#hand eye coordination must be really good

[scarnatlover]

hello!! can i request an aubrey plaza x reader wherein reader visits aubrey on set? just something super fluffy and soft! have a good day tyia!!

Set visit surprise

Pairing: Aubrey Plaza x Reader (romantic)

Warnings: none

A/N: I'm sorry if anything is spelled incorrectly, but English is not my first language. I apologize in advance for my grammar and spelling. If you have any request (read this first), I will try and write them.

Taglist

A.P. Masterlist

The sun sank below Los Angeles and painted everything golden. Y/N leaned her forehead against the glass of the hotel room window as she watched out at the spread of lights making up the night skyline. Just back to L.A., coming from the relentless week she faced in Seattle from meetings across to negotiations. However, it was not work that brought her here this time around, because there was an aftermath of sorts-the surprise party waiting for Aubrey Plaza while shooting her next movie.

Y/N had been counting down the days until she could see Aubrey again. Their busy schedules often tore them apart, but Y/N was determined to make this visit particularly special. She had spent the last few days coordinating with Aubrey's assistant to ensure that her arrival would be a complete surprise. Now, with a few hours to spare before Aubrey wrapped for the day, Y/N felt a mix of excitement and nerves.

Having showered in record time and putting on a chic yet comfortable outfit, Y/N snatched her bag and left. She clutched a small bouquet of wildflowers in her hand-Aubrey's favorite. The drive to the studio was one filled with anticipation, and Y/N couldn't help but smile at the thought of seeing Aubrey's face light up when she walked onto the set.

Arriving at the studio, Y/N took a deep breath, her heart racing. The bustling atmosphere was alive with crew members setting up equipment and actors rehearsing lines. She approached the reception desk, her nerves bubbling beneath the surface. ��Hi, I’m here to see Aubrey Plaza,” she said, trying to sound confident. She was a lawyer and, as such, full of confidence, sometimes even coming across as arrogant, but outside of the office, she had always been a discreet person, not particularly skilled at socializing with other people but especially very shy.

The secretary finally looked up-a knowing smile played on her features. "You must be Y/N! Aubrey mentioned you might stop by. Let me call her."

Y/N's heart soared when she heard her name being called. A second later, the receptionist nodded for her to follow. "You can wait in her trailer. She should be done with this scene shortly.

Y/N nodded, bubbling over with excitement, as she followed the receptionist down a narrow hallway lined with posters of past productions. Finally, they came to a small trailer with a nameplate that read "Aubrey Plaza." The receptionist lightly knocked before hearing the voice from inside telling her to come in.

The receptionist looked briefly behind her and saw Y/N looking around a bit. She proceeded to open the door of the trailer. "Aubrey! You have a visitor!" she called out and stepped aside.

Y/N stepped inside the trailer. Her breath caught in her throat. The space was so cozy, filled with touches that made it personal: photos of Aubrey with friends, family, and some of the two of them, a few quirky knick-knacks, and a small plant that seemed to be thriving under her care. But it was Aubrey who was taking Y/N's breath away.

Aubrey sat in front of a mirror, surrounded by her hair and makeup team. She was wearing an amazing outfit that really brought out her figure, and her eyes sparkled mischievously as she caught sight of Y/N in the reflection.

"Y/N!" Aubrey exclaimed, in some surprise and joy. She jumped up, and her chair squeaked as she ran toward Y/N, opening her arms wide.

Y/N laughed, feeling a surge of warmth as Aubrey wrapped her in a tight hug. "Surprise baby!" she said, pulling back into Aubrey's eyes. 

Aubrey's face softened, her smile radiant. "You have no idea how happy this makes me. I thought you were stuck in meetings all day.

"I was, but I had to make it work," Y/N replied, her heart swelling with affection. "I missed you too much."

Aubrey's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Well, you picked the perfect time to show up. We just wrapped a scene, and I have a little break before the next one. Come on, let me show you around."

"Or...." Y/N began, hands clenching into Aubrey's hips and her lips, softly beginning their tender assault up the neck, ".we stay here and just make up lost time for days that we could've spent being together." the voice whispered. Her head dug in into the crook of the actress' neck.

"No, ma'am. Not on your life." Aubrey pushed Y/N's head away lightly. "Now we will do what I want now. Tonight, though depends on how you behave in these hours with me." Then she gave her light kisses on the lips. Y/N pouted but eventually she agreed.

Y/N followed Aubrey as she led her out of the trailer and onto the bustling set. The energy was palpable, and Y/N felt a thrill as she watched the crew work seamlessly together. Aubrey walked with confidence, commanding presence even amidst the chaos.

"This is amazing," Y/N said, taking in the lights and sounds. "I can't believe how much goes into making a film."

Aubrey grinned, her eyes sparkling. "And this is just the tip of the iceberg. You should see the craziness during a live shoot. It's like organized chaos."

As they walked, Aubrey introduced Y/N to various crew members, each one greeting her with warmth and familiarity. Y/N felt a sense of belonging as she watched Aubrey interact with everyone, her charisma shining through.

Alright, I have to show you my favorite spot on set, Aubrey said, taking Y/N to a quieter corner where an outdoor area had been set up with chairs and a few potted plants. This is where I go to escape for a few minutes. It's nice to have a little peace amidst the madness.

Y/N smiled, taking in the serene space. "It's beautiful here. I can see why you love it."

Aubrey leaned against the railing, her gaze softening as she looked at Y/N. "I wish you could be here more often. It's not the same without you around."

Y/N felt the warmth spread through her chest at Aubrey's words. "I know, but I'm always cheering you on from afar. You're incredible at what you do."

Aubrey beamed wider and gently took Y/N's hand into hers, their fingers intertwining. "You have no idea how much that means to me. Sometimes, it gets overwhelming, and just knowing you're in my corner helps.

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the sounds of the set fading into the background. Y/N took a deep breath, savoring the moment. "I brought you something," she said, pulling the bouquet of wildflowers from her bag. "I thought these might brighten your day."

Aubrey's eyes sparkled, and she took the flowers, having a sniff at their sweet scent. "These are perfect! You always know how way to make me smile, baby." She leaned up and hit soft lips against Y/N's, who melted into the kiss, letting the world around them fade away.

All right, enough mushy stuff," Aubrey said, pulling back with a playful grin. "Let's get back to chaos. I want you to see me in action."

Y/N laughed and followed Aubrey back toward the set. As they walked, Aubrey filled her in on the project's details, passion dripping from each word. Y/N listened intently, her eyes caught by Aubrey's enthusiasm.

Arrived on set, Y/N felt her jaw drop. People everywhere moved lights and cameras while actors were practicing lines. It seemed as though the whole space brightened with the presence of Aubrey herself. There was just something in that moment, it swelled the chest of Y/N with pride, watching her girlfriend command attention from every last soul in that room.

"Alright, everybody! Next scene, people!" Aubrey yelled out over the racket. The crew sprang into action, and Y/N watched in awe as Aubrey slipped into her role, her demeanor shifting seamlessly from playful to serious.

Y/N found a spot off to the side, her heart racing as she took in the scene unfolding before her. Aubrey was a force of nature, her talent shining through as she delivered her lines with conviction. Y/N couldn't help but be in awe of her-love washing over her in waves.

After a few takes, the director shouted, "Break!" and Aubrey ran up to Y/N, her face flushed with excitement. "What did you think?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.

"Aubrey, you were so amazing! Seriously, I still can't fathom how naturally you transition from one character into another; you're just entirely different," Y/N replied in an awestruck tone.

The bright smile spreading across Aubrey's face spoke volumes. "Thanks! It's a lot of work, but I love it. And having you here makes it even better.".

As the day wore on, Y/N found herself caught up in the magic of filmmaking. She spoke to crew members about their roles, learning about each different one, and even caught glimpses of the behind-the-scenes magic that brought stories to life. Aubrey was in her element, and Y/N felt grateful to witness it all.

Finally, the sun began to set, casting a warm orange glow over the set. Aubrey finished her last scene for the day, and as the director yelled "cut," the crew exploded in applause. Y/N joined in, her heart welling with pride for the woman she loved.

"Great job, everyone! Let's call it a day!" the director announced, and the crew began to pack up.

Aubrey walked to Y/N, who was still flushed with excitement. "Did you enjoy it? I hope I didn't bore you with all that behind-the-scenes stuff."

"Not at all! I loved every minute of it. You're incredible, my love" Y/N exclaimed truthfully.

Aubrey softened and inched a bit closer. "I'm so glad you came. I've missed you more than words can say.

Y/N smiled, the warmth spreading over her. "I missed you, too. I just wanted to remind you how much you mean to me, even when we're apart."

Aubrey's eyes shone with emotion as she reached for Y/N's hands. "You always know just what to say to make a girl feel special. Let's celebrate your surprise visit. How about dinner at that little Italian place we love?

Y/N's heart beat faster with a flutter at the thought. "That's perfect. I just can't wait to spend more time with you.

The excitement of the day still lingered in the air, wrapping itself around them in warm embrace, as they made their way out of the studio. The sun had already dipped below the horizon, casting an orange and pink glow across the sky-perfect as the backdrop to the love that had blossomed between them. Contentedness washed over Y/N, knowing that no matter how apart they would be, no matter how busy, moments like these made it all worth it.

As they arrived at the quaint Italian restaurant, the familiar scent of garlic and herbs hit them first, transporting them to a place filled with cherished memories. They settled into a cozy corner table, the soft glow of candlelight flickering between them. Sharing plates of pasta and laughter, Y/N couldn't help but steal glances at Aubrey, her heart swelling with affection.

"Thanks for today," Aubrey said, her voice softening as she reached across the table and squeezed Y/N's hand. "You made this day unforgettable."

Y/N smiled, her heart fluttering. "I just wanted to remind you how much you mean to me. You're my inspiration, Aubrey."

There were tears of gratitude in Aubrey's eyes as she leaned her head closer to him, speaking in a whisper. "And you're my anchor. I don't know what I'd do without you.

With dinner over, conversation flowed like the current, full of dreams, plans, and all those little things that make a relationship so special. They reminisced about their favorite moments together, and Y/N couldn't help but feel joy in knowing no matter the distance, their love grew stronger.

They exited into the bright city of Los Angeles after dinner, hands clasped together. They strolled down the road as the night grew darker, with stars twinkling above; Y/N almost felt the presence of magic there. They made a stop in a small park where the sweet sounds of merrymaking and music overflowed into the night.

"Let's take a picture," Y/N suggested, pulling out her phone. Aubrey grinned, and they posed together, their faces lit up with joy. As Y/N snapped the photo, she felt a rush of happiness, knowing this was one of those moments they would always treasure.

Only after going to collect Y/N's things from the hotel and delivering them to Aubrey's, did she feel peace finally set upon her. Aubrey took Y/N in her arms and drew her near as they stared out the window at city lights. "I wish we could stay like this forever," Aubrey whispered into her ear with warmth.

“Me too,” Y/N replied, resting her head against Aubrey’s shoulder. “But I’ll always find a way to be with you, no matter what.”

And with that promise hanging in the air, their lips met in a soft, gentle kiss, sealing their love with a vow that no distance would ever take away what they had. As they pulled away, Y/N looked into Aubrey's eyes, knowing this was just the beginning of many more adventures they would share together.

And as the night wore on, they knew, no matter where life might take them, love would bring them back together again and again, their hearts forever interlacing in this exquisite dance of love and laughter.

Taglist: @thegirlwholikesrain

[americanoddysey]

Had a dream last night that A Fresh Pair of Eyes got a TV adaptation and my mom watched it before I did, for some reason. Also, Elias was a gamer with the cat ear headphones. That is all.

(he still is)

[darylbae]

there’s just smth about daryl seeing you injured maybe a broken leg or even an amputated one from a bite and limping, someone holding you up as you walk. he’d almost run over to you and pick you up.

a dumb idea — daryl dixon 🩰

in which you were injured on a run, and daryl can't bare to see you that way without helping.

Rick had chosen you for a run, not alone, but for you to go. He'd seen you were quick, efficient with your melee weapons, and were probably one of the best choices. You were joining Rick and Glenn, Daryl having to sit this one out by Rick's orders. He hadn't cleared the prison in full yet, so he wanted Daryl back here to keep watch. Daryl and you weren't exclusively a thing, neither of you had spoken about it at all, but everyone else could see it was waiting to happen. You were currently just really good friends hiding your feelings for each other, or at least thinking you were hiding your feelings for each other. You were sat in the backseat of the car, happily talking to Glenn as the car rolled towards the gates. You glanced out the window to see Daryl, sulking at the gate yet picking his arm up to wave at you. You returned the gesture, a sweet smile on your face that Daryl had become addicted to. One of the many addicting things about you.

Your positive-for-the-end-of-the-world attitude had come to an end when you'd ran into a building to find some cover, the darkness of the building rendering you blind as your leg had been impaled by a broken bit of a glass shelf. You let out a cry, falling to your feet as Rick and Glenn rushed over to assist you. "You good?" "What happened?" Rick had turned a flashlight to your leg, seeing your jeans ripped and stuck to your leg with the amount of blood. You almost passed out at the look of it, the glass had lodged itself in there pretty snug. "We need to get her back, now," Rick demanded, wrapping an arm around your back and coordinating with Glenn to get you safely to the car. Rick had taken his shirt off and tied it around your leg above the wound, before beginning the drive back to the prison. Glenn had trained his eyes on you and your leg for most of the drive, making sure you were still alive and not dying back there. The drive felt like hours, you felt like closing your eyes but Glenn was adamant on talking to you. Telling you about Maggie, telling you about how sweet Daryl seems to be around you, and you knew it was a distraction tactic, to keep you awake and not looking at your completely blood soaked shin.

You heard the rattle of the gates as they'd slid open for the car, and you felt a short burst of relief to be back. "Dar..." You managed to speak, wincing as Rick had reached for your hand to pull you out. "Daryl." Rick and Glenn had their arms under yours, carrying most of your weight for you. Until Daryl had heard the commotion and come out to see what the fuck people were shouting for.

Daryl saw you. Your leg, completely red from the knee down, being assisted into the prison. He wanted to help, he wanted to ease your pain even just a little. Dropping his crossbow to the ground, he'd paced over to you, relieving Glenn and Rick of their duties. "It's okay, I got ya," he cooed, "I got 'er," he'd lifted you, arms clinging to you as he led you to the cell block. "It's okay, sweetheart." Your blood loss wasn't fatal, thankfully, but Herschel was about to have you on the mend in no time.

You'd been allowed to rest, peeling your eyes open after having slept a while. The first thing you were aware of was the pain in your leg, which was thankfully still there. It was still light outside, so it must not have been long at all. A bottle of water and some pain meds were sat at your bedside, and you'd desperately taken them in order to ease your pain. "There's my girl." You heard, and Daryl had entered your cell and sat at your side. "How's the leg?" You chuckled. "It's seen better days." You could've sworn you'd spotted a smile on his face for a moment. "Were you scared? Did you think I was gonna die?" You teased, poking his arm and smiling innocently up at him. "No," he answered, "you're a fighter. I know that." There was something he was keeping to himself, you could see it in his brain. Almost as if he wasn't allowing himself to say it. It had been a tough process even getting to a friendly level with him, he had always kept his feelings to himself. But you liked to believe you were making progress with him, you wanted to. "What's on your mind?" You asked sweetly, your voice like honey, and he was addicted. God, he was addicted. He wanted nothing more than to have you night and day, for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But he didn't know the first thing about flirting, or even dating. "Nothin," he grumbled, and you sighed dramatically. "Come on, Daryl," you exclaimed, "talk to me. I need some sort of stimulation for my brain." Your voice was light, but you meant it. He paused, almost debating whether or not to say it. "I just care about ya, is all. When I saw ya bein carried in, my mind just stopped and all I wanted to do was make sure you were okay. Told Rick it was a dumb idea." You smiled, poking his arm again. "You care about me, that's sweet. I care about you, too." He grabbed your hand as it made contact with his arm, and just held it between his own. This was his way of expression, to show you how he felt without ruining it with his words. The pair of you just sat in silence, hands interlaced, a stupid grin on both your faces as you stared at each other. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins, a wave of confidence taking over you as you leaned up and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. Once Daryl had registered what you'd done, he'd turned his head, closing the small gap between you both for a delicate kiss. He was so gentle, his hands still holding yours firmly, and you wanted to do this forever. "I hope that speaks better than I do." He admitted, and you just laughed, resting your head on your shoulder. "Now get some rest, I don't want to see ya on your feet for the rest of the day."

[ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat]

after the party - spencer reid x fem!reader

reader can't let go of her wedding day so spencer needs to give a reminder of what weddings are really about

genre: flangst wc: 823 warnings: wedding, post-wedding-depression, talk of honeymoon and kids, reassuring, very brief mention of the wedding night, pessimist!reader

Your wedding was everything. It was perfect despite your worries. Beforehand, you thought up all that could possibly go wrong but it turned out that the moment you saw him waiting at the end of the flower-covered aisle, nothing could ruin it. There was cake, food, photos, smiles, and laughter. When it came to your first dance as, officially, Mr. and Mrs. Reid, Spencer revealed that he'd been taking dance lessons without your knowledge. He said he didn't want to mar your perfect wedding with his two left feet and poor coordination. You thought the idea was preposterous.

The planner he was, David Rossi offered to hold the event at his mansion. Who were you to pass that up? It ended up being everything you've ever dreamed of—fairy-lit backyard, family, and the man you love. Not to mention the party.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. While your wedding night was mind-blowing, you were upset to leave the day behind. Because you knew you'd revisit it forever.

And you already are.

Yes, you're now the wife of the most perfect man you've ever known but the best day of your life has also slipped away. Maybe that's dramatic and not at all what you should be focused on but you can't really help it, can you? Perhaps it's the petulant side of you. The side that yearns and holds on.

And maybe it's the metaphoric packing away of the memories that's contributing to this feeling. After all, you're quite literally picking up the night before and placing it in the garbage. Quite literally. Here you stand, in slippers and remnants of last night's makeup, picking bits of confetti and glitter off the ground. Leftover curls sit atop your head.

From behind you, familiar arms wrap around your waist. "You finished outside already?" you ask. Spencer shakes his head against your shoulder. "No, not yet. I just wanted to see you."

You smile, turning to face him, a hand coming up to hold his face. You remember yesterday, how he looked, smelled, admired you while—

"What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?" your brows furrow.

He hums thoughtfully. You wonder if you'll ever feel how you did last night again. "You seem... distant," Spencer acknowledges, eyes narrowed.

"Oh."

Kindly, his eyes search yours, looking for any explanation because all he really wants is for you to be happy. He mutters softly, head dipping closer to your level, "tell me what I can do."

What can he do? You mean, he's a profiler, he's not going to let this go. So, you should tell him, right?

"I'm just... upset that it's over, I guess. I'll never be a bride again," you admit gently, voice unsure.

Spencer nods with understanding. His hand runs up and down your arm. "You're right... you'll never be a bride again," a small smile appears on his lips, "but you'll always be my wife."

