#he just stays by his side and stares at him with a worried look on his face the ENTIRE time like????

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 — 𝐂.𝐒.

Synopsis: Nick has been your best friend for so long, but you can’t seem to get a long with his brother—Chris. You try to mess with Chris and it backfires….badly….

Warnings: illegal street racing, stupid driving, tension, smut with so much plot it hurts, street racer Chris, BIG MASSIVE SHLONG CHRIS, size kink, bulge kink, dick-wad Chris, p n v, raw sex, riding (wink), and more....

A/N: THIS IS OVER 5.2K WORDS. THIS IS NAWT A QUICK READ. Now, get in the car bitches, we're getting HORNYYYYYY!!!!

With love and bigs tits, Rose

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“Hey, cute jeans!” I wave, my lips curling into a grin as I squint my eyes at him—Chris. He rolls his tongue, shaking his head as he stalks off further down the street. Ha. 

It’s one of those rare occurrences—I’m here—at his street race, for god knows what reason. 

All I ever do is mock him. In fact, that’s why I call him cute jeans. The first time Nick and I had shown up at one of these dumb things, Chris thought I was a stranger from behind—and my jeans? Damn. 

He had to be a real asshole and hit on me. 

That night was fun for more than one reason. It sparked something—something I didn’t know existed. 

After that, my teasing only got worse. Chris’s ego couldn’t handle staying silent, he always had something smart to say. 

“Come to watch me again, huh? Gonna record it for later, I bet,” Chris winks. My mouth snaps shut as I go to say something back. He’s already gone—not giving me a second to respond before shutting the door to his car and speeding down the road. 

Typical. 

It’s still bright out. The sun sinks lower into the horizon as more people crowd the deserted street by the minute. 

“Okay, let’s just take a couple more pics and then we’ll go. I know you hate this,” Nick huffs, adjusting the leather jacket he’s wearing—the same coat that inspired this whole photoshoot. But you couldn’t blame him, he did look hot as fuck. 

Even if his looks resemble a certain idiot lurking nearby. 

Part of me is burning with spite. I hate letting Chris have the last word. But my brain sparks with an idea, a brilliant idea. 

How much would it cost him if I stayed around? 

Those stupid bets were always placed in his favor. No one could deny he was good—really good. He drove on the street like he owned it and he never even seemed nervous. 

“I kinda wanna stay—” My words are interrupted as I feel an arm rest down on my shoulders. I look over to see Beck, a girl I love seeing. 

She’s vibrant—especially with her signature red lip that seemed to draw all eyes to her. I always blossom off her confidence, loving to sit next to her when she showed true female power all with one swing of that stupid flag in the air. 

“How are ya, girlie? Haven’t seen you in months,” she puffs, hugging me a little bit closer before dropping her arm back to her side. 

I smile over at her. “Pretty good, you still stomping on egos?” I question, the glint of mischief in her eyes reflecting back as she gives me a slow nod. 

“Oh, always. Especially Chris—and it’s just for you.” She boops my nose as her words drag through the wind, the sound of tires screeching starting to muffle the chaotic hum of the crowd forming. 

Nick stares down at the camera lens, scrolling through the pictures I had taken of him—the reason why we were here, pretty much. “Actually, I think we got enough. But are you sure you wanna stay? I can come back and get you later—”

Beck brushes on Nick’s shoulder. She scrunches her nose at me while licking over her teeth. “I got her, Nick. Go home and post those pics, I’ll return her to you safely after tonight, don’t worry.” 

“Alright…” Nick sighs, reluctantly hugging me and wandering back towards his car to head home. 

“So why’d you wanna stay? Finally like cars?” Beck interrogates. 

I shake my head vigorously, laughing as she smiles at me. “Fuck no, I just—”

“You’re gonna mess with him, aren’t you?”

Her question rings through the air as a speeding car flies by—racers already warming up.

My eyes trace towards the track, seeing a sleek red sports car in the distance doing donuts. Of fucking course. Chris was always doing some dumb shit—illegal street racing or doing fucking donuts while the other racers were repeatedly drifting around the corners or fixing up their cars. 

He’s so cocky. 

I whisper back to her as I watch his car tires mark the pavement. “Damn right.”

___

Chris is already fed up—I can tell by the way his jaw clicks and his nostrils flare when I catch him in the corner of my eye. 

And I’m looking directly at him, a stupid smile covering my face as I put my money on the bet table. It’s twenty bucks, but it was twenty bucks I was willing to spend, or rather waste. Chris hasn’t lost in a while—honestly I’m not sure if he ever has. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chris huffs, pulling me by the arm as he drags me to the side of the road by his car. 

He roughly shoves me. The feeling of his car pressed up against my backside leaves my eyes twinkling with pride—I’m really getting to him. Just like I planned.

I shrug. “Just placing my bets. Isn’t that what everyone does at these—”

“Why are you here? Why’re you–,” as his eyes stare into mine, his rough tone falls silent, his scowl curling into a smirk as he analyzes the subtle twitch of my nose. “Huh—just comin’ to watch, right?” 

I nod to his question, my pride sinking to my feet as I try to stand up tall. Chris presses his body against mine, making my weight lean against the car once more. I swallow thickly as his hand drops from my arm. 

What is he doing?

“You know, I meant it, right?” he tuts, his eyes tracing your figure with no shame. “These jeans… baby, they look so good on you.” His voice gets deeper, his head falling forward as his lips graze my ear. “-bet they’d look better off though, hm?”  

Fuck. 

I wish it didn’t make something inside the pit of my gut burn—but it did. God, it really fucking did. My heart is hammering against my chest, the pulse in my neck pounding in my ears as slight butterflies in my stomach make it harder to breathe. 

Shoving my body quickly, I manage to escape his hold. “Shut up. You’re such a cocky prick,” I spit, my arms folding across my chest as I try to keep a stern expression. 

Chris lets out a dry laugh, grinning like he’s already won. He takes a couple steps forward, letting his hand travel into the ends of my hair, “And yet, you love it. I can practically hear how nervous I’m makin’ you, it’s a real ego boost,” he husks. 

“You don’t make me—” My lips fall open further, motionless as his hand moves to my neck, his cold fingers brushing against my pulse as my eyes go wide. 

“Not nervous, huh…” His head leans towards the side as he stares all over my face. His eyes linger on my lips as I try to look away. 

But it’s impossible. Chris swerves his head, not letting my eyes leave his as he just stares at me. 

“Chris, stop—”

“Why? Do I make you too nervous?” he urges, licking over his teeth and letting his hands drop down to his sides. 

I feel a wave of heat caress up my spine and over my shoulders. “Don’t you have some stupid race to lose?” 

The taunt seems humorous to him, the last resolve of my dignity peeking through mumbled words as he wipes over his mouth. 

“Alright, alright. Guess I’ll go try to lose, but—I might need your help.” He shrugs, walking off with a wink. 

Uh oh. 

Help?

___

I can’t tell what the fuck is going through his brain. Part of me regrets staying—but another part of me is sickly invested in whatever this twisted game is. 

Nearly all bets had been placed. Stacks of money rested on the plastic table with a heavy bais—most were betting on Chris. 

It had to be at least two grand. 

He wouldn’t give up two grand for some petty argument with me, right? No—that would be insane. Absolutely bonkers. 

…right?

I watch as Beck stands in the middle of the dark street, the only glow coming from the blue streetlights above. The sun had set quickly, the stars and moon doing nothing compared to the headlights from all the cars.

My legs hurt. I didn’t realize I had been clenching every muscle for the entirety of the countdown to the actual race. The cold bleachers sting against my skin in the night air—maybe I would’ve dressed warmer if I thought I was gonna stay. But no—I was stuck shivering in jeans, a purple lace bra peeking from under my black top, and a letterman jacket. 

The front row gave the best view, but I had no one to shield the bitter breeze. But it was worth it. This way I got to sit by Beck the entire time. 

“Racers ready?” she shouts, her voice prominent over the reviving engines as she holds the flag in the air. 

Chris is on the side closer to me, his boyish smile apparent as I stare at the side of his face. The other guy was one of the better ones—the bets had some sort of hope in him, a large stack of bills showing that he had a decent amount of skill. 

My mouth waters as I see Chris run a hand through his hair, his head turning and his eyes catching mine. Holy fuck. He looks absolutely dreamy—there’s not an ounce of anxiety, pure confidence radiating from him. 

And it makes it so hard to look away. 

“Wait, I got one more bet I gotta place,” Chris announces. 

What?

My brows furrow, my face scrunching as I watch Beck relax the flag back down to her side. “Make it quick.” 

Chris nods at her words, my stomach flutters as he stares directly back at me, leaning his head out his window while licking over his lips. “Wanna make a bet, sweetheart?” he asks. 

I look around me, my shoulder sinking slightly as I take in the amount of people staring at me. 

He’s holding up the race to embarass me. Fuck. 

As I stare back at him with squinted eyes, he clicks his tongue on the side of his mouth. “If I win, I get to take you for a drive. Deal?”

“What?” I exclaim, throwing my hand in the air as I motion to the bet table, “Why the hell would I agree to that—”

“You bet against me, remember?” he points. 

My lips smack shut, the lump in my throat gathering thicker as I try to swallow. “I’ll even give you the chance to make sure I lose a round. We gotta bet or not?” he questions, his eyes twinkling as the blue lights illuminate his sharp features.  

If he had to lose one of the three rounds, that put more hope into the other racer. And if the other race won, I’d be more than content. Getting to call him a loser would definitely irk him more than anything—especially if it was true.

I hear boos chant around me. “Hurry up and race!” someone says from behind me. 

My body stiffens as I hear the chorus of disapproval. “Deal!” I shout, biting on my inner cheek. 

Chris looks at me with a daunting grin, his hand squeezing on the wheel as he nods. “A’right—ready. Sorry for the hold up.” 

Beck rolls her eyes, holding up the flag once more. 

“Racers ready?” she glares at Chris, continuing on as he revs his engine in response, “3—2—-1, GO—”

My heart drops as I watch the smoke from the tires scratching the street float around Beck. She saunters over, settling beside me as I lean forward, my pulse pounding in my ears as I watch them race side-by-side. 

As the car rounds the corner and starts nearing the finish line, Chris’s car zooms just slightly in front of the other vehicle, only seconds of a difference. 

I can’t wait to call him a fuckin loser. 

Beck walks back out, the flag raising in the air as both cars position once again. “Alright, race two. Ready, set—” 

“Hey!” 

Stomping her heels on the pavement, Beck scowls at Chris as he shouts towards my direction. I look over, my face burning as I feel the crowd stare down at me. 

I didn’t know much about racing, but I knew enough. This wasn’t normal—this was the prime way to piss people off. 

As I go to ask what he wants, Chris curls his finger, motioning for me to come closer. 

The fuck? 

I hesitantly stand up, my arms wrapped tightly around my torso as I walk up to his car window. Chris stares up at me with devious eyes. He obnoxiously chews a piece of gum, his jaw bone protruding with each movement. 

“What the fuck do you want?!” I whisper-yell, catching angry eyes boring onto me as I take a quick glance over my shoulder. 

Oh, these people are mad—fucking furious, even. 

“Kiss me.” 

I do a double take, my eyes blinky slowly as I watch him lick over the bottom ridges of his teeth, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. 

“What?” I breathe out, a dry laugh heaving from my lips. 

He can’t be serious…

“However long you kiss me is however long I’ll wait to start drivin’. Didn’t you want me to lose? C’mon pretty girl, you saw the bet table—use your head, alright? It’s just a kiss,” he taunts.

This is how he was gonna give me the chance to make him lose a round—I should’ve known. 

I shake my head, cringing as I hear the boo’s from the crowd get louder. 

“I’m startin’,” Beck says, holding up the flag. “3—”

“Yes or no? It’s up to you,” he shrugs, his eyes drawing over my face as my lips smack open and shut. 

“2—”

The noise of his engine revving makes my anxiety settle. This is my chance—my only chance at that. 

“Fuck it,” I murmur, taking a long stride towards him. 

“1—GO!” 

I crash my lips onto his, my hands on either side of his jaw. His lips meet mine with a hard urgency, the rhythm of my movement panicked and rushed. 

