asked if you were okay, clearly having noticed that you’d been distracted.

You nodded, saying that you just needed a break. 

Going to grab your water bottle, you looked around the workout room. There were several people, so the vision could’ve come from anybody. As you scanned the room, you caught sight of Deku at the entrance, still in his hero costume. Did he come straight here from a mission? Did the man never rest? 

You noticed that his face was slightly flushed, likey from the mission. Smiling at him, you waved; you looked forward to talking to him about the mission. You’d enjoyed getting to know him over the last few months. He was kind of awkward but in a cute, sweet way. He sheepishly waved back and something about his scarred hand made you hesitate before moving on. But you just shook it off and took a swig of your water. 

You didn’t notice as Izuku turned from you in shame, his already flushed face becoming even redder until he resembled a strawberry. He really needed to do something about those daydreams. 

~~~~

“Hey, Deku! There you are!”

At the sound of his name, Izuku turned to see you running towards him. It took all the willpower he possessed not to let his jaw drop. You were only wearing a sports bra and shorts, clearly fresh from a workout.

He could see as drops of sweat slid down several parts of your very toned body. All he wanted to do was wrap his hands around your waist and pull you close. Maybe even push you up against the wall as he kissed you up your whole body, licking the sweat as he did—

“Uuuh… Deku?”

He jumped as you said his hero name again. “Aaaah, s-sorry, guess I just kind of spaced out for a bit! I have a big mission coming up and you know how I can get, haha…”

You blinked at him. “Yeeaah...anyway, it feels like I haven’t seen you in forever, not even in the workout room. You doing okay?”

“Oh, y-yeah. You know how it gets; I haven’t really had a lot of free time.”

You nodded at that, knowing that this was common among all heroes, especially sidekicks. “Well, do you have any free time now? I’d love to talk about what you’ve been up to! Plus, I got to tell you this thought I had for my quirk!” 

Izuku backed away slightly. “Ah, not really. Like I said, big mission and I have to study up on some files…”

“Oh, okay. Of course, sorry.” He noted the slightly dejected look on your face, even a flash of hurt. Oh no, had he done that? He couldn’t bear the thought that he could have hurt your feelings.

“But I’d love it if you came with me on Saturday!” he found himself saying. You perked up at that.

“What’s on Saturday?”

“I’m meeting up with some of my classmates from UA. I don’t know if you’d be interested in going to a gathering with a bunch of strangers—”

You leaned in, grabbing his hands. “Are you kidding? I’d love to meet some of your classmates! I bet you all have so many cool stories!”

Izuku stared down at your joined hands, his face once again resembling a strawberry. “R-right. Well anyway, I should get going.” He quickly pulled his hands from yours. “I’ll see you soon.” And with that, Deku practically sprinted away. 

You watched him go and then looked down at your hand. You’d caught another flash when you’d grabbed hold of him. Since your quirk was more sensitive to touch, strong daydreams could make their way in even if you weren’t actively using your quirk.

Looking back up at Deku, your eyes narrowed in his direction, not really believing it. Did Deku…? But he was Deku, he didn’t think like that. Did he?

~~~~

Izuku was lying in his bed, staring up at his ceiling. As he did, he imagined what it would be like to have you there with him. How he would hug you close and then begin to kiss you. He could imagine the arch of your body, the feel of your skin as he made his way down your legs, gently coaxing the hem of your pants down…

With a slight sense of shame, he grabbed at the lotion next to his bed, his mind continuing to wonder at all the ways he could show you how much he wanted you. 

Of all the ways he would try to please you. 

His fingers intertwined with yours, holding onto to you tightly and never letting you go.

~~~~

You were at the bar with Deku, laughing with his friends as they told you stories of all the trouble he’d gotten into over the years. 

“How often did he fight with Bakugo?” you exclaimed. 

Iida sighed in exasperation as Ururaka giggled. “At one point, it seemed at least once a week. It became more intense after Midoryia actually beat him for the first time.”

“Tsk. I didn’t fucking let him get away with it either! I made sure to beat him next time!” yelled Bakugo.

“Didn’t he beat you last time the two of you sparred, kero,” interjected Tsu, who you found to be absolutely adorable.

Bakugo slammed his hand down on the table, causing a few small explosions to go off. “I’ll fucking go right now!”

“Not here, Kacchan. This is no place to be sparring,” said Deku quietly. You glanced over at the green-haired man; he’d been pretty quiet the whole time. His face was flushed from alcohol.

You could feel yourself getting pretty tipsy as well. You could especially tell because images were starting to filter into your mind as your control of your quirk slipped. Maybe you should drink a few glasses of water...ooh, perhaps something greasy to eat as well!

Standing up to look for the bartender, you lost your balance slightly and reached out to steady yourself. At the same time, Deku reached out to you, grabbing your hand. At that moment, several images flew through your mind. 

You saw Deku. He was holding someone, in what looked like the exact bar that you were in now, except it was empty. As you watched, he hoisted the person up, kissing them as he laid them down on the table. Once he had them down, he started trailing his lips down the length of their body until he was at the hem of their pants. 

“Deku, what are you doing?” you heard the person ask. The voice sounded familiar. 

“I’m showing you how much I want you.” The young hero’s voice was huskier than normal.

Was...was that you? And him? What were you doing?

Suddenly, the scene changed so that you were now watching them in bed. 

Deku was kissing your body again, caressing your breasts as he buried his face in your neck, biting it softly. Yet again bringing himself down, he slipped off your underwear and started kissing your inner thighs. He grazed his teeth lightly as he got closer to you.

Finally, he went down on you. Kissing your folds gently, he used his fingers first before using his tongue to—whooooaaa!

You snatched your hand away, your alcohol-infused mind trying to process what you’d just seen. So your suspicion had been right...Deku liked you! A lot apparently…

“Are you okay, ___?” You turned to the hero, blinking at him slightly. Deku liked you...and thought of you in a very different type of way that you hadn’t been expecting. How long? How often? 

It took you a moment before you realized that you really didn’t mind. You liked that he thought of you like that. Hm...you wondered if you could use this to your advantage....you smiled evilly.

“I’m perfectly fine, Deku,” you said, leaning into him, your hand on his arm. “I’m going to get something to eat, you want anything?” You met his eyes.

He looked down at your hand. “Uh...n-no, I’m good.”

“Okay,” you replied sweetly, trailing your finger up his arm as you walked to the bar.

The rest of the night, you did everything you could think of to mess with the bumbling hero. You’d lean on him, flirt with him, trail your fingers along his hands, tracing the scars….you found you rather liked being close to him like this. You were actually starting to get annoyed that he wasn’t picking up what you were putting down.

Later that night, he was walking you home. You were walking pretty close to him, your arm brushing against his. You were considering grabbing onto his hand when the two of you reached your apartment.

After a few moments of silence, he awkwardly waved at you. “Well...good night.”

Ugh, you couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed at his hand, stopping him from walking away. “Seriously, that’s all you’re gonna say to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been flirting with you all night. Just kiss me already, I know you want to!”

“Whaaaat? When did I—”

You rolled your eyes. “I saw it.”

Deku blinked at you for several moments before he finally seemed to get it and he immediately started panicking, bowing to you fiercely. “I’m so sorry, I know I shouldn’t be having those thoughts, I’ve tried to stop them, I swear, I would never do anything like that, I pro—”

You suddenly pushed him against the wall, effectively shutting him up as you got in very close. “You better not finish that sentence. I wouldn’t want you to become somebody who has to break his word.”

Before Deku could ask what you meant, you kissed him, deeply. Though he was clearly shocked, he hesitated for only a moment before kissing you back. Backing away for a moment, you whispered breathlessly, “Now how about you show me what you’ve been wanting to do to me.”

His green eyes widened and then became set with a fierce determination. You squealed as he hoisted you up and spun so that it was your back against the wall. 

“Finally.”

[lonelypond]

Parent Trap, Ch. 10

NicoMaki, Love Live, 3.1K, 10/?

Summary: Maki panics, Eli saves the day, and we have a clash of the grandmothers.

When Moms Attack

Maki rambled, letting anything she was thinking just spill out of her mouth as she navigated unfamiliar streets, actively not looking at Nico. Nico had seemed so tiny, leaning most of her weight on Maki, letting Maki help her up into the Nissan Rogue Sport. Maki had slid into the driver’s seat, while Nico had slumped against the window. Worrying. Terrifying. So Maki kept rambling. “I spent hours driving down from Wisconsin with no problems, but once you hit the city, there’s traffic and people not paying attention and…”

Nico made a murmuring noise.

“Then suddenly you have to remember to stop at traffic lights. It just slows everything down.” A red light. A hasty switch to brakes. And had she missed a turnoff?

“I think we’re almost there. Nico, do you recognize this street?”

No reply.

“Nico?”

Maki turned to her right, Nico had completely fallen against the door, not holding herself up at all. “Non responsive” lit a panic fire in Maki’s brain. “Nico?!?”