It's true and you know it. You'll be his forever and ever. He'll be yours. Though, there's still that feeling that your best has passed you by.

"I suppose that's true..."

A sigh leaves him before he inquires with a faint, cheeky smile, "is that really why we got married? To have a party?"

You frown, shaking your head adamantly. "No! Come on, you know what I mean."

"No, I don't," he quips with more confidence than you were expecting. "Because, yes, our wedding is over, but now we move on to the next part and then the next and then the next."

You playfully roll your eyes at the simplicity of his words. Since you, he's become better at looking at things more positively. Probably because you don't.

"Think about it," he whispers.

"Think about what?" you hum, now a small smile on your lips.

Spencer grins with you, bringing his hand to yours. "What comes next. Look forward to our honeymoon instead of thinking about what's passed."

"Okay, fine. I'm only agreeing because I'm excited to go to Paris, though," you giggle softly.

In an awful French accent, he responds almost dreamily, "ah, Paris."

Leaning down, he places an exaggerated kiss to your cheek before sighing, “then whatever comes after. House, kids.”

“Kids,” you murmur happily. You’ve spoken about this.

“Yes. Let’s focus on the next few things, okay?” he smiles sweetly.

You nod your head. Spencer’s ability to soothe every line between your brows never fails to baffle you. Somehow, he can simultaneously calm and excite you with everything he does. Perhaps it’s in his nature or maybe he just knows you all too well. You like to think it’s the second option.

When his lips come down on yours in a gesture of warmth, you breathe out through your nose, a smile creeping up onto your mouth. It’s quick, lasting only a few seconds.

“Better?” Spencer mutters.

Humming in affirmation, you nod. Your thumb brushes the scruff on his chin. “Better.”

tags: @angellic4l @sweetestthingonthissideofhell @floraisunwell @1mnshw @mggslover

[specialgradefckr]

thinking about taking advantage of satoru gojo when he's high.

it's not like you mean to, at first. you didn't get him high on purpose.

in fact it was more him taking advantage of you, actually, eating those weed brownies you'd left out to cool on the shared dorm's kitchen counter.

and it's innocent, at first. you stumble on him, and the completely finished pan of brownies, rightly infuriated at the white-haired man lounging back on your couch.

but it's hard to get angry at him, lying there all sweet and docile. pupils blown wide like the smile stretched lazily across his face.

satoru croons your name, voice all sing-song, with that pretty face looking up at you. starry-eyed.

he hums noncommittally when you accuse him of eating your brownies, and giggles when you press him.

"honestly, i did you a favor. they had this weird aftertaste," he laughs, and you have to bite your tongue.

at this point, you're still being nice, still being a good friend. because why wouldn't you? you are a good friend. forgiving his useless ass even though he ate a batch worth a hundred bucks.

when you reach out to help him up, satoru makes another giddy laugh, pulling you down.

he's far too heavy to resist, of course, and so you fall onto him, into his long, lanky arms that wrap themselves around you.

"wowwww," he sniggers, "did you just fall for me? how embarrassing for you."

even when he's high, satoru gojo has a gift for making your heart flutter and making you want to smack him at once.

he's annoying - god, is he annoying - but his embrace is surprisingly comfortable. he nuzzles his head into your hair like a cat.

"mmh. warm~" you think he purrs like one, too, tightening his embrace.

ugh. he smells like weed.

"get up, dumbass. how long have you even been here?"

"don't wanna." naturally, he completely ignores your question.

luckily, though, in his inebriated state he doesn't have the coordination to stop you from pulling back.

but he does make a whine, a little pitiful noise combined with his outstretched arms and his shining eyes that tugs on your heartstrings more than they should.

dirty little thief. you pull him up and he stumbles to his feet, shamelessly leaning on you.

"woah there," he moans, wincing, and you feel bad for once - the six eyes might be hurting him, "easy on the goods, babe."

you no longer feel bad.

maybe that's when it started. he leans on you, so much weight, but stumbles with you as you pull him along to his bed.

he tumbles into it, dizzy, movements slow and halting.

"it's hot in here," he whines, pulling up his shirt.

satoru gets it halfway there but can't quite make it. it's hilarious to watch. he's stuck with his shirt over his head, chest and abs exposed as his face is covered and he groans and moans like the loserboy he is.

god, does he look good. all his fine musculature bared for your viewing pleasure.

he groans from underneath his shirt, squirming, another hand reaching his pants and trying to pull them down.

there's only a few moments of struggle before he flops down, pitifully, stuck with his arms and face trapped in his shirt over his head. like some kind of human earthworm.

he makes another one of this pitiful moans.

yes, this is it, you think. this is about where you should leave.

but your feet don't carry you out.

instead, your hands freely roam his toned abs. they flex underneath you as satoru undulates, groaning and whimpering some more at the contact.

you think he likes being like this, some pitiful helpless creature squirming beneath you.

and maybe you're right, or maybe it's just the contact, or maybe it's just because he's high, but you see a bulge in his boxers, exposed from his unbuttoned pants.

you're still being helpful when you pull them down (god, those thighs, his legs really went on with miles. and so smooth, does he wax?) and he kicks them off, so he must have wanted that.

you're definitely being helpful when you pull his shirt up over his head, but not off his arms, so that you can see his face.

it's flushed red (he'd said it was hot in here) but he's still so cute.

and it's really not your fault for indulging him. who could refuse him when he's like that? soft and needy, all fluffy hair and dreamy eyes.

so big, so blue. blinking away tears.

"what... where..." breathless, he shivers beneath you.

you watch his pupils contract, and blow wide again. six eyes adjusting, re-adjusting. you brush a nipple with your arm and he squeals, squinting his eyes shut.

"too bright," he mutters.

you kiss his eyes, lick his tears away, and he sighs in relief.

"you..." he breathes.

nuzzling your cheek against his, you hum back. "me."

"you're... you... what are you..." bleary eyes open up at you. they can't focus, though, and he winces at the light.

his arms wiggle over his head, but if he really wanted, he could have gotten out (never mind he can barely walk).

he doesn't tell you to stop. you don't take his boxers off, either, you just straddle him and grind.

satoru's so fucking pretty when he whines at the contact. his head raises up, arms straining as if to reach out to you.

his eyes are still blown wide, dazed and glassy. lips wedged open as if in passionate expectation.

can you really be blamed for giving him a kiss? when he's such a vision?

his whole body reacts to the contact. hungry, curling up into you, bucking into the heat of your crotch pressing into his.

he's hard, now, really hard, bulging against his boxers and up against your pulsing cunt.

it's not taking advantage if he so obviously wants it too, isn't it? even if his arms are still struggling to slip out of his shirt.

those pretty eyes tear up when they look up at you. that beautiful mouth, swollen lips falling open and closing again, helpless to form words. his whole face contorts in pleasure as you keep grinding over him.

lost, hazy, the heat swells between you. even you have to bury your hands in the sheets, in his feather-soft hair, twisting as you reach your peak.

his voice is normally so smooth, so assured, and now it's a warbling, shuddering thing, syrup-sweet little gasps of pleasure hot against your neck.

that heavenly friction of you against him. his pretty pink nipples pebble up for you, and he gives these pained, drawn-out whimpers as you pinch at them.

"good. you're so good for me, satoru, you feel so good," you whisper, even though you're not sure he can hear it at all.

sensitive. keening. he twitches and pants and you feel him press himself up into you harder.

beautiful, so beautiful. the fine muscles of his chest straining as he arches up into you, bucking his clothed cock up into your cunt.

there's a wet spot on it now to match the patch on your panties.

you pull his head up for another kiss; you have to hold him up by the neck. he's limp, dizzy in your hold.

drool pools at the corner of his mouth, tears staining his cheeks.

god, he's gorgeous. and gone to the world. the delicate features of his face swollen and flushed in the afterglow.

you help the rest of his shirt off. he doesn't resist, doesn't help, doesn't move at all, but you can tell he's breathing.

he curls up the instant he's in the bed, limbs latching around you. it's a struggle to disentangle yourself (he wanted this, wanted you, it's proof) but you manage.

you leave a glass of water. painkillers.

you try not to think of what he'll say to you when he wakes up.

"hey!" satoru catches your attention, quite intentionally, the next day. waving you down.

you turn to him. keep your face cool. "what is it?"

the smile on his face is wide, unassuming, just a few too many teeth.

"those brownies were great! make them again?"

[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 7- Miguel x Clumsy!Reader (Toys)

        It was a gag gift from a close friend of yours. Never had you thought you would actually use it. Staring at the clit and vibrator in one before you made you sweat. Today had been a really rough day and you meant rough. You had your ass handed to you during a mission earlier only to come back to your world to deal with Rhino being a complete ass to your favorite museum. That and Miguel gave you a lecture about being reckless, again. Needless to say, you needed a stress reliever. Something to get you off.

        Exhaling loudly, you slid your pajama pants and panties off. You were hesitant. You had never done something like this. You rather it be Miguel stuffing you with his cock, not a toy. Huffing your cheeks at the thought, you knew that would never happen. Miguel probably saw you as a nuisance. A Spiderwoman who always caused trouble. You couldn't help it though. You were still fairly new at being a superhero. Miguel was just a handsome jerk. 

"A sexy jerk," You grumbled.

        Finally finding the courage, you shivered as the cold vibrator entered your tight walls. You repeated to yourself that it was Miguel, which helped it slid in. Next, you attached the second part to your clit. It felt a little uncomfortable at first, but you got used to it. Right when you reached for the remote, your watch went off. 

"(Y/n)! We have an urgent anomaly, I need your help. Here are the coordinates." Miguel told you.

        You squeaked and told him you'd be on your way. Hurrying up, you put on your suit and grabbed the remote, thinking it was your phone. Opening a dimensional portal, you hopped inside, forgetting about the toy you were wearing.

--------------

"Alright, you're all dismissed. Good work," Miguel praised.

        You must be dreaming. Never had he told you that you did good. Waving goodbye to the other Peter's, you decided to grab a quick bite in the cafeteria before heading home. You went to reach for your phone, only to realize that nothing was in your pocket,

"Huh? Oh no...Did I drop it in Miguel's office?!" You whined.

        Right as you went to turn around, you felt a strong buzz from below. Your body flinched forward at the sudden pleasure. Heat was forming fast in your suit. You let out a small gasp, remembering about the vibrator. It wasn't your phone you brought, but the remote! Leaning against the nearby wall, you whimpered wondering who found the remote. You needed to hurry to get it back, or find the bathroom to take the toys out before it was too late.

-------------

        It was when Miguel had dismissed everyone when he noticed something on the floor. He jumped down from his platform, making his way towards the item. To his surprise, it was a remote. He wasn't sure what kind it was, leading him back to his desk. He summoned Lyla, asking her to scan the item.

"It's a vibrator remote." Lyla said with a grin. Miguel immediately tensed up,

"Who-No, I don't even want to know." He spat lowly. Lyla appeared in front of him,

"You totally know who it belongs too." 

"No. It could be one of the Pet-"

"There she is on the camera, you know you want to test it out~" Lyla cooed.

        Miguel grumbled lowly as he ignored his AI. His eyes were focused on the cameras before him, watching you skip your way to the cafeteria. He knew better. He knew he shouldn't, but you were just so clumsy. Ever since you first fell into his office, he had a soft spot for you. That soft spot started to grow into a desire. You were reckless. Sometimes he just wanted to fuck you until you learned your lesson. Until you finally listened to him and stayed put.

        Staring at the remote, he wondered if this was it. If this was his chance to teach you a lesson. It was wrong, but he wanted to see your face contort in pleasure. To hear you moan his name, begging you to let him fuck you. A low rumble escaped his throat as he started to get hard at the thought. He might regret this, but he just wanted to see your reaction. You were the one who did something so foolish, what were the chances that you were actually wearing the damn toy?

"Dios mío, lo es. (My god, she is.)"

        Miguel groaned lowly as he pressed on the remote. He watched as your body flinched forward before finding something to lean against. It was a damn good thing it was late at night. Most, if not, all the Spiders were in their own world. Miguel's fangs started to show as he bit his lower lip, stroking himself. He watched as you made your way to probably a bathroom. You were so clumsy. Miguel imagined that it was his dick inside you and not this toy. His dick harden at the thought. He wanted to watch you cum.

        Miguel looked away from the screens for only a moment to engulf himself in pleasure. Right when he did so,

"U-Um...M-Miguel? I think I uh, dropped something in here." Your voice trembled. Miguel flinched as he heard you, accidently raising the setting on your vibrator, "Ah~"

"Joder, esto tiene que ser una señal. (Fuck, this has to be a sign.)" He groaned, lowering the setting for you, "I did find something, do you realize how reckless this is?" His breathing was heavy, wanting to return to his high.

"I-I know, I'm sorry! I completely forgot-"

"That you were fucking yourself with this?" Miguel hissed lowly, unable to face you since his cock was still sprung out and hard, "That you brought it with you on a mission and dropped it in my office?!"

"I was about to use it! I never done this before! I thought I grabbed my p-phone." You whimpered as Miguel played with the setting again, "M-Miguel, w-wait-"

"You tested my patience long enough, cariño. (sweetheart) I'm going to teach you a lesson,"

        You let out another whimper as you tried to get closer. You went to web the remote, but Miguel caught your webbing inside. He pulled you towards him, looking down at your trembling form. He could smell your arousals. The wet slick in your suit was strong. He glanced down at your flustered face, observing the lust in your eyes. There was practically drool coming down your mouth. He turned to face you, watching as you stared at his dick,

"Suck it." He demanded.

        To his surprise, you did not hesitate. It was as if you were waiting for his. Miguel groaned lowly as he buckled his hips, letting you sloppily suck him. His thumb against the remote, slowly raising the setting each time he felt you slow down.

"Finalmente ser una buena chica. Escuchándome por una vez. (Finally being a good fucking girl. Listening to me for once.)" Miguel gripped the edge of his desk, feeling the urge to cum, "I'm about to cum, cariño. Tell me where you want it?"

"Mh-"

"Fuck, tell me without my dick in that little mouth of yours,"

"I-In here," You whined, leaning back as you pressed the vibrator deeper inside you.

        You were a mess at this point. As you were sucking Miguel's dick, you had reached your orgasm not once, but twice. You knew that Miguel felt you too, because he raised the setting on your vibrator each time you did. All you wanted right now was his dick inside you. To ravish you pussy better than this damn toy did. Another loud moan was forced out of you as Miguel raised a setting once more. You could barely take it.

        The vibrator inside you and on your clit felt like they were on fire. Your suit was drenched with your juices that it almost hurt to be wearing it. You were desperate for something bigger to enter you. Having Miguel's cock in your mouth made your mind wander as if it were inside your pussy instead. Trying to fix yourself, you laid on your back, spreading your legs for Miguel. Moans kept coming out of your throat as he just watched you struggle while stroking himself.

"Mírate, rogando por mi polla. Si tan solo hubieras hecho algo tan estúpido antes. (Look at you, begging for my dick. If only you did something this stupid earlier.)" He used his talon to rip your suit from your breasts to your pussy, "Vas a chupar ese juguete. ¿Por qué no le doy a tu coño algo mejor para chupar? (You're going to suck that toy in. Why don't I give your pussy something better to suck on.)"

        You were so fucked out to even know what Miguel was saying. Your body arched as the cold air hit your drenched cunt. Miguel bend down to your level, deciding to lick your body. You cried out as he poked the small vibrator on your clit. It hurt. You needed him. You needed his dick. Spreading your legs out more, you whimpered his name.

"M-Migueeeeel, pleaaaase,"

"Have you learned your lesson?" He asked, toying with the remote. You raised your hips, feeling the vibrator burn hotter,

"Y-Yes!"

"What did you learn?" Miguel panted softly, feeling his high getting closer by the second. Your vision started to blur as you felt your orgasm approaching again,

"I-I will...ah~ will listen...to...to y-you~"

        Miguel muttered a good before turning the vibrator up to the highest setting. He had his cock between your thighs, rubbing himself against your dripping cunt. The vibrator giving him an extra push as well. The two of you moaned together as you both reached your mind blowing orgasm. Right as you did, the vibrator stopped working. Miguel chuckled lowly as he pulled it out of you, watching your juices spill all over his floor,

"Looks like I'll have to buy you another one," He panted, watching his cum rest on top of you, "Now, I think you've learned your lesson."

        You tried to catch your breathe, but gasped as you felt Miguel easily enter your abused hole. Your eyes nearly rolled back as he stretched you out and hit you deeper than the vibrator. You could barely hear what Miguel was saying since you were so blissed out. His hips pulled out before giving you a fatal blow. His cock hit your cervix, causing a ringing in your brain. Your throat started to hurt as you cried from overstimulation. 

"Así es, sigue chupandome la polla. Esto era lo que querías ¿verdad? Joder, mírate, un bonito lío para mi polla. (That's right, keep sucking my cock. This was what you wanted right? Fuck, look at you, a pretty little mess for my dick.)" Miguel slapped his hips into yours, soaking in your moans as you gushed around his cock, "La próxima vez que cometas un error, te haré suplicar por mi polla otra vez. Entonces te follaré como un estúpido hasta que aprendas a comportarte. (Next time you make a mistake, I'll make you beg for my dick again. Then I'll fuck you stupid until you learn how to behave.)"

        You arched your body towards his, clenching against him once more. Your vision blurred as your cam hard. Miguel groaned lowly, enjoying your lewd face. The cute little 'o' you made with your mouth as you cam for him. His cock covered in your white ring while he filled you up. Catching his breathe, Miguel stared down at you. You were so beautiful under him. Pulling out, Miguel fixed himself before picking you up.

"I'm going to make you a new suit, and get you a new toy." He told you, knowing full well that you weren't listening, "I hope you chose to not listen next time. I enjoyed this lesson."

        Now that, was something you didn't need to listen to. You were defiantly going to mess up again, and Miguel was going to have to teach you to listen again.

[topzsun]

THE ART OF INVASION

── ♡ BELPHEGOR, ASMODEOUS & SATAN

heavy inspiration from @ephie-om's post! i found this idea really cute and wanted to try my hand in writing this out.

“Get out,” You pair your curt words with a precise shove of the foot, nudging Belphegor’s side until the invasive demon lets out a low groan, face buried into your pillow. He waves you away the first time, but by the fourth forceful kick, he finally begins to stir.

“What’s your problem?” He whines, lifting his head from the pillow just enough so he can glare with narrowed eyes. In response, you fix him a bemused stare.

“My problem is that you’re on my bed and I want to go to sleep. You’ve got a perfectly fine bed back in your room. Move it.”

Your words might as well have gone from one ear out the other because the Avatar of Sloth does not twitch at your command. His face is settled back into the silk cover of your pillow, giving an exaggerated snore when you push him once more.

It’s not like you didn’t like Belphegor, far from it. However, like the youngest sibling he is, the concept of privacy and ownership exists in a different realm from him. This has also managed to extend to you, with him suddenly claiming your bed and space whenever he felt too lazy to take the extra few steps to his room.