My breath hitches in my chest—I don’t know if it’s because I forgot to breathe or if it’s from the feeling of his hand traveling up and tangling around the back of my neck, pulling me impossibly closer as he slips his warm tongue into my mouth. 

I nearly forget everything, gasping for air as I pull back quickly, moaning as I feel his mouth hungrily chase mine. 

Never in my life had I been kissed like this—so passionately and rough. 

“Hey! This gotta be breakin’ some rules–”

Fuck. 

The person yelling from the crow makes me pull back into reality. I stand up, watching as Chris slowly flutters his eyes open at me with a grin so cocky my hand twitches with the urge to slap him. 

Why did that feel so… good? 

Before anyone can say a thing, the other car slowly halts back to the starting line. 

Had we really been kissing that long? 

My fingers mindlessly float up to my tingling lips, my head feeling lighter as the surroundings start to spin a bit. It’s like he put some drug in his mouth that immediately became addicting. I want more. 

“See? I kept my word,” Chris points out, “Now—you gonna keep your word if I win? Lemme take you for a drive?” I swallow thickly, nodding slowly. “Good. Now go sit down and cheer for me real loud, alright?” 

I don’t have time to respond before Beck interrupts with the same question, starting to count down. I quickly stumble back towards the bleachers, a sigh of relief pushing through my lips as my head bobbles between my shoulders while I sit down. 

The loud cars barely register in my brain. All I can focus on is how light everything feels, how my lips are swollen and pulsing. 

“C’MON!!!” 

Chants behind me draw my attention back to the road. What the fuck? It’s not even close—Chris is speeding around the corners way smoother than the first round, almost as if he had been—

Oh fuck.

He was holding back. 

I tried to mess with him and he played me with ease. 

Part of me should be mad as he races near the finish line—but all I feel is excitement—anticipation. 

My teeth clench into my lower lip as I watch him storm past the line, not even waiting for the other racer to finish before stepping out of his car and walking over. 

Is he…?

My eyes bulge as he walks in front of me, holding his hand out as an offer. “C’mon, you promised, yeah?” he urges. 

I nod slowly, sliding my hand in his. He drags me to his car, opening the passenger door and shutting it after I climb in. 

“Chris! The money—”

Beck’s words fall on deaf ears as Chris slides into the driver seat, pressing his foot on the gas hard. 

“You didn’t even get the money—what’re we doing?” I ask, looking behind my shoulder to see a crowd of people turned to our direction as we speed off further down the road. 

“You know, it’s not nice to try and tick me off,” he huffs, quickly glancing at me with a harsh stare. 

Oh.

Oh.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ abou–”

Chris lets out a vocal sound of disbelief, cutting me off, “Yeah, you do. Fuckin—bettin’ against me, tryna get me to lose and shit. For what? Don’t have a boyfriend to give you any attention, huh?” he asks, his hand reaching over and grasping onto my thigh. 

He knows I don’t have a boyfriend—I know he’s aware of that fact. 

I stare down at his large hand squeezing my jean-clad leg. Something about his rough grip makes me shift in my seat, my thighs clutching together as I feel a wave of warmth settle into the pit of my stomach. 

“You like my hand on your thigh, don’t you?” he says, smirking wider as I watch the blue streetlights cast a subtle glow on his cheekbones. 

“I—”

“You like it. Admit it.” 

There’s no room to argue as he trails his hand up further, his fingers tracing dangerously high as he gives me a rough squeeze. Fuck his hands feel good on me. 

“Chris what’re you—”

“Do you know how it feels to constantly see you and know I can’t touch you?” he starts, the car rolling to a stop by the side of the road as he rushedly shifts gears to park, “-you’re always fuckin’ teasin’ me—bein’ a damn brat and I have to keep my hands to myself,” he grits, shaking his head as he stares down at me. 

I swallow thickly as I shift in the seat. “Chris, I–”

“No. None of that bullshit. You’re always tauntin’ me. Why’d you stay, hm? Why?” he questions, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth as his eyes deepen with intensity and dominance. 

Silence. I can’t fathom any words to say, my pulse drumming quicker as Chris pats his lap, adjusting his chair back. 

“Over here. Now.” 

“Chris, what are we doing?” I ask, hesitantly starting to climb over the center console. 

His hands wrap around the underside of my thighs, pulling me quickly while I let out a slight yelp as he sits me down in his lap. His hands are firm on either side of my hips. “I’m done playin’ these stupid fuckin’ games. I just—” 

The air is quiet. His eyes fall to my lips, his hands grasping just a little bit tighter around me. I can still feel the lingering sensation from his lips on mine earlier, the slight tingle still buzzing on the soft muscle as I let myself lean in closer. 

“We should stop,” Chris breathes, his tongue sliding between his lips as his eyes flicker up towards mine. 

“Why?” 

The question rolls off my lips with ease, my palms flattening against his chest as I lower my mouth to his neck, breathing over his pulse. 

“Because–” He lets out a hiss. I place my lips on his neck, sucking gently as I massage my hand over his shoulder. “Shit—we gotta stop, baby—this, this–” His jaw goes slack as I find his sweet spot. His hands dig into my hips, the slight bulge growing beneath me making my lips curl into a smile as I gently grind myself on top of him. 

“Why do you wanna stop, Chris?” I ask, nibbling the bottom of his ear, “What’s got you so tongue-tied, hm?” 

“You’re killin’ me,” he points, his gaze trained on me as he tangles his hand through my hair, pulling me back just enough to look at him, “-fuckin’ so annoying, so pretty and horrible, I just—I don’t know how much I can hold back–”

“Don’t,” I whisper, my hand gathering the material of his shirt in a fist as I watch him bite on his lower lip. His eyes trace over my face, one of his hands slowly tracing underneath my shirt, callusing beneath my bra. 

“Yeah? Don’t want me to hold back, hm?” he remarks, his hips adjusting in the slightest, my mouth falling open as I feel him rut against me through the fabric of our clothes. 

Fuck. I can’t take this. 

I lean forward, crashing my lips against his once more. Chris hums into my mouth. He furiously helps me peel off the bulky letterman jacket, the cold air feeling like relief compared to my burning skin. 

“Holy fuck, slow down, baby,” he husks, his hands falling to my hips as I shameless grind myself against his hard bulge. But I can’t get enough. “-’m not going anywhere—gonna stay and make you feel so good. Promise.” 

My heart drops as I feel his hand delicately caress over the purple lace covering my breasts. His nimble fingers trace around my hardened nub, a slight moan falling through my lips as I feel him smirk against me. 

“Take those cute jeans off, c’mon. Be a good girl for me—just this once, alright?” he grins. 

I nod slowly, awkwardly shifting as I pull down the denim while kicking off my shoes. Chris gets impatient, yanking the clothing to his own accord before planting me back on his lap, his jacket now discarded. 

“Holy fuck, look at these legs—would look so good wrapped around me,” he whispers, brushing my hair to the side as his lips graze my neck, “-while I fuck you deep and hard.” 

Oh my god. 

My mind is numb, every inch of my skin pulsing with a hot sensation of greed. Chris stares at me with lust, his hand moving in the corner of my eye. “Want me to touch you? Right….here,” he breathes, the pad of his finger resting directly over my bundle of nerves. 

I nod slowly, looking at him with hooded eyes as he starts to slowly circle the digit with a light, feathery touch. 

“More,” I moan, pulling his shirt into my fists as I watch him smile at me. 

“Yeah? What do you want, hm? Want my big dick in you? Want me to stretch you out and make you cum over and ov—

“Please,” I whisper, my hips moving for me as I struggle to stay still. 

Chris looks down, gesturing for me to take control. I hesitantly fumble with his jeans, pulling out his hard length as my mouth starts to water. 

Fuck. He’s big. No—he’s huge. 

As I go to pull my underwear to the side, Chris stops me, placing his hand around my wrist. 

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, “-take ‘em all the way off—wanna see all of you when I fuck your guts.” 

My thighs tense from his words, my hands quickly sliding the fabric down my thighs and discarding them without a single care. Chris pets over the top of my thighs, his eyes hungrily staring down between my legs. “Fuck—are you sure you want this? I…god, I can’t believe this is happening…”

I grab his hardness in my hand, spitting and dragging the lubricant up and down his shaft. Chris grits his teeth. His hands pinching into my sides as he lets out a deep groan. “You’re so big,” I whisper, mostly talking to myself. 

My eyes bulge as I feel Chris lift me with his hands on either side of my waist, placing me so my dripping entrance is directly aligned with his tip. His eyes bore into mine with dark passion. His jaw tense as he leans forward, kissing along my neck. 

“You gonna take it all f’me?” he dares, massaging my sides but keeping me from sinking down onto him. 

“Chris, please–”

“Gotta promise to take it all, sweetheart. Been teasin’ me all day already, I don’t need anymore of that, alright? Just—just gotta promise to let me stuff you full,” he purrs, sucking on the sensitive part of my neck just below my ear. 

“I promise, just—mmphf—” He slowly loosens his grip, letting me lower myself. I feel his tip nudge past my entrance, the stretch of his size making my body tense as my legs tighten to a halt. 

“Thaatt’s it, doin’ so good, just—just relax,” he praises, brushing my hair behind my ear, “-gotta be a good girl and keep your word again, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” I stutter, slowly starting to take more of him. A broken cry falling through my lips as I feel my body stiffen again. 

Chris is patient. His eyes are trained on my face as his hands massage over my body. “You got it, c’mon—just—holy fuck,” his hand lingers down to my stomach, my top so messed up that it’s bunched over my breasts. He’s not just admiring the skin, he’s worshipping the bulge—the distinct imprint of him inside of me as I hover over the last bit of his length. 

“Look at that, sweetheart, I mean—fuck—” 

I shriek as I feel him lift his hips upward, burying himself inside of me completely. My hands grasp onto his shoulders, my eyes teary as I watch him bite on his lower lip. “God—such a good girl, takin’ me so good,” he compliments, slowly helping me as I start to ride him. 

I feel him reach deep inside of me, my eyes staring up at the ceiling of the car while my body tenses with a wave of pleasure collapsing over every beating pulse of my skin. This is even better than that damn kiss. I’ve never felt like this before. Not ever. It’s like an adrenaline rush, so overbearingly good that it feels addicting.  

“How’s that, baby, hm?” he hums, smiling down at the sight of his length plunging into my guts with each thrust as my movements quicken. 

“I–it’s, I—” 

What the fuck was I saying? 

Everything feels so light, so impossible. 

“That’s it, fuckkkkk—look so good ridin’ me like this, keep—-shit!” he seethes. My walls tighten around him, my nails digging into his shoulder through his shirt as he lifts his hips to meet my movements.

His lips parted with pure ecstasy. 

“Fuck, fuck, I,” My words are cut off my a moan. 

Chris laughs dryly, his grip becoming tighten as he really puts in the work—using me like a ragdoll as he furiously fucks himself into me. “Mmmm, th-ere,” he rasps, smiling as I let out small shrieks and moans between each snap of his hips. 

He’s so deep. I’d never felt this good in my life. There’s a buzzing in my ears, spots in my vision as I feel my body ruthlessly convulse with the overwhelming sensations. 

How the fuck is he so deep?

How the hell is he hitting against the perfect spot over and over and over—

“You cumming already?” 

His question pulls me back to reality. I nod dumbly, my mouth drawing open as I let out a long moan, my thighs quivering as I rock myself against his movement. 

“Oh—I—”

“My name, sweetheart, wanna hear my–my name, c’mon,” he urges, the squelches getting louder as I feel my body burn with euphoria. 

“Chris, Chris, I–I—my god,” I cry out, my hips slowly rolling to a stop as I feel him pause his motions. 

I don’t have time to react—nor to recover. I feel Chris hold me tightly, flipping me over so my back hits the seat—his cock brutal as he drills himself inside of me. 

“Take it, fuckin—fuckin’ take it,” he chants. 

My hands scramble into his hair. I pull his face into my neck, letting my teeth sink into his shoulder. Every rut of his hips leaves me breathless, my body seizing as I feel his hardness drive into me over and over again while his pelvis slaps against my clit. 

“I’m gonn—”

“Wait. Wait for me, I’m—’m so close, baby, so fuckin’ close—”

I clench around him, the buildup becoming too much as he continues to drown every inch of my body with pleasure. His desperate tone lingers in the air, his breaths shaking as his hips lose slight momentum. 