No reply. Should Maki go the hospital? Was Nico breathing? Should she have put Nico on a backboard at the scene? Called 911? What could she do now? Had she hurt Nico? Not rambling anymore, now Maki, Maki was breathing, too fast, with no idea what to do next. Who could help...Eli...Eli’s private line was still in her phone.

“Call Doctor Eli Ayase’s Emergency Number.”

###

Her phone. Eli heard the ringtone. Her emergency number. Immediately, she was alert, no longer in a sleepy haze of Nozomi nearness. Her phone would wake up the twins. Now was not a good time for Vik and Teddy to be wandering around.

“Dr. Ayase’s emergency line.” Nozomi’s voice was crisp and efficient. Of course, Nozomi was faster, Nozomi was used to being a doctor’s wife.“...Calm down, Maki, Eli’s right here, what happened to Nico?”

Eli leapt up in a panic, grabbing the phone, falling over Nozomi. “Maki?”

“Nico was in an accident on the set and hit her head and I’m taking her home but she just passed out and now she’d not responding, maybe, and I don’t know what to…”

“Maki, where are you?”

“Driving to Nico’s house. But I’m lost.”

“Pull over…carefully.” Nozomi had gone to get her robe, wrapping it around Eli, “Then take a couple deep, slow breaths and tell me what happened.”

No reply. Eli willed Maki to get off the road safely. Waiting, pacing, Eli counted the steps from the couch to the bedroom door. And back.

After a long pause, Eli heard an exhale, and Maki’s voice, shaking, “I thought Nico might have a minor concussion after her car stunt so I was driving her to her house, but she just passed out. I made a mistake Eli, we should have gone right to the hospital, what if there's damage…”

Time to interrupt the panic attack. “Maki, I’m sure you made the right call on site. Nico didn’t get much sleep last night, she’s been working 18 plus hours a day, she’s probably exhausted, dehydrated, and might have the same upper respiratory bug the twins are developing. So there’s a lot that could be going on, a bad combination, but not lethal. I need you to stay calm. Use your training. How’s her pulse?”

“Fast but steady.” Maki sounded calmer. “I’m taking her to our hospital. Meet me there. I can’t be her doctor, but I’ll get things started.”

“Maki, you know you won’t have any say in her treatment, if she’s unconscious, her family will. We have to call them.”

“Fuck you, Eli. You owe me. I’ll just say we’re married.” Maki sounded like she was crying.

“Maki…”

Sniffling. “Just meet me there.”

Eli had a panic thought, Dia in the car seat listening to all of this, “Where’s Dia?”

“Rin and Hanayo’s.”

“Good.”

Maki was back in control of her voice at least. “Just ask at reception. We’ll be in the family suite.”

The Family Suite. Sometimes Eli forgot exactly how privileged the Nishikinos were. They had what was basically a two bedroom apartment tucked into the hospital for their private use.

“All right, Maki. Just be careful.”

No reply as Maki ended the call.

Eli put the phone down, her forehead against the wall, until Nozomi’s arms wrapped around her waist, Eli turning to meet worried turquoise eyes.

“Apparently, be gay and do crime now means violate medical consent and privacy laws.” Eli couldn’t filter the snark. She liked rules. Rules prevented situations like this.

Nozomi winced. Eli just sounded so stretched. “What’s happening, Elichi? Maki sounded panicky.”

“Maki’s got Nico in a car, passed out, with a maybe concussion.” Eli sighed, “I think it’s more likely exhaustion and dehydration and worry caught up to Nico, but that’s not good either.”

“No.” Nozomi shook her head, “And Teddy was coughing when she came home from school.”

“Fever?���

“Not enough to notice.”

“Vik have any symptoms?” Eli ran a hand through her messy hair, considering a diagnosis and treatment plan for Nico.

“They were kinda quiet, no bragging about Nico or planning for Tokyo.”

“Flu cases have been surging. Better keep both home today.” Eli raised a hand to Nozomi’s cheek, reveling in the softness, “I hate to leave. You’re…”

Nozomi giggled, breaking the moment. “Help Maki and we get our guest room back.”

Eli frowned, “You’re shameless. This is all your fault. I haven’t forgotten.”

“I know.” Nozomi dropped her head, more of an admission of responsibility and guilt than Eli had expected, “We’ll fix this. But first go fix Nico.”

“Yeah.” Eli tilted Nozomi’s head up, making sure Nozomi could see the love in her eyes, “I am sorry to go.”

“Just come back to me.”

“Always.”

From the first kiss to this one, Eli had never been anything but certain Nozomi had been meant to be by her side. 1000 platinum records and screaming sell out crowds wouldn’t have matched even the first clumsy thrill or this avalanche of content and chemistry.

###

For this late an hour, a surprising number of nurses, aides, clerks, security, and doctors were scurrying everywhere when Eli reached the main desk in the Emergency Department. Eli recognized the mood. Maki was in a temper.

“Dr. Ayase!” Amaya Robinson, one of the Emergency Department Managers, hurried up to Eli, “What is going on?”

“Where is Dr. Nishikino?” Had Maki signed Nico in in any way? Or just rushed her somewhere. “And the patient?’”

Robinson moved to let a clerk use the nearest computer, “Dr. Maki Nishikino rushed into the Emergency Department, ignoring triage protocols and the admission clerks, diverted resources in a questionable manner, and has refused to fill out any forms or provide any information about the woman she commandeered a bed for. She referred all questions to you, upon arrival. I can assure you the Board will have many more questions than I do.”

Damn it, Maki, Eli thought. Then she spoke in her best concerned colleague voice, “Amaya, I know this is irregular. Maki called me in at the last minute.” Eli debated how much to share, but if Ms. Robinson had any human sympathy at all, Eli was going to summon it, “She was in a panic. I know I can trust your discretion, but the patient is,” Eli lowered her voice, obviously checking to see if there were eavesdroppers, “Nico Ni. So it’s important we keep this as quiet as possible.”

“Tell Dr. Nishikino that.” No sympathy. Maki’s brusque independence had left her few friends among upper management.

“Have you called either of her parents?”

Amaya shook her head, “I want to be able to sum it all up in one message.”

That could take hours, if Maki kept up a rampage. Time for Eli to get some fluids in Nico and find some way to calm Maki down. “Where is Maki raging now?”

Amaya almost laughed, “Private suite. You remember where that is?”

Eli nodded. After Dia’s birth, Maki had been moved there. “Have there been any tests run?”

“Basic blood work. X ray. Have you contacted next of kin?”

Nico’s mom was so not going to be on board with Maki’s plan to be in charge without being in charge. Eli gritted her teeth and punted, “I’m sure Maki’s done something about that.”

“Good. Dr. Nishikino needs to be a lot less visible and audible on this case.”

Eli nodded, briskly stepping around Amaya, “I’ll take over.”

“I’ll exert some diplomacy in the ER.”

“Thanks. I’m sure Maki wouldn’t have upset her coworkers if she weren’t so worried.” Eli stopped, frowning, “Although that’s no excuse, I know.”

Robinson grimaced, not thrilled at how long this night was going to linger on her to deal with list. “Please, just don’t let this turn into a bigger problem, Dr. Ayase”

That was Eli’s plan. And Maki was a wrecking ball pointed at it. Eli nodded and speedwalked to the elevator.

###

Where was Eli? Maki paced, almost frantic, stopping to make sure Nico was still breathing. Rationally, she knew Eli was right and she wouldn’t have missed anything major, but here, now, in this room, Nico was unconscious in bed, with an IV line, looking so frail. And tiny. Maki couldn’t process how drained Nico looked, how breakable, how…“Nico?”

No response. Where was Eli?

Maki forced herself to breathe. Eli would be here. Eli was making things happen so Nico would be okay. Nico was important to Eli. Maki had had enough faith in Eli to trust her through her fertility trials and pregnancy. Maki remembered when Dia decided to be delivered early, how calm Eli was. Breathe. Trust Eli. Nico would be all right. She was just tired. Maki was tired too. Go sit on the bed in the other half of the suite, take a moment, text Rin about what was going on, find out how Dia’s afternoon had been. Nico wasn’t going anywhere. Walking slowly to the other bed, sitting awkwardly, still watching Nico. Surprised at how heavy she felt, Maki thought maybe she would just lay down for a minute, just until Eli got there. A yawn. Just for a minute. That was better than staring at Nico hard enough to wake her up.

###

Nico heard someone walking. Why was she asleep? Wasn’t Maki talking to her? Maki’s car had been too comfortable, Nico must have fallen asleep. She opened her eyes and jumped to see Eli's face too close, blue eyes worried.

“What the hell, Eli?” Nico shouted, but she didn’t get the volume she expected.

Eli raised a finger to her lips and pointed to an open archway, “Maki’s asleep in there. She’s had a long day.”

“Maki’s had a long day? Nico’s had a long day.” Nico had never been in this room before. Eli had scrubs on. Had Maki taken Nico to the hospital? After the…

“This is ridiculous, Eli. Nico’s fine.” Nico sat up, swinging her legs to the side of the bed, but Eli’s arm blocked her.