With a huff, you stop your relentless shoving, but an idea pops into your head when you hear familiar, heavy footsteps passing by your door. You lean closer to Belphegor, your lips hovering over his ear as you whisper.

“Beel is in the kitchen right now. Perhaps this is the perfect time to tell him you ate his Spicy Newt Chips?”

Your threat finally gives you the reaction you wanted, with Belphegor’s shoulders stiffening before he flops onto his back, scowling despite there being no obvious ire in his voice.

“That’s evil. I’m almost proud,” He languidly lifts himself, snatching his jacket from where he lazily tossed it onto your bedpost. You sigh tiredly, giving an unenthusiastic “Goodbye Belphie” as he only replies with an equally unenergetic wave. You fall onto your dearly missed sheets, and you can already smell the tinge of lavender and powder from where Belphegor had last been. Despite your initial annoyance, you almost second-guessed your decision to kick the demon out. He always smelled good. However the countless nights when you let him crash on your bed, only to wake up shivering because he was a shameless blanket-hogger deterred that train of thought.

You close your eyes, welcoming the long-awaited rest you need, until there is a familiar vibration from your D.D.D. You opted to ignore it, rolling to your side as you toss your quilt over your head. Another vibration, insistent and grating. You hesitate. Perhaps, for once, it’s an emergency?

You reluctantly reach over to your side table, opening up to the missed notifications on your screen. Three messages from Mammon.

mammoney: yo you better not be asleep

mammoney: come to my room asap were watching the entire fast and furious series

mammoney: don even think about missing it

You shut down your phone and toss it at your side, snuggling deeper into your covers.

If you wanted constant critiques of your wardrobe, you would have called your mother. Yet, here is Asmodeous, ready to fill in her missing shoes as he riffles through articles of clothing with a dissatisfied frown.

“Ugh, why did you even buy this?” He turns his nose, picking up a rhinestoned t-shirt with two fingers as if he were handling something diseased. You don’t bother lifting your gaze from the device in your hand, the mindless doomscrolling through Devilgram being more interesting than Asmodeous’ rampage through your closet.

“Don’t be mean. Satan got it for me as a gift,” You retort and the demon sighs heavily, making no effort to conceal his visible disappointment.

“I swear I taught him better than this,” He pauses to reflect, “No. It must be like an innate thing to be this bad at coordination. Nothing I can do to fix it. Have you seen his everyday wear? I could cry.”

Despite the invasion in your closet, at least Asmodeous has the decency to pick up after himself, neatly hanging back every piece of clothing that had been tossed to the side. When you hear the shutting of the door, you finally look over and give pause.

“Asmo?” He looks over his shoulder at the call of his name. “Why do you have a pile of my clothes?”

“Sweetheart, these are just too ugly! You can’t even wear them anywhere. Isn’t it better to let them become scraps instead? I’ll replace all of them with way cuter stuff instead! My treat, of course,” He is quick to pick up on your growing displeasure, fixing a pout that you were shamefully weak to. You drop your head into your hands, knowing any attempts at argument would be fruitless. Admittedly, the idea of him replacing your old clothes with more fashionable wear is tempting. At the same time, you weren’t exactly excited by Asmodeous’s growing authority over your closet.

“Okay fine, but you’re going to put back the shirt Satan got me,” When he doesn’t move, you repeat his name sternly. “Asmodeous.”

“Fine,” He drawls out with a roll of his eyes, but dutifully drops the shirt onto your desk chair. “No need for sentimentality in fashion, dear.”

You bid him goodbye as he blows a parting kiss, and when the door shuts behind him you relax against the edge of your bed, tilting your head back as you eye your ceiling. Maybe it’s about time you considered some boundaries for how much digging the brothers can do in your room.

There is a knock at your door, but before you can answer, it opens to reveal Satan. A book tucked to his chest as a fond smile reaches his lips.

“Good, you’re here. The new addition to the Handmade Prophecy was just released. Do you want to…” He trails off as his eyes fall to the other corner of your room. You could have sworn there was a dash of pink on his cheeks. “Oh, it’s the shirt I got you. Are you planning on wearing it out?”

You’ll ask Solomon tomorrow about the process of getting a magical lock on your door.

[multific]

Undercover Sweethearts

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: You were never one for undercover work, but with a partner like the handsome Dr Reid, you had no problem playing your part.

The case was unlike any the BAU had seen.

A killer targeting couples.

Stalking them, studying them, and ultimately murdering them in their homes.

The unsub was careful, leaving no traces except for one chilling detail: each couple had recently attended a romantic retreat, a place meant to renew love but now tainted by death.

Hotch’s solution had you blinking in disbelief and gasping for air.

“Reid and Y/N will go undercover as a couple at the retreat.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“I agree with Hotch,” Morgan chimed in with a grin. “You and Reid are the least expected pair, and that’s exactly why it’ll work.”

Spencer’s eyes widened as he fumbled with his watch.

“Uh, w-wait. Why us? I mean, there are more... seasoned agents for this.”

Hotch’s tone was final. “You’ll blend in the best. And you know the profile. You two are the best for this.”

Your stomach flipped, not from fear but anticipation.

You’d had a crush on Spencer for months.

Working with him was both a privilege and a curse; his awkward charm and brilliant mind made him irresistible.

Pretending to be his lover, his wife?

It felt like a dream come true and a nightmare at the same time.

The retreat was a small lodge nestled in a forest, designed to encourage intimacy with its cosy fireplaces and heart-shaped bathtubs. A bit too much for your taste but hey, at least it was for free.

You and Spencer arrived late, you were greeted by a cheerful coordinator who handed you a single key.

“Mr. and Mrs. Reid,” she said warmly. “We hope this weekend brings you closer together.”

Why must you use his real name? Not even Hotch could answer with a serious face.

And his face is always serious.

The title of wife and husband sent a chill down your spine, but Spencer’s face turned crimson.

Just like that, the genius turned into a fool.

“Uh, thanks. We’re, uh—”

Slipping your hand into his, you played your part and rescued your husband. “Looking forward to it. Aren’t we, Honey?”

Spencer’s lips parted as if to protest, but he nodded quickly.

“Yes. Very... forward.”

You almost wanted to laugh at his nervousness. But you knew, you just hid yours better.

In your cabin, you threw your bag onto the bed, turning to find Spencer standing awkwardly near the door.

“Relax, Dr. Reid,” you teased, leaning against the bedpost. “You’re supposed to act like you love me, not like you’ve been trapped in a room with a bomb.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, offering you a shy smile. “Sorry. It’s just... this is new territory for me.”

“Good thing I’m here to help you,” you joked, crossing the room to straighten his tie.

You couldn’t resist brushing your fingers against his chest.

His eyes moved to yours, wide and uncertain, and for a moment, you forgot this was an act.

But you offered him a smile.

The retreat’s activities were tailored to strengthen bonds.

Consisting of trust exercises, tandem kayaking, and even a “love languages” workshop.

Whatever that was.

You leaned into the role with ease, finding every opportunity to hold Spencer’s hand or tease him with playful whispers.

During a group dinner, you fed him a bite of dessert, laughing when his ears turned red.

“You’re adorable when you’re flustered,” you said loud enough for others to hear.

Spencer stuttered, “I-I’m not flustered. Just... surprised.”

Later, in private, he sighed as he sank into the couch. “You’re really committed to this role.”

You sat beside him, close enough that your knees touched.

“Isn’t that the point? We have to be convincing.”

“You’re... very convincing.”

"Undercover is not my strongest suit. I might be overcompensating."

"No. You are doing... too good." you shrugged your shoulders at his words before heading to the shower.

Maybe you were having too much fun. If he began to notice, you might become obvious that this is not all an act.

On the third day, the tension thickened.

You felt eyes on you during a group hike, and Spencer confirmed your suspicion.

“We’re being watched,” he whispered, his grip tightening on your hand.

The unsub had a pattern, choosing couples who oozed happiness.

Your exaggerated affection had likely drawn their attention. Much like how you planned. Hoping your happiness might bring him out sooner than his previous kills.

That evening, you and Spencer staged a romantic moment by the lake, knowing it might bait the killer.

“You’ve been amazing,” Spencer said softly, his voice laced with sincerity. “I don’t know how you make this seem so effortless.”

You smirked, leaning in. “Maybe it’s not entirely an act.”

Before he could respond, movement in the shadows caught your attention. Your eyes spanned to the bushes.

The unsub emerged, a knife in his hand. Just as you predicted, a white male in his early thirties.

The attack was quick.

The unsub lunged, and Spencer shielded you, wrestling with the attacker.

You grabbed a heavy branch, swinging it to knock the knife from his hand.

Spencer subdued him, his strength surprising you, until backup arrived to take the unsub into custody.

As the chaos settled, and the police took the man away, you sat by the lake, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Spencer was beside you, his shirt torn, and there was a small cut on his temple.

“You’re okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“I’m fine,” you said, though your hands were shaking. “Thanks to you.”

He smiled faintly. “You’re braver than I gave you credit for.”

You turned to him, your heart pounding but you couldn't handle it any longer. “Spence, I wasn’t lying earlier. About this not being an act.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” You hesitated before forcing the words out. “I’ve had feelings for you, for a while. Pretending to love you wasn’t hard. Pretending it was fake was.”

Spencer’s gaze softened, and he reached for your hand.

“You should’ve told me. I...” He trailed off, then leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was tender and perhaps a bit sloppy.

But it was also perfect.

Absolutely perfect. Like him.

When you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Maybe we don’t have to pretend anymore and it can be real.”

You smiled at his words. It was a promise of something far greater than you could have ever imagined.

Now, you just have to run it by Hotch, but you were pretty certain he chose the two of you for this mission for a reason.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[dyaz-stories]

say my name and everything just stops || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: You welcome Gojo back after a mission that lasted longer than expected.

(He fucks you on your desk)

word count: 2.6k

genre: canon compliant, smut

cw: porn with some plot, porn with feelings, vaginal sex, fingering, gojo is a tease, light angst, some fluff too, reader is afab, implied fwb, gojo calls reader sensei but they're both teachers

a/n: just a little thing for fun and practice :) enjoy!

more gojo x reader here

Though the sun is setting outside, you’re still at your desk, dutifully filing paperwork. You’ve dismissed the students a long time ago, of course, but you haven’t left the classroom yet. The door sliding open, though you haven’t heard any footsteps, has you glancing up, on high alert. The worry dissipates right away when you’re met with familiar white hair, a broad grin, and all-black clothing.

“Well, well, sensei,” Gojo Satoru says as he approaches your desk with a nonchalant pace, hands in his pockets, “working late, are we?”

“Gojo,” you reply, eyes back on the paper sheet in front of you. “How was your trip?”

“You know you can just ask Ijichi to do that for you, right?” Gojo continues, now standing in front of your desk. “No need for you to do all that by yourself.”

“Ijichi is busy,” you answer, unperturbed by the way he ignored your question. “You’ve been gone a whole week. Did something go wrong?”

“Aw, sensei,” he coos, “were you worried?”

You put down your pen to look up at him. You’re always worried, obviously. While you’re a teacher at Jujutsu High, the main role you’re expected to fulfill is that of strategist, to better coordinate group actions. You wouldn’t be able to do that without being at least a little paranoid.

It just so happens that you are very paranoid.

Faced with your stare, Gojo’s grin widens.

“Well, I guess they were happy to have me around and they had me fix all the little problems they hadn’t been able to get rid of by themselves,” he tells you with a shrug. “If I didn’t do it, no one was going to, so, might as well get everything taken care of in one go.”

It’s hard not to openly grit your teeth at his words. You’re not thrilled about the way Gojo just gets used and shipped off to wherever the elders deem fit. You and Shoko, on the other hand, are expected to remain caged in the more ‘safe’ properties, all in the name of the greater good. You’re not sure what good it’s doing. You still know better than to say it out loud.

“You stopped by Shoko’s before coming here,” you say. It’s not a question, and his face lights up at it.

“One day, you’re really going to have to tell me how you do that.”

It’s not that hard. A light smell of smoke lingers around him; the last button of his shirt is unbuttoned, likely because of an examination; there’s a pen sticking out of his pocket that you suspect he’s stolen off her desk; and he’s not wearing his usual travel shoes, meaning he changed since coming back to Tokyo, and knowing him, you must have been close to the top of his list of people to see, so you don’t think he went home, so Ichiji must have brought them to him at the lab.

You could easily have been wrong, of course. You just made an educated guess, and it worked out well for you.

“I found something weird out there,” he states matter-of-factly. “Didn’t need any patching up. C’mon, don’t tell me you were worried?”

You roll your eyes and push your chair back to stand up. He should have been back three days ago, and you didn’t hear from him. Not that the way your relationship works means you should have. It explicitly doesn’t.

“We don’t know what kind of curses are out there,” you say. “Anything could happen.”

“Aw,” Gojo says. “But you know I’m the strongest. I can take everything they throw at me.”

He says it with such absolute confidence that you want to believe him blindly, but all your instincts rebel at that idea. You can’t let yourself think he’s invincible. You can’t make your plans based on that idea. There’d be too much to lose if— if—

“With how gloomy you look, it’s hard to think you’re happy to see me,” Gojo pouts. “And here I was, thinking I’d get a warm welcome back…”

You scoff, fighting the smile that wants to break on your face, then make to move past him. You have no intention of actually leaving of course, but you know that—

Of course, the second he thinks you’re getting away from him, he grabs your wrist and twirls you around and into him. His arm wraps around your waist smoothly, presses your chest against his.

“Really? You’re not even a little bit happy?” He says it lightly, but you don’t miss the very light twinge of annoyance in his voice.

You like to think that you are one of the few people that can get a rise out of him.

It goes both way, of course, but now that you’re in his arms, after a week without touching him, anger and fear melt away all too easily, and all you want is him.

You put both of your arms around his neck, and push yourself on your tiptoes to capture his lips. There is a second during which he remains still, as if unsure, no matter how unlike him that would be. It’s like you don’t have him back yet, like there’s a part of him, of his mind, that is still out there with the curses.

But the moment passes, and then he’s kissing you feverishly. He pushes you back until you hit your desk, then helps lift you on top of it. The papers you’ve filled so dutifully fall to the floor, but he doesn’t care and neither do you. His warm tongue meets yours and you feel small moans escaping you, which he swallows hungrily. One of his hands sneaks under your shirt, the other pushes up your long skirt as he lifts up one of your legs, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh.

You burry your hand in his hair, try to pull him closer to you, because fuck, you’ve missed him, you’ve missed the weight of his body on yours, and you want him, you need him to be as close as possible. He groans inside your mouth, and when your other hand moves down to trace his jaw, his neck, the muscles of his shoulders, before trying to unbutton his shirt, it turns into a full whimper.

Unfortunately, that sound also brings you back to reality, and while your body is an inferno right now, you feel your cheeks heating up even more.

“Wait, wait, Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he almost growls. Now that you’re trying to speak, he presses open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, then down your neck, sucking and biting lightly at the skin.

“Satoru,” you whine, left with no strength nor desire to fight him on that, “we shouldn’t— students could—”

“They’ve gone home,” he dismisses your worries easily. “None of them are going to show up here at this time.”

He’s hooking his fingers in your panties now, trying to slide them down your legs, but you catch his arm first. You’re quite the spectacle, breathless and panting, clothes half off. Even then, there’s that serious light in your eyes that just has him weak in the knees.

“Yaga— Yaga could—”

“If you think about it, that’d be doing him a favor,” Satoru hums. “Would give him some really, really good material, if you ask me.”

He doesn’t add that the material in question is all his, and that he’d never let Yaga catch you in the act, just for that reason. He doesn’t have to, because his answer makes you laugh softly.

You always laugh for him.

“He better not find us,” you warn him, as your grasp on his arm relaxes.

“Hm, that shouldn’t be a problem, as long as a certain someone can keep quiet…”

You roll your eyes, and then you pull him back down against your lips to interrupt his laugh.

He manages to get your panties out of the way, and then pushes a long finger inside you. You’re already so wet for him, he marvels as it slides in easily. He soon follows it with a second one, spreading you open carefully, and that’s when you throw your head back, closing your eyes and pushing your hand against your mouth to muffle your moan.

“So you’ve really missed me, huh?” he can’t help but tease as he chases your mouth. He’d love nothing more than to hear you loud and clear, but he knows you won’t risk it, no matter how empty the school is right now.

Underneath him, your body trembles, and he can’t resist any longer. He pulls his blindfold out of the way, drinking in the most beautiful sight he’s ever beholden. You’re trying your best not to let the pleasure get to you, but even then, you manage to open an eye to look at him, and you’re met with the stunning blue eyes you wish you could see more often. Something softens inside you, and you reach up to touch his cheek.

“Of course I’ve missed you,” you answer.

Shit. He doesn’t know how long he can keep this up. He’s already rock hard and all he’s done is rock against you. He wanted to take his time with you tonight, because all he’s had the past week is the memory of you, and that’s nowhere near enough, but it’s not looking like he will last that long.

“Yeah?” he insists as his thumb finds your clit and he starts rubbing carefully. “Thought about me while I was gone?”

You let out a loud cry, manage to cover your mouth again before another one comes out. Your thighs are trembling around him, and fuck, he’s going to have to fuck you real soon, otherwise he’s just going to burst in his pants without you even touching him, at this point.

“I’ve thought of you,” he tells you as he pulls his fingers out of you to get rid of his pants. “Thought of how good you feel around me, of how good you sound for me, of how pretty you are when you’re bouncing on my cock…”

He guides his cock against your entrance, presses it against you. You buck your hips, unable to stop yourself, but he doesn’t give it to you, not just yet.

“You really want it that bad, don’t you?” he practically purrs.

“Satoru,” you whine, and oh, if you knew what it does to him when you say his name like that… “don’t make me b— Ah!”

Finally satisfied, he sheathes himself fully inside of you, and fuck, it’s all he’s been dreaming of for days now. Next time he swears he’ll come running back to you the second he’s done with the stupid assignment. You reach up for him and he lets you, lets you dig your nails into his shoulder blades as you bury your face in his neck to stifle your moans. His hips set up a lazy pace at first, and you try your best to follow, try to meet him with small movements of your own, before you feel his breath against your ear.

“It’s all good,” he says warmly. “Just let me take care of you, babe. I’ve got you.”

That’s when he picks up the pace, and you’re left to writhe underneath him, whimpering his name desperately against his skin like a prayer, Satoru, Satoru, Satoru!

You come, shaking, around him when he brings his fingers to your clit once more, and he doesn’t lose a second of it. The high-pitched moan that you just can’t hold in, the way your head falls back, how your thighs shake on either side of him, it’s all so perfect. You’re perfect.

He does his best to let you ride your orgasm on his cock, but he comes inside you just a couple seconds later, unable to last longer. He collapses on top of you, and your labored breathing fills the room. Your hand on his back moves gently, tracing circles on the nape of his neck, gently running through his hair.

“If you’re not down for a round two just yet, I recommend you stop that,” he mumbles against you, only to regret it immediately, because you do stop.

“We should— we should take this elsewhere,” you say quietly.

Ah, now that’s more like it.