“Wher–-where do you—”

“In-inside, please, just—just let me cum,” I plea. 

Chris huffs, his thrusts becoming erratic and somehow deeper. “Cu-cum with me, I—shittttttttt, so fuckin’ good, so… so fuckin’ good,” he seethes, a warm sensation flooding inside of me as I feel my body convulse once more. 

My limbs fall lifelessly. Our motions fall lazier, eventually pausing to a halt. Chris gently removes himself, pulling me into his arms tightly and positioning back into the seat with me on his lap. 

His hand finds the back of my head as I lean onto his shoulder, petting through my hair as we both try to catch our breath. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers. I let out a light laugh, flinching as I feel my stomach burn from soreness. “You good there?” he asks. 

Nodding into the crook of his neck, I lift myself to stare at him once more. My eyes trace from his sweat ridden face, seeing a clear imprint of his hand on the fogged-up car window. My nose crinkles as I inhale deeply. “It smells like sex, I’m sorry,” I let out. 

Chris stares at me incredulously. “Sorry? That was fuckin’ perfect—better than the money if you ask me. I mean… I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself anymore,” he teases, flashing me a grin as he combs my hair behind my ear. 

My lips curl with excitement. “Oh really? You like takin’ me for rides?” 

He nods firmly, biting on his lower lip. “Mhm. And you seemed to really like ridin’.” 

I let out a light laugh, shrugging my shoulders before ruffling his hair playfully. “Only with you.”

Chris cocks an eyebrow at me, “Only me, huh?” I nod shyly, letting out a brief hum. His eyes linger on mine before falling back to my lips. “You do ride good. Maybe you should be the racer,” he taunts. 

“Maybe,” I whisper, “-maybe…” 

“Let’s get you back in those cute jeans though, yeah?” 

[elliewrites77]

Pride and Anger

this is probably the only angst i've written to be posted, like ever. and it came to because I was thinking about Ace and Luffy, and how sad (and unnecessary, ill die on this hill) his death was. so, like most sane people, i will continue to pretend Portgas D. Ace is alive and well, and my poor Luffy did not have to go through something so traumatic by himself. I hope it doesn't come off as too angsty or all angst. that's a fun word lol

He was alive. Portgas D. Ace was alive.

Critically injured and on the brink of death, sure. But alive.

He was really alive and in front of you.

And you were furious.

You were furious with him, with the marines, with Garp, with Roger, with everyone. And that was exactly why the members of the Heart Pirates stayed as far away from you as they could get. The only person you had spoken to with even a little bit or kindness had been Law, and that's just because he saved their lives. Both boys had been on their last breath when Law saved you all in Marineford, and you were grateful to him, truly, but you were far too enraged to worry about your manners with his crew. You snapped at anyone that suggested you leave them to rest, and when Luffy finally woke up, you snapped at them when they said you should go up with him, to the island of warrior women. You refused to leave Ace's side.

You felt bad, sure. You wanted to be with Luffy, to comfort him as much as you could. But every time you tried to move, your body froze. It was keeping you there, with Ace. You knew Luffy would understand, and at least he wasn't alone. You were thankful for Jimbei too.

You keep replaying the events over and over in your head. Especially the part where Ace almost turned back. He almost turned around to fight, to die for some words. Pride, that's what almost took your closest friend. Pride over a pirate who had already given his life for Ace. Pride that almost make him break his promise to you. His promise to come back.

You don't know what stopped him, really. Maybe it was Luffy, or maybe his brain caught up with his ego. Maybe it was so he didn't disappoint Whitebeard or his crew. Maybe it was you. You didn't know, and you might not ever know. Because he was alive, yes, but it wasn't impossible for that to change, according to Law. And the fact that you still have hope but know that it could be in vain, that also made you furious.

So you stayed. You sat there, staring at his form, the wraps covering his body making him look like a mummy. You stayed, listening to his faint and abnormal breathing. You stayed, praying to whatever higher being their was that he woke up. That he survived. Because you'll be damned before if you didn't get a chance to tell him how angry you were with him. He has almost left you, just like that. Sailing away is one thing, dying is another. He wasn't allowed to die. He had promised that he wouldn't.

You were angry that he had spent his whole life thinking he wasn't loved or able to be, when you had spent your whole life loving him. More than a friend, more than a partner in crime, more than two kids who had a lot in common (including shit dad's). You were angry with yourself for never telling him, too.

You finally moved when Law came into the room, telling you that you really needed to speak to Luffy, now. Something about his look told you he was right, and your body actually let you move.

Hugging the boy you considered family was a relief, and you were close to crying into his bandaged shoulder as he hugged back. You didn't want to let go, didn't know if you could hold it together if you did. But after a few minutes, you heard him utter words that reignited your rage.

You saw the fear an most of the Heart crew when you pulled away, fire in your eyes. You saw how each one of them stepped back as if you were a bomb ready to blow. You didn't care, simply looking from Rayleigh to Luffy and back. Luffy knew the look in your eyes, and returned it with a serious one. That alone is what made you pause.

"Why?" You whispered.

"Ace almost died, he still might. I...I couldn't protect him..couldn't protect you. I have to get stronger, for you, for Ace, for the crew. If I'm ever gonna survive the New World, I have to be...better."

You wanted to argue, wanted to make him stay. 2 years? You didn't want that. But you knew Luffy, knew his determination was strong, and his desire to protect his loved ones was even stronger. So you just hugged him again.

"I swear, Luffy, you better be safe. I don't know what that weirdo is gonna have you do, but please just, try not to get hurt." You said in his ear, feeling him nod as a response. You understood, really, but that wouldn't stop you from worrying.

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It had been a few weeks since you said goodbye to Luffy. You were staying with Law, not having anywhere to go for 2 years, and since Ace still needed to be cared for, it only made sense. But everyday he didn't wake up, your hope waned. Law noticed this, offering to teach you more medical stuff or training you to fight better just to give you something to do. Both things helped, for a few hours. But at the end of the day, you returned to that cold room, and returned to watching his motionless body, the only thing telling you he was alive being the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Your anger was still there, yes, but it has lessened over time. At this point, you only held onto it because it made the hurt of everything that happened a little more bearable. It helped to talk to him, even if he couldn't hear. You confessed your anger, your worry, your pain, and your love. Getting it out, even if you were practically talking to yourself, helped you cope.

Which was good, considering he didn't wake up for an entire year.

He was in a coma for a year. His outside wounds, the small ones, healed. But there was still a large scar on his chest that would always twin with Luffy's. But he was slowly, slowly getting better, according to Law. And that gave you more hope, despite how long you waited.

And as you prepared yourself for another year of no change, you were surprised when Bepo enthusiastically approached you as you were returning to the polar tang, after spending the day on an island to gather supplies. It took a moment for your brain to process the animals words, but as soon as they did, you dropped everything.

"He woke up!"

You rushed onboard the submarine, pushing past everyone to get to that familiar room. But you froze inside the doorway. All you could see was Law, standing over Ace and talking lightly. You could barely hear his voice as he replied. It was cracked, and slow, clear that he was gathering himself after not speaking or being awake for so long.

You remained frozen until Law, who somehow knew you were there, slowly moves out of the way, revealing Ace to you once more. You had gotten so used to his 'sleeping' state, that it shocked you even more when you met his eyes.

They were dazed and tired, which was perfectly understandable. But they lit up at the sight of you, something you immediately noticed. It made you tear up as you forced your body to move closer. Law silently left the room.

Neither you nor Ace broke the silence, or eye contact. It felt like a dream, to be staring into his eyes, his beautiful eyes, once again. A dream you had for a year straight. At that thought, you did break from his gaze, your eyes running down the rest of his body in assessment, as if he grew new wounds just from waking up.

"You gonna keep checking..me out..?" He spoke gruffly, a small smirk on his face. The tears fell from your eyes instantly, and you dropped to your knees beside his bed.

"You stupid, dumb, beautiful idiot. You left me sitting here alone, for an entire year. A year of not knowing if you'd ever wake up. And the first thing you say to me is that?" you spoke through sobs, a laugh making its way through as well. You laid your head on his arm, feeling him slowly lift his other one to pat your head as you cried onto him.

"m'sorry angel...I..don't remember everything yet but...ink-dude told me a bit.." he spoke slowly. you could tell the words were hard for his throat to let out.

"Law. He's that captain of this ship." You informed through another teary laugh, lifting your head from his arm and instead grabbing his hand in yours. "don't push yourself right now. It's honestly probably best if you..don't remember everything for a little. You still need rest."

He used his free hand to rub your cheek, wiping away some of the tears still slowly rolling down your face.

"too..pretty to..cry" you heard him mumble. His eyes looked sad. You could guess why.

"You're too pretty to die. Remember that next time." you joked slightly, smiling at him. You were happy, so so happy, that he was actually awake now. Right now, that outweighed everything else.

He chuckled, coughing right after. You gave him a glass of water, holding his head to help him drink. When he was done, he laid it back down and closed his eyes for a moment. You stroked his hair, admiring him. Sure, he had his eyes closed for a year, but this was different.

His eyes fluttered open, and he gave you a smile.

"I heard ya...you know.."

Your brows furrowed. You thought he couldn't hear.

"You heard me every time?"

"I don't...think so...all I remember is...you talking about stopping for...medical gloves...and saying you love me."

Your eyes widen, and you freeze once again. That had been that very morning, before you left to get supplies. You did tell him you love him every day though, feeling like you'd regret it if you didn't. But you were okay with doing that when you thought he couldn't hear. Now that he had, you were nervous.

"I uh..I didn't...um.." You stuttered. He chuckled lightly, gripping your hand again.

"It's okay, angel...I..I'm sorry, about..this..about everything...but I need...need you to know that...I love you too." He confessed, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss the back of it. Tears came to your eyes again, along with a smile, and you closed your eyes resting your forehead against his.

For the first time in over a year, you weren't angry or scared. You were at peace.

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masterlist

[hees-mine]

THE HANDY MAN - L. HS

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader!

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, anal fingering, cursing, flirting.

WC: 2,750k

-

A ring on your doorbell prompts you to set the cup of tea you were drinking down on your living room coffee table.

For a moment, you squint your brows together, wondering who is at your door.

But it quickly came to you you had made an appointment last week for the leaky pipe under your sink to be fixed. It’s been bugging you for a while now, and you finally made time to get it repaired.

You turn down the volume of the TV series you are watching and hop off the couch.

Walking over to the door, you comb your fingers through your messy hair and straighten out your shorts and tank top to make yourself look presentable.

You unlocked the door and twisted the knob pulling it back and revealing a repair man in a navy blue jumpsuit and a toolbox in his left hand. “Hi!” You chirp, greeting him with a warm smile.

He nods, offering you a smile as well. “Hello, so I hear you have a pipe that needs fixing.”

“You heard right,” you laugh softly and unintentionally bite down on your bottom lip as you eye him up and down. You weren’t expecting him to be so young and look so good. Even in the unflattering work uniform, he was still extremely handsome.

“Well then, mam, you called the right place. I’ll do everything in my power to get that taken care of for you today,” he says while lifting his toolbox slightly.

You open the door wide enough to let him enter, and you close it shut behind him while he stands by, waiting for you to lead the way. “This way,” you mutter while walking to the kitchen and stopping at your sink.

You bent over, opening the cabinet doors, and moving around some pots and pans you had stored under there. “Sorry about the mess,” you grunt softly, shuffling everything to the side so he has ample space to work in.

“No worries, take your time,” he speaks up behind you, shamelessly staring at your ass that’s poked out right for his eyes to feast on. Maybe his mind was in the gutter, but if he’s not mistaken, you stayed down there just a little bit longer than you needed to allow him to stare even longer, but he’s definitely not complaining.

“There,” you huff, standing up and blowing a strand of hair out of your face. “It’s that one right there.” You turn on the faucet, pointing to the pipe, and he sees it immediately.

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely leaking, alright.” he laughs softly and crouches down, looking at the pipe. It looked to be old and probably cracked, from what he could tell, but for the most part, this would be an easy fix. The only real inconvenience would be that your water had to be shut off for a while. “But nothing I can’t take care of.” he reaches into his toolbox, grabbing his flashlight and tools, ready to get started.

“Great!” You say brightly. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

He nods as you walk back to the kitchen and resume your show.