“You’re not going anywhere until I see your X-Rays, Nico. And maybe a CAT scan. Your pulse rate is too fast, you’re dehydrated and running a fever, you are not fine.”

“Maki just wanted to kidnap Nico.” Nico pouted, not wanting to admit how that motion had left her.

“Maki...” Eli glanced over her shoulder, “was terrified.”

Nico coughed. It hurt. If Maki was here... “Where’s Dia?”

“Rin and Hanayo.”

“Good.” Nico relaxed just slightly, “I’m not staying Eli. If it’s a concussion, it’s minor, and this hospital is just full of people wanting to stalk Nico and stare.”

“I know, I called your Mom. After we get some fluids and meds in you, I think home is the best place for you. But you need to talk to Maki, Nico. And you need to take it easy.”

Nico shook her head, wincing, “Nico has to finish the video. And then the mini tour starts.”

Eli pushed her glasses up, blue eyes flaring with stubborn, “Nico, your insurance will cover a postponement for medical reasons. If you’ve got the flu that’s been going around the twins’ school, you’re going to feel worse tomorrow. And if you don’t rest, there’s pneumonia to worry about. Your blood work worries me. You need to take better care of yourself.”

“Nico?” Maki’s voice, soft, worried. She was standing in the archway, staring at Nico and Eli.

Eli’s voice was soft, but too serious for Nico to ignore. “Don’t move much. And talk to Maki, Nico. I’m going to go wait for your Mom downstairs.”

Nico nodded at Eli, settling back against the pillows as another wave of tired hit.

Eli gave Maki an encouraging smile and exited the room.

Nico turned to Maki, not happy to be having this conversation here. “You called Eli? Aren’t you a doctor?”

Maki shook her head, suddenly shy, “Not yours.”

“Nico is confused.” But then a rush of adrenaline surged and Nico sat up, hand out, “But not concussion confused.”

Maki sat on the end of Nico’s bed, “I’m your...girlfriend, not your doctor. I don’t want to be your doctor. Doctors don’t date patients.”

“But you kidnapped Nico.”

“You passed out in my car, Nico.” Maki leaned forward, fingers tugging through hair. "I didn't know what to do." She sounded so young.

"You could come closer.” Nico wanted to smooth the strands back into place, soothing Maki.

Maki shook her head, not raising it.

“Maki?” No reply. “I’m glad you didn’t go to the party.”

“Wanted to get OUT but wanted to see you more…” A sigh, “Watching Dia alone was exhausting. And lonely. Since I got pregnant, everybody just treats me like a mom, not a....person. All they talk about is Dia.” Maki glanced up, a smile starting, “You didn’t.”

Nico managed to slide down the bed, hip to hip with Maki. Attraction had heady, hella pull. “Nico wants to know more about Maki.”

The air got heavy, Maki decided to risk the hard question, turning to face Nico,“But what about Dia? Eli says…”

Nico took Maki’s hand, “Maki and Dia are a package deal. Nico wants both.”

Maki let herself just sit there, meeting Nico’s gaze, feeling her worries fade, becoming fascinated by the swirls of sparkling love in the deep ruby crimson. Nico was leaning forward....

A knock...Nico’s eyes closed and frustration edged her voice, “Go away, Eli.”

But the door opened and Maki’s mother stepped through, still in her coat. “Here you are, Maki. I want to talk to you.”

“Mama, not now.”

“Yes, now, Maki…you didn’t tell me you were coming back into town, I had to find out from security you’d smuggled...Yazawa in here, I want to know what’s going on. And where’s Dia?”

Was everyone going to ask Maki that? Like she'd forget her child somewhere.

“Rin’s.”

“Good. There’s no need for her to be any further involved with Yazawa and her fans.” Maki’s mother turned on Nico, who was processing the family resemblances, “Please keep my family out of your...harem.”

Maki hissed. Nico nearly jumped off the bed, the IV stand rattling with her movement.

“You’re embarrassing me, Mama.”

Dr. Nishikino shrugged, “This isn’t the first fleeting celebrity crush anybody’s ever had. Easily forgotten in a week.”

“I’m not a teenager with a crush.”

Nico winced at how sullen Maki sounded. She was not dealing with this well, not making eye contact with anyone. Nico reached out a hand, laying it on top of Maki’s, willing reassurance into the contact. They could do this together.

“Nico!!!” Nico’s mother barrelled into the room, no Eli in sight. “Are you all right?” Mrs. Yazawa rushed to her daughter’s bedside, pushing aside Maki's mother, her hand raising Nico’s chin so she could get a good look at her daughter’s face, “Eli is right. You are exhausted. You should stay here.”

“I’m going home, Mama.” Nico said quietly.

“Nico…” Maki started, to be interrupted by her own mother.

“I agree with Yazawa, the hospital is far too public. I want the Nico Ni social media circus far away from my daughter and granddaughter.”

Nico’s mother switched her attention to Maki, her questions sharp, her eyes suspicious. “Where’s Dia? With your nanny?”

“Mama…” Nico whined. Maki might have smiled at Nico’s pouty cuteness but the tension in the room was near exploding.

“It is none of anyone’s business where my granddaughter is…”

“Family belongs with family...”

“Mama.” Nico grabbed her mother’s arm, “let Nico handle this.”

Maki was rocking, chewing on her lip, finally raising her head to glare at her mother, “None of this concerns you, Mama.”

“Maki, you are obviously…”

“Obviously what?” Maki had snapped, “Responsible for my own life and child? Not wanting interference from anyone? Tired of being told what to do for the Nishikino brand?”

And then there was Eli, clapping her hands, the loud noise startling the room into silence, “That’s enough. Nishikinos out. Now.” Eli held the door open, her determination stilling the room.

“Your intervention is not appreciated, Dr. Ayase.” Dr. Nishikino the elder frowned. “I will remember this.”

“Nico is my patient. You have no rights here.” Eli’s smile was icily polite.

“Nico…” Maki had Nico’s hand again.

“It’s okay, Maki. Mama’s going to take me home and you’re going to check on Dia. And then,” Nico deliberately held the very hostile gaze of Maki’s mother, “You’re going to come stay at Nico’s house for as long as you want. I’ll text you the security code.”

"Really?" Hope surged as Nico looked at Maki.

"If it's what you want." Nico tugged Maki forward, leaning up for a quick, awkward kiss, fingers sweeping Maki’s cheek. They smiled at each other, a moment anchored in their growing bond, a calm in this crazy day. “See you soon.”

Maki nodded, then rushed by Eli, not looking at Nico’s mother. When she got to hers, she stopped, hand on her mother’s elbow “C’mon Mama. Let Nico rest.”

“We’re not done discussing this, Maki.”

“I know.” And Maki steered her mother out of the room.

Mrs. Yazawa closed the door after the Nishikinos, frowning. “Is that really wise, Nico? Inviting her to stay with you?”

“Mama, just let Eli unlock and unplug Nico and we’ll go home. You can list what Nico should have done on the way.”

Arms crossed, Mrs. Yazawa’s foot kept a brisk pace tapping the floor. “Trust me, I will.”

“Just remember,” Nico flopped back, groaning and wincing dramatically, “Nico’s not well.”

“Well enough to flirt.”

Nico grinned, “Nico’s Dr. Charm, not Dr. Harmed.”

Mrs. Yazawa rolled her eyes at her eldest. Eli giggled.

A/N: Stay safe out there.

[missinghan]

dawn ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : runaway! au; demon!au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 10k.

❖ warning : explicit language, mentions of alcohol 

❖ summary : it seems like everyone has their own guardian angel, everyone but you because you’ve given up on Jesus the moment you come down to Lee Minho’s level and shake hands with the Devil.

one.

Your dad is definitely not gonna approve of you hanging by the bar alone after midnight. 

It all happened too fast, and you don’t even know where you’re going next. After a call from your manager, which you almost fell asleep as he rambled about boring paperwork, until he dropped the bomb. He said he was sorry for what he’s gonna say next and turned out the label wanted to cut you loose. The entire universe was completely shattered right in front of your eyes. You were utterly speechless when the line went dead so long story short, you packed your bag and ran away. 

Like a coward. 

You stare blankly at the half-empty glass of Martini in your hand before chuckling lowly. Because life is a little son of a bitch, who’s born with the power to pull on everyone’s strings as if people are a bunch of puppets for whatever gods up there to entertain themselves. Getting signed into a music production company right after your graduation swept your life over with joy. Your parents were… overwhelmed to say the least but they still wanted you to move to Seoul. Two years later, your life once again was flipped upside down because of a single phone call. They didn’t even bother to call you in and meet face-to-face. 

“Cheers to this motherfucker.” You almost laugh at your own miserable state but suppress it and down the whole glass in one go. “Another one.” You tell the barista absently and he just sighs before starting to mix your drink. 

“Tough times ?” He leans over the counter and slides your drink across the wooden surface. 