“I can call Ichiji and we could do that in the back of the car on the way home,” he offers cheerfully as he gets up, putting the blindfold back in place, though not before he can see you grimace in horror at his suggestion.

“Absolutely not,” you say firmly, though once more, he was only teasing. He’d never let Ichiji see you like that. “Although, if you could call someone to come clean up in here, just, uh, just in case…”

Cute.

“Done. Now, about that round two…”

“Else. Where,” you insist, and you don’t fall for his cute pout.

He sighs but takes your hand to help you to your feet, then turns around as he pulls out his phone. He’s about to hit Ichiji’s number when your fingers on his skin almost bring a shiver out of him.

“Shouldn’t this be healing?” you ask, frowning, and he realizes you’re talking about the marks you’ve left on his back.

“Nah, I quite like them, actually,” he grins back. “Don’t you?”

There’s a lot of unsaid things that hang between the two of you. A lot of things that are better left unsaid. Sadly, you’re too smart for your own good, and you know better. You leave them be.

“I was worried for you,” is what do you say.

Satoru’s expression shifts. The grin vanishes, and you can’t see his eyes, so you’re not sure how he’s feeling, not until the corner of his lips lift up in a soft smile.

“Thank you,” he says, voice uncharacteristically low.

Then he turns away from you, and he’s as loud and boisterous as ever when Ichiji answers.

Of course. The strongest can’t let himself grow soft.

You bend down to pick up your papers, rearrange them neatly on the desk, eyes still on him, on the animated way he moves around the room.

You think you’re more grateful than he knows, for him being back here. Not because he’s the strongest, not because no one gets rid of a curse like he can, but because he’s Satoru. It’s probably better that way, though. You’re both too busy for distractions.

With a sigh, you put your papers back on the desk, then start moving towards the exit.

“Aren’t we going?” you ask Satoru right as you’re reaching the door.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows.

“Hope you wrote all that down, ‘cause I need to get out of here,” he says on the phone, and you hear Ichiji protest, but that doesn’t stop Satoru from hanging up unceremoniously. He follows you in the hallway, shoulders brushing against yours without quite touching.

“Hey, if not in the car, there’s a supply closet on the first floor—”

“No.”

“Yaga’s office is probably—”

“Absolutely not.”

“How about in my bed?” he asks, right against your ear, breath tickling against your skin. Your cheeks heat up.

“…Sure.”

He only savors his victory for a second.

“What about the couch?”

“Don’t push it.”

But he does, and you let him.

How could you not, when you finally have him back?

still trying to get used to writing gojo's character, don't know if i quite have him just yet. i hope you enjoyed this, any feedback you have is welcomed and encouraged! reblogs and comments are what keeps me writing, so please engage with my work to let me know if you'd like to see more~

if you enjoy my writing, you can find more gojo x reader here

[starlight-45]

Dating BLLK boys in school! (Part 2)

Featuring:- Hyoma Chigiri, Reo Mikage, Seishiro Nagi (Part 1 here with Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira and Rin Itoshi and here's the masterlist )

A/n: again, don't know where this shit is set. It has their current personalities and they're still in blue lock. Maybe taking a break in off-season and go to school for a change. Idk.

~Hyoma Chigiri~

•Is pretty nonchalant about the whole thing actually he is about most things but gives in easily much to your suprise. he's unpredictable like that.

• To him school was just a place to showcase his talent on a low level before moving on to the bigger stage.

• Kinda really didn't have that many friends, despite being popular as hell because of his looks and talent.

• 'Cause no one really couldn't kept up with his actual sass and sharp personality. Well expect for you now, darling! Don't expect him to admit it though, you'll get only an eye roll out of him.

• But geuninely like there are situations where he has to reject like 5 people at once. 😭 You don't whether to be impressed or annoyed by it.

• Anyway.

• If Chirgiri isn't in class, you can find him in the library. Before you try to fight me, lemme remind it's in the egoist Bible so it's canon.

• He will binge read history novels honestly, and thinks in his free time how it could have been different and stuff. He thinks about the fall of the Roman Empire at least once a day.

• Won't ramble or blabble about it too much to you, but will share random titbits to you about, at the most random times.

• No seriously. At the most random times.

"Ugh trigonometry is the worst-"

"Christianity promotion must have resulted in loss of traditional values of Romans..."

"Huh?"

"You asked to study right?"

"YES. To study maths. Tommorow is the test!"

"...Oh."

• Also he's got a fair amount of complaints from teachers and other coordinators about his long hair. When they speak to him about it, he's judging then SO hard. He does it to almost everyone.

• If you blabble about your classmates stories, he will listen to it, asking questions actively. He actually is pretty interested in the gossipy stuff.

• Can I just rant about how much of a tease he is in denying you affection? Like don't get me wrong, of course Chigiri's gonna have some sort of physical contact like holding hands and stuff in front of other students.

• To show you guys are together and no he's not entertaining any confessions, that's what he tells you to just not get annoying interactions but you both know it's just not that lol

• But when you two do mange to get alone on campus, this guy is a cheeky little bastard. He intentionally leans a bit far than you, just to rile you up and make the first move.

"What? Why are you glaring at me, huh? I didn't do anything you know."

• By the way, this kind of situation doesn't really happen often. Only in school when alone. Still to this day you don't know why he gets like that during that specific time.

• You guessed it's maybe because he rarely can keep his hands off you in private, so this environment keeps him a but grounded and can act all cool. You saw right through it, but that's different story.

• Doesn't care what people think of him, rude, moody, arrogent hell even princess...because like whatever. But won't torelate any negetive comments about you.

• His demeanor doesn't change much, but his glare speaks for itself that the person currently should shut up if they know what's good for them.

• Because, despite all the ups and downs our princess truly loves you and will want the best for you. Amen.

~Mikage Reo~

• I'm guessing you already has a pretty good grasp at what to expect from him, huh?

• We all know, that while on the surface his school life is perfect with good grades, popularity, football...he gets really really bored there.

• But I think as his girlfriend, it's your job to not get him excited. And guess what? You're doing a great job at it!

• This guy is the type, that when in a relationship, you can talk on and on about golf most boring sport ever! and he will listen like it's the most interesting thing ever.

• So yeah... it's not really all that hard for ya to keep him busy lol. Others have a hard time to do so though.

• Though he gave up on studies since blue lock, he figured that it won't hurt to study a bit for a few months to keep up his reputation.

• And to impress you, but shh don't let him know I told ya. But yeah, when talking about studies he's more of a hard work type rather than being a natural. I'm looking at you, Nagi!

• Which is a blessing for you because you can literally just call him over whenever you wanna study. And like ACTUALLY study, he's the best at tutoring, teaching you everything patiently.

• I mean he was the best friend was Nagi. OF COURSE Reo gained a lot of patience from being around that baby.

• Still entertains the fan following he quickly gained at school I mean what did you expect? but not really too much like before.

• Kinda because of still having PTSD from blue lock. You know the the haunting feeling no matter what he does there are things he won't get. Yeah that's what he's afraid of deep down.

• And not just that, also because of you. He knows people can get a too overboard with the fangirling which might make you uncomfortable. So sweet! 😭

• Proudly shows you off as his, and damn he does get a bit of a smug look which is priceless to see. It's a good reminder for him that no matter what happens, you're always his side.

• Which suprisingly makes everyone immediately back off, because like it's just so evident that this guy is just too hooked up on you to even glance at their direction.

• Will actually bribe the school authorities to get you in his class, and will deny any accusations made against him by you about that matter you JUST asked him casually but y'know this guy is dramatic as hell.

• "Why would I do that? You think that I'm the kind of rich person to throw money away just to get my way?"

"I love you Reo but that's exactly what you are."

• Always has an arm around you, suprising you during lunch break, pulling your cheeks even in front of everyone...you're just that cute!

• Is the type to distract you during class, then giggle when you get called out by the teacher for not paying attention. :P

• Don't worry much though, Reo doesn't do it that often, he knows his limits, despite being tempted to do more just to have your attention and your adorable mad face.

• Damnit, you're still just too cute for him to resist having you with him. He truly is blessed.

~Nagi Seishiro~

• Okay so, I think this scenario can go two ways, depending on what time you ask him and what mood he is in.

• 1. Nagi would just say "It's such a hassle" and drop his head on your lap, not wanting to think much but will relent with a bit of convincing because again, he doesn't wanna use his brain much.

• 2. Would just say okay on your first attempt, not seeing any reason to refuse. As you can see, both of these scenarios end up getting him back in school for a few months.

• We all know he's the type to just sleep and play games in class and get scolded by the teacher because of it.

• Lord knows how this guy manages to top every single time because I don't.

• "Hey Seishiro what did you get?"

"..98.."

"I just can't believe it, how do you do it every single time?!"

"I don't believe it either." said the teacher unamused, arranging the papers.

• You also feel lowkey jealous because of it, like can study for hours and hours and still get less than him I don't know about you ma'am but I would have given up a long time ago on academics.

• However, it has it's merits as well. He doesn't study but hangs around you when you do in the library or his apartment and sometimes kind of helps you understand stuff.

• "God this question is so stupid."

"...Hm? It's so easy..."

"Oh really? Why don't you tell me how to do it?"

"... don't convert the tan A into sin A/cosA, because it won't get divided on the final step..."

"Wow it worked, thank you!"

"... don't mention it."

• If you can't find him during lunch, you can find him in teacher's cabin getting scolded or sleeping/playing games on the stairs.

• And in extreme cases, on the water tank of the rooftop how the hell did does he get there?? basically everywhere expect the classroom, eating his lunch, y'know like a normal person in lunch break.

• So it's your duty to drag him to have lunch so to make sure he doesn't die. No I'm not exaggerating, this guy can be starving to death but still be playing call of duty.

• This guy is shameless around you, and the worst part that you can't even say anything about it because it's not his intention to annoy you. He is just is build different.

• Like, he'd just lean over your shoulder as you drag him to class you still won't give him the piggyback ride. Poor boy not really regardless of people giving him and you judgemental stares.

• On the rare days when he's not sleeping in class, he's still not paying any attention to the teacher. Yeah all the teachers hate him.

• Instead his focus is all on you, observing how you are trying your best to pay attention to whatever the hell the teacher's trying to explain, suprisingly intrigued.

• He doesn't know why but, he's not bored while doing even though he's just looking at you . This guy is just attracted to you so damn much.

• And his smol energy level won't allow him to fight that attraction either. However Nagi doesn't dislike that fact. He loves the attraction and you, even if he didn't realise it yet.

A/n: I think the quality is dipped in this one, I kind of rushed it. I apologise for it. (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

[alisonsfics]

all it took

pairing: tony dinozzo x reader

summary: falling for your coworker was never something you planned on, but it happened nonetheless. so, you kept it top secret. this works fine until someone breaks into NCIS headquarters, and you and tony are put in harms way.

word count: 3k

warnings: hostage situation, guns, blood/injuries (nothing graphic), swearing

You sent a glare in Tony’s direction after getting hit in the face with a piece of candy. “Dinozzo!” You said, exasperatedly, trying to figure out why he had just thrown an M&M at your face.

“I called your name like five times. You didn’t hear me.” He explained. You ran your hand through your hair. “That’s cause I’m working. Gibbs is down in interrogation, and he needs something he can use. I don’t want to be the one to tell him I have nothing— whatever. What do you need?” You asked him.

“I want to show you a trick.” He said, excitedly. You and Tony were really good friends, which meant you both had no trouble having fun around each other. Gibbs didn’t always love this.

Tony tossed a piece of candy up in the air and attempted unsuccessfully to catch it in his mouth. You quickly put your hand over your mouth, suppressing a giggle. “Don’t you even,” Tony warned, expecting the sarcastic comment that was on the tip of your tongue.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything. I just figured a federal agent would have better hand-eye coordination.” You said, smirking at him. He knew he had just been challenged. “Alright, let’s see you do it.” He said, inviting you over to his desk.

You stood up from your chair and walked over to the side of Tony’s desk. He tossed a piece of candy your way, which you caught in your mouth on the first try. The smile on Tony’s face faded. “You were clearly assisted by my excellent aim,” he said, defensively.

You giggled at his sad expression. “So, what’s my prize for beating you?” You asked, curiously. A smirk spread across Tony’s face. “That depends on what you want.” He quipped.

A flirty comment out of Tony wasn’t anything knew to you. All of your coworkers knew you both were into each other, but hadn’t admitted it yet.

You thought about it, and his comment gave you an idea about the suspect down in interrogation.

“I need to call Gibbs,” you said, grabbing the phone off his desk.

“I’m very happy for you, but I don’t think Gibbs is going to care that you caught an M&M.” He said, not catching on yet. You flicked his arm.

“Ow,” he exclaimed, scooting his chair back away from you.

“Your phone’s not working,” you said, slamming it down. You raced over to your desk, grabbing your own phone. You heard the same static sound over your phone. “The phones must be down.” You said, confused since the phones were never down.

Over your shoulder, Tony saw a man step out of the elevator with a large gun. His first instinct should have been to grab his own gun and order the man to surrender. That was his job after all.

But not with you standing in the middle.

He dived over to where you were standing, pulling you down to the ground with him. As you both fell to the floor, you heard a bunch of rapid gunshots go into the ceiling.

You felt a burning sensation on your upper arm. You swore under your breath, wincing in pain.

Tony felt his heart sink as he noticed the blood seeping through your shirt. “Hang on, it’ll be okay. One of the ricochets must have hit you. Just looks like a graze though,” he said, tugging off the button-up shirt he was wearing.

He was left in a white t-shirt, tying his other shirt tightly around your arm.

“I need to see Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.” The intruder announced to the squad room. There wasn’t very many agents in the office today, but they were all now laying on the ground as instructed.

“Keep pressure on this,” Tony said, starting to stand up. You gripped onto his arm. He saw the fear in your eyes. Tony had never seen you scared before.

You weren’t scared for yourself. You were scared Tony would play hero and get himself hurt.

“Don’t,” you begged him. He could sense your desperation. “I won’t go anywhere,” he gave in. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close to him.

You heard heavy footsteps behind you. The intruder was standing right in front of your desk, staring at you both sitting behind it.

“You, up!” He ordered, staring at Tony. Tony slowly stood, holding his hands up. “I’m Gibbs. What do you need?” He asked, nonchalantly.

“You want to try again, agent? Because I know you’re not Gibbs.” He threatened. Tony shrugged his shoulders. “I’m Special Agent Gibbs. Don’t know what to tell you,” he lied.

You cursed Tony out in your head. He was amazing at his job, but always knew how to make you worry about him.

“How about you tell me the truth?” The intruder said, shifting his gun to point it at you. Tony jumped in front of the intruder, keeping you safe. “Hey hey hey, I’m Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo. Don’t hurt her” the words rushed out of his mouth.

The intruder smirked, realizing he had found Tony’s weak spot.

There was no bluffing when it came to you. Tony wouldn’t do anything that risked your safety.

“That’s better, Romeo. Now bring me to Gibbs.” The intruder demanded. Tony hesitated, looking over his shoulder at you. “She’s hurt. Let me call our doctor up here. Then, I’ll do whatever you want,” Tony negotiated.

The intruder considered his proposition for a minute, then turned to you. “You, come here.” He demanded. Following your training, you held your hands in the air and slowly walked towards him.

He pointed his gun at Tony and used his other hand to pat you down. You could see Tony tense up. “So, what do you want with Gibbs?” You asked, trying to get inside his head.

“My name is Jeremiah Parker. Agent Gibbs arrested my brother today, and I’m here to get him back.” The intruder explained, referencing the suspect that was down in interrogation with Gibbs right now.

Jeremiah ran his hand down your legs, grabbing your gun and throwing it to the side. His hand went back up to your waist.

You felt yourself flinch as his hand lingered on your ass. Tony noticed immediately. “Hey, get your hands off of her.” Tony snapped.

Jeremiah simply chuckled. “Calm down, Agent Dinozzo. I’m only looking for these.” He said, grabbing your handcuffs off your belt.

“Cuff his hands, sweetheart.” He told you. Tony gave you a soft smile, letting you know it was okay. You stepped towards Tony, grabbing both his hands and handcuffing them in front of him.

He grabbed one your hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re shaking. It’ll be okay, I promise,” he assured you.

Then, Jeremiah grabbed your shoulders forcefully and pulled you away from Tony. He pressed the tip of his gun against your side.

“Call your doctor, and put it on speaker.” He instructed Tony, who nodded his head and obliged.

The phone rang once or twice and then you heard Jimmy’s voice come through the speaker. “Hello, this is Palmer,” he said, nonchalantly.

“Hey, Jimmy. I need to speak with Dr. Mallard.” Tony said, silently praying Palmer would know he only ever referred to him as Ducky. Jimmy mumbled “one second,” and then there was some silence.

“Hello, Tony?” Ducky asked. “Hi, Dr. Mallard. I need you to bring your first aid kit up to the squad room please.” Tony said, calmly. Ducky was silent for a minute, trying to figure out what was wrong. “Tony, what’s going on?” Ducky asked, already knowing something was off.

“Just hurry,” Tony said, almost snapping. He was almost pleading with Ducky. If Jeremiah knew anything was going on, he’d probably kill you both.

“Tony is everything ok—” Ducky started to ask before Jeremiah quickly hung up the phone.

You felt your body tense as he slammed the phone down. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. If your doctor does as he’s told, you’ll be just fine.” Jeremiah assured you, running his thumb over you cheek.

“I only bring you to Gibbs if you leave her alone.” Tony threatened. Jeremiah didn’t respond, he just chuckled to himself. “You’re the one in handcuffs. I don’t think you’re in a place to make demands.” Jeremiah told him.

The elevator door dinged. You all watched Ducky cautiously step out of the elevator, first aid kit in hand.

Jeremiah pressed his gun against your head. “Over here, doctor,” Jeremiah announced.

Ducky knew something was wrong just from the phone call. He wasn’t shocked that there was an intruder, but seeing a gun pointed at your head made him realize how serious the situation was.

“Ducky, Y/N’s arm got grazed. I need you to stay here and help her. Me and our friend have to go talk to Gibbs.” Tony told him.

Jeremiah shoved you towards Ducky, who held his hands out and caught you from falling over. Tony also lunged to try to catch you, even though his hands were handcuffed together.

Ducky wrapped his arm around your shoulder, in a fatherly manner. “Well Gibbs is down in interrogation now.” He said, looking towards Tony. You knew from Ducky’s expression that Gibbs knew what was going on.

You didn’t know why you were so nervous. You and Tony had worked in the field together for years, but he had never seen you this nervous. You didn’t know why it felt different this time.

You both were in dangerous situations all the time, but this time you were terrified that Tony would get hurt. He had the same worries for you.

Tony noticed how you were nervously biting your lip.

“Hey, it’ll be alright. You know me,” Tony said, softly. He was trying to reassure you, but it wasn’t working.

If you hadn’t seen the small beads of sweat on his forehead, you probably would’ve believed him.

But he was right. You did know him.

You knew he used humor instead of admitting he was scared.