He does his work fast and efficiently. It took him twenty minutes max, but what can he say? He’s been in the business five years, and not to brag, but he was the best in the company, serving more than hundreds of customers with top-tier service, and his reviews could confirm that. “So, what do you do for work?” He asks, making small talk as he wraps up the last bit.

“Lawyer,” you answer from across the room.

Your voice sounds muffled due to his head being under your cabinets, but he can still make out your response.

He stands up, careful not to hit his head on the way up, as he grabs a rag from his toolbox and wipes off his hands. “Nice, I like a girl with ambition” Before you could respond to the comment, he twisted the knob on the faucet running the water to check for any leaks, but obviously, there were none. “Good as new,” he smiles, completely glazing over his previous comment.

Upon hearing his words, you stood up, looking at his work. Even though you didn’t really know what to look for, all you cared about was that it was no longer leaking and you could use your sink like normal. “Very nice, thank you, handyman,” you say, your tone light and flirtatious. “Would you like a glass of water lemonade?”

“Lemonade sounds nice, thank you,” he smiles, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead.

And yeah, he definitely wasn’t mistaken earlier, judging by the way you literally were bent over in your fridge, ass in the air, and the arch in your back far too exaggerated to be just innocently grabbing your lemonade pitcher.

He tosses his towel aside with a smirk, leaning against your counter and biting on his lower lip as he waits for you to pour him a glass of lemonade.

Setting the pitcher on the countertop, you grab two glasses from your cupboard, filling both cups equally.

“Thanks.” he clicks his tongue, giving you a quick wink. He takes the cup in his hand, his fingers purposely brushing against yours. He gulps down the whole cup in one go, and you’re left with your mouth slightly agape as you watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “Well, everything should be good. If you have any questions or concerns about anything, here’s my card. Feel free to call whenever.”

“Will do -oh, your payment. I almost forgot.” You quickly sat up, went to a small drawer in your living room, and pulled out a box where some cash was stored. “How much was it?” You ask over your shoulder.

He leaned over the counter, tapping his chin in thought. “Hmm, let’s just say 50$”

“Only?” You ask, and he hums.

“Suit yourself.” You grab the fifty while he gathers his tools, heading over toward you.

“Here you go, thank you, heeseung.” You eye him seductively.

“My pleasure.” he reaches for the money, intentionally grabbing your hand, and your breath hitches softly.

He bites his lip, fingers brushing against yours. You both make eye contact silently, giving each other a knowing look, and there’s undeniable tension between the two of you.

Simultaneously, you both let go of the dollar bill, letting it fall onto the floor along with his toolbox and immediately, his hands grab at your waist, pulling you into his body, his lips barely an inch away from yours.

-

Read full story on my Patreon

[ultravi0lence14]

FALLEN STAR

CASTIEL X FALLENANGEL!READER

SUMMARY: they fell in love; she ended up falling while he stayed

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

the day you fell was dark, gloomy, a vast difference from what heaven was usually like. if you were to explain it to anyone, you would say it was a utopia. a kaleidoscope of colours and light that brought forth the heavenly grace in each and every angel. god had created you all the same, from the same light source. yet you were different. his own little creation from a separate beam of light he couldn’t shake from his mind.

all angels came from the glowing white mirth in god’s palm, yet you came from a vibrant pink balm that enticed god like original sin in the garden. when you were made, he didn’t render you with the other angels. you were his own, and each and every other angel was garnered below you instead of being your equal.

though, you didn’t view castiel like that.

he was different than the rest, a beacon of hope that gnawed and ripped it’s teeth at the short leash your father held you on. god didn’t like you leaving his side, yet cas always found a way to sneak you into his arms.

as time went on, your loyalties started to change, and god saw a shift in how his little girl was acting. you were sneaky, and when you weren’t sneaky, you were secretive. god knew something was wrong, yet he didn’t know what could possibly have changed with his prized possession.

he watched you slowly, saw as you ran to castiel for any issue you had. he saw the lingering holds, the featherlight touches, and the way you looked at the angel like he hung the moon and stars. it all started to make sense, and god felt an anger he had only felt once before; when lucifer betrayed him.

“how could you?” he bellowed, watching you cower into castiel’s side. “disobey your father, run around with a lower being? you knew better, little one. i taught you better.”

“no,” you bit out, walking closer to your father while cas held onto your hand tightly. “you kept me caged, held me close because you were scared of me. you knew you shouldn’t have created me. you knew i would be too powerful, so you kept me on a tight leash. but cas doesn’t treat me like that. he treats me like i matter, dad, and that’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

sighing, god shook his head, hating what he was going to do but knowing it needed to be done. holding your cheek in his palm, god stared down at what he believed was his greatest creation, turned into his worst mistake.

“you could’ve been so much more.” he whispered, caressing your cheek as castiel’s eyes worried. he saw the malice in his creators eyes, and he knew whatever god had planned for you wasn’t good. “you could’ve been a warrior as good as michael, but you betrayed me like lucifer.”

your mouth gaped open, and before you could speak, god flicked his hand, sending you free falling from the heavens. “say hello to my son for me when you fall in his wasteland.”

the last thing you heard was castiel’s scream, the sight of him clawing and reaching for you as angels held him back burning behind your eyelids as the wind whipped at your eyes and seeped into your bones. pain emitted into your back, and you felt your wings disintegrate as you hit the earth. but instead of going further into the ruined soil, greeting lucifer in hell, you landed in a field of beautiful flowers.

god sent you somewhere worse than hell. he sent you to earth, where you’d have to adjust to being human. adjust to a life without your love.

a lone tear fell, and you just wished cas was hear to smooth back your hair and hold you in his arms, telling you everything would be okay.

the years flew by like an angel’s wing, and you found yourself adjusting decently to a human life. small town living wasn’t easy, but the decrepit town in colorado greeted you with opened arms, allowing you to open up your own flower shop. it reminded you of when you first fell, the last time you saw your lovers face.

peaceful living was what you got used to knowing. wake up, get ready, man the store. it was all so simple. until two brothers came crashing into your store, looking for refuge from a vengeful werewolf.

they weren’t expecting the sweet, timid looking cashier behind the counter to have any silver weapons. and they definitely weren’t expecting her to wield a silver dagger like a sword, piercing the werewolf’s heart like a skilled hunter. it may have been the lace cami and denim mini skirt, but sam and dean winchester were baffled by your skills.

you three got to chatting, and without giving away your true nature, you somehow ended up on sam and dean’s good side.

it wasn’t easy, leaving the shop behind. each daisy reminded you of cas. each rose reminded you of his smile and each carnation reminded you of the way his lips brushed your skin. but if you wanted to show god how much of a warrior you were without him, than leaving with the winchester’s was the best thing you could possibly do.

the hollowness in your chest broke into shards as pamela barnes spoke the name you hadn’t heard in two years. castiel seemed to be the one to raise dean winchester from hell, and you couldn’t help but hitch your breath at the sound of his name.

your cas, your sweet boy. it was all too much. when dean and bobby mentioned they were going to go out to a remote location and seek him out, you couldn’t help but spring up and agree to join.

damp air sent shivers down your spine as you waited with bobby and dean. it had been so long, and you didn’t know what face he wore, but he would still be the same to you. when lights started flickering, and rain smacked against the barn roof, you knew that your lover was finally crawling home to you.

castiel came in the space stoic, leisure steps that showed reverence and strength in his walk. but when his eyes landed on you, they faltered, hands starting to shake and eyes widening in surprise and buried pain.

“angel? is that really you?” he was an angel of the lord, a being who felt no emotions. but at that moment, cas couldn’t help the tears that sprang into his eyes. the last time he saw you, your face was fear stricken; features alight with pain as your own maker cast you out of his sight. now, you just looked ethereal, a beacon of beauty and grace.

all you could do was nod, running as fast as you could until you were wrapped in his arms. dean and bobby just stood shocked, guns at the ready yet not knowing what to do with them as their friend hugged and kissed the face of their target.

“why are you here?” he spoke through wispy breaths, hands roaming your face and body to make sure you were real. “i thought god cast you to hell?”

“god? cast to hell?” dean spoke up, shock and disbelief evident in his eyes. “okay, what the fuck is going on?”

“she’s a fallen angel,” cas spoke, hands cupping your face as he pressed his forehead to yours. “my fallen angel. and she is finally home to me.”

TAGS: @titsout4jackles @daylighted @deansbeer @bluemerakis @figthoughts @haunteres @sunsbaby @h8aaz @beausling @deanswidow @cowboysandcigarettes @j2archives @honeyryewhiskey @florchids @dulcescorderitas

NAT BABBLES: gotta give my boy cas some love!! and this also goes out to my other cass ( @starzify ) BC IT IS HER BDAY!!!

[keisgirl]

x kenma, mentions of death and blood cancer

the first time kenma notices something is off, you wave it off as exhaustion.

"you're overthinking it, ken," you say, your voice light, breezy, untouched by worry. "i'm just tired. work has been crazy."

he watches you closely, golden eyes flickering with something unreadable. he doesn’t push further, not yet. instead, he nods, lets your excuse settle between you both like an unspoken agreement, and lets it slide.

the second time, it’s harder to ignore.

you flinch when he brushes his fingers against yours, something you never do. kenma stiffens. "what’s wrong?" he asks, pulling back immediately.

"nothing." you force a smile, but it’s weak, fragile. "my body's just been a little sore lately. probably from all the commuting."

it’s plausible. it’s reasonable. but it’s not true.

he doesn’t say that out loud, just studies you with a sharp gaze. your complexion is paler than usual, your skin almost translucent under the artificial glow of his monitor. when had you lost so much weight? when had the light in your eyes started to dim?

something heavy settles in his chest, an unease he doesn’t quite know how to name.

you should have known kenma would catch on eventually.

for months, you’ve been careful. careful to smile. careful to act normal. careful to tuck away your pain into the corners of your mind where no one—not even him—can reach.

but no matter how careful you are, kenma has always been able to read you. he’s always been perceptive, always attuned to even the smallest shifts in your behavior. and now, he’s watching you like he knows you’re hiding something.

"are you sure you’re okay?" he asks one evening when you curl into his side, your body unusually cold against his.

you want to tell him. you really do.

but you’re selfish. and weak. and terrified.

you don’t want him to look at you like you’re dying.

so, you just nod against his shoulder and say, "of course."

and kenma, for all his doubts, chooses to believe you.

you break up with him three months later.

"i just think… we’re not the same people anymore," you say, hating yourself for every word. "it’s better if we go our separate ways."

kenma stares at you, his face unreadable. his fingers tighten around the controller in his lap. "why?"

"we’ve grown apart."

"bullshit."

your breath catches. kenma rarely curses, rarely reacts so strongly. but now, he’s looking at you with something like betrayal, something like hurt. "you’re lying."

"ken.."

"tell me the real reason."

you swallow hard, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. "this is the real reason. i don’t love you anymore."

his expression shatters. just for a second, before he schools it into indifference. "fine. if that’s what you want."

you nod, ignoring the way your heart clenches so painfully it feels like you’re breaking into pieces. "goodbye, kenma."

and then you leave, because if you stay, you’ll break down and tell him the truth—that you’re dying, that you never wanted to leave him, that you love him more than anything, but you can’t make him watch you fade away.

he finds out months later.

when kuroo calls him in the middle of a stream, voice quiet, hesitant.

"kenma," he says, "did you know?"

"know what?"

"about her. about the leukemia."

kenma’s heart stops.

"what?" he breathes, voice barely audible.

"she’s in the hospital. late stage. she…she didn’t tell you, did she?"

his vision blurs. his hands shake. the pieces fall into place, and he realises

she didn’t leave because she stopped loving him.

she left because she didn’t want him to see her die.

he doesn’t think. he just moves.

and when he reaches the hospital, when he sees you lying there, too pale, too fragile, his entire world collapses.

"why didn’t you tell me?" his voice cracks as he grips your hand, as he searches your tired eyes for answers.

you smile, soft, sad. "because i didn’t want you to remember me like this."

kenma exhales shakily. "idiot," he murmurs, pressing his forehead against your hand. "i would’ve stayed. i would’ve never left."

"i know." you squeeze his fingers. "that’s why i had to go first."

he lets out a quiet, broken laugh. "you’re so unfair."