You gratefully take the glass, words slurred between hiccups. “You have no fucking idea.” Your eyes travel down from his defined features gleaming under the neon light to the name tag hanging off his white dress shirt. It reads ‘Kim Woojin’. You shake your head to lure the weariness away while your right hand reaching inside your pocket to pull out some cash. 

But before you can place them on the table, Woojin stops you abruptly. “Keep a hold of them. This last one’s on me.” He sighs defeatedly. Judging by how you look right now, he must have thought that you’re some petty college girl who just got into a fight with her boyfriend and now you have nowhere to stay for the night so essentially, he wants to be certain that you’ll have enough money for a cheapass motel of some sort.

Woojin pats his wet hands onto the black apron wrapped around his hip. “You’ll need them more than I do.” And you feel kinda bad for him, partially because this place doesn’t serve cheap vodka like most bars, and partially because you’re now a somewhat burden to the bartender. “Listen, no matter how much bad shit happens, I’m sure you’ll be just fine. Besides, looks like that punk over there has already had his eyes on you the whole time.” He winks at you playfully before walking over to his coworker at the other side of the counter.

Speaking of the Devil… literally, not even sarcastically, a hollow presence seems to come into sight the moment you place your lips on the rim of the glass. You automatically reach your hand backwards only to find exactly what you’re looking for. “Do not touch me.” You deadpan, normally you would have felt bad by now upon your sudden discourtesy but unfortunately you’re not in the mood to be kind today. Hearing his melodic chuckle, you yank his hand away rather harshly, the coldness of his touch still chills you to the bone.

“Why so sad, bunny ?” He moves over to sit down on the nearby wooden bench, lips curled into a devilish smirk. Out of 7 billion people on this glorious plant, he chooses to pester a mundane mortal like you. Out of 365 days of the year, he chooses to visit you on the worst day of your life. Lee Minho is worse than Lucifer, it’s official.

Not enjoying your dull state, he cocks a brow at you. “You’re jobless because that stupid label doesn’t need you anymore. And now what ? Are you gonna be petty and depressed about it for the rest of your life ? Because if so, you’ll have a really shitty life Y/N. Do you really want your demons to come out and conquer the path ahead like it’s their fucking playground ?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Said a demon himself.”

“Then aren’t humans the closest things that we have to demons alive ?” Minho almost snickers at your suggestive remark, but he wouldn’t admit that it did sting a bit. After all, he is a demon, an epitome of a creature that’s second to Lucifer and his descendants generation, highly worshipped and exceptionally feared. And he’s low-key impressed that you didn’t throw yourself out the window when he stepped out of a wisp of black smoke the day you two first encountered.

You on the other hand didn’t know that he was too utterly soft for you to actually erase your memories. From then on, he would visit you occasionally at the godly hour when you’re close to kicking yourself in the process of composing or when you accidentally fucked up something. ‘Til this day, you still don’t know whether his concern for you is pure sincerity or he just finds your first world problems very amusing. You can’t tell either way.

Taking another sip of your drink, you groan slightly at the slight burn in your throat from the strong alcohol. “I mean ... fair point.” Your lips pursed unknowingly. “I don’t know Minho… I think I must have done something fucking messed up to be kicked out of the game like that. I wasn’t even thinking straight, you know, just packed my stuff and drove downtown. Ugh now I feel like shit.”

The demon in front of you glares at the glass of Martini coldly. He’s not letting you finish that shit after who knows how much alcohol that Woojin has permitted you to drink. “Do you think that overcoming cowardice is easy ? If it was that easy, everyone would go outside to get some fresh air, smell some flowers, meet new people; not fucking hide behind their screens and whatnot while talking trash about others like a bunch of scaredy-cats.” Minho spats, swiftly taking your drink away before you gulp it again.

Funny enough, you’re sitting at a bar with a demon, who’s obviously so done with your shit, but also the one that you have least expectations for listening and giving you advice. Just like how that one song goes.

Well, I shook hands with the devil

Down on the south side

And he bought us both a drink

With a pad and a pencil sat by his side

I said, "Tell me what you think".

Except that Minho didn’t buy you a drink, he actually stole yours.

“I may not know much about your world, but I’m confident that you’re very talented and passionate about what you’re doing. I saw how much effort you put into your work, staying up after midnight, heck, you barely got any sleep when you’re still working for that shitty company. I saw how much you care, Y/N and I don’t give two fucks about how much you’re doubting yourself because you’re so much more than that. I know you got this, you’re as stubborn as a human being can be, you’re not gonna let a tiny cut or bruised knee hold you back, are you ?”

You shake your head slightly, starting to acknowledge his words. You don’t get why you never noticed this but for a demon, Minho gives really good advice. In spite of his cocky personality because he thinks that he has every right to sass every human being out whenever wherever he wants to, his company always makes you feel fuzzy inside. It’s almost heartwarming but that makes no sense because demons are nowhere near ‘sweet and caring’.

A strange look flashes in his eyes when his eyes meet yours but before you can properly react, it vanishes. “You’re not drinking ever again… at least not for the time being.” He tells you off with his eyes before chugging the whole glass. Woah, good shit, he admits internally. And he’s mildly surprised that you’re taking this better than he’d thought. Other young producers would have been bawling their eyes out by now, not talking to a creature from the underworld.

“Alcohol helps me sleep.” You pout slightly, feeling the need to actually pay Woojin back when you get paid again. Oh wait… but you’re practically unemployed. “Insomnia is painstakingly arbitrary, like a needle that’s constantly pricking my spine whenever I’m trying to get comfy in bed. Guess I’m not sleeping tonight, thanks a lot.” You huff and lean over on the wooden counter, cheek pressed against your left upper arm.

Although Minho thinks that you look ridiculously cute right now with tinted pink cheeks and messy hair, he’s still not gonna buy you another drink. “They do say that insomnia is just another word for chit chatting with the demons during bedtime. And you’ve already wolfed down three fucking Vodka Martinis by the time I teleported here, aren’t you concerned about the stupid hangover tomorrow morning ? I swear to Lucifer— are you even listening to me right now ?”

Minho asks in disbelief when you stay unresponsive. The demon peels his eyes away from the empty glass and turns his head only to find you already fallen asleep, like a bear in hibernation. Your eyes are closed shut, chest heaving up and down rhythmically as you drift away from the cruel reality and into dreamland. Truth be told, you tend to fall asleep whenever he’s lecturing you a lot, and that gives him an excuse to stay for a little more than he should.

two.

Hangover hits you with a bang, almost knocks you out cold. But it’s not going to let you pass out, at least not before you start regretting the amount of alcohol that you chugged last night. Your eyes are still screwed shut, refusing to flutter open as your head throbs uncontrollably. Usually you would have been awake by now since you’re dumb enough to have white curtains instead of colored ones which helps the sunlight goes right through your apartment.

But something seems off today because there’s nothing that’s bothering your eyes. And you would definitely sleep in if it wasn’t for the strange feeling beneath your skin. Wait a second… A worrisome feeling runs down your spine, causing your eyes to open. You look down and check your clothes properly, everything stays the same except for… hold on, since when did you have a silky black sheet ?

“You woke up, finally. Be grateful that you’re on time for breakfast.” Someone’s voice booms in the distance when your eyes adjust themselves on the foreign surroundings. The studio apartment in front of you has your jaw dropped to the floor. Minimal yet modern pieces of furniture, a fully equipped kitchenette and an enormous window that gives you a breathtaking view of the whole city. This isn’t your apartment, is it ?

You groan loudly before pushing yourself off the bed and shiver slightly when your feet come in contact with the cold floor. “Tylenol’s on the table, you’re welcome.” Minho says nonchalantly as he has his back against you. You drag yourself to the dining table and pop the pills into your mouth before downing the glass of water beside them.

Yeah, no, you’re not drinking ever again.

“What are you doing ?” You ask him in a raspy tone and sniff your nose continuously at the aroma that’s filling the entirety of the apartment. Minho stays silent, deciding to fully concentrate on his current task. When you suddenly approach him from behind and place your head lazily on his shoulder, he almost drops the pot of freshly made soup. His chest swells a bit whenever you get close to his body, whether it is because it’s all in his head or just you having that kind of effect on him, he dares not to know.  

“Tsk, you’re in my way, shoo.” He sneers, motioning for you to move so that he can transfer the pot over to the table in peace. Minho quickly scoops the thick liquid into a smaller bowl and gives you a look. You just stare at the hearty soup in complete awe, mouth slightly watered. No one has ever cooked for you before, much less a pot full of hangover soup. And you would be lying if you said that you’re not touched right now because you feel like it’s been forever since you’ve had homemade food.

Lee Minho never changes, still ever so caring.

He sits down at the table and pushes the bowl towards you. “Eat this and write me a 1000 words essay for instant feedback later.” Without a word, you automatically take a spoonful into your mouth, almost choking because of how hot it is. “Dude, it’s not 1945 anymore. If this goes on, you’re not gonna die from anything other than choking yourself.” He purses his lips at your eagerness, dabbing the excess soup away with a napkin on the corner of your lips.

After coughing furiously, you figure that your voice can finally function normally. “I didn’t know that you can cook, god this soup is everything.” In the next ten minutes, you finish inhaling the whole bowl as if you’ve walked through the desert, searching for an oasis for a week straight.