You both had been hiding behind the “just friends” label for years, but Tony had always cared for you more he had ever cared for just a friend. As he saw the look on your face and the tear rolling down your cheek, he had all the confirmation he needed that you felt the same way about him.

He sighed at the irony of the situation. Tony was very aware that this could be the last time he saw you.

You also were terrified. As soon as Tony was out of your sight, there was no saying what would happen to him.

“Ducky, I need you to take care of her” Tony said with the most serious tone you’ve ever heard him use.

Jeremiah kicked Tony in the back of the leg, pushing him forward. “Let’s go,” he demanded.

As soon as Jeremiah turned away from you, you decided to copy one of Tony’s favorite movies, the A-Team, which he had forced you to watch with him.

You had the key to your handcuffs concealed in your hand. You quickly slipped the key into your mouth. “Tony wait,” you called out. Tony stopped in his tracks as you walked over to him.

You cupped his face and kissed him. Tony was shocked, but wasted no time kissing you back. He felt your tongue slip the key into his mouth. He smirked into the kiss, knowing that you remembered watching that movie together.

You reluctantly pulled out of the kiss. “Be safe,” you whispered. He nodded his head, “I promise.”

You felt Ducky’s hands on your arm, pulling you back towards him. You both watched as the two of them walked away towards the elevator.

“He’ll be alright, my dear,” Ducky reassured you. You turned around, leaning your head on Ducky’s shoulder as a few tears slipped onto your cheeks. “I really want to believe you, Duck.” You whispered.

“Anthony will do whatever it takes to come back to you because it’s you.” He told you.

As the elevator doors closed, Tony looked over his shoulder at Jeremiah. “If you put another scratch on her body, I swear to god, I will kill you myself.” Tony threatened.

“Is Agent Dinozzo in love?” Jeremiah questioned. Tony remained silent. He had barely been able to admit those feelings to himself.

“I am a sucker for love. It’s so sad that you’ll never see her again.” Jeremiah quipped.

Then, the elevator screeched to a halt. Tony knew that somewhere Gibbs was responsible.

Meanwhile, Ducky was dragging you up to MTAC. You had told all the other agents in the squad room to go up there to stay safe, but you weren’t planning on staying. You needed to go help Tony.

Ducky didn’t like that idea.

“Now, just come on, my dear. I need to look at your arm. Anthony has this under control. You could walk into an ambush.” Ducky tried to convince you, blocking the door so you couldn’t leave.

“Ducky. I think I love him, and I would regret staying here for the rest of my life if he gets hurt.” You told him, honestly.

Ducky nodded, sympathizing with your situation. “Then, let me fix this first.” He said, fixing the way Tony’s shirt was tied around your arm.

“There you go, but be safe.” He told you, letting you leave. You sprinted down the stairs and grabbed your gun off your desk. You opted to take the stairs down to interrogation instead of the elevator.

Tony and Jeremiah’s elevator finally continued descending down to the interrogation floor.

Jeremiah stuck his gun to Tony’s head, anticipating agents when the elevator doors opened.

The doors opened and revealed Gibbs standing with his gun pointed at Jeremiah. “Put your gun down, Agent Gibbs, or another one of your agents gets hurt.” Jeremiah demanded.

Ducky had told Gibbs about the weird phone call with Tony, but he didn’t know about you getting hurt.

“What did you do?” Gibbs asked, cautiously.

“Y/N got grazed by a bullet. She’s with Ducky now. She’s probably gonna need some stitches.” Tony informed him.

Tony promptly got elbowed by Jeremiah. “Shut your mouth, Romeo. Or your girlfriend is going to get more than a graze.” Jeremiah snapped.

Tony didn’t stop.

“Boss, drop your gun. You won’t need it to take him out.” Tony told Gibbs. Gibbs got the message and placed his gun on the ground.

Jeremiah had had enough. He threw a quick punch at Tony’s face, successfully hitting him right in the nose.

Tony’s plan worked.

He flinched, grabbing his nose with both his hands. He sneakily grabbed the key out of his mouth, but didn’t unlock the handcuffs yet.

Jeremiah walked Gibbs and Tony down the hallway, towards the interrogation room. Tony unlocked the handcuffs when Gibbs gave him the signal.

He popped his hands out and turned around, quickly smacking the gun out of Jeremiah’s hands. Then, McGee jumped out from around the corner with his gun pointed at Jeremiah.

Gibbs grabbed Jeremiah and quickly handcuffed him.

“Go get her,” Gibbs told Tony, but he had already started running towards the stairs. McGee followed after Tony, not quite keeping up. This was the fastest Tony had ever ran. His mind was racing with thoughts of you.

Tony got to the squad room and found your desk empty. You and Ducky were nowhere to be seen. Tony called your name a few times, desperately looking around for you.

McGee arrived shortly after Tony. “She could’ve brought everyone up to MTAC for safety.” McGee suggested. Tony sprinted up the stairs, slamming the door open as he ran inside.

He scanned the faces of all the agents standing in the room, not seeing you. Agents started to funnel out of the room, knowing it was safe now.

“Oh, come on, come on, where are you?” His mind was racing with possibilities.

Tony found Ducky. “Ducky. Where is she?” He asked, urgently.

“She went off to find you, Anthony.” Ducky informed him.

“Tony, Tony, down here,” Tony heard McGee screaming from outside.

Tony ran outside of MTAC and saw you standing down next to McGee in the squad room.

Once his eyes landed on you, he sprinted down the stairs, running as fast as his legs would take him.

He pulled you right into his arms, holding onto you tightly. “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay” you whispered into his shirt. “I’m fine. Gibbs has him. It’s all okay” he ran his hand through your hair, comforting you.

“What about your arm?” Tony jumped back, thinking he was hurting you. “I’m fine, Tony. Ducky’s gonna stitch it up. It hurts like a bitch, but I’m fine.” You assured him.

You looked at his face, wanting to double check that he was actually okay. “Your nose looks all red and swollen.” You said, noticing his injury.

“I had to get him to throw a punch at me, so I could get the key out of my mouth. I promise, it’s nothing. It takes more than that to hurt Anthony Dinozzo.” He told you. He pulled you back into his arms.

“I know this is part of the job, but I was so fucking worried about you.” You told him, squeezing onto him tightly.

He grabbed your chin and pulled your face up to connect your lips. He had one hand pressed against your cheek, and the other was on the back of your head. You rested your hands on his sides.

You weren’t taking any part of this moment for granted. You memorized the way his shirt felt under your fingers and spearmint taste on his lips.

“Oh, would you look at that? All it took to get you two together was a hostage situation.” Ducky said. You both pulled away and saw Ducky staring with Gibbs and McGee standing behind him.

“I can’t believe you used the key trick from A-Team. You are so amazing.” Tony said, pressing a bunch of kisses to your cheek. Tony couldn’t contain himself. After all, the girl he was crazy about used his favorite move from his favorite movie to save his life.

“I hate to steal her from you, Anthony, but she really needs those stitches.” Ducky interrupted.

“Don’t worry. I’ll hold your hand the whole time.” Tony said, cheesily interlacing your fingers with his and walking over to your desk where Ducky had his first aid kit opened.

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[katyaromanoffpetrova]

What if...they met in college? (1)

Instead of being forced into espionage, Kat and Nat grew up in society like normal kids. But fate always forces them together. As roommates in college this time. One popular girl and one nerdy girl.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 4.7k • Warnings: none • A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @nataliasquote !!! This one is for you. The college AU you are so obsessed with. More parts to follow :) Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

Katya

The hallways of the campus' dormitories were chaos. Bags, suitcases, instruments, and people, lots of people, blocked Katya's way as she tried to navigate her way to room 415. They bumped into her left and right, and screamed things in her ear as she parkoured over their stuff, yanking on the handle of her suitcase aggressively whenever it got stuck. 

Move-in day was busy, really busy. She meant to avoid rush hour by arriving early, but she'd gotten stuck in traffic. For two hours. Now her roommate had gotten to their room before she did and undoubtedly claimed the good side, probably leaving her with very little space and very possibly decorating the floor with the world's ugliest rug. 

Katya stopped halfway down the hall to catch her breath, dropping her heavy sports bag to the floor to give her poor, aching shoulder a break. With the back of her hand, she pushed her glasses up her nose and brushed some hair from her forehead. It would have been great to have some help. At the end of the hall, a girl had a whole team to help her move in. Parents, sister or friend, boyfriend or brother. But Katya didn't have anyone, so she had to take three roundtrips to the parking lot by herself.

With a sigh, she hoisted the bag up again and watched the room numbers climb the further she walked down the hall. The girls in room 410 had their door open, a song from fifteen years ago blasting from a portable speaker on their desks. They must know each other, because both their sides of the room were in coordinating colors. One of them caught Katya's nosy eye and gave her an awkward smile.

411, 412, 413, 414…

The door to room 415 was open. Katya stopped and took one last, deep breath before stepping into the doorway. 

She was right. Her roommate had already decorated her part of the room. Her eye immediately fell on the large rug between the beds. A fluffy, really soft looking beige one that looked very tempting for a nap. It suited the rest of the surprisingly calm decorations. 

White bed sheets with various neutral colored pillows on top, the subtle black and white prints on the wall, the beige colored plant pots, the fairylights that emitted a soft yellow glow, and the beige curtains that Katya also wasn't mad about. The only thing that held some color were the pictures on the corkboard above her headboard.

Whoever this girl was, she had good taste.

Katya dumped her suitcase by the unoccupied bed and threw her duffel bag on top, careful to avoid the rug with her shoes. The knot in her stomach unraveled a little bit. Maybe her worries about her roommate had been invalid. She had definitely been overthinking too much. It even smelled nice in here, like her roommate had lit a vanilla scented candle.

''Oh, you're here!'' A cheerful voice came from behind Katya. ''I went to pick up two muffins from downstairs because I was hungry and I figured you would be too.'' 

Katya turned around… and was met with the most stunning woman she'd ever seen in her entire life. 

The same height as her, lean build, fair skin—but that wasn't what Katya's gaze was drawn to. A pair of full, pink lips framed a beautiful wide smile that reached all the way up to her even more beautiful, sparkling green eyes. Her eyelashes were so long they nearly touched her perfectly defined eyebrows, and when she blinked, they brushed over her sharp cheekbones. Her nose wasn't small or pointy, and had a little bump that would make most people self-conscious, but fit her face so well that everyone would be jealous of it anyway.

But somehow, like that wasn't already enough to turn heads, this all paled in comparison to the long, slightly curly hair that fell down her shoulders. It was that kind of bright, deep red that non-redheads tried to achieve but never could. The kind that naturally looked darker in the winter and lit up slightly orange in the summer sun. Everchanging and unique, and part of the reason why Katya's heart was hammering in her chest. 

''I'm Natasha.''

Oh. My. God. 

Katya could not form a single thought. Her mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert in the middle of the summer. She could only stare. Stare at her roommate while she tried to fight off the gay panic that reduced her to a completely useless human being. 

This could not be happening. The girl she had to live with for a year could not be this excruciatingly attractive. Freshman year would be her end. 

Awkwardly, she cleared her throat when she saw that Natasha was waiting for a response, an amused eyebrow quirked up on her forehead. God, she was already making a fool of herself. ''Katya Petrova,'' she said shortly, her smile filled with embarrassment as she accepted the blueberry muffin Natasha kindly got her. Get yourself together, or she's gonna get tired of your weirdness quickly.

It wasn't physically possible, but Natasha's perfect eyes lit up even more. ''Russian?''

''Yeah.''

Her smile turned into a mysterious smirk that sent tingles down Katya's spine. ''Then we're gonna get along just fine,'' she said, and Katya couldn't help but feel like there was some sort of double meaning she was missing. Natasha looked at her like she was a meal, and her nerves intensified.

''Uh, thank you for the muffin,'' she blurted out.

''You're welcome,'' Natasha mused, totally cool as she leaned back against her desk. It was unfair, how she turned Katya into a complete mess while she remained confident and calm. But it was so attractive. Katya shivered as Natasha's green eyes slowly looked her up and down. ''I think I picked right. You look like a blueberry muffin girl.''

An awkward chuckle slipped past Katya's lips. She wanted to get away from that piercing gaze desperately, anything to think clearly again, but it wouldn't let her move. ''What does that mean?''

''I don't know.'' With a smirk—and intense eye contact—Natasha brought her ring finger to her lips and sucked the muffin crumbs off. Casually, she repeated the motion with her other fingers, her entire thumb disappearing in her mouth.

Katya felt her eyes widen, more gay panic flushing her veins until her heart thudded loudly in her chest. Images, ones she would never say out loud, filled her mind. Her lower stomach turned into knots while a blush covered her cheeks. She turned away, pretending to be really busy with unpacking. She swore she heard a soft chuckle behind her.

''I hope you don't mind the rug and the curtains. I took the liberty to decorate.''

''That's okay," Katya answered, having trouble remembering what the curtains even looked like. They were the very last thing on her mind as she rummaged aimlessly through her bag, hoping Natasha didn't notice that she wasn't doing anything.

''Is that all your stuff?''

Katya shook her head, risking a glance over her shoulder. She was relieved to see that Natasha's flirty expression had turned into something more puzzled. ''No, the rest is in my car.''

It wasn't hard to put two and two together. Natasha's eyes visibly softened. ''Are you here alone?''

''Yes," Katya answered casually, ignoring the stab in her heart.

It stayed quiet a moment longer than normal, painfully so. These silences were nothing new. She'd started to expect them. On Mother's day, on Father's day, on Christmas, on Thanksgiving, but also moments like these, where she didn't know she would be missing parents until she was in the moment. 

''Does your family live far away?'' Natasha asked carefully.

''Sort of.''

She put her muffin down and uncrossed her arms. ''Let me help you carry the rest up. I can't possibly let you walk back and forth countless times while I take a nap,'' she joked lightheartedly.

''Oh, no, it's okay. Really. You don't have to help me," Katya refused, not in the mood for pity. But Natasha stood up straight and tied her beautiful hair into a perfect messy bun.

''Well, I want to," she said with a tone so definitive that Katya lost all her will to protest. "And I'm not taking no for an answer.'' She looked ready to tackle a big job. Hands on her Lululemon shorts-clad hips, sports shoes on her feet. And those lean arms…they could surely carry a few boxes.

Katya considered it for a moment, and then nodded. It would be nice to have some help. ''Okay then.'' Natasha flashed her a big smile.

Somehow, she faced none of the struggles from before—having to parkour her way through the halls. People seemed to get out of their way for Natasha, driven by some invisible force that must have been her confident aura.

Katya felt entirely unworthy to be walking next to her. They attracted lots of eyes, and the reason they looked at them certainly wasn't her red, sweaty face. Nobody noticed a dull brunette next to a redheaded goddess in gym shorts and a crop top. 

Natasha didn't seem to notice anything. She kept talking to Katya, completely comfortable yapping to someone she'd only met five minutes ago, while Katya tried not to let her gay panic turn into real, uncontrollable panic. She only heard half of what her roommate was saying.

''Hey, Nat!''

They were in the quad, a huge field of grass between the main campus buildings. Today, the main path was lined with stalls full of information and help. If someone couldn't find their dorm or there was another problem, they could visit here. 

A guy, looking older than her, had called Natasha's name from one of the stands, his hand in the air to grab her attention. Katya's first instinct was; football player. He had the build for it.

''Jason!" She smiled, not stopping to talk to him. "How are you?''

He was the fourth guy to greet her like that. Like he knew her. They all looked vastly different—though good-looking—and they all looked older. Some closer to twenty-four than eighteen. It was odd. Where did she know all of them from? Katya was starting to gain suspicions that her roommate may be more well-known around here than she thought.

"So, what's your thing?" Natasha asked suddenly. Katya had been brooding over her roommate's popularity so hard that she didn't realize she'd fallen silent. Or that they were close to the parking lot. 

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"What are you here for?" Natasha clarified, smiling when she still saw the confusion on Katya's face. "Law and dance, that's my thing. Studying law, and I'll be trying out for the dance team."

Katya didn't find this surprising at all. Natasha looked like that kind of person who could do it both. Arts and literature. Body and brains. Someone good at absolutely everything. It also explained her subtle muscles and lean figure. Of course, the gorgeous, popular girl was a dancer. What were the chances she was a cheerleader in high school?

"Of course, you are." Katya paled when she realized the words had escaped her.

Natasha smirked amusedly. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," Katya said quickly. Her roommate's need to fluster her all the time was starting to get on her nerves. She fiddled with her car keys, smiling nervously. "I'm not as interesting as you, I'm afraid."

Natasha tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with something flirty. "You interest me."

Heat rose on Katya's cheeks once more. She kept getting caught off guard by Natasha's simple yet effective smooth-talking. Everything she said seemed to have some sort of double meaning. Her body could not keep up with its reactions.

"History is my thing. History and literature. But the literature is just a hobby," she said awkwardly, trying to hide her red cheeks. Her studies and hobbies always sounded boring to begin with, but next to Natasha's they looked even worse. Katya grimaced. "I told you it's boring."

"No, it's not!" Natasha rushed to reassure her. "I've always envied people who could quote Hemmingway off the top of their heads. Are you one of those people?"

"Kind of." Katya smiled shyly when she realized that Natasha was being genuine. 

"That's cool." The redhead smiled. "Everyone has their own interests, don't be embarrassed of yours."

Katya wasn't used to the conversation going this way. It was a breath of fresh air. "Most people think it's lame," she said as she popped the trunk of her terribly plain and old Honda Civic.

Natasha shrugged, picking up the first box she saw. "People will always have opinions, so you are better off just doing what you like."

"Can't disagree." Katya smiled at her. Would things finally be different? Would she finally fit in somewhere? The day started off with lots of frustration but now the future looked very hopeful. Maybe she would finally feel at home somewhere.

It took the both of them three trips to get everything upstairs, after which Katya bought Natasha an iced coffee to thank her. She was drinking that as she scrolled on her phone and absentmindedly talked to Katya while Katya unpacked her stuff. 

Everything she had was in these boxes, her whole life. She had no family to store anything with, so all of it had to fit within the four walls of this room. There was some odd stuff in some of these boxes. But Natasha didn't ask her about anything. Overall, she had been nothing but considerate and an amazing roommate.

"This campus is full of disgusting boys."

Katya jumped. She had her back turned to the door, and with the business in the hallway hadn't heard someone stop in their doorway. It was a small blonde with her hands in her pockets. She looked annoyed, bored and disgusted all at the same time, like a moody teenager. Questionably, Katya looked at Natasha.

The woman sighed and put her phone down. "Kat, meet my little sister, Yelena. Yelena, this is Katya, my roommate."

As if she was only now realizing there was another person in the room, the blonde—Yelena—looked at Katya. Then she let out the loudest gasp. "Oh my god, they put you with a nerd." She laughed.

Katya blushed and looked away. That's not the first time she's heard that. In fact, people all throughout her life had taken the liberty of calling her that. It wasn't her looks per se—she didn't wear braces, outdated clothes, or thick-rimmed glasses. She was a normal kid, in normal clothes, with a delicate, modern-looking pair of glasses balancing on her nose. And, if Katya might say so herself, she wasn't ugly.