"i’m sorry."

he shakes his head, jaw clenched, eyes burning with unshed tears. "i love you. i still love you."

you close your eyes, exhaling softly. "i love you too, ken."

and as he holds onto you, as he listens to the faint beeping of the monitors, he silently prays for more time.

but he knows it’s already running out.

kenma never leaves your side after that night.

he stays until your last breath.

when the monitor flatlines, he doesn’t move. doesn’t speak. just holds onto your hand like if he grips it hard enough, he can stop you from slipping away entirely.

but you do.

and for the first time in his life, kenma doesn’t know how to keep going.

he buries himself in work, in gaming, in anything that keeps his mind from the unbearable silence. but no matter what he does, it never fills the space you left behind.

kuroo finds him one evening, staring blankly at his screen, fingers unmoving on his keyboard.

"kenma."

he doesn’t respond.

kuroo sighs, sitting beside him. "she wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself."

kenma clenches his jaw. "she left."

"she loved you."

kenma exhales sharply, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "i know.”

silence stretches between them.

"it hurts," kenma finally whispers.

"i know."

he doesn’t know if it will ever stop hurting.

but for now, he sits in the quiet, mourning the love he lost, the future he never got, and the girl who left too soon.

[delight-angelsbliss]

Hi, this is the same anon who question what not to ask about! Thanks again for the reply, I feel so much more calmer asking knowing that I won't ask for something you not comfortable with!! I just had one thought in my head, how would Metal Sonic react if at one moment he was saved by a reader despite the fact that they are on different sides (I leave it up to you to choose the situation, maybe he will refuse the help or something but I just really will be interested read something like this :] ) and then, for example, the reader needed help!

Precis: metal sonic getting saved by reader and repaying the favor

Warnings: near death experience!!

Notes: oo this is a cute one!! It was really interesting to write and I'm glad you asked me to make this<3 ok but lowkey metal sonic is kinda fascinating, like, does he think or not? I'm fighting every urge in my body to not make reader have magical girl powers grbfxioslwkrnc metal sonic is a silly little thing confirmed by me😛 edit: I thought I'd make the tag lost generally and not only for the valentines posts lol

Metal sonic tag list: @eternallykokomi @francistimefranche

I have talked about how I view metal sonic many times; a robot who's loyal, proving he can destroy his body many times purely out of loyalty, choosing to stay with his maker until his end, the only times he falls in love is when his code shows faulty. His feelings, if he even has any, are a mystery. A huge mystery. What are his thoughts? There are so many questions that race your mind everyday, when you fight, when you stare, when you think of him. It's so much. Metal sonic is so fascinating

Let's say you're on Sonic's side, or maybe even on your own, nonetheless you're found to get into a fight with Metal sonic if you're against Eggman! When a fight did break out, all hell broke loose. There was a lot of damage, but on particular home, the roof fell off, leaving rubble and more falling straight on metal. In an act of your hero complex, or maybe just stupidity, you push (the disaster reference) Metal sonic out of harm's way. The landing was rough, but it wasn't that bad seeing as you landed on metal. Did you just save him? Metal sonic was bewildered, why would you save him? The robot immediately pushes you off and makes a run for it. What ever needed to be done could wait!

That little scene replayed in Metal sonics head over and over, during fighting, while on patrol. Everywhere. The way your panicked voice asked if he was ok, the fearful look in your eyes... It made him feel all warm inside. Maybe he was glitched? Even after virus scans, checkups, system repairs, anything and everything... You wouldn't leave his mind, something inside him bloomed, bloomed into something amazing. So this is love? So this is the love that everyone raves over everywhere he goes? It felt so nice, yet, it hurt knowing he could probably never love you. You didn't even like Eggman for crying out loud! So why should metal sonic like you?

When Metal sonic finally went back into the battlefield, it felt empty, nothing felt right. He could only watch you, think of you, yearn for you. His non existent soul thirsts for your contact after you've left. He knew the clock was ticking, maybe he could never confess? He couldn't even talk, what a silly little thing metal was. When metal sonic entered another mission, he knew there was a high chance of seeing you. It sounded like something made for you, he didn't know whether that was good or bad. When He saw you again, he first noticed how tired you looked. Have you not been getting sleep? Are you doing too much? He felt like he was gonna short circuit from worry. Your fighting was sloppy, your body looked spent and tired from fighting. You should take a break. The evidence of your tiredness showed when you didn't realize how a badnik was about to pounce on you, the eyes looking blood thirsty and out for its prey. Metal sonic knew in the moment he had to do something. Suddenly, when you turn around, you saw metal sonic, his sharp claws full of the oil of the badnik, eyes looking straight at you; lovesick. It's a small way of repaying the favor, maybe, just maybe, he could help a bit more.

[mikkomacko]

how do you think a situation would play out in the "him and i" universe where nico has to go to switzerland or somewhere else internationally but the reader is hesitant due to what happened with lena 🤔

maybe the reader and nico fight about it and he leaves while she stays with luke, alex, and johnny

nico is upset that the reader doesn't trust him to keep her safe but ultimately understands the fear in being another unknown country given her past

“What do you mean you don’t want to go?”

It comes out harsher than he intends for it to, curiosity getting lost in translation and turning into offense. He’s always had a hard time communicating hard feelings in ways other than anger or silence.

“It’ll be easier,” you shrug, like it’s no big deal. Like you didn’t just tell him you want to spend a week away from him. “We won’t have to worry about Moose or the house. And I’ll have the boys stay here with me.”

Nico doesn’t even know what to say. The more you speak, the more an ugly feeling creeps into his belly. And you won’t even look at him, going about your bedtime routine with a practiced patience he can’t fathom having right now.

You don’t want to go with him to Sweden. It’s no tropical vacation or anything, but Jesper has some family stuff he needs to handle and wanted backup. Nico thought it’d be fun, a little trip for you two, a do over from the last shit trip to Europe he took you on.

“You don’t need me for a business trip, right?”

Nico wants to rip his hair out. He wants to rip his hair out and bang his head against the wall and maybe fall down the stairs where he’ll lay in a heap on the wood floors for the rest of his life.

You’ve never rejected him before.

And the worst part is, you’re really sweet about it. All pretty with your hair tied back and moisturizer half rubbed into your cheek, wearing just his shirt and speaking to him all soft like that. Comforting.

“I need you for everything,” he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest like an angry child “more importantly, I want you there.”

You still avoid his gaze after drying your hands off, eyes shifting to look from just above his eyes to his mouth and then his chest. Anywhere but him.

“I just…” you hesitate, wincing uncomfortably and that ugly feeling in his stomach throbs.

“Tell me,” he urges, “the truth. Not some excuse.”

“I don’t really want to go.”

Silence. Nico blinks, taken aback. Obviously he could tell you didn’t want to go so you did technically tell him the truth, but still not everything.

You don’t want to go with him. You want to be away from him.

Nico opens his mouth, closes it. Now that he thinks about it, he can’t stand here and make you tell him that you don’t want him right now. He thinks he’d go into cardiac arrest having to hear it out loud. So he just nods, turning on his heel and heading into the bedroom.

Quietly, you follow behind him, the air in the room heavy and cold as he tugs off his shirt and gets into bed. As close to his side of the mattress as possible. You want space from him, want a whole ocean between you two, but he can’t do that just yet so this will have to suffice for now.

Nico stares up at the ceiling, heart thumping sadly in his chest as you shut off the bedside lamp and climb under the covers. You don’t say anything and neither does he, both of you laid out on opposite sides of the bed. It’s not as comfortable, he thinks, without you pressed into his ribs.

He hasn’t slept without you in his arms in years.

Bitterly, Nico shuts his eyes and rolls to his side, ordering himself to just go to bed. It only takes about two minutes for you to huff under your breath, mattress dipping as you shuffle over to his side of the bed.

He doesn’t move but that doesn’t stop you from curling into his back, a gentle hand on his ribs and then he drifts off, thinking maybe you are lying to him.