You’ve never let anyone cook for you other than your parents because one, none of your friends can cook, Changbin almost burnt your apartment down while Jisung came up with the idea to crack eggs with a knife; and two, you still remember a creepy story you once heard on a podcast vividly. Basically, there’s this girl who allowed her date to make her a meal on their very first encounter. She was hospitalized a week later, suspecting food poisoning but the test results came out as cannibalism. Yikes.

“Demons eat souls, not human flesh you paranoid bitch.” Minho reads your thoughts in a matter of seconds before taking his wooden spoon and smack you on the head. He looks unimpressed right now, he really does because he’s so over your delusional ass from binge-watching way too many investigation related shows at three a.m. “They’re not even that tasty, I’d rather have a boring sandwich.”

You scoff at him, rubbing the spot where he hit previously. “You can’t have mine then, it’s too dark for you.”

“A ‘thank you’ would be nice.” He almost grit, lips pressed into a thin line.

You stand up from the wooden stool and carry the dishes over to the newly renovated silver sink. “This is your place ?” You ask while turning on the faucet to spray water all over the dirty bowl. “It’s really nice, not gonna lie. Just not as nice as mine.”

When you’re having your back against him, Minho looks somewhat guilty. What would Hyunjin say if he found out that his roommate brought a mundane mortal home and even made her a bowl of hangover soup ? “For the time being, it is.” Whatever, Hyunjin’s staying in Italy for a good two weeks anyway. With a little bit more effort of ridding off your human scent and reorganize some stuff, Minho can pretty much pass without being suspected. “And what do you expect ? That I’m gonna leave you at the bar where sketchy people are getting wasted ? FYI, a demon doesn’t necessarily have to own a place where it’s just full of miserable souls swimming around. I take my beauty sleep very seriously, actually, all of us do. Even Satan.”

You carefully line the dishes up on the white rack next to the sink and sighs. “Beauty sleep ? I don’t know her.” When you turn around to face Minho, his lips are slightly curled upwards. “What, Minho ?” You ask, slightly annoyed.

He props his head onto his palms and cocks his head to the side. “What will you do now ? Going home is a no-no, obviously, and I believe that your coworkers/best friends are flipping the whole city upside down looking for you so your apartment isn’t really an option anymore. What’s next Y/N ?”

You think for a bit and hum. “Technically I’m running away ...so…why not make the best out of it ?” Then, something clicks and your eyes lit up in mischief. “I have an idea. It’s genius, a fucking genius idea.”

Minho immediately shakes his head furiously, looking like he’s encountering a panic attack. “Hate it.”

“You love it, don’t even lie to yourself.”

“It’s humiliating.”

You reach your hands inside your pocket to look for your keys. “Too late.” That’s when Minho knows that he doesn’t have a say in this.

three.

“You know what’s more fun than this ?” Minho supports himself on his knees as his breaths come in short, he feels like he’s gonna throw up. Being on a rollercoaster is most definitely scarier than attending a meeting with the Underworld Authority. He still doesn’t get why humans enjoy torturing themselves as a form of pure entertainment when they can do something like educate themselves by reading more books. “Hearing Lucifer play the fiddle, the Devil plays it damn good and a fun demon to hang around. He’s a real entertainer, trust me. Just hire a lawyer beforehand if you’re signing any contract with him.”

Minho’s making it sound like you’re planning on having ‘a thing’ with Lucifer meanwhile he practically follows you everywhere, watches your every move and you think that’s close enough for an example of the infamous slavery contract.

You run a hand through your hair and exhale in satisfaction. Since middle school, you haven’t really got a chance to come to amusement parks before. You’re far too caught up with the new tempo to life these days. “Come on, it’s not that bad. It ain’t my fault when you can’t teleport us both to somewhere further.” You almost laugh at his current state; disheveled hair, beads of sweat rolling down on his forehead, and he looks as pale as a ghost like he just saw one. Not like he’s terrified of ghosts or anything, actually, he might be scared of heights.

“You can’t teleport with me for fuck’s sake, even when I want to, you’ll end up disintegrating into dusts forever because your mortal body doesn’t have enough energy to recollect itself piece by piece.” Minho grits and shakes his head slightly to adjust the messy mop of hair on his head. He looks really cute, you think. Like a cat that’s trying to clean itself but can’t quite reach the itchy spot.

Upon your stubbornness because he knows too well that you just wanna see him being drowned in misery, Minho can’t help but roll his eyes. “And can you get any dumber ? You have a fucking Range Rover and a valid license. Technically, there’s no law against driving with a demon sitting in your vehicle. Ugh, I really should have left you at the bar last night.”

Right when you’re about to snap back at him with a witty comment, your phone buzzes loudly. And your eyes are about to jump out of their sockets the moment you open up the device. There are more than thirty missed calls, from your family and friends along with countless texts filled with nothing but concern. Changbin and Jisung both work under the same label as you so you assume that your family already knew everything. Now you feel guilty for running away so spontaneously because after all, you do have people who are always willing to be there for you.

[ 3:25pm ]

jisung | dude, I’m outside, open up

jisung | we know everything already

changbin | Y/N I’m bringing food over, you’re gonna binge-watch Netflix with us whether you want to or not

[ 3:27pm ]

jisung | uhm, hello ? Y/N ?

changbin | we’re breaking in if you’re not coming out, FYI

[ 3:35pm ]

jisung | you know I have the keys right, we’re gonna go in

changbin | this isn’t fucking funny

jisung | stop being such a stubborn piece of shit

[ 3:36pm ]

jisung | Y/N where the fuck are you ?!

changbin | …. look, just go home, your family are worried sick

[ 3:45pm ]

jisung | at least call me back ?

changbin | whatever you’re planning on doing, don’t do it

[ 9:23pm ]

chan | call me, I’m not going anywhere

Sensing your racing thoughts and seeing your tense posture, Minho swiftly takes your phone away from your hand and drops it into his pocket. The last thing he wants to see is you curled up into a ball and cry alone in the bathroom. “You’re so rude ? What kind of human are you, Y/N ? This is how you’re treating your date ?” He huffs, arms crossed in front of his chest like a little kid. But wait, a date ?

“This is not a date, Lee Minho, stop flirting with me.” You knit your brows together in confusion when his eyes twinkle. What’s with his demon nature being on steroids right now ? “Give me my phone.” You order.

“It’s a date when I say that it’s a date.” Minho reaches his hand outwards and links his fingers with yours. He quickly narrows the proximity between the two of you, backing you up against a wall. Utterly speechless, you find yourself dumbfoundedly melting into his touch. How can a demon possess such radiant warmth and tenderness ? Is it all just a facade or does he seem more human when he’s around you, you can’t tell either way. But what you do know is that when you relax a bit and let him hold your hand properly, it fits like a glove.

Minho cocks his head and cracks a smile. For the longest time, you’ve never noticed anyone looking at you with so much sincerity and affection. Maybe it’s all in your head after all. “What now ? You wanna watch a movie and put our hands into the popcorn at the same time to see what’ll happen or nah ?” You question, but it feels more like a question towards yourself.

Minho chuckles lightheartedly. “You’re so damn predictable Y/N.”

The rest of the night is absolutely magical. You feel like you’re acting in one of those One Direction’s music videos that’s not the typical ‘too good to be true’ kind. It really does remind you a lot of ‘Night Changes’ when Minho almost slips while holding onto you like a cat that just came in contact with water. Meaning, if it weren’t for your mediocre ice-skating skills way back from middle school, everything would have been exactly like the music video itself, in which you don’t mind. Because it’s Lee Minho, because his warm presence is something you never knew you needed in your life, because you always have this sense of comfort and happiness even when he starts cursing so loudly that your ears bleed. Demon or not, him being him is truly a blessing already.

Minho says. “I told you it’s humiliating.” He links your hand into his before stuffing it inside his pocket and drags you away from the front entrance. His hand’s got a lot warmer from staying inside his coat for so long and that makes him more human than ever. In which, makes you feel fuzzy.

“You freaking loved it, you can’t tell me otherwise.” You shake your head in denial.

“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes for the tenth time. “Let’s go home.”

four.

The next day, Minho somehow convinces you to drive back to your apartment for packing. Not for running away this time, he’s had enough of that shit. But for a trip back to your hometown instead ( you really should have gone deeper into his ‘let’s go home’ from last night ). The flight will take approximately ten hours or more so he only gives you two hours to pack before leaving. You basically spend half an hour picking out clothes from the messy walk-in closet and another ninety minutes to fit all of them into your suitcase while having a mental breakdown inside your head.

Because gosh, what would they think ?

You’ve scared them all shitless for the last two days and now you’re just gonna show up at the front door and go “Hey, I’m done being miserable now.” ? Sounds like a pretty solid plan but you doubt that your mom’s not planning to beat you up with her favorite broom that’s covered in nothing but dust and spiderwebs. Not to mention, your brother is definitely gonna grill your ass for causing such a commotion in your family. You can already imagine him waiting for you at the foyer with crossed arms, getting ready to lecture the heck out of you.