No, it was the things she did and liked that put a sticker on her. First of all, her introvertness and her shyness. It had gotten a lot better with age. She didn't stutter or stumble over her words as much anymore, but her shy nature stayed. It made that she never quite fit in with anyone. She didn't have big friend groups or hang around the popular kids. She usually had one good friend who she could sit in peaceful silence with.

Then there were the books, the literature, the movies she watched. Katya realized very young that she was different from the other girls in her class. She preferred the works of writers long gone, liked her movies black and white, and would rather spend her Friday afternoon reading than going to parties. They bullied her for having her lunch break in the library, reading alone, for getting an A on every test. Her interest lay with history, not with the latest Hollywood gossip. 

It shouldn't get to her, but in their cores, everyone wanted to belong, to be liked. She couldn't simply turn off her human instinct.

Natasha's hands curled into fists, and it looked like she was going to explode on her sister, until an older woman stepped into the room. Her hair was so dark brown it nearly looked black, and her face held a stern expression. She was also incredibly gorgeous. "Yelena Belova! That is not how I raised you!"

Yelena cringed. "Sorry, Mama," she muttered.

The woman's scowl disappeared as she turned to Katya, a warm, motherly smile appearing on her face instead. "Hello, my dear. I'm Melina, Natasha's mother. Please excuse my rude daughter. I promise I raised them both better than that."

A warm feeling flushed through Katya's body. "It's okay, ma'am. Natasha helped me carry the rest of my stuff up from my car."

"Good girl." Melina smiled proudly at her daughter. Natasha rolled her eyes, clearly not at ease with her family around a stranger. "If you don't need us anymore, Yelena and I will be leaving."

"Yes, please take her out of here." 

Anger flashed across Yelena's face. "I sacrificed my free day for you, you ungrateful—"

"Girls!" Melina sighed, shaking her head. With pity, she looked at Katya. "I wish you luck with her, my dear—"

"What does that mean?" Natasha exclaimed.

"---and be nice to each other. Natasha, if you need me, I'm just a call away."

"And just a town away." She rolled her green eyes again. "No need for emotional goodbyes."

"Well, I am gonna miss you."

"I'm not," Yelena mumbled under her breath, smiling innocently when her mother glared at her.

Natasha sighed and started to walk them out the door. Like a dog herding sheep. Katya tried not to laugh as Melina and Yelena stumbled over each other into the hallway. "Mhm, goodbye now. Thank you for helping me today." Natasha closed the door in their faces, locking it for good measure. A pleasant silence filled the room. "I'm sorry about her."

"It's alright." Katya shrugged, though her brain was still trying to process what just happened. "I'm used to being called a nerd. It's not an insult."

"She meant it as one. She's a dick." Natasha chewed on her lip, clearly ashamed and embarrassed of her sister's behavior. It meant a lot to Katya that it mattered so much to her.

"It's okay, Natasha, really." 

The redhead smiled carefully. "Melina is probably yelling at her now, though."

Katya laughed. "Their faces as you pushed them out the door..."

"If I hadn't, they would still be standing here, arguing." Natasha returned to her bed, falling back into the same position as before they were rudely interrupted. It already felt so domestic, so comfortable. They could exist together and do their own thing without bothering the other.

"Your sister is completely different from you, isn't she?" Katya asked as she continued her unpacking.

"Yes and no. She's more moody, sassy, rude." Katya chuckled when Natasha rolled her eyes. "But she's driven, hard working, and incredibly loyal to the people she loves. She will fight someone for you... Literally… She loves punching people."

Katya laughed. "She sounds like a good sister to have."

"She'll do." Natasha suddenly perked up, like someone flipped the switch of focus in her brain. Smirking, she studied the boxes on Katya's side of the room. "So, in which one of those is your lingerie?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Orientation had broken Katya's brain. She'd gotten so much information at once that she literally had a headache. A bad one. Add that to a bad night of sleep—only four hours in total because of her new surroundings and anxiety—and she was ready to crash.

She unlocked her door and stumbled into the room, not surprised to see it empty. Natasha's shoes were gone and her bed was made. From what Katya learned yesterday, she seemed to know a lot of people, so she was undoubtedly chatting with every person she ran into. Maybe she wouldn't even return until late. At least Katya had her number.

She took advantage of Natasha's absence to take a long shower. Then she drew the curtains closed and laid down for a nap, her headache already subsiding after chugging two glasses of water. Her eyelids were so heavy, sleep tugged on her brain… 

When her phone rang. 

Katya let out the loudest groan, hurting her head in the process. Who dared to interrupt her nap? Ideally, she would have ignored it, but it could be Natasha or somebody else important. Blindly, she felt around until her fingers wrapped around her phone, her eyes squinting against the bright light to read the name on the screen. 

Tony.

Yep, that made sense. That man always had the worst timing. 

"What?" Katya snapped.

"What a way to greet me. Are you busy?" He gasped dramatically, then lowered his voice. "Wait, are you finally getting laid?"

Katya sighed, the tips of her ears burning. Ever since he stopped seeing her as a kid, he was trying to get her laid. Unsuccessfully. "No."

"Then you got time for me. Did you get settled in?" 

"If you were actually here to help me, you would have known," she said accusingly. "But you're too busy slutting yourself out in Miami."

"Going on holidays is important," Tony said casually. Katya rolled her eyes. He wasn't vacationing, he was partying and drinking. Club music boomed in the background of the call. His classes didn't start for another week. "You know what's also important? If your roommate is hot."

Katya groaned, reaching for the curtain to tug it open. She was so glad this was not a FaceTime call, or he would have seen how red her face was. "I'm not entertaining you with an answer."

"So she is." His stupid grin could be heard in his voice. She wanted to slap him. "What's her name?"

Katya hesitated. Whenever she told him about her crushes, Tony would go and mingle. It wouldn't be the first time he scared one away, but if she didn't tell him now, he would show up next week on her doorstep. Even worse. "Natasha," she answered reluctantly. "You wouldn't like her, she's ginger."

"Wait. A Natasha with red hair? Does she have big tits and a great ass?"

As much as Katya wanted to yell at him for objectifying women, she couldn't help but blush. Of course, her gay ass had not been able to resist taking a look at Natasha's body. Subtly and respectfully, of course. Her thoughts had not been subtle or respectful though, but they were safely inside her head so it was okay. She wasn't that kind of person.

"She looks great, yes."

Exactly at that moment, Natasha freaking Romanoff herself burst through the door, looking incredible as always. Denim shorts, tank top, messy ponytail—Katya's heart skipped a beat. Nobody should look that good after a full day of walking around in the late summer heat. God, she was a mess for her. 

"Who looks great?" Natasha smirked, dropping her bag to the ground. "Some girl at orientation already grabbed your attention?"

"Uh—I…no. There's nobody," Katya stammered, watching wide-eyed as Natasha took the hair tie out her hair and shook all those gorgeous curls loose. Her biceps flexed subtly when she fluffed it up.

"Uhu. Better give me a chance too before you set your sights on someone," Natasha teased.

Katya's breath caught in her throat. Was she dreaming? "Y-You?"

"Yeah. Unless you're not into girls." Natasha smiled smugly when she glanced at Katya's stunned expression. "I thought so. Me too."

If this were a cartoon, Katya's eyeballs would have bulged out of her head. Surely, she was dreaming now. There was no way this was reality. "You're gay?"

Natasha shrugged, grabbing a towel from the cabinet. "I'm a little bit of everything. As long as it's hot and kissable, I'm kissing it." She smirked, and then she closed the bathroom door behind her like she hadn't just turned Katya's whole world upside down.

There was an error in her brain. Her brain had flatlined. Open-mouthed, Katya stared at the door her roommate had disappeared through. She was sweating. Did Natasha seriously just say that she is into girls and she wants a shot with her? Was her headache actually a stroke and was she hallucinating? 

"Shut the fuck up. Your roommate is Natasha Romanoff?" 

Katya jumped. She'd completely forgotten that she was on the phone with Tony, and that he just heard everything. Her heart was racing in her chest. "Is that supposed to mean anything to me?"

He sighed. "You're hopeless. You need to get out more. She has a reputation for crashing college parties since she was 15. She's basically a legend."

It all made sense now. The guys who knew her, her popularity, why she knew her way around campus so well. She cuddled up with college guys while she was still in high school. 

How in the world did Katya, a nerd, get matched up with someone like what? Some funny forces were at play here. Someone up there must be laughing very hard.

"Okay, bye now." She just caught the start of Tony's protests when she cut off the call. She loved him, but she needed a moment to process these developments, and his endless yapping in her ear did not let her think clearly. 

He came into her life at a time where she needed someone the most. Orphaned since birth, Katya grew up in orphanages across the country. The last one she lived in, from age thirteen to literally last week, she met him. He'd protected her on the first day, when some older guys bullied her, and from there, he'd become her big brother. She saw him as that, too; family. Did he know Natasha personally?

Katya panicked when the shower turned off in the other room. Like, had a full-on silent panic attack. Not enough time had passed to process anything or to calm down. She couldn't face Natasha again. Not yet. What if she continued the conversation where it left off?

Quickly, she dived for her laptop and headphones, and put on the first TV show she could find. When Natasha came out of the bathroom, she didn't even spare her a glance. It was possibly the best performance of her life, pretending she was interested in her show and her heart wasn't pounding in her ears.

But Katya looked at her from the corner of her eye whenever she could, trying to figure out what the hell she was doing. Natasha seemed to be getting ready for something. She did her makeup and spent at least ten minutes in front of her closet, trying to figure out what to wear. Katya's eyes widened when she came out of the bathroom in a short, tight party dress later. There were curves and skin everywhere.

Frowning, Katya slid her headphones off. "Are you going somewhere?"

Natasha smiled over her shoulder, slipping her earrings in. Her eyes looked incredibly bright with the dark eyeshadow around it. Mesmerizing. "There's a welcome-back party in the Kappa Delta Psi house." 

"Aren't those for older students?"

Amusement flickered across the redhead's face. "I have a fake ID." She grabbed a pair of heels from under her bed and slipped those on too. They made her toned legs look incredible, miles long. Katya tried not to drool. "You should come."

Katya quickly shook her head, her anxiety surging at the thought of a college party. "Oh, no, thank you. Parties are not really my thing."

Natasha chuckled, a beautiful sound that sent the butterflies in Katya's stomach into a frenzy. "Alright. I'll be back late. Don't wait up." She swung her small purse over her shoulder and set out for the door. Her beautiful hair swung left and right over her exposed back, her pale skin glowing in the light of the setting sun. She looked ethereal. Katya called her name before she decided to.

"Nat?"

With her hand hovering above the doorknob, Natasha looked back. "Yes?"

Katya wanted to tell her that she looked beautiful. That her hair was amazing, that her makeup was flawless, that the dress fit her perfectly. That she was the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. But the moment she opened her mouth, she chickened out. "Have fun."

A bright smile curled on her dark red lips. "Thanks."

[sixpennydame]

Part One: The Feint

Pairing: Boxer!Choso Kamo x Fem!Reader [Jujutsu Kaisen]

Word count: 4.5k

Summary:

Choso's life is simple: eat, sleep, train, fight. But everything changes when a mysterious doctor comes into his life.

Author's notes: This is me, branching out and writing for something other than Attack on Titan! But I just love me a dark-haired, misunderstood man. Thank you to my beloved @littlerequiem for beta reading.

Series content/warnings: No curses AU, bare knuckle boxing, violence (in the boxing ring and out), mentions of blood and broken bones, eventual smut

Part 2 / Part 3 / Series Masterlist

AO3 | Playlist

Line dividers: @saradika-graphics

The first time you meet Choso, he’s covered in blood.

It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. You’re a doctor.

Or rather, you used to be. It was all taken away from you. Now you’re forced to treat fighters in an underground fighting ring, patching up broken bones and open wounds.

This was your life now, and you’d resigned yourself to that.

You hear your door slide open. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” you say, your back turned.

“Ok...” you hear a low voice respond, “but can I sit down? I’m feeling a little dizzy.”

You look over your shoulder to see a tall man, blood oozing from a wound to his head, the rag he has pressed against it drenched.

“Oh - yes, of course! Let me just...” 

You grab sterile gauze and your other instruments from the cabinet and run over to him as he sits down. He looks lethargic, and a little disoriented. You remove the soaked rag, assessing the large gash along his eyebrow.

“That’s deep,” you remark, “you must have been hit pretty hard.”

“Wasn’t too bad. I just bleed a lot,” he answers nonchalantly.

The blood from his head runs down and mingles with blood on his chest.

He notices your downward glance. “That isn’t all my blood.”

“Ah,” is all you can think to say.

You’d hate to see what the other guy looks like.

“Well, let’s get you stitched up then.”

He follows you to your examination table and sits down. You start by cleaning off the blood around the wound, gently dabbing the area while keeping pressure on it. His eyelid is already starting to swell, the deep purple bruising spreading under his eye and to his cheekbone. As you clean his face, you notice that he has a long, dark scar that goes across the bridge of his nose.

“Have you had any blurred vision? Vomiting?” you ask, going through the checklist of a concussion. 

He shakes his head. “Nope. I just need you to stitch me up and then I’ll be out of here.”

“There’s a bit more to it than that. I need to check that you’re ok.” You turn on your examination light and he squints, then you prepare a needle with local anesthesia.

“This might sting a bit,” you warn, and when the needle goes in, he winces for a moment, but his stoic expression soon returns.

You get right to work on the wound, silently putting in one stitch, then two, then another, concentrating on mending the skin together.

“I haven’t seen you before. You new?” His voice breaks the silence and your concentration.

“Yeah…I’m just here for a little while.”

He hums a response, and you can feel his eyes glance up at you. 

“That’s good. Nobody should stay around here for too long.”

“And how long have you been fighting here?”

He sighs. “Too damn long. But fighting is all I’ve ever known….I can’t really do anything else.”

There’s a tinge of sadness in his voice. You know what it feels like to be trapped, to not have any other recourse. It’s what got you here, afterall.

You make the final stitch, tie the knot, and cut the thread. 

He makes to stand up, but your hand on his shoulder stops him.

“I need to check for any signs of a concussion,” you say.

He sighs, but with a nod, he settles himself back down. You put your hands on each side of his head, turning it from side to side gently.

“Any pain?”

“N-no..” His dark brown eyes are looking everywhere but at you.

You go through the rest of the list, checking his vision, coordination, and balance—-he passes it all without a hitch.

This guy can really take a punch, you think to yourself.

“Am I good, Doc?”

“It would seem so, but you need to let that wound heal for a week or two before you fight again.”

“Nope, can’t do. I don’t get paid if I don’t fight.” 

He jumps down off the exam table and walks towards the door.

But you grab his arm, pulling the man towards you.

“Hey. You might not care what happens to your body, but I do. And if you’re going to be under my care then you’re going to follow my instructions. No fighting until you get the all-clear from me.” Your voice is forceful and authoritative, and the surprise in his eyes shows that it was not what he was expecting from you.

“Yes…ma’am…er, doctor…” His phrasing is suddenly polite. “I understand. No fighting.”

At that, you let go of his arm. “Good. Come by next week and I’ll see if I can take out those stitches.”

“Next week. Will do, Doc,” he says before walking out the door.

But the following evening, he’s back in your office, straddling one of your chairs and leaning on its back.

“I’m bored...” his low voice whines.

“And so you decided to come here,” you reply dryly while wiping down your examination area.

He doesn’t take the hint, merely watching you as you do your work. Last night, his hair was up in two pigtails that spiked at the top of his head; today, his black hair flows down, almost touching his shoulders. Cleaned up, he’s handsome, even with the swelling from the black eye.

You walk over to him with a small bag of ice. “Here. If you're gonna just hang around here, we might as well take care of that swelling.”

“Thanks, Doc.” He takes the bag, putting it on his still tender bruise. 

“I’m not a doctor.” 

He furrows his brow at your statement.

 “Not fully, anyway. I’m a doctor in residence.”

Was a doctor in residence, but you leave that part out. It’s better not to tell him too much.

Your words seem to be an acceptable explanation. He leans his arms on the back of the chair, then his head. “Well then…what’s your name?”

You tell him. There’s an awkward silence.

“And what’s yours?”

“Choso. Choso Kamo.”

Normally, you don’t bother learning the fighters’ names, or even asking. What would be the point? They’re either too punch drunk to answer you, or they’re in and out of your office without a backwards glance. 

But it wouldn’t hurt to get to know this guy a little more, right? The night’s been slow, and it doesn’t seem like he means to leave any time soon.

“And you said you’ve been fighting for a while?” you ask while attempting to grab a jar of cotton balls on a high shelf.

“Yeah. A couple years. I’m paying for my brothers to go to a boarding school outside the city. The public schools are shit here, and I want them to have better opportunities than I did.” He suddenly becomes quiet, contemplative. “I don’t want them to end up like me.”

That was not the answer you were expecting from him. You’d assumed all the fighters here were adrenaline junkies or extreme pain addicts, with overinflated egos to match. But Choso didn’t seem to fit any of your preconceived notions. He’s fighting for his family because he feels he has to.

So you’re not the only one who feels trapped in their circumstances.

He walks over to you, looking down and smiling. “Don’t feel sorry for me, though. I chose this life.”

There’s a silent energy between the both of you as you meet his gaze, but it���s gone in an instant when he looks away, reaching up and getting the jar.

“Did you need this?” he asks, his voice suddenly low and sweet.

“Yeah.... thanks.” 

Your fingers graze his as you take the jar and there’s a flutter in your stomach. For someone so beat up and bruised, there’s a gentleness about him; you can see it in his eyes.

The moment between the two of you, however, is cut short when the door is kicked open and a bloodied and bruised fighter is rushed into the room. 

By the time you get them bandaged and stitched, and your workspace clean, Choso is gone. 

Ah well, you think, better not to get too attached anyway.

But the next evening, he’s back in your office, just like clockwork, leaning in a chair or sitting on a counter, just ever so slightly in your personal space. You use it as an opportunity to check his wound, reprimanding him for not regularly putting on antiseptic ointment. 

Your leg brushes his as you dab the ointment on, attempting to ignore that he’s once again watching you silently. 

You clear your throat. “You need to take better care of your wounds, Choso, or the scar isn’t going to heal properly. Or worse, it’ll get infected.”

”I don’t really care about scars. I’ve always had them, it seems.”

You look into his eyes, then down at the scar across his nose.

”How’d you get that one?”

“That?” He points to his nose. “That was an unfortunate incident with my father and a metal baton.”

He then tells you about his life, about having an abusive father and an absent mother, and about raising his younger brothers practically on his own. As a teenager he’d given up on school but had found an aptitude for fighting, first in back alleys and parks, and  now, in his early twenties, in the underground bare knuckle boxing matches run by various shady gambling organizations. 

The gambling here was somewhat legal, but the matches were anything but, pitting fighter against fighter in a bloody free-for-all where the only rule was don’t hit them hard enough to kill them. The fact that Choso was still alive and fighting after all these years was impressive.