If you want a break from him, why are you chasing him across the bed?

~~~~

Nico practically runs from you the next morning. Up and out of the bed before you can wake up, showered and out of the house before the sheets have even turned cold.

He ignores your texts too, unsure of what to say after you ask him if everything is ok. What’s he supposed to tell you? Yeah things are ok, you just don’t want to be around him?

He’s grumpy and in a mood all day to the point that everyone steers clear of him. The air is awkward in every room he steps into and he ends up banished to the office of Sötis to work on delivery scheduling for product.

That’s where you find him an hour after he usually comes home, having ignored the text he sent saying he was working late.

It was bullshit. He knew it. You knew it. And you were willing to call him on it.

“Next time you don’t answer your phone for five hours I’m taking the boys and we’re turning over every inch of Jersey.”

Internally, he winces. He should’ve known to give you some response hours ago when you first messaged him. At least to let you know he was alive. But his pettiness got the best of him and all he wanted to do was spare his poor heart.

Which is why he still sounds like an asshole when he ignores your gaze, shifting through papers with a dismissive, “didn’t think you’d care.”

“Nico what are you talking about?” You ask, an edge creeping into your tone. “I care about where you are every second of every day. I worry about where you are from the moment you pull out of the drive until the moment you’re back home, safe.”

His heart skips, endeared by the sincerity in your tone but all he can hear are your words from last night. I don’t really want to go.

Ugh, brutal.

“You don’t care about where I’ll be in Europe, why would you care about it here?”

He’s not getting any work done anymore and yet he still reads over the same lines, tries his best to pretend he’s actually being productive.

“That’s what this is about?” You implore after a moment, and Nico shrugs. “You think I don’t care that you’ll be so far away? The furthest we’ve ever been apart?”

You move further into the room, coming around the desk to stand by his side and even though he doesn’t want to look at you, his body takes over for him and he pushes the chair back, thighs parting to let you step between them.

At his silence, you hesitate, paused between his legs. Carefully, like you’re scared you’ll spook him, you run your fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice cracking and Nico’s head snaps up to look at you, concerned and panicked at the same time. Why are you crying? What’s going on?

“I didn’t want to say it out loud because it’s stupid.”

His hands move on their own accord, grabbing at your hips and urging you to sit on his thigh. You go easily, slipping an arm around his neck and staring down at his hand on your thigh. Your fingers rest on top of it, rubbing over his knuckles soothingly and he has to fight back his smile. He loves when you do that.

“What’s stupid? You not wanting to go with me?”

“Of course I want to go with you!” You whine, dramatic and borderline hysterical and Nico winces. “I always want to be with you.”

He takes a deep breath, forces himself to say his words in his head before speaking them because the last thing he wants is to sound angry. Obviously something is tearing you up and he doesn’t want to add to it.

“You said you didn’t want to go.”

Your fingers pinch at his knuckle, not enough to hurt but enough to jolt him and he watches, worried, as you gnaw at the inside of your cheek.

“I don’t want to. But I don’t want you to go either. I just…”

Knowingly, Nico grabs the back of your neck with his other hand, holding you tightly. A steady touch to keep you grounded, to make you feel safe, and just like it was intended, you ease up at gesture.

“I don’t want to go to Europe because the last time I went I almost didn’t come back.”

It comes out in a rushed, mumble of words but he hears them clear enough. You’re scared. After everything with his family and Switzerland, with Lena, you’re scared to go so far from home. Even if he’s with you, you’re scared.

“Baby,” Nico whispers, his own heart breaking at the thought. You don’t feel safe enough with him to go. “I wouldn’t let that happen again. You know that right? You have to know that-“

“I do,” you interject, glassy eyes staring at your hand over his still. “I know I’d be safe anywhere with you but I don’t want to be a distraction or a tag-along on work because I don’t trust myself to be there without you.”

“What do you mean?”

Sighing heavily, you slump into his shoulder, hiding in his chest. “I freaked out last time and I did something stupid, and I don’t trust myself to not do it again so I just shouldn’t go right?

“It’s better for you guys too. You won’t have to be constantly watching me and I’m safe here with Moose and the boys, and…”

You still won’t blame him for Switzerland. Everything got messed up in the first place because he didn’t communicate with you and when you panicked and reacted and something went wrong, it should’ve been his fault. It is his fault.

Yet here you are, still punishing yourself for it.

“No, it’s not like that.” Nico swears, wrapping an arm around you and squeezing you into his chest like he’s trying to get you to absorb his words. “Switzerland wasn’t your fault baby, and it wouldn’t happen again. I know better now and so do you.”

Struggling in his hold, you shrug.

“It’s just easier, Nico. And then I’m not scared.”

It’s incredible to hear, to be reminded that you could never be scared in the home he built with you, in the city he gave you. But it still hurts to know that something out there scares you and he can’t really do anything about it.

It’ll just take time, he reminds himself. You were scared after Philly, and he helped you through that. You’ll get through this too, eventually. And that’s what makes the decision for him.

“M’not going without you, then.” He says, “I’ll send timo in my place and stay here with you.”

“Nico don’t cancel because of me-“

“I was only going to go with you. I want to show you the world and take you to amazing places and get to love you in every city on earth. And if I need to wait to do that, I’m going to.

“Sweden will always be there. Europe will always be there so I’m staying here to be with you.”

It’s a done deal after that. You cling to him, accepting his words with silent thanks and Nico mentally promises himself that one day, he’ll take you back to Europe, where you’ll get to enjoy the continent with all your heart.

[onyourj-uls]

could you pls do yushi as a boyfriend pls? 🥺🙏

hi anon! thank you for your request and omg, ofc, i love yushi <3 me the happiest to write nct stuff 💚

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ yushi as a boyfriend

if yushi were your boyfriend, get ready for a relationship full of laughter, sweetness, and unforgettable moments. from his playful way of teasing you to those moments when his more caring and protective side comes out, he would make every day with him special.

꩜ thoughtful without even trying

yushi is the kind of boyfriend who seems like he’s not paying much attention, but in reality, he remembers everything. did you mention once that you love a specific dessert? the next time you go out, he’ll suddenly pull out a bag of that same sweet and casually say:

"oh, i saw it and thought of you." as if he doesn’t know he just made you melt.

꩜ playful and fun

he’s always looking for ways to make you laugh. whether it’s with silly impressions, bad jokes, or just teasing you affectionately, his goal is to see that smile on your face. he loves to mess with you, like hiding behind a door to scare you or calling you a random nickname just to see your reaction.

if you like video games, he’ll be the perfect gaming partner. It doesn’t matter if you’re good or bad, he’ll make every match fun. and if you lose, he’ll tease you with a smirk and say:

"want me to teach you?" (😼) while looking at you with that mischievous smile you can’t resist.

꩜ spontaneous dates and unforgettable moments.

he’s not the type to plan every detail in advance. instead, he’ll surprise you with last-minute plans that turn out to be the best memories. a simple walk can become an adventure because, suddenly, he decides to take you to a beautiful place he discovered or buy desserts from a hidden café.

he loves being on the move, but he also cherishes quiet moments. if one day you both just want to stay in, he’ll cuddle up with you on the couch, wrap his arms around you, and watch movies while shamelessly stealing your popcorn.

꩜ lots of skinship and sincere affection

When he’s comfortable, Yushi is all about physical touch. No matter where you are, he’ll always find a way to be close—holding your hand, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, or resting his head on your shoulder when he’s tired.

If you’re with others, he’ll do little things like brushing his fingers against yours or playing with the sleeves of your sweater. But if you’re alone… well, that’s when the affection becomes more obvious: long hugs, spontaneous kisses, and that intense gaze that makes you forget everything else.

꩜ protective, but not overbearing.

he’s not overly jealous, but if someone crosses the line with you, his entire demeanor changes. he’ll go from being the chill guy to someone with a serious gaze and a more assertive posture. he won’t make a scene, but he’ll make sure everyone knows you’re with him.

if you’re feeling sad or worried, instead of pressuring you, he’ll give you space while making sure you know he’s there for you. a simple:

"If you need to talk, just tell me, okay?" will be enough to make you feel safe with him.

꩜ your number one fan.

no matter what you do, to yushi, you’re the best in the world. if you get dressed up, he’ll stare at you in awe before saying something like:

"how do you always look this pretty?" (😭😭😭)

if you’re working on something, he’ll hype you up with:

"you’re going to do amazing, i just know it."

and if you achieve something, he’ll hug you excitedly and tell you how proud he is of you.

even in the simplest moments, he’ll look at you with that soft expression, like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

꩜ spicy touch.

even though he has that laid-back and sweet image, when the situation calls for it, yushi can completely catch you off guard. yhere’s something about the way his voice drops when he whispers in your ear, the way his fingers trace the edge of your clothes slowly, savoring every reaction you give him.

kissing him starts off slow and playful, but once he gets carried away, his intensity shifts. His hands explore your back with more firmness, pulling you closer, while his breath against your skin makes you lose all sense of time.

and the worst (or best) part? he knows exactly what he’s doing. that little smirk after seeing you flustered, the way he murmurs in a husky voice:

"what’s wrong? can’t handle this?"… (AaaaAaAaAaaaaaaAaaa😵‍💫😵‍💫)

and at that moment, you realize that, even though he acts innocent, yushi is far more dangerous than he seems.

🌼 yushi would be the kind of boyfriend who balances sweetness and intensity perfectly. he can be playful and chill, but when he wants to, he’ll make you feel like you’re the only person in his world♡

i had a lot of fun writing this! hope u like it<3

[witchygagirlwrites]

Fix You-Part 4

Kelly Severide x Reader x Matt Casey/Sevasey x Reader

You decide you're staying in Chicago, with your boys

warnings: passing mentions of sex, someone getting shot

“So, let me get this straight” Rein started then stopped to laugh and you cut her off by asking “What are you laughing at woman?” she came back closer to the phone “My own wording? I said let me get this straight about you and a couple. That’s so far from straight” you stared at the phone for a moment and slowly shook your head. “You know if you ever met Kelly, you’d get this statement even more but mine and my brother’s taste in people significantly worries me” 

She gasped playfully then said “Wait, what about Matt?” you grinned “Oh, his taste in people worries me but woman ask your question I need to get ready for work” she took a breath to steady herself “Ok, ok. You were ready to fight another station house, correct?” “Hell yes. Their idiot captain put Matt, Kelly and Capp at risk” you replied and she made a noise that you knew was her sucking air between her teeth and you could practically see that little wrinkle that got between her eyebrows when she made that noise “But you then dove over Cruz’s shoulder to swing on that captain because he continued to antagonize Matt and Kelly” “Yeah, so?” you were starting to get a little defensive. 

“Then when you got the flu,regardless of the fact that they could’ve in turn got it and been out of work for days. They used the three days they were off to camp out on your couch and take care of you, correct?” you sighed “Yeah”    

Rein called your name almost gently and you winced “What?” “You have feelings for them and they have feelings for you” you couldn’t deny it. You knew you had feelings for Matt and Kelly but how would that even work? They were a couple, a committed couple. Hell that was stepping into even more than Fireball stepped into with her guys and you and her had gotten into some pretty deep late night talks about feelings of inadequacy. 

“I don’t know what to do about it” you admitted and she laughed lightly “Here’s an idea, I know it’s crazy but hear me out..talk to them”  you laughed “Rein,have I ever told you how much help you are?” she giggled “Glad to be of assistance sis. Now get to work with your hunky firemen. Your brother will be home soon and I know you don’t want him over hearing anything good” 

“Ok, love ya” “Love ya too” you hung up and stared at the phone for a minute before climbing out of bed. Laying here wasn’t getting anything done.

“I’m telling you, there is something on the roof” Sylvie was staring up at the roof of the ambulance as you pulled back up to fifty one from your last call. You cut her eyes at her “Wasn’t there a dead raccoon on the road like right under the tree we parked at?” she nodded and your eyes widened “What if we have a raccoon up there?” 

“I’ll call animal control” she hopped out of the rig to hit the number but you figured why the hell wait. You’d worked with animal control more than once in New York. You were certified in the safe handling of most smaller wildlife. You opened the door of the ambulance and hooked your foot in the side of it before pushing yourself up and climbing onto the roof. You caught Cruz’s voice saying “Someone go get Casey and Severide” and laughed. Why were you getting told on?

You heard something again and squatted down next to the lights to find two tiny gray bundles squeaking at you. Babies!

_______________________

“Why is she on top of the rig?” Matt asked Kelly, both of them staring up at you and wondering just how you'd managed to get up there that fast. Kelly shrugged “I'm not exactly sure. Sylvie said something about raccoons on the last call” 

Matt turned to look at his boyfriend like he'd grown a second head about the time he heard you call his name. He looked up, blocking his eyes from the sun to see you had two little furry bundles in your hands “Is that baby raccoons Spitfire?” He asked and you grinned “Yeah! Now one of you prop me a ladder up so it'll be easier to get down with the little guys. They were hid under the lights they're terrified” 

Kelly grinned “I got you sweetheart” and Matt shook his head “We're not keeping raccoons” he could hear you and Kelly already talking about what to name the raccoons.

_______________________

“Why can’t I keep it?” you asked Matt who smiled “They’re illegal to have as pets in illinois! The animal rescue that’s coming is run by Ritter’s cousin. She’s going to let you name them and even said you and Kelly can visit them all you want”  You sighed “Fine” he grinned “What are you gonna name em?” 