“Did you lose your favorite pair of shoes or something ?” Minho suddenly fades into your room, making you jump slightly. You’ve got used to his particular ways of intruding your personal space but the demon never seems to fail at surprising you.

You glare at him. “Look who’s being rude now.”

Minho purses his lips. “I didn’t know humans were notorious for being terribly indecisive when it comes to their belongings.” He almost sneers, leaning back against your bedroom wall.

“That’s not the problem.” Yeah, that’s not the problem because not every human takes pain in packing their stuff, it’s just a ‘you’ problem. “I’m coming home after scaring the shit out of my loved ones. I wouldn’t blame them if they hated me, it’s just that I don’t know what to say. What do I say in situations like this ? School didn’t teach me that.” A sigh escapes your lips as you kick your suitcase towards the door. And you’re kinda glad that Changbin and Jisung left your apartment last night, specifically when you called them at one a.m. because you were driving back with a demon right next to the shotgun window.

Minho politely grabs the doorknob and pushes the door open for you. Now that was a first. You almost smile at his out-of-nowhere kind gesture. Normally, he would have teleported to the front porch and complained about how you’re always taking so long. “Hurry up dumbass, we don’t have all day.” He raises his brow at your thoughts.

“Tsk, you’re not the one who’s driving.”

Minho can’t drive, sadly. Partially because he doesn’t see the point in moving around in a fucking box with four wheels when he’s fully capable of teleporting from one place to another within a snap of his fingers. And partially because he can’t afford erasing some cops’ memories because they might have some kind of innovative technology that’ll automatically record when things go down. Another reason is that he might or might not chug a whole bottle of whiskey while driving just because he feels like it.

“It’s cold, roll down the windows.” Minho reminds you when he enters your car because gosh, you always love to keep the temperature at a minimum of 71 degrees even when it’s freezing outside. His cold-hearted demon ass is quaking because another cold case remains another mystery for the entirety of humanity. “You’d be a badass demon, just saying. I’m surprised that you’re still alive at this point.” He shakes his head in disapproval and leans forward to turn off the AC. Not because he’s cold but he’s afraid that you’ll actually freeze to death before you two can even make it to the airport.

You kick the brake when the first red light occurs. “Just admit it, you’re cold. If anything, you can always hold my hand.”

“Okay,” He blinks numerous time at your reply. When did you become such a brat ? You’ve been acting like him these past few days and now he knows how it feels like. Woah, he does act like an old, bitchy cat. “Who taught you that ?”

You say, sparing him a slight smirk. “You know, only the best of the best.”

“Just don’t act like that in front of your parents, will you ?” Minho scrunches his nose at your particular way of having a civil conversation. “You did tell your parents right ?”

You nod. “Yeah, I told them that I was gonna go home sooner or later. I even texted Chan— OH MY GOD,” You let out the loudest gasp whilst trying to make sharp turn at an intersection.

“What the fuck is wrong with you ?” He gasps in disbelief at your sudden outburst, holding onto the side of your car for dear life.

“I can’t just bring a demon home !” You cry out. “You’d be considered safe if it weren’t for my brother. He just happens to be home for break. God, do you know how protective he is when it comes to bringing a guy home ?!” One time, you asked your desk mate from highschool to do a project at your house and Chan didn’t even hesitate to put him on trial. Luckily, they talked things out pretty smoothly and became friends later. Now Felix’s probably the only guy who wouldn’t be thrown off a cliff for breathing in the same room as you.

Minho stares at you weirdly for a full twenty seconds, and that makes you think he’s mentally judging you, which he totally is. “Wouldn’t me being your boyfriend the best option then ?”

“Are you dumb, or are you dumb ?” You haven’t dated anyone since elementary school and the relationship didn’t even last a week. And now out of nowhere you’re just gonna bring a ‘boyfriend’ home after running away ? That’s practically equivalent to adding fuel to the fire and you doubt that Minho’s comprehend the situation correctly. That’s it, you’re officially letting all hell break loose from here. “Yeah, go ahead and be my boyfriend if you wanna sleep with the fishes.”

He throws a look at you. “Is that a challenge ?”

“Better not dress like that in front of my family then.” You glance at his bold choice of a silky wine colored dress shirt along with leather pants and combat boots. Can’t have him walking around looking like a celebrity now, can you ? Although he does look good in them… so annoying.

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

However, Minho’s outfit is most definitely the least of your worries.

five.

“Don’t tell me that you thought this through because-“

Minho says in a hushed tone. “I did think this through, baby. Loosen up a bit.” A devilish smirk blooms on his lips as he tucks some loose strands of hair behind your ear. He really needs to stop doing that because you’re already a blushing mess. He switched out his usual clothes and went for a comfortable hoodie with some jeans and sneakers. You hate him even more now because the demon easily pulled off the perfect boyfriend look.

Grimacing, you slap his hand away. “I’m not your fucking baby. And keep your hands to yourself, will you ?” And with that, you turn on your heels and make a beeline towards the kitchen where everyone’s busy setting up the table, leaving him in the living room alone.

Minho unconsciously plops himself onto the white faux leather couch and looks around in awe. Your house sort of symbolizes you because it’s minimal in the best way with a white color scheme and the occasional colorful tiny details on some of the decorative pieces. He starts pondering about how you never told him anything about your family in Australia. And although you grew up in a pretty well-off household, you didn’t flaunt your wealth. That makes you much more admirable in his eyes because not everyone can keep their mouth shut for more than two seconds when it comes to money.

Truth is, when your parents saw Minho for the very first time, they totally freaked out and drove to the nearest supermarket to shop for more ingredients. Now the house is filled with the aroma of a variety of grilled meat, vegetables, seafood and rice. He finally understands why you’re always homesick because gosh, who wouldn’t miss this kind of homemade food ? Minho props his head onto his hand as he watches your hard-working back figure from the living room, arranging the dishes onto the dining table with a smile on your face. And that stirs something inside him, he just doesn’t want to know it yet.

And Berry - your very much spoiled dog - is absolutely terrified by his dark presence. She keeps barking whenever he tries to pick her up, then ends up whimpering in the corner later. “Berry, don’t be rude ! He’s no stranger to us now.” Your mom nags while looking at Minho with an apologetic look. “Minho, honey, come join us. There’s no need to be so formal.” She offers him a seat at your family’s table warmly and he can already see where you got your smile from.

When he beams at her words and quickly takes the seat right beside you, you secretly roll your eyes at him. “I didn’t know dogs were supposed to be scared of demons. This is so obvious.” As you continue to complain about how he’s not acting naturally and all in a small tone, your hand automatically reaches for the chopsticks and picks out some lamb loin chops onto his plate. Minho simply brushes your words off, muttering a quick ‘thanks babe’ before pressing a kiss on your cheek.

Your eyes widen in surprise at his action, immediately darting towards your family members else whom have already gathered around. But before you can react properly, your dad cuts you off. “How sweet of you two.” He shows that signature ‘dad smile’ which never fails to melt your heart. “Don’t they remind you of us when we were young, dear ?” He tells your mom.

“Certainly, I still remember how—“

“Uhm, so, how did you two meet ?” Your brother - Chan - who’s sitting across the table tries his very best not to gag and changes the topic before things get out of hand. Your dad used to tell you about his first encounter with your mom, their first date and etc.. as an alternative version for the regular bedtime stories session. Chan has known too much already.

“We met at a dinner through a mutual friend during her business trip to Paris. I knew she didn’t come from Europe so if I didn’t ask for her number then, we would never meet again.” Minho has already made up a story during the dreadfully long flight, now all he has to do is read outloud. Easy mode. “We kept in touch and eventually, I moved back to Korea to meet her and stayed with her since then.”

Chan hums as a response, he doesn’t hate Minho yet, you can tell. “Why didn’t you tell me about him, Y/N ? Dad was so close to talking to Felix’s parents about setting you two up.”

You gulp slightly to hide your nervousness. Under the table, Minho squeezes your hand in reassurance, and that gives you enough courage to explain slowly. “I didn’t want to freak you out with our long distance relationship. You might go nuts knowing that I’m dating a guy who I’ve only met once and he’s nearly six thousand miles away.” And setting you up with Felix ? You would never let that happen. Not in a million years. It makes you shiver just thinking about holding your highschool deskmate’s hand while walking down the aisle. “And dad, Lee Felix ? Really ? I would rather be single.”

Your dad laughs. “Come on, he’s a pretty decent boy. Too bad he’s traveling overseas right now or I might invite him over.”

“So, Minho,” Chan sips on his drink. “What do you do for a living ?” When you two arrived at the front door, he finds such little amount that Minho’s luggage holds a bit skeptical, as if your relationship and the idea of coming home happens overnight. And how he wears clothes pretty casual too for a first time meeting the parents but Chan knows better than to judge a book by its cover. However, he wants to make sure that your ‘boyfriend’ doesn’t do drugs of any kind.