Slightly masochistic, but impressive. 

From here on, every evening, Choso would come like clockwork. He’d find his way to your office, where you’d assess his wound, put on more ointment (he would always forget), give him some ice for his bruising and just listen to him talk. The man was an open book to you, and after a few days, you felt you had a good idea of who Choso was and what made him tick.

Like how he hates confined spaces but has no problem with heights; that if he’d gone to college, he would have been a preschool teacher because he loves kids; how he likes board games but gets too competitive.

He was odd but sweet, carrying himself in an unassuming way that contrasted vastly from the other fighters that passed through your door. Even though he was part of such a cruel world, he seemed so… innocent, as if he was experiencing life for the first time. 

You, on the other hand, kept information about yourself general and brief during your talks with Choso. To tell him about yourself and your life would mean that you trusted him; that he was more than just another fighter coming through your door. 

Even moreso, you were afraid of what he’d think if you told him what got you here in the first place.

And so every question Choso asked was met with a quick answer or total silence; that didn’t seem to stop him from asking questions, however; the man was as relentless with curiosity as he was with fighting stamina.

And when seven evenings had passed, you could tell the man was aching to get back into the ring.

“It’s itchy,” he said, gently patting the healing wound with his fingers, just like you’d taught him to do when he felt the urge to scratch it.

The bruising and swelling around his eye and the side of his face had gone down considerably in the past week, faster than you were even expecting. 

Something else you didn’t expect was the fact that you really enjoyed his presence in your office every night, so much so that you felt a small pang of longing every time he left.

“Come here, then. Let’s have a look at it.” 

He walks toward you, reaching up to pull his hair back into a ponytail, his shirt raising just enough to show his toned stomach. You quickly turn away to reach for your glasses.

There’s a crinkling sound behind you as he sits on the tissue paper covering the examination table. You can feel his eyes on you and you take a few breaths before turning around, avoiding his gaze.

You’ve been this close to him countless times, but why does it suddenly feel different now?

There’s cheers coming from the arena down the hall, and that usually brings commentary from Choso about the fighters, but right now, he’s quiet. You wonder what he’s thinking about.

“You look cute in your glasses,” he says in a low voice that sends vibrations to your core. 

“Stop it. I’m trying to concentrate.”

“But it’s true.”

”Shhh...” you command, but his comment has you visibly flustered. You clear your throat as you assess Choso’s wound.

“I’m going to take out the sutures now. It shouldn’t hurt.”

Your examination light clicks on above the two of you and you tilt his head up slightly. He smiles boyishly before looking away.

Realizing it’s pointless to ignore whatever is happening between the two of you, you prod, “Was that your way of flirting?”

”I’ve never been very good at that,” he confesses. “Just stating the facts. One of my many observations of you this week.”

”Oh yeah? And what else have you observed?”

”You purse your lips when you concentrate.” 

You suddenly relax your lips as you start cutting the threads of his suture. “I don’t do that.”

 He smiles. “And you do this little throat clearing sound when you’re nervous.”

As if on cue, you clear your throat. He smirks triumphantly.

”See?”

”So you’ve discovered every one of my physical ticks. You have them too, you know.”

His eyes glance up to you. “And they are?”

”Well…you...” you snip a few sutures, pausing to pull them out and put on a tray, “...sigh loudly.”

”I… sigh loudly?”

”Yeah…as if you’re bored or tired or something.” Snip goes another suture. “And you have the most expressive face I’ve ever seen. I don’t think you’re physically capable of hiding any of your emotions.”

”Unlike you. You’re like a stone wall. You get defensive and distant every time I ask a personal question.”

“I do -” your words come out clipped and harsh, and he gives you a knowing look, “-not..”

Snip.

Silence.

“Ok, fine. What do you want to know?”

“You’re not wearing a ring, so you’re not married. Boyfriend?”

“No.” You want to leave it at that, but that would just prove him right. “I don’t really have time for…relationships.”

Desperately wanting to deflect, you ask, “What about you? I’m sure you have a hoard of fangirls.”

“Me? Fangirls?” He laughs at that and you give him a reprimanding look to keep still before you continue your work. “You clearly haven’t been to any of the matches. It’s mainly old men drunk off their asses. And I don’t really talk to…girls.”

You take out the last suture and dab at the slight bleeding. 

“I’m a girl.”

“Yeah, but you’re different.”

Your brow furrows at that, and so he adds, “I want to talk to you. And it’s a challenge.”

“A challenge? In what way?”

“No matter what I ask, you’ve barely told me a thing about you.  But there’s some things I can tell.” 

His hand reaches out and pauses for a moment, before his fingertips caress your face. 

“You seem sad,” he says gently, “and alone.”

“What does that mean, alone?” You back away from him. “I’m perfectly fine, and I don’t need you to pity me.”

“That’s not what I meant -” 

He walks toward you, but you turn away.

“Your wound is healed and your bruising has gone down. You should be fine to fight now, so there’s no more reason to come here.”  

You can feel his presence right behind you. He says your name but you don’t turn around.

It’s time to stop this. There’s no use in letting someone into your life.

There’s a loud sigh, and then you hear the door to your office open and close.

——

“Goddammit, Choso, why are your hands not taped? Where’s your head been lately?”

Choso stays silent. Was he really gonna tell his trainer that he’s been sidetracked all week because he was thinking about you every moment? 

That would get him a slap across the face, and he’d like to avoid that.

This is the first time he’s been back to the arena since that last night he saw you. And every day he’s thought about whether he’ll catch a glimpse of you walking to your office, or in the hallway. After things fell apart so terribly, he wonders if he’d even have the nerve to talk to you again.

Choso’s trainer pushes him out the door. ”Go to the doctor and ask to borrow their tape. Surely she has some.”

Shit. 

The cheers and boos of another fight echo against the brick and metal of the hallway as Choso makes his way to your office, each step making his heart beat just a little bit faster. 

Would you even want to talk to him? Maybe you’ll turn him away. 

(Of course, if he got injured tonight, you’d have no choice but to treat him, that thought had crossed his mind.)

Just as he makes it to your door, it flings open, nearly hitting him in the face. He stops it right as a man with long blue hair slinks out.

”Oh! Sorrrry man!” His voice is innocent, child-like. “You almost got knocked out before you could even fight.” He smirks while holding open the door ceremoniously. “The doctor will see you now.”

Confused, Choso watches as the man practically skips down the hall but his concern quickly changes when he sees you slumped over your counter.

”Doc…” 

He cautiously walks towards you.

”Go away.” The words are harsh but your voice is weak and defeated.

Choso gently puts a hand on your shoulder to turn you towards him, but you refuse to look him in the eyes. He lifts your chin up to look at him.”What happened?”

That’s when he sees it. Your bottom lip is split and bleeding.

Choso’s eye squint, studying the wound. “Who did this to you?”

You say nothing, but with the freshness of the wound, he puts it together. And suddenly, he’s seeing red.

He turns on his heels, ready to burst out the door and catch that blue haired bastard who hit you, but you grab his arm, pulling him back to your side.

”Don’t, Choso!” You plead. “Please...”

Your eyes well up with tears and Choso’s hand instantly cups your face.

“What happened?”

You hesitate, as usual, but then, “…I’m in trouble...”

”What kind of trouble?”

You look down, grabbing some gauze on the counter to put on your lip. Once again, Choso is met with silence to his questions.

”Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”

”Why do you keep coming here, Choso? No matter what I do…you just keep coming back. I don’t get it.”

“Isn’t it obvious? I like you.” The words come out of his mouth so naturally, words he’s wanted to tell you for days.  “You are one of the only people here who is kind to me. I could tell that you really cared. I don’t get that often, if ever.”

He moves closer, placing his hand on top of yours. “You’re not alone. I’m here.”

Outside the doors of the office, the voices of the gamblers in the arena raise to a crescendo. A muffled sound announces the next fighters.

But here, it feels as if time has stopped. Choso can’t hear anything but the pounding of his own heart in his ears getting louder and louder. His focus becomes completely on you, as if the rest of the world has melted away. It’s the same feeling he gets right before a fight, but this time he’s not looking to conquer anything.

Or maybe he is.

He brings your hand off your face and leans down, his lips mere millimeters from yours. 

“Let me in.”

Your breath is ragged and uneven and if he closed his eyes, he swears he’d be able to hear your heart beating as well. But after a few seconds, when neither of you move, he begins to doubt himself. 

Then your voice - your sad, soft voice - breaks the silence.

”Choso...”

That’s all he needs to hear to have his lips crashing into yours. It’s a desperate kiss, a hunger arising in him that he’s never felt before. Your arms wrap around his neck and he lifts you up and onto the counter, pressing himself between your legs. He can taste the blood from your lip and it seems to spur a deeper want of you inside of him. His hands roam under your shirt and you moan into his mouth. He wants to touch you, taste you, know everything about you - 

“Choso!” A loud voice resonates outside the office.

Both of you break away from the kiss, breathless.

“Shit. I’ve gotta go.” He looks at the door, expecting his coach to barge in any second; when he doesn’t, he looks back at you. You look so vulnerable right now, he doesn’t want to leave you. He wants to see how much further this can go, how much more you’ll open up to him, but he knows he can’t miss a fight.

“Wait for me. It’s not safe for you to leave by yourself tonight. I’ve just gotta.…go do this real quick.”

This. As if his livelihood doesn’t depend on it. 

“Alright,” is your answer.

And with that, it feels like Choso has been hit with a shot of adrenaline. He kisses you again, maybe a little bit too enthusiastically, because he hears you suck in a breath. 

“I’ll be right back.” He looks down and sees some medical tape on the counter. “And I’ll return this.”

He runs out the door and down the hall, the tape in his mouth as he winds it around his palms and knuckles.

You’re gonna wait for him.

He’s never wanted a fight to finish so fast.

”Choso! Where the hell have you been? You’re up!”

He ignores his coach and starts warming up, jumping a bit and then throwing a few punches. Just outside the door beyond are the lights, the cheers, and his opponent.

But right now, all he wants is you.

”And weighing in at 187 pounds….the man who always brings a bloodbath…CHOOOOSOOOOO!!”

——

You hear the announcer scream Choso’s name and the cheers that follow. 

Let me in… he’d said.

You’re not sure if you’re shaking from being hit in the face or from the intense kisses that you shared with Choso just moments before. Maybe it’s a little of both. 

You wring your hands and pace the floor, your mind racing, trying to understand everything that just happened. Sooner or later, you knew the people you agreed to work for would come to collect - but no matter what you did, it never seemed to be enough. They take and take and take…

And that man with the blue hair - it seemed like he’d taken such joy in hitting you, seeing the fear in your eyes when he made his threats. 

Maybe you should just leave, right now. Pack up your stuff and get out of the city, leave everything behind. 

But it would be no use, you knew they’d eventually find you.

And Choso…he told you to wait for him. It felt so good to be in his arms, touching you, kissing you. He made you feel wanted and safe, something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You’ve never been interested in watching the matches before, but now you find yourself walking down the hall and into the dark and crowded arena. The crowd is lively, throwing out words of praise and curses at both the fighters. You stay in the back, and through the clouds of cigarette smoke, you see him. 

It’s only been a few minutes since the fight started, but Choso’s body is already coated in a layer of sweat. There’s a wild look in his eyes but his face is serious, almost calm. He weaves and bobs in between his opponent’s punches, getting his own punch across his cheek, then one to his chin. Choso takes a few steps back as the man ambles forward, shaking his head a few times while his trainer yells something to him from the ropes. 

The opponent lunges toward Choso but he puts him in a headlock and starts punching his face repeatedly. In an ordinary fight, a referee would break them up, but there are no referees that you can see. The man eventually works himself free from Choso’s grasp, his nose bloody and more than likely broken. He attempts a jab but Choso counters; he hits him hard across the cheek and the man falls to the ground.

”Finish him off!” “Beat him to a pulp!”

”Choso! Choso! Choso!”

The voices raise higher and higher, egging the victor on. But Choso merely walks to his corner, drinks some water, spits it out, and leaves the ring. 

In a matter of minutes, it’s all over, the loser in a pool of blood. 

You rush back to your office, knowing you’re going to have to set that man’s nose.

——

True to his word, Choso comes to your office at the end of the night. 

You’ve just finished treating his opponent and stitching up a cut on his right cheek before sending him away with his trainer and crew. You’d also noticed that the bruising on the man’s knuckles was deep purple and swelling fast; no broken bones, but it looked as if he’d hit something hard and immovable, not another human body.

When you look at Choso, who’s freshly showered and wearing a grey hoodie over a white t-shirt, leaning against your office door, he looks as if he’s just had a walk in the park.

You put on your jacket and grab your things before making your way toward him.

”Let’s go. I’ll take you home.” 

His hand, that just moments before had beaten someone to a bloody pulp, was now outstretched toward you.

An offering. And a surrender. 

You decide to accept.

Part 2 / Part 3 / Series Masterlist

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[mawofthemagnetar]

Father's Day

“So, hold on a minute,” Iskall held his hands up, “back up, because I must have missed that. You’re a FATHER?”

“Well, yeah?” Jevin shrugged, scrolling through his comm, “What’s so hard about that to believe?”

Iskall, by way of a reply, simply gestured at Jevin’s person from his head to his slimy feet.

“So? Okay, yeah, I guess it- is a little hard to fathom. I do, uh, have a certain- aura of coolness around me. But yeah, no, I’m a dad. And a damn good one, too. I mean, a slime-dad, which is a little different than a regular dad. But for a slime-dad, I’m top-shelf. Of course.”

“Uh-huh. And how does a slime-dad differ from a regular dad?” Iskall folded his arms.

“I don’t gotta, uh, chase after my kids as much as you guys do. They’re pretty much ready to go once they hit full-size. I do my bit by checking up on them periodically. Anyway, point is, I gotta go. My kids are throwing a father’s day bash, and I can’t be late.”

Iskall rubbed his temples.

“Okay, couple questions. One, father’s day was three months ago. Two, is there a Missus Jevin you’ve got stashed away somewhere? Or a Mister Jevin? Or-“

“…Why would another person be involved?” Jevin asked, tilting his head with a squish of slime, “Like, literally, why? Who needs help to become a parent?”

“…Uh…you know what? No. You want to learn about the parrots and the bats, go talk to Keralis.”

“Sure, whatever. Anyway, to answer your second question, it’s ‘cause if you try to do father’s day on the actual, like, day, renting a big enough hall is stupid expensive and it’s all just kind of dumb. And a hassle. So we host it whenever.”

Jevin glanced up from his comm.

“Wanna come? Meet my kids, I mean.”

Iskall rubbed his forehead.

“Sure, why not. Hit me with it.”

They tapped their comms together, and Jevin clacked his jaw together- the slime equivalent of a smile.

“Okay, so uh…All my kids know you guys as their aunts and uncles. So if they start calling you “auntie Iskall-“

“-Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m used to it.” Iskall nodded, “Should I wear something special?” 

Jevin waved a hand. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it. You’re fine as you are. Anyway, let’s go. Not good to keep my kids waiting!” 

And Jevin tapped a few options on his comm and vanished. 

<iJevin has left the game.> 

Iskall shrugged, tapped over to his server list, and selected the option for the Hub, with the teleport coordinates visible in the centre. 

He tapped it, and vanished. 

<Iskall85 has left the game.>

When Iskall opened his eyes again, he was standing outside a colossal building, looking like some kind of conference centre. It was made of smooth quartz, with a fake parking lot full of fake vehicles that had clearly taken some builder a long time to put together. 

Jevin was standing there, tapping his sneaker impatiently, the blue slime slosh-slosh-sloshing against the ground. 

“Alright, c’mon, let’s get moving.” Jevin huffed, “We’re already a couple minutes late, and my kids worked really hard to put this on.” 

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” Iskall muttered, brushing off his pants and following Jevin towards the doors.

Iskall was assuming that Jevin’s family would have set up a few tables in a corner. He was a slime; and the way Jevin was talking, Iskall had assumed a big family. Maybe ten kids? That would be a pretty big family. 

Then Jevin and Iskall stepped into the conference hall. 

“HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, DAD!” 

Several thousand slimes bellowed all at once, a wall of sound so deafening that Iskall could feel his bionic eye nearly shake out of its housing. 

He blinked his one eye, darting it around the room in shock. There were hundreds of small tables around which sat an unfathomable number of slimes in all colours of the rainbow. The room was a riot of wild fashion choices, and a deafening rumble of clattering bones and squelching bodies.

“I- I-” Iskall stammered, as he reached up and tightened the nut holding his robotic eye onto his skull’s mounting post.  

“HEY EVERYONE!” Jevin shouted back, “THANK YOU!” 

“Is that Uncle Iskall?” a deep voice said eagerly, “It’s so nice to meet you!” 

“You have…THOUSANDS…of children. Not ten. Not twenty. Not even a hundred. THOUSANDS.” Iskall stammered. 

“Yeah. I’m, uh, the father of all slime hybrids. It’s not a big deal, to be honest. Some other slime would’ve absorbed a skeleton and decided to think about itself if I hadn’t.” Jevin shrugged. 

“All. Of them. ALL OF THEM.” Iskall clutched his head in his hands.

“Yeah? It’s not that difficult. You just, like, shed some slime on a large enough pile of biomass, it’ll grow into a kid. How is this so confusing for you? That’s probably where humans come from.” Jevin shrugged. 

He rubbed his slimy hands together with a hideous squelch, and started traveling through the room, eagerly greeting each and every one of his kids. 

Iskall staggered over to the snack table, piled high with compost, cinderblocks, and beer. He popped a bottle, and started chugging it.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Your future was Ferrari - Part 1/?

Part 2

summary: She was finally making her dreams come true, but as the old saying goes "when it rains, it pours" and maybe the nudge Charles gave her might get her somewhere she would never find on her own.

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: mild mature content, alchool consumption, mentions of sexual activies

Also, wrap it before you tap it

wordcount: +3K

a/n: It's my birthday!!! So, naturally you guys get something as a gift. This is my first ever series, and gosh, it's so hard to coordinate it. Also huge thanks to @mysticworks for the plot, I'm gonna milk this one.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

MILD CONTENT UNDER, -18 PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

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The fireworks in the Abu Dhabi night sky painted the picture as the 2023 Formula 1 season came to an end. The Yas Marina Circuit buzzed with activity as teams packed up and exchanged congratulations and goodbyes. Amidst the hustle and bustle, the end-of-season official celebration promised a night to celebrate the ending and the beginnings of cycles.

As you stood at the entrance to the lavish venue, your heart pounded with excitement and nerves. You tried smoothing down your pants but the wrinkles kept showing up, almost as if to annoy you, a touch of nervousness fluttering in your stomach as you whispered to yourself, “I do not belong in this type of party.” But this wasn't just any celebration; it was the culmination of a year's hard work and dedication. And tonight, you had an added reason to celebrate – you were finally moving to Ferrari, after years of dedication, fulfilling yours and your father’s dream in the red team.