You cut your eyes at Kelly before running your fingers over the baby raccoon he held “This one is smokey” then held up the one in your hand “and this one is bandit” Kelly grinned “I love em” and Matt shook his head but you saw the corner of his lips tic up “I’ll let Glory know. Smokey and Bandit”

After Glory took the babies away you were helping to get dinner ready in the kitchen, mainly because your stomach was threatening to eat other organs if it didn’t get anything in it soon. Matt walked past you on a rather large growl of it and raised an eyebrow “Have you eaten anything today?” you shrugged “I think” and mentally cursed her when Sylvie popped up with “No! She hasn’t” you spun around “Snitch!”

Cruz laughed from where he was stirring the chili “I think personally we should all just not let you leave. I mean the snowball fight was the most fun we’ve had around here in a while” “Then the entertainment of her going after that captain” Tony added and you shook your head “Do I get a say in the matter?” Kelly stepped up behind you and you had to look up at him “Of course, but your temp contract is coming up where you could sign on to be permanent”

You opened your mouth to say something but clamped it back shut, afraid you’d stammer if you tried and Matt cleared his throat “That’s enough, everyone and that includes you baby. We aren’t gonna convince her to stay by cornering her”  you shot him a small smile “Thank you” and he nodded before saying “Of course, another station house..their captain may not take up for you like that” and grinned when you shook your head.

_____________________

You sat down next to Sylvie and felt your phone vibrate. You picked it up to see you’d been added to a group chat. When you clicked it, only you, Matt and Kelly were in it. You cut your eyes across the room and the two of them were already looking at you. Taking notes from Mouse and Jay now? Really?

Kelly: Something had to have worked. They got their girl

Matt: We’re trying to figure out how to get ours

You felt your face warm. What were they thinking? This was not when this discussion should be had. My contract is coming up,in 6 weeks

Matt: One date?

Kelly: Please?

That was the problem. You knew if you agreed to one date, that would be it. The issue was, what if they didn’t want you like you wanted them. Would they go to this extreme to just get a threesome for one night? No. They took care of you when you were sick. They protected you on scenes. They opened up to you and let you open up to them but you always planned to go home to New York. One date 

Everyone’s attention in the room flew to them when Matt choked on his water and Kelly nearly spit a mouth full of chili out. You couldn’t help but laugh. Sylvie looked from you to them then raised an eyebrow “Did you send them a nude or something?” she whispered and you shook your head “No, I agreed to a date” 

“You’re getting ready, like right now?” Rein asked and you laughed “Yeah, you’re laying on the bed, on speaker phone so I can finish getting dressed before they get here” “Oh damn, you mean I am currently in your bed and your brother’s bed?” she asked before she cracked up laughing. You shook your head “I’m nervous. I haven’t dated that much since I’ve been in Chicago and now there’s two gorgeous men on the way to pick me up”

“Well don’t you have..shoot Fireball and Firecracker who’s in the same boat?” she questioned and you shrugged “Similar boats. Fireball, her fellas were kind of a thing when they figured out they wanted her then when they got back stateside they all went their separate ways then the fellas moved in together then eventually she moved in with them. Firecracker, that one is the exception. She took one look at her fellas and told em if they wanted her they had to figure out their crap first”

Rein sighed dramatically “Alas I only have your brother” and you started laughing “Sorry dear, someone had to take him” your phone chimed with the group chat between you, Fireball and Firecracker so you picked it up. “Was that loverboys?” she asked as you clicked the screen “No, it’s the girls” Fireball: Have fun, we want details tomorrow  Firecracker: Lots of details 

You shook your head and texted back There won’t be that many details but I’ll meet you two for coffee in the a.m.

Before you could lay your phone down a text came through from Matt Hey darlin, be there in 5. I’ll come up for you you cursed and realized you were still barefooted “I gotta go Rein. The guys will be here like any minute and I don’t currently have shoes on” she laughed “Oh hun. Love you” “Love you”

You were walking next to Matt, who reached out for your hand and laced his fingers with yours. “Will you take a breath please?” you cut your eyes at him and he smiled “You’re nervous. We can both tell” Kelly stepped around from Matt’s other side to slip his arm around your waist “Why? We like you, we stayed at your place for like three days and have seen you at your worst and believe me baby” he pulled back and blatantly checked you out “You were cute as hell then and drop dead gorgeous now” 

You felt your face warm as you shook your head “This is just..” “New?” Matt offered “A little weird?” Kelly suggested and you shrugged “unexpected?” 

“How so?” Matt asked, steering the three of you to a bench, where they purposely put you between them. “I always planned to go home to New York after my aunt passed and I got my uncle squared away” Matt nodded “We wouldn’t stand in way of that if that’s what you actually wanted” Kelly scoffed “We might” which caused you and Matt both to cut your eyes at him. He grinned “I’m kidding but still, like we could let her walk away?”

You sighed, staring down at your hands and fidgeting with your rings. “You two love each other. You’re gorgeous. Why do you want me?” 

Matt laughed lightly “Well the day you came rolling into fifty one it felt like the air itself got a little lighter” Kelly nodded “It damn sure got brighter from where we’re sitting” you shook your head “Be serious you two” 

“We are” Matt defended, turning to take both of your hands in one of his and you felt Kelly move closer to your side. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get him to open up on Shay’s birthday?” you cut your eyes at Kelly who nodded “Since she died, yet you came flying in. Made me eat, got me to talk and made me pull my head out of my ass to realize I was blocking Matt out from what was going on in my head and heart and that wasn’t fair to neither of us”

“The day you stood toe to toe with another firehouse in our defense” you shook your head “Capp was in there too” Kelly leaned down to whisper “You weren’t yelling about Capp. You were yelling about your captain and your lieutenant” you smiled slightly “Ok, point taken”

“You’re quiet at times you should be loud, loud at times you should be quiet” Matt laughed. “You barely sleep, can’t function without music and drink more coffee than the truck and squad combined” Kelly added and you started to stand up “Well geez just invite me out to tell me all my faults”

“Sit down” Kelly spoke low and you found yourself sitting. Matt smirked “Yeah I do the same” They both took one of your hands “You also have the ability to talk the entire house, us included into a snowball fight at two in the morning” Matt spoke, thumb tracing the back of your hand. “You make the best pancakes and can somehow correctly guess someone’s favorite color within minutes of talking to them” Kelly added, bumping his knee against yours.

“You pick up on people’s moods and can figure out what they need to help them. You go above and beyond for those you call your friends. You’re the most amazing woman we’ve ever met” Matt whispered and Kelly leaned over to add “And we think we could treat you right if you just gave us a chance here”  “And if we don’t work out?” you asked, not looking at either of them.

“Give us the six weeks you have left. A real chance. If you don’t want us then, we’ll help you pack and pay to have your stuff shipped back to New York” Matt offered. You raised your eyes up to look at him “Confident or cocky there Casey?” Kelly leaned over “Little bit of both? C’mon, the worst thing that happens is we take you out and spend time with you over the next six weeks. If you want sex, we’ll happily oblige. Then if you want to tear our hearts out and leave us, we’ll even pay for you to do so”

You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth “I’m gonna have to make sure you both can kiss before I agree to anything”  before you could say anything else Kelly’s hand was gripping your chin gently to turn your face towards him. The moment his lips brushed against yours, you melted against him. He grinned into the kiss, licking into your mouth as he pulled you closer to him. You moaned lightly before having to pull away to get air “Fuck Sev” you breathed and he grinned “So I get a passing grade apparently” and looked over you at Matt “Baby, you’re up” 

Matt turned you towards him, his touch was a bit more gentle than Kelly but just as demanding. He kissed you slowly, savoring the feel of your lips on his, his hand slipping back to cup your head and hold you in place as he deepened the kiss, rolling his tongue against yours and when you whimpered lightly he pulled away, laughing when you chased his lips. He grinned “Think I passed too”

You shook your head slowly “This is going to be interesting to say the least” and they both stood up each offering you a hand “C’mon spitfire. The night isn’t even over yet darlin” Matt teased with a wink.

“Welcome to the club” Fireball laughed, clicking her glass against yours. Matt and Kelly were playing darts against Jay and Mouse. Firecracker had texted that her, Connor and Will were on the way too. “I still have a couple weeks before my temp contract is up” you reminded her and she cut her eyes over the guys. “You look at them how I look at Jay and Greg. You’re staying honey”

You raised an eyebrow and she grinned “It’s me Spitfire. I walked into a preexisting thing. I know how it feels to think you’re on the outside, to want to fall so bad but hold yourself back. Hell I left Chicago when they were asking me to stay because I just felt like I didn’t deserve being loved like that. Don’t hold yourself back. Bad shit happened to us when we held ourselves back from each other, I think about it too much, of what would’ve happened had we just stayed together when we got home”

“It’s barely been two months” you whispered and she grinned “That you’ve been dating them. You’ve known them for how long now?” and you smiled slightly “True” she shrugged, taking a sip of her beer “I’m just saying, if you care about them, think you could love them..don’t let it slip away” 

You woke up with Matt’s arms wrapped around your waist, your upper body curled up to Kelly’s chest. “What time is it?” you whispered and Kelly groaned, looking over his shoulder at the time “Early enough we can get breakfast at that place you like if we get up now”

You grinned “Sounds good to me” he pressed a kiss to your lips then leaned over you to catch Matt’s lips in a kiss. Matt pulled you back into a kiss once Kelly released him “Have you decided what you’re doing yet darlin?” your contract was up this week. There was no way you could leave Chicago. There was no way you could leave these two. 

“I think I’m going to stay” you all but whispered and they both froze. “Did she say she’s staying?” Matt asked Kelly who grinned “She did” you shook your head with a smile “Did you two really think I was going to leave?” Matt shrugged “We weren’t sure” “We hoped you weren’t” Kelly added.

You looked from Kelly back to Matt “I’m happy with the two of you, though I am going to have to renew my lease” Kelly waved a hand around the room “I own the loft baby. Why should you pay rent?” you shook your head “I can’t do that” “Bull. You’re our girl” Kelly argued and Matt nuzzled his face into your neck before telling Kelly “Don’t argue with her but darlin, there’s a spare room here if you’re not comfortable being in here with us every night quite yet. We can find middle ground here”

You nodded slowly “I really care about you two, I hope you know that” “We really care about you too” Matt replied and Kelly added “A lot” you smiled “I’ll think about moving in, ok?” “Ok. Lets go get breakfast” Kelly agreed.

You were walking through the common area when a call rang out for an ambulance to respond to an officer having gotten shot. Your heart hit your feet simply because you knew too many people. You cut your eyes at Sylvie as you ran to the rig.

You jumped in the driver’s seat and she jumped in the passenger seat as you pulled out onto the road. “Tell me it wasn’t intelligence” you asked and she flinched “It was” you felt your stomach knot.

______________________

You pulled the ambulance to a stop when  you spotted Voight’s suv and jumped out, grabbing your bag. “Who is it?” you asked him, falling in step. “Jay” 

You stood in the waiting room, between Matt and Kelly. Both of them had their arms wrapped around you. Fireball was curled into Mouse’s chest, her hand holding onto Firecracker who was curled into Will’s chest. The four of them were clinging to each other while Connor was tasked with saving the brother of the man he loved and one of the boyfriends of one of his closest friends. 

“Jay’s strong. He’s survived worse. You and Sylvie got him here alive darlin” Matt whispered in your ear. You nodded, eyes not leaving the four in front of you “Still doesn’t help my heart seeing my friends in pain” 

You spotted Connor and knew your knees weakened because Kelly and Matt’s arms tightened around you. You held your breath when Fireball, Mouse and Will stood up. When Fireball slung herself into Connor’s arms hugging him and they both laughed you let out a shaking breath. He was ok. Jay was ok.

Fireball looked over at you with tears in her eyes and mouthed “Thank you” you nodded “Go to your guy” she grinned and grabbed Mouse before following Connor down the hall “See? You helped save him” Kelly told you.

You turned to look at the two of them and felt a smile slip onto your face “We’re off tomorrow right?” they both nodded. You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth before saying “Help me move into the loft?” smiles slipped onto both of their faces “We can get your stuff tonight” Kelly offered and Matt shook his head “She’s tired!”

You laughed lightly “I am, so can we go home?” Kelly grinned “Yes ma’am” and he grabbed one of your hands while Matt grabbed the other.

@desimarie12

@waywardhunter95

@100yroldteenagers

@elvenpirate51

[sirxaibs]

Touya Todoroki / Dabi x reader

Summary: As you pick Touya up from rehab, you reflect on how you got here

WARNING: hurt/ barely comfort. It’s a Dabi fanfic so prepare for rude behaviour and a lot of self deprecation on his part.

word count : 9734

FOLLOW ME AND GIVE ME SOME IDEAS!!

RUN BOY RUN - Woodkid

You drum your fingers against the steering wheel, staring at the front doors of the rehab center like they might explode. The car hums softly beneath you, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the parking lot. You’ve been sitting here for a while, waiting. Thinking.

It’s been weeks since you last saw Touya. Weeks of wondering if he’d actually stay. Weeks of resisting the urge to show up just to check.

And now, finally, here he comes.

The doors push open, and there he is, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched against the wind. His hair’s a mess, probably hasn’t touched a comb in days and his scars catch the sunlight in a way that makes them stand out even more. He looks tired, in a way that’s more than just physical. But his eyes? Still sharp. Still him.

The second he spots you, he stops. Just stands there, staring, like he wasn’t expecting you to actually be here.

You push open the car door and step out before he can overthink it. “Hey,” you say, keeping it easy.

Touya scoffs, tilting his head. “Hey.” His voice is rough, like he hasn’t used it much.

You take him in, scanning for any sign of what? A breakthrough? A relapse? Hell if you know. He just looks… different. Not better, necessarily. But different.

“How was it?” you ask.

Touya rolls his eyes. “Awful.” Classic. “Same boring speeches, same awkward group sessions. Food was shit.”

You smirk. “No shock there.”

He exhales sharply, something like amusement, but you don’t miss the tension in his shoulders.

“But you stayed,” you say, watching him closely.

Something flickers across his face quick, almost undetectable. He looks away, shifting his weight. “…Yeah,” he mutters. “Guess I did.”

For a moment, neither of you say anything. It’s not awkward, just… heavy. The weight of everything unsaid sits between you, pressing at the edges. You had spent weeks wondering if he’d bail, if you’d get some shitty phone call, if you’d ever see him again. And now he’s here. Whole.

Touya clears his throat and jerks his chin toward the car. “You just gonna make me stand here, or what?”

You blink, shaking off your thoughts. “Right.” You open the passenger door. “Get in.”

He hesitates for half a second before slumping into the seat with a quiet sigh. As you settle into the driver’s side, you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s staring out the window, absently picking at the frayed edge of his sleeve.

You grip the wheel. “You hungry?”

Touya snorts. “Depends. You taking me somewhere that serves actual food?”

“Yeah, yeah. No more rehab cafeteria mystery meat, I swear.”

For the first time, he smirks just barely, but it’s there. Then, after a beat, he mutters, “…Thanks for picking me up.”

Something tightens in your chest, but it’s not worry this time.

“Yeah yeah,” you say, pulling out of the parking lot. “now don’t get emotional on me.”

Touya leans his head against the window, exhaling as the car rolls forward, the sun sinking lower in the sky. And for now, that’s enough.

—-

When you met him, no one could have guessed that he’d be in your car sharing an intimate bond to intimate so fast.

The first time you and Dabi met, he tried to kill you.

No, really he actually tried. None of that lazy, half-assed, villain posturing. He sent a fucking wall of blue fire straight at you, no warning, no witty one liner. And when you barely managed to dodge, he clicked his tongue like he was annoyed you had the audacity to survive.

“Should’ve just stood still,” he’d said, tilting his head, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and boredom. “Would’ve saved us both a lot of time.”

“You always this much of an asshole, or am I just special?” you shot back, already bracing for the next attack.

Dabi had smirked, rolling his shoulders. “Dunno. Guess we’ll find out.”

That was how it started.

And somehow, for reasons neither of you ever addressed, your run-ins turned into something else. You fought, sure. But over time, it stopped feeling like an actual battle and more like… a routine. A bad habit. A game. He never went for the kill. You never hit him hard enough to stop him. And when the fights ended, more often than not, you’d end up talking.

Which led to nights like this.

Tonight, it was an abandoned lot. He’d set some shit on fire, you’d put it out, and now he was perched on the edge of a rusted-out shipping container, cigarette between his fingers, watching you like he was waiting to be entertained.

“You’re getting slow,” he remarked, exhaling a curl of smoke.

You shot him a look as you stomped out the last few embers. “Or maybe you’re just getting predictable.”

Dabi snorted. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

You climbed up onto the container, ignoring the way he barely shifted to make room for you. He always did that sat like he dared you to invade his space, then acted all put out when you actually did.

“Real ambitious arson job tonight,” you muttered, stretching out your legs. “You only half-commit to everything, or just crime?”

Dabi flicked ash in your direction. “Like you’re one to talk. You had at least three chances to stop me, and you didn’t.” He shot you a sideways glance, smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Starting to think you like having me around.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, because listening to you bitch and moan is so much fun.”

“Hey, someone’s gotta keep you on your toes,” he said, lazily tapping ash off the side. “Can’t have you getting soft. If anything i’m helping a little girl become a hero”

You scoffed but didn’t argue. And that was the thing this was normal now. Fighting, bickering, sitting around after like you weren’t supposed to be on opposite sides. Like you weren’t supposed to be enemies.

Maybe that’s why you started noticing things.

Like how he leaned against walls like his legs were seconds from giving out. Or how his hands shook just a little when he smoked, like the heat didn’t quite reach all the way through him. Or how, no matter how sharp his smirk was, his eyes never quite matched.

And because you were a fucking idiot, you started caring.

Which is why, after another long, pointless fight, you threw a water bottle at him.

Dabi caught it, glaring. “The hell is this?”

“Hydration, dipshit,” you said, wiping sweat from your forehead. “Y’know, because you’re a walking pile of burnt kindling, and I’d rather not have you passing out mid fight.”

He stared at the bottle like it had personally offended him. Then at you. Then back at the bottle.

“You do realize I hate you, right?” he deadpanned.

“Uh-huh. Drink the damn water, Dabi.”

His jaw tightened, fingers flexing like he was debating throwing it at your head.

Instead, he cracked the cap open, took a slow sip, and never broke eye contact.

“…You’re fucking annoying,” he muttered.

You grinned. “And yet, here we are.”

He exhaled sharply, flicked his cigarette away, and leaned back against the wall. For once, he didn’t have a comeback. Just sat there, eyes flickering toward the skyline, quiet for once.

Not as a villain. Not as a hero.

Just as a guy too stubborn to admit he might not hate the company and just maybe a guy learning people can care for him.

Though it didn’t stop there, meetings became a lot more frequent.

“You stalking me, hero?”

Dabi didn’t even bother looking at you as you landed on the rooftop beside him. Just flicked his cigarette, barely missing your foot, and leaned back like he didn’t have a care in the world.

You sighed. “You just torched a building. Kinda my job to show up.”

“Yeah? And yet, here you are not doing shit about it.” He smirked, finally turning to you. “Shouldn’t you be slapping cuffs on me or whatever the fuck it is heroes do?”

You rolled your eyes. “Like you’d let me.”

“Damn right I wouldn’t.” He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, letting it curl between his fingers before he flicked the cigarette off the side of the roof. “And we both know you don’t have the balls to try though you might like the cuffs on you.”

You clenched your jaw but didn’t argue not wanting to entertain whatever thoughts he’s trying to imply, which only made his smirk widen. “That’s what I thought.”

“You always this fucking insufferable, or is it just for me?”

Dabi gave you a slow, lazy once-over, tilting his head. “I save my worst for special people.”

“Wow. Flattered.”

“You should be.” He stretched his arms over his head, sighing. “Not everyone gets to be my personal waste of time.”

You crossed your arms. “You say that, and yet, you’re the one still talking to me.”

Dabi chuckled low, rough, full of something mean. “Yeah. Guess I like watching you squirm.”

—-

You hit the ground hard, barely rolling in time to avoid getting fried. The pavement still sizzled from Dabi’s flames, burning through your sleeves as you pushed yourself up.

Dabi, still standing like he didn’t just try to incinerate you, gave you the most unimpressed look of all time. “That was pathetic.”

You spat blood onto the ground, glaring up at him. “You hit like a bitch.”

Dabi actually laughed at that, crouching just enough to get in your face. “You wish I hit like a bitch.” His fingers twitched, heat curling around them. “We both know I could turn you to fucking ash if I wanted to.”

You swallowed hard but held his gaze. “Then why don’t you?”

He tilted his head, watching you like a cat watching a half dead mouse. Then his grin stretched slow and sharp.

“‘Cause I like this,” he murmured. “Watching you scrape yourself off the ground. Watching you try so fucking hard to be something.” He leaned in just a little closer, voice dropping to something almost amused. “It’s entertaining.”

Your fists clenched. “You’re a real piece of shit, y’know that?”

Dabi smirked. “Yeah. And?”

You shoved yourself up, ignoring how your legs ached. “One day, I’m gonna put you down for good.”

His grin widened like that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “Oh, please do.”

——

Dabi was sitting on the curb like he had just clocked out of a long shift at his 9-to-5 arson job. Arms draped over his knees, a half-burnt cigarette dangling from his fingers, and an expression so profoundly bored that you had to take a second to process the absolute wreckage behind him.

The alley looked like a battlefield. Scorch marks everywhere, trash melted into unrecognizable blobs, and some guy still smoking from the flames. He was groaning, which was good it meant he was alive. But considering how crispy he looked, he probably wasn’t gonna be winning any beauty pageants soon.

You let out a long, suffering sigh. “Dabi.”

Dabi tilted his head back lazily to look at you. Then he exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “Oh. You.”

You planted your hands on your hips, giving him the best I am so fucking tired look you could muster. “What the fuck happened this time?”

Dabi gave you a slow blink, like you just asked him why the sky was blue. “What the fuck do you think happened?” He waved a vague hand at the destruction behind him. “I had a bad night.”

You threw up your hands. “And what, this was your therapy session? You scorched a guy!”

Dabi sighed dramatically, rolling his neck. “And yet, he’s still breathing. How ‘bout that?”

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “You have to stop causing problems for fun.”

He snorted. “Wrong. The problems cause me for fun.”

You gave him a long, unimpressed stare. “Did you read that off a bumper sticker?”

Dabi smirked. “Nah. Came up with it just now. Pretty good, huh?”

You ignored that. “Did it ever occur to you to just… I don’t know, go home and watch TV like a normal person?”

“I am watching something,” Dabi said, grinning. “You. Losing your goddamn mind.”

You let out a slow, deep breath, resisting the urge to punt him into the nearest dumpster.

Then Dabi rested his chin on his palm, gaze flicking over you. “And yet, here you are. Again.”

You squinted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smirked. “If I had a dollar for every time you showed up to stop me but didn’t actually stop me, I’d be able to afford the therapy that daddy dearest never gave me.”

You jabbed a finger at him. “Listen here, you little shit—”

“I mean, really,” he went on, like you hadn’t spoken. “You could be off doing hero stuff. Arresting actual villains. Filing paperwork. Touching grass. But nah. Instead, you’re here. With me.” His smirk widened. “Kinda pathetic, don’t you think?”

Your fingers twitched. So help me God, you thought, if I don’t get out of here in the next five minutes, I am actually going to commit a crime.

You inhaled sharply through your nose, turned on your heel, and started walking.

“You’re not worth the effort.”

Dabi chuckled behind you, lazy and full of smug amusement.

“Keep telling yourself that, hero.”

——

The drive is quiet. its a warm kind of quiet. No one felt like they wanted break it. It was comfortable.

Touya is slouched in the passenger seat, arms crossed, jaw locked, radiating the kind of hostility that could curdle milk. His whole vibe is very moody teenager who just got grounded, which is impressive considering he’s a grown-ass man.

You let the silence ride for a while, because you know him. You know he’s stewing. Probably pissed at himself for actually staying in rehab instead of setting the place on fire and walking out in a dramatic blaze of glory. Maybe pissed at you for witnessing the fact that he actually completed something for once in his life.

After a few more minutes of unbearable tension, you finally break.

“You want food?”

Touya snorts. “What, we celebrating?”

You keep your eyes on the road. “I just figured you’d rather eat something that isn’t microwaved cardboard.”

“Bold of you to assume I even ate that shit.”

You exhale slowly through your nose. Patience. Touya is like a stray cat he hisses, scratches, and pretends he doesn’t need anything, but if you ignore him long enough, he eventually starts lurking near your door at dinner time.

“There’s a diner up ahead,” you say, because you will be feeding this dumbass whether he likes it or not. “It’s either that or you starve.”

Touya sighs, like agreeing to basic human needs is such a burden. “Fine. Whatever.”

-

The diner you pull into looks like it should’ve been condemned twenty years ago. The neon sign flickers like it’s having an existential crisis, and the parking lot is a graveyard of questionable life choices.

Inside, the place is nearly empty just a couple of truckers at the counter, mumbling over half-eaten plates of regret. The waitress barely looks up as you both slide into a booth.

Touya, being Touya, immediately sprawls out like he owns the joint, kicking his feet onto the seat across from him. He snatches up a menu but doesn’t actually read it just taps his fingers against the table like he’s already planning an escape route.

The waitress shuffles over, popping her gum. “What’ll it be?”

“Cheeseburger. Extra fries. Coffee,” Touya says, snapping the menu shut like he just finalized a business deal.

You squint at him. “Coffee? This late?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry, are you my mom now?”

You stare at him, debating whether or not to slide his menu across the table and slap him with it.

Instead, you sigh and place your own order. The waitress scribbles it down, looking just about as done with this conversation as you are, then walks off.

Touya slouches even further if he keeps this up, he’s going to merge with the booth. “So. You gonna give me some big, cheesy speech about how proud you are of me?”

You don’t even blink. “Do you want one?”

His lip curls. “Hell no.”

“Then no.”

Touya squints at you like he’s waiting for the catch. Like you’re gonna hit him with some life is a journey Hallmark bullshit at any moment. But when you don’t, he just clicks his tongue and looks away.

“You didn’t have to come get me,” he mutters. “Could’ve just called a cab.”

“Yeah, I could’ve.” You lean back in your seat. “But I didn’t.”

His fingers twitch against the table, like he wants to argue but can’t come up with a good enough reason. So instead, he scoffs and mutters, “You’re a pain in the ass.”

You smirk. “Yeah, well. So are you.”

The Food Arrives: The Moment of Truth

When the food finally arrives, Touya wastes zero time inhaling it like he’s fresh out of a 24-hour famine. Fries? Shoveled into his mouth at breakneck speed. Burger? Absolutely demolished. It’s impressive, really. Borderline concerning.

You eat like a normal human being, sipping your drink as he continues his speed run.

Eventually, between bites, he mutters, “…Food’s not bad.”

You hide your smile behind your drink. “I’ll take that as a thank you.”

Touya glares. “Don’t push it.”

You let the conversation fizzle out after that. No talking about home. No lectures. No big emotional moments. Just greasy diner food and the occasional sarcastic remark.

And when you both eventually leave and get back in the car, he doesn’t argue when you take the long way home. Doesn’t snap when the silence stretches again this time a little less heavy.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s his way of saying thanks.

You’re halfway through your plate when you notice it Touya has stopped inhaling his food like a wild animal and is just… sitting there