Minho doesn’t even hesitate. “I’m a dancer and owns a dance studio with my friend after when I flew back to Korea. I was in Paris for an internship over the summer.” You just sit there, blinking at him in disbelief like a total dumbass. Now you’re starting to wonder how it feels like to dance with the Devil. And if it weren’t for him kicking your leg under the table, your face would have given it away.

“Hmm, interesting.” Chan nods in acknowledgement. Well, at least he’s not unemployed… could have been worse.

Your mom advises thoughtfully as she walks over to the kitchen aisle and refills the plate of beef. “Oh, and be careful with the sauce for the lamb, it’s quite hot. If you’re not good with spicy food, just leave it out.”

“No, it’s fine. Actually, I can handle spicy stuff pretty well.. unlike someone over here.” Minho glances over at you. You immediately gut him with your elbow, earning a low grunt followed by a lighthearted chuckle of your family members.

“Minho can handle spicy things only because he’s getting old. His taste buds are losing their senses.” Your comment is partially true because he once told you that he’s been around for quite awhile. Definitely a lot older than the new batch of demons. He stopped counting at some point but ensured you that it’s somewhere from fifteen thousand and twenty thousand.

Minho looks at your sternly as the corners of his lips curled up. You’re already low-key mortified of what he’s going to say. “If you’re gonna act like a brat for the rest of the night, I’ll have to make sure that your legs will lose their sense by tomorrow morning.” Yep, there it is. You’re so used to his flirtatious remarks to the point that they don’t faze you anymore but having your family witness this is another level of torture. Minho’s definitely the type of guy ( if he were an actual human being ) who can’t be bothered about publicity and would straight up kiss you in the middle of the street.

And it doesn’t help either when Chan just doesn’t laugh loudly at your ‘boyfriend’s’ less than appropriate joke, he’s also on his side. Along with your parents. “I like you, not everyone can make her shut up like that.” Your brother nods in approval, clapping happily like a seal. Your parents even supply unhelpfully. “Try to keep it down and use protection, okay kids ?” Is this what betrayal feels like ?

You feel so adopted at that moment.

six.

“What the hell are you doing here ?” You try to groan as quietly as possible when you find Minho creeping up to you in the living room. “What part of ‘you can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch, wake up before everyone else then come back to my room later on’ couldn’t you understand ?” A compromise was almost made, and he fucking blew it.

He chuckles and looks at you dreamily. For a second there, you really thought that he was sleep-walking. His brown hair is in a bird nest, accommodated by a pair of plaid pants and white t-shirt. This prick never fails to make your heart skip a beat. You’re glad that at least he doesn’t sleep shirtless like your brother. It gives you major nightmares since middle school just by waking him up every morning.

“I can’t sleep on a foreign bed..” Minho pouts. He really can’t, especially when you’re not around. And he’s not risking the chance of one of your folks or Chan accidentally. barging into the room when he’s doing some voodoo shit either.

You huff tiredly and walk over to him, grabbing the pillow from his arms before throwing it on the couch along with your blanket. Well, lucky him, your parents just happen to love ginormous couches and you’re far too lazy to drag him back to your bedroom. “Come here.” You order after plopping yourself onto the soft surface, letting out a prolonged yawn. Minho takes a good ten seconds to look at you again. He can’t help but keep staring like a creep when you’re in an oversized t-shirt with shorts underneath, exposing your bare thighs. You’re too cute for your own good.

You say when he remains silent. “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

He obediently nods, quickly settling down under the blanket. You two shuffle around for a bit until no one’s uncomfortable with less than a few inches away from each other. And when you decide to flip yourself over to face the wall, Minho gently pulls your back flush against his chest. Your eyes fly open at the sudden contact. “What-the-fuck-do-you-think-you’re-doing ?” You turn around and stare at him square in the eye.

Even in the dark, his eyes are gleaming with a demonic glint of silver. He beams innocently at your threatening tone. “Get comfortable ?”

“I mean…” You hesitate for a few seconds. Because you’d hate to admit but it does feel kinda nice having his warmth radiating off from underneath his thin shirt. It makes you feel fuzzy inside, more secure, more like you’re finally home. “If you don’t mind then…” You gather up every last bit of courage and energy to scoot yourself towards him, your arms snaking around on either side and hug his torso closer, your face buried in his chest.

And it takes every single strand of willpower for Minho to not jump and teleport to the nowhere. His breath starts to quicken when your body is practically attached to his. He didn’t expect this at all. It might be because you’re exhausted from the flight so you’re just far too sleepy to be conscious of your own actions. But anyhow, he’s not against the idea of having you in his arms like this. It makes him more relaxed knowing that you’re safe in his sound right here.

So Minho drapes one of his arms around your waist to hold you in place and the other underneath his head, straddling his legs with yours to keep them warm since you’re only wearing shorts. “Thanks for dinner, by the way.” He murmurs into your hair, taking in the scent of your familiar shampoo.

“If anything, you should be thanking my parents. They looked like they just saw Jesus when you first arrived.” You say and snuggle closer to him.

He chuckles, sending vibrations to the tip of your nose. “Admit it, your family’s in love with me. Even your brother isn’t half as bad as you made it sound. I think he would actually have nothing against our wedding.”

You make a face and lift your head upwards to look at him. “Dude, it’s just really good acting. Such a shame how the other Lee Minho gets the title of an actor when you’re over here stuck with being a demon.” If you’re being completely honest, you’re kinda scared right now. Because one, all of this is just a big play and when you fly back to Korea, it may seem like nothing has ever happened. And two, if this goes way too far, your family might disown you for ‘breaking up’ with Minho when he wasn’t even your boyfriend in the first place.

“Actually, I’d be glad to take the title of being your boyfriend instead.” And the thumping force inside your chest picks up the pace as you can feel your cheeks heating up. His simple acknowledgement makes you flustered, absolutely moonstruck. No one has ever said that to you before, well, partially because you’re super single but you can’t help but let those words affect you tremendously. “Where do you want to go for our honey—“

“We’re not getting married.” You hiss at him like a snake.

Minho draws a cat-like grin on his lips, mischief glistening in his eyes. “Nuh uh too late. I’ll consider you as my own from now on, Mrs. Lee.”

You reply flatly. “You talk a lot for a demon who treasures their beauty sleep. You’re not vampires and you don’t watch people in their sleep, do you ?” The only person Minho watches in their sleep is you, but he’s not saying that to your face. And that was one time, one-time.

Upon his silence, you raise a brow. “Wait, you do ?”

“Who I watch in their sleep is none of your business, Y/N.” He replies with flaming cheeks.

You giggle. “I knew it, you’re related to Edward Cullen.”

“No, not that bitch Edward !” Minho makes a disgusted face but can’t contain his laughter for long. God, what are you doing to him ?

seven.

You wake up with a cold sensation wrapping around your feet. With body shivering slightly, you instinctively nuzzle your head into the nearest heat source, retreating your legs deeper into the fuzzy blanket. Groaning, you shake your head slightly to shake the weariness away. This is why you hate long flights with a passion because you’re never not gonna be jet lagged for the rest of your life.

“Why do you always wake up so fucking early ?” Your eyes shoot open at the hoarse voice only to find Minho squinting his eyes at you sleepily with his bedhead and wrinkled shirt. He looks so human right now you can care less about the fact that you’ve just spent an entire night on your parents’ favorite couch with a creature from Hell. Definitely boyfriend material.

“My feet get cold easily in the morning, and that wakes me up.” You pout and hold his torso closer. Minho tries his best not to flinch when your arm brushes over his as the strangest warm feeling bubbles up inside his stomach. And you’re glad that he doesn’t snore and isn’t a messy sleeper. Just sleeps like the death, which makes sense. Unlike your best friend, Seo Changbin who sleeps like a fucking starfish with his four limbs wide open. Give him a king sized bed and he can still manage to have his blanket on the floor by the time the sun rises.

Minho runs a hand through the messy bird nest on his head which takes the breath right out of your lungs because it looks like those too good to be true shampoo commercials with people who have shiny, luminous hair. But those models spend hours on a wooden stool for their stylists to make it look like they didn’t even try but they’re not even close to Minho’s league because he needs none of that in order to look attractive.

Finally, he sighs. “Go back to sleep then.” He pulls the blanket down slightly to cover your feet completely and hugs your waist closer so that your upper body won’t be bothered by the morning breeze. “I’ll make breakfast later, what do your folks usually prefer ?”

You look up at him in awe. No one has ever offered such a sweet thing to do when they come over to your house. Not even your relatives ‘cause they’re far too busy bombarding you and Chan with questions about your personal lives rather than helping your parents out with washing the dishes after a meal is done. Minho might look cold and all but it’s all really just the typical demon facade that he’s trying to maintain. He’s actually really caring and thoughtful, you’ve found more sense of morality whenever you look into his eyes deeply than when you look at other people.

“Lee Minho is making breakfast for my family ? What’s this ? Is World War III coming ? Is the world hanging on the verge of ending ?”

He shakes his head at you in disapproval. “I just wanted to do something nice in return to last night’s dinner. Your parents really didn’t have to go all the way to the supermarket just because of me.” And he secretly enjoys seeing you munching happily on the food that he makes. How your cheeks are bunched up when you accidentally take too much of a bite, how your eyes light up in joy when you melt into the taste. He loves you for being you, for going all out without trying to act like a lady, eating quietly and shit.