Stepping foot in the main event’s room, your eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face. Just when you started having second guesses, you saw him – Charles Leclerc, an old friend and colleague from your days at Alpha Romeo. A smile spread across your face as his eyes met yours in the crowd and he motioned for you to come closer.

"Charles!" your voice filled with warmth and a hint of relief at finding someone familiar.

“You made it!" He answered, pulling you into a tight hug. "I knew you wouldn't miss this."

You laughed, now finally breathing in a bit calmer. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

As you made your way into the party, Charles filled you in with stories from the season and introduced you to everyone he could find dressed in red. The atmosphere was electric, filled with laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses.

A few drinks in, Charles grinned mischievously at you. "I dare you to go and hit on Lewis."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "You must be joking?" Charles grin only widening. "Come on, it'll be fun, you’ve had the biggest crush on him since forever, give it a go!"

You were high, so incredibly high at that point, much like everyone else in that club. But one very clear thought took over: Lewis didn’t know you and besides, what was the worst it could happen, a rejection?!

So, taking a deep breath and fueling a mix of “screw it” and liquid courage, you approached Lewis Hamilton, a god to the sport you loved so dearly.

"Hi, are you really a race car driver? You’ve been driving me crazy all night" you said, extending your hand with a playful smile.

"Okay, that was actually a good one. I'm Lewis," he replied, handing out his hand for you to shake with a smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“Was it?” You bursted with laughter, clearly amazed he was actually charmed by your cheesy pickup line.

“That, and you’re really hot, miss…?” His intense gaze on you as his hands reached to touch your waist just so slightly, almost as if asking for your name was actually him asking for permission to touch you.

“Oh right, I’m y/n”

“Would you give me the honor of dancing with you?”

“Can’t really say no to a sir, can I?!” the playfull banter you intended igniting something is his eyes that you almost didn’t catch, but that changed the relaxed energy between you two.

As you danced with and around Lewis, you two continued to charm each other, the connection between you undeniable, and the chemistry palpable, but still, only touches were really there. You were hyper aware of his hands dancing across your body but not once did he motioned to bring his lips anywhere near you.

In those hours you never once talked about Formula 1, notreally interested in that part of him anyway, you wanted to get to know the person behind all the success, not the figure the world got to see weekend in and out.

“I need to go in a few minutes, but hm... would you like to go on a date with me, tomorrow afternoon? I promise to surprise you” His question caught you by surprise, he didn’t really show any interest in seeing you privately, at least not in the way you thought he would, but the gleam in his big dark eyes made it impossible for you to deny him.

“I’d love to” You moved to get your phone so he could put his number but he stopped dead “I don’t do phone number, love. Let me get you to your hotel tonight, I’ll be sure to pick you tomorrow”

You hesitated for a moment, secrecy a huge red flag for you, but then again, it wasn’t anyone, it was Lewis and he had every reason under the sun to be like that.

So, you got into the Mercedes waiting for him at the back entrance, his friends in a different car already heading to their own hotel, just you, him and the crazy tension that could be cut with a knife between the two of you.

“Be ready by 16:00, wear something light.”

“Where are you taking me, Lewis?”

“I do hope you’re just as courageous as you were approaching me today” And with that he left a soft kiss to your temple before you could even think about an answer. Getting out of car without really understanding where you had gotten yourself into.

The anticipation was palpable as you waited in the lobby of your hotel. Your heart raced with a blend of excitement and nervous energy, each passing second amplifying your anticipation. The surroundings of the hotel lobby seemed oddly out of place with the adventure that Lewis had promised you. The juxtaposition was not lost on you – here you were, waiting to be picked up by a global superstar, for an adventure you knew nothing about in a fancy lobby of a hotel in Abu Dhabi.

When Lewis pulled up, driving himself, clad in shorts and a t-shirt, the surreal nature of the situation hit you even harder. The sight of him, so casually dressed and behind the wheel, added a layer of authenticity that momentarily caught you off guard. This wasn't the man the world knew; this was Lewis, the person, taking a genuine interest in sharing an adventure with you.

"Hey, ready for this?" Lewis greeted you with a warm smile as you climbed into the car.

"Still don’t know what for, but let’s do this" you replied, trying to mask your excitement with casual ease, earning a chuckle from him.

As Lewis maneuvered through the streets, he made small talk in an attempt to break the mounting tension. His easygoing demeanor and genuine interest in getting to know you better were both disarming and endearing. You found yourself gradually relaxing, the initial awkwardness dissipating with each passing moment.

"So, have you ever done anything like this before?" Lewis asked, casting a sideways glance at you.

"Getting into a date I know nothing about, with a dude that could be potently trying to kidnap me?! Nah, this will be my first time" you mused, seeing how his features lightened the more you opened up.

A thoughtful pause followed before Lewis blurted out "I thought skydiving would be fun."

Your heart leapt with joy at his words. The exhilaration you had been feeling was now tinged with elation. Skydiving had always been on your bucket list, a dream you had yet to fulfill. And here was Lewis, suggesting it as if he had read your mind.

"No way? I've always wanted to try skydiving!" you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement any longer.

Lewis grinned, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief, excitement and relief "Well then, today's your lucky day."

Upon arriving at the skydiving center, the adrenaline was palpable. The vibrant energy of the place was contagious, and the sight of the vast blue sky served as a stark reminder of the adventure that lay ahead. Lewis led you towards the instructor who would guide you through the process.

"Alright, let's get you geared up," the instructor began, laying out the parachute and harness. He proceeded to give you a detailed briefing on safety protocols and what to expect during the jump. As the instructor demonstrated the proper techniques and emphasized safety precautions, you couldn't help but feel nervousness. Lewis, ever attentive, kept casting side glances your way, his eyes filled with concern and curiosity.

Just before gearing up, Lewis pulled you aside, his gaze locking onto yours. "Are you okay with this? Are you still excited?" his genuine concern evident in his voice. However, you couldn't contain your excitement, a wide grin spreading across your face as you reassured him "Absolutely! I can't wait!"

Lewis smiled; his relief palpable. "Alright, let's do this." With a final check of the equipment and a nod of approval from the instructor, you and Lewis found yourselves boarding the plane. The anticipation built with each passing moment as the plane ascended, the ground below becoming increasingly distant.

As you reached the desired altitude the plane's door opened, revealing the vast expanse of the sky below. The rush of wind and the sheer height were both exhilarating and intimidating. Locked in tandem with your instructor and Lewis paired with his, you prepared to take the leap. And then the world around you turned into a blur of colors and sensations. The initial rush was overwhelming, but as you acclimated to the sensation of freefalling, a profound realization began to form in the back of your mind.

Upon landing safely back on solid ground, a brief silence enveloped you. The gravity of the experience left you momentarily speechless, lost in thought. Noticing your quiet demeanor, Lewis approached you, his concern evident. "Did you enjoy it?" he asked softly.

"It was... intense. I'm still processing it." You hesitated, trying to find the right words. Lewis nodded, sensing there was more you weren't sharing. "Is everything okay? You seem a bit lost in thought."

At first, you brushed off his concern with a simple, "It's nothing." But Lewis, ever perceptive, gently pressed on as you got back to the car, his hands reaching for yours encouraging you to open up. Taking a deep breath, you finally confessed, "The jump made me question how little humankind really was, how vast and boundless the world truly is."

A smile spread across Lewis's face, his features almost successfully hiding the happiness that you had gotten the point he tried to show everyone "It has a way of putting things into perspective, doesn't it?"

The drive back to your hotel was quiet, the tension palpable in the confined space of the car. The city lights began to paint fleeting shadows across Lewis's face as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow. His tattooed hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his focus split between the road ahead and fleeting glances in your direction.

"Would you like to grab something to eat? I don't want to let you go just yet," Lewis ventured, his voice laced with a subtle reluctance, yet an underlying desire.

Your eyes met his, a playful glint shimmering in your gaze as you assessed the situation. His profile, illuminated by the soft dashboard light, was a stark reminder of his reputation and allure.

"Sure, where to, then?" you replied, your voice light and teasing, yet laced with a hint of challenge.

Lewis chuckled, his lips curling into a knowing smile, the glint in his eyes intensifying. "It’s gonna sound so pretentious, but my hotel has this amazing pasta."

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you leaned back, the thrill of the moment coursing through your veins. Of course, that's where the evening was headed. He was Lewis Hamilton, after all, a man known for his lavish tastes and adventurous spirit. You'd heard the stories, the tales of his countless escapades and magnetic allure. You were just another name on his list, a fleeting encounter in the grand tapestry of his life.

Yet, as the playful banter continued, a sense of pride and daring took hold. If you were destined to be just a footnote in his story, why not make it memorable? Why not enjoy the moment and embrace the excitement?

"It sounds as indulgent as you think, but I'd love to spend a bit more time with you," you replied, your voice dripping with playful mischief. Your fingers reached out, brushing against his hand that rested on the console between you, feeling the warmth and strength of his grip, a silent acknowledgment of the mutual attraction and intrigue that simmered beneath the surface.

As Lewis parked the car and led you towards his suite, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. The soft lighting and luxurious rooms added to the intensity of the moment, casting a romantic glow that heightened your senses.

Once in his suite, Lewis turned to face you, his eyes searching yours with a mix of desire and uncertainty. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "I want to make sure you're comfortable."

Your heart raced as you met his gaze, captivated by the sincerity and respect in his eyes. Despite the playful banter, daring adventure and certainty you held that you were a hook up, Lewis's concern for your well-being was there and it shocked you for a bit.

With a shy smile, you nodded, your voice steady yet filled with anticipation. "Yes, I'm sure," you replied, your words also echoing the desire you felt. The tension was palpable as Lewis leaned in, closing the distance between you. The world around fading as his lips met yours. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer so you could really feel him.

The sensation of his lips against yours sent shivers down your spine, the chemistry between you undeniable. The intensity of the kiss deepened, the boundaries between playful banter and genuine connection blurring as you both surrendered to whatever it was that made him so incredibly irresistible.

As you both pulled apart, catching your breath from the intensity of the moment, a playful smirk crossed your lips, a thought crossing your mind.

"Do you have a condom?" you asked, your voice filled with anticipation. Lewis's eyes widened slightly at your forwardness, a hint of surprise flashing across his face before a confident grin replaced it. Without a word, he reached for his pack on his backpack, pulling out a condom and holding it up for you to see.

"Of course, you'd have packs with you," you mused, your voice dripping with playful mischief and a hint of mistrust. The allure of the moment, the intensity of the connection, and the thrill of the unexpected encounter had led you both to this point, and you, for sure, wouldn’t turn back now.

Before you could say another word, Lewis silenced you with another passionate kiss, the intensity of the moment deepening as he pulled you close. His hands found their way to your waist, lifting you effortlessly and carrying you towards the bed. The soft fabric of the sheets beneath you, the warmth of Lewis's embrace, and the intimacy of the moment combined to create a sense desire that was intoxicating.

He was going to be yours, if only for one night. And in that moment, there was nothing more you could wish for.

As the first light of dawn hit the curtains, the sound of running water from the shower echoed in the room. The luxurious suite was bathed in a soft glow, the remnants of past night still lingering in the air. You stirred from your sleep, the sheets tangled around you, Lewis's scent lingering on every fabric, surface and memory. The night before played in your mind, a mix of passion, connection, and lust that had led to a whirlwind of emotions.

With a sigh, you sat up, the reality of the situation settling in. You knew that this was a fling, a one-night stand. Despite the intensity and allure of the shared moments, you were aware of the nature of what had happened.

Gathering your belongings quietly, you moved with ease, ensuring that nothing was left behind. The weight of the morning, filled with the silence and anticipation of how you were about to leave, added to the bittersweet nature of the encounter.

As you slipped out of the room, the sound of the shower continued, the steam and warmth of the bathroom contrasting with the cool, early morning air. The suite was filled with what if’s and wishes, mostly yours, mainly yours. The thrown-out pieces of clothing a reminder of something you were meant to never see again.

With a final glance back, you stepped out into the hallway, the memories of the shared moments and the intensity of the connection lingering in your mind as you closed the door behind you. You brushed those feelings aside though, telling yourself that this was for the best. You had to protect your heart, guard against any attachment. After all, Lewis Hamilton was Lewis Hamilton, a superstar in the world of Formula 1. And you were just an engineer, living out your dream but still feeling out of your league.

Surely, it meant nothing for Lewis and you would probably never see him again. Your future was at Ferrari, somewhere he would never step foot in.

Or would he?!

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[stellar-haikyuu]

guardian deity ☆ nishinoya yuu x reader

synopsis: reader is incredibly unlucky with ball-related sports, but volleyball might be an exception, thanks to a certain guardian deity. details: silly/crack | accidental friends | opposites attract | first meeting | 1,277 words | gn! reader | requested by anon as part of my karasuno writing event | my entry for @phantasmaebg warnings: none!

You’re not exactly a sporty person. Why? Sports doesn’t seem to like you very much.

Regular exercise, running, swimming, cheerleading, and aerobics—those things were fine. But when balls were involved? You did not stand a chance.

It all started with dodgeball. The whole point was to avoid the balls, and for someone who sucked at ball sports, the fear should have made it easier. Unfortunately, you’re incredibly clumsy. You trip on a stray ball, falling to the floor. Within seconds, you’re pelted with more dodgeballs and called out of the game.

Basketball was terrifying, having to run into people and have them chase you. It was embarassing enough to be passed the ball, only to run in the opposite direction. That was the one time you were glad to be horrible at shooting. After that, you never tried to go for the ball. Your teacher was kind enough to never call you out on it—he quickly learns it’s not worth another clinic trip.

As if the close contact and chasing in basketball wasn’t enough, you’re thrown into soccer. With two left feet, this is the worst-case scenario. Now you’re definitely more aware of what direction you should be running in, but you cannot believe how easy it is for the opposite team to steal the ball. And the one time you’re running towards the right goal, you kick the ball way out into the field.

You beg for a break once high school rolls around, but it seems your prayers weren’t answered.

Handball…soccer but using hands, you think. With your lack of coordination, you often volunteer to be the goalie; at least you could block something with any part of your body. Alas, you’ve taken a couple of handballs to the face. 

And get this, you weren’t even in school for this one: somehow, you managed to damage bowling alley property on an afternoon hangout with friends. That also involved slipping on the bowling lane, countless balls in the gutter, and almost dropping a ball on your foot.

At this point, almost everyone knew about your laughable luck with ball sports—or lack thereof. You just sigh, hoping to see the day you are no longer obligated to do these activities.

“Would you mind giving this to Takeda-sensei at the gym? He’s coaching the volleyball team at the moment.”

You take the paper envelope from your teacher and nod. “I’ll get it to him.”

“Thank you, dear. See you tomorrow!”

As you leave the faculty room, you’re immediately filled with unease. 

You’d rather not enter the gym while a team is actively practicing, but you don’t really have a choice.

At least you’re not playing the sport, you think.

You step out into the open area, quickly locating the school gym. The squeaking of sneakers are audible from a distance, followed by some rather harsh hits. It’s enough to send a chill up your spine.

Slowly, you walk, trying to prolong the distance between you and the gym door. Eventually, it’s within arms reach, and you take a deep breath before opening it.

And goodness.

Aren’t you just lucky?

“Look out!” 

At first, you don’t register the warning, but the sight of a volleyball hurtling toward you is enough to snap you back into reality.

You raise your arms to protect yourself, hoping that for once in your life, your reaction time can save you.

But the ball never hits you.

Smack!

The sound of ball meeting flesh echoes through the gym, and it takes you a second to realize you’ve just been saved. 

A whistle blows, and the game stops. In the corner of your eye, you see the volleyball rolling away on the floor.

When you put your arms down, you see someone in front of you—a boy with his knees bent and arms outstretched. He must have taken the hit.

“Are you okay?”

“M-Me?” You stammer. “I should be the one asking if you’re okay!”

“Pfft, of course I am!” He gives you a reassuring grin. “Receiving volleyballs is my thing.”

You blink, unsure what to say to that.

“Hinata, you dumbass!” A yell takes you by surprise. “Look where you’re spiking, you nearly hit someone!”

“Huh? I still have to close my eyes, remember?” 

“Oi, oi, calm down you two!”

You’re momentarily taken aback by this display of team dynamics. You hope it’s not serious, considering that you’ve sometimes been on the end of a hotheaded teammate.

Thankfully, nothing escalates. In fact, Hinata—if you assumed correctly—bounds over to where you’re standing. “Noya-san! That was so cool! You moved so fast like zoom!”

Another team member with a buzzcut follows suit, clapping your savior on the back. “That’s our guardian deity.” Then, he acknowledges you with a rather unsubtle waggle of his eyebrows. “This guy has killer reflexes.”

“I see…” You respond, a little speechless.

The orange-haired boy somehow materializes at your side, jumping up and down. “Right? Right? Senpai is the best!”

You glance at this Noya-san. He seems to blush at the praise. 

Though he tries to act cool about it, you can tell it means a lot to him.

“Hey, uh thanks,” you state, finally finding the words. “For saving me.”

“No problem! It’s what I do!”

His glee is so infectious, you can’t help but feel energized. 

“Hello there, I’m Sawamura Daichi.” You realize that another boy is approaching all of you. “I’m the team captain. I sincerely apologize for this, we’ll be more careful next time.”

“Ah, it’s alright, I promise,” you shake your head. “I’m used to this stuff.”

“Used to it?”

“I’m really unlucky with ball sports.” You clarify. “If you’ve heard the rumors, then that would be me.” 

“Ah, I see.” Some sort of recognition appears on his face, though he doesn’t comment any further. “Anyway, is there something you need from us?”

You suddenly remember the envelope you’re holding in your hands.

“Ah. I was looking for Takeda-sensei. I had to give him this?”

“Oh, he’s over there.” He looks towards the other end of the gym, where two adults watch your group with curiosity. “Sensei, they have something for you!”

“Go on ahead,” Sawamura smiles. “I’ll give the team a break to avoid any accidents.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you bow to him before approaching the literature teacher.

As you hand over the letter and engage in some small talk with him, you can feel Noya staring at you from the distance. You try not to think much of it until your interaction with Takeda-sensei ends.

After making your way to the gym entrance, you give their team captain a thumbs up to resume practice.

He calls everyone’s attention, but Noya remains by the door, almost as if he wants to tell you something.

To your surprise, you decide to beat him to it.

“Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

His eyes widen. “Repay me? What? No, that’s…uh-”

Buzzcut passes by and dramatically whispers, “Garigari-kun popsicles. Soda flavor.”

“Ryuu!” Noya hisses, drawing a laugh out of you.

“Is that your favorite? I wouldn’t mind treating you to one.”

Noya seems to hesitate at your offer. “Only if you insist, but you really don’t-”

“I insist,” you cut him off. “You’re my one stroke of luck after years of being involved in ball sports. I feel like I should be honoring you.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out.

“Anyway, I’ll be at Sakanoshita until the evening to study. Meet me there, yeah?”

“I…okay.”

“Alright,” you turn to exit the gym. “See you after school, guardian deity.”

Before leaving, you pretend not to notice how his face flushes once more.

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