You think for a bit. “They all have a big appetite, plus they’re not picky so anything will do. Just try to work with things in the fridge that you find promising ?”

“Oh okay.” Minho shrugs before leaning forward to press a kiss on your forehead. “Go back to sleep please, I beg. Jetlag is killing me, or else I’m gonna have to kiss you again and again until you get tired of me and doze off.”

With coral cheeks, you muster the calmest voice possible. “Is that a challenge ? Because if so, kiss me before I kick you off the couch.”  

He smirks at you. “If you’re willing to.” As he leans in closer, you can feel your confidence level decreasing dramatically, your heart feels like it’s running on a treadmill endless. You’re no longer brave enough to keep eye contact so your eyes are screwed shut at some point, waiting for his lips to collide with yours.

Suddenly his phone buzzes obnoxiously on the coffee table, making you two pull away in a hassle. “Sorry, I gotta take this.” Minho says sheepishly as he sits straight up and grabs his phone. The apologetic smile on his face drops when he sees the caller’s ID. He swipes right to answer, placing the cool device close to his ear. “Yeah, Hyunjin ?”

“Hyung, you’re going too far. Come back.”  

eight.

It’s been a few weeks later, and your family can’t stop gushing over how lucky you are to find a boyfriend like Minho.

You start getting daily voice messages from your parents, asking if you’re taking good care of yourself, if Minho’s treating you well, if anything’s been hard lately. Oh boy you sure regret running away before because your parents keep checking up on you every two hours. If not for Minho, they would have made you move back to Australia for who knows how long.

With that being said, Minho is obligated to move in with you. But you’re not complaining at all because cuddling with him is naturally carved into you like second nature. Even Jisung and Changbin didn’t bother to question why you start to have two mugs by the sink, two pairs of slippers by the shoe rack and a foreign smell of cologne all over your couch. They’ve probably figured it out that you got yourself ‘a man’ since the night that you came back to the apartment in such a rush.

And from then, you wonder why you’ve never considered having a roommate before. There are always really shitty excuses inside your head like : what if your roommate has some kind of questionable habits, what if they’re secretly a part of some mafia organization ? But really, it’s because he’s Lee Minho, because you’re too utterly soft for him. Nonetheless, you did learn a few things from spending more time with him rather than locking yourself up with work.

The feeling of having someone waiting for you to come home is beyond heartwarming. And you’ve also learnt to use your time and effort on someone else rather than just yourself. It actually feels really nice because his presence brings more than just a sense of comfort and happiness to you. There’s something about him that’s irreplaceable. As if he’s your soulmate, that one person who adores you to the moon and back, who’s willing to bring out the best in you and deal with you when you’re at your lowest.

But the whole concept of soulmate is still debatable because life isn’t just peaches and cream, it’s roses and thorns.

“Something’s bothering you, tell me.” You make the sharpest of a turn to the left to snap Minho back to reality. You don’t like when people keep ignoring your questions.

“Nothing’s bothering me.” He answers flatly. Obviously, he’s lying because he’s only spoken to you seven words maximum since you started the car. “Follow-the-GPS-to-reach-the-destination.” That’s it. No more. No less.

You scoff. “Something’s clearly bothering you. I don’t need your mind reading crap to know what you’re thinking.” You’re trying so hard not to take an argument out on him, especially when you’re driving to somewhere you don’t even know. But Minho’s not dumb, you bet he already had everything planned out on his mind. There’s a reason for everything, so you don’t have anything against driving in the middle of the night, just because he insisted you to.

He voices. “I’m thinking about surprising you.” And when you glance at him sideways, there are those specks of playfulness glistening in his midnight orbs again. But there’s also something else, and it’s unfathomable. “Trust me, you’ll love it.” He reassures you with a somewhat forced smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Fine.” You sigh in defeat, carefully pulling over not to hit the tree by the road.

Minho jumps out of the vehicle first. “We’re here.” You roll your eyes at him playfully and follows not long after.

And the sight in front of your eyes leaves you speechless. Even in the eerie darkness, your eyes can still make out the vibrant display of multicolored flowers all over the green field. The sweet scent soon fills your nostrils, making your eyes go wide in awe. “Come on, over here.” Minho links his hand into yours and drags you along the dirt road, trying his best not to step on any flower. Once he stops, you realize that you’re in the middle of the field, surrounded by the most surreal things that you thought could only happen in fairy tales.

The sky represents a black curtain being draped over your entire universe, with milky swirls and glitter specks dancing elegantly in various patterns. It’s transcendental, you think. How the sight have all of your worries and concerns disintegrate into dust, how you’re here with him as time seems to stop when he looks at you with nothing but pure devotion in his eyes. You’re hanging by this moment, waiting for him to say something. “Do you like it ?” He breathes out ever so softly.

You nod repeatedly. “I love it, thank you, thank you, thank you !” Mixed emotions burst inside your chest and you unconsciously fall into his embrace as if you were meant to be there all along. You bury your head into the crook of his neck, letting his more than familiar cologne hug you like a warm blanket.

Minho opens his mouth to say something but snaps it close later on. The bitterness inside is making him nauseous, burying every last bit of courage to the bottom pit of his stomach. He has so much, so much to tell you yet nothing comes out right.

He’s the first to pull away. “I’m glad that you like it, Y/N.” Take good care of yourself, okay ?

“Of course I like it, it’s everything !” You smile, not noticing how there are tears brimming in the corners of his eyes when it’s so dark outside.

Minho tries to hide the shakiness in his voice. “Close your eyes, the stars will grant a wish to whoever has enough sincerity and purity.” You’ll be fine without me, will you ?

“A wish ? I guess…” You close your eyes, tightening the grip on Minho’s hands, accidentally ignoring how his hands are getting colder, and colder by the second. “There, I made a wish !” Your eyes fly open as you giggle happily. “We should come here more often, don’t you think ? Promise me that we’ll be here every week.” You extend your pinky finger outwards.

Minho nods, intertwining his finger with yours. “I promise.” I’ll miss you.

As a silent tear rolls down on his cheek, his orbs flash a shade of crimson red.

eight & ½.

Changbin cries out dramatically. “Y/N, a little help over here ? Hello ?” He’s struggling real hard to open the door while carrying the groceries all by himself.

You quickly snap out of it, running to help him with the whopping five paper bags in his arms. “Sorry, I just thought that I saw someone who looked familiar.”

He cranes his neck tiredly after stuffing the bags into the backseats of his Tesla. “Could be some guy who reached out to you before. You know how the industry works, if they want you, they gotta have you. So be careful, creepy people are literally everywhere.”

“Right..” You trail off and jump into his car, shutting the door close. Even when Changbin twists his key and drives away from the supermarket, you can’t help but turn your head constantly to see if there’s anyone. On the way out, you made eye contact with someone, who has an odd ray of red in their eyes. Normally, things like this would have crept you out but you found an unexpected sense of familiarity in those eyes. Perhaps you’ve met before ?

But why… red ?

“Hey Bin…” You start. “Do you believe in soulmates ?”

Changbin snickers. “What the fuck is wrong with you today ? Are you sick ?”

You wave your hand to brush the topic off. “You’re right, I stayed up until three last night, can really use a nap right now.” Maybe everything’s in your head after all.

But little did you know, from across the streets, the silhouette of a demon who once shared unforgettable memories with you is embedded onto the cold brick wall. Minho has his arms crossed in front of his chest, mind blank, eyes empty. He only dares to watch in silence as your friend drives you away, fighting back the voices inside his head that are yelling at him to just hug you, to see your smile, to hear your laughter.

Little did you know, he longs to be by your side again. Minho tried to force himself into hating you but he can’t. He can’t because you taught him how to love, because you mean far more than just the universe to him, because blaming hurts more than trying to forget you. But before things get out of hand, he managed to get a hold of himself and decided to cut ties with you for good.

This is for the better, he keeps telling himself.

People say that there’s no sorrow in the demons. Since joy and sorrow are like fire and ice, there’s no possibilities for them to exist in the same subject. Demons are believed to find joy in those who despise God’s commands, and rejoice over this kind of sinister power. Therefore, there’s no sorrow in the demons. Meaning, demons can never feel heartbroken because they simply don’t have one.

If so, then why can Minho hear something shattering into pieces inside his chest ? That’s because he’s experienced something other demons aren’t supposed to. He finally knows what it feels like to actually be ‘someone’ to someone, what it feels like to think of them all day and smile stupidly about it.

And that’s something other demons are fortunate enough to not get themselves into. Because they wouldn’t want to know how painful it is to not being able to be with their loved one. Demons attract other demons by their scents so if a demon fell in love with a mortal being, that one human will live in constant danger.

Not to mention, it’s going against God to fall in love with someone who’s so different, so out of reach. And Minho could never risk losing you to anything but he can risk it all to protect you.

“I just feel so fucking broken.”

“You’ll be fine.” Hyunjin gently places a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

But it is love after all… what can he do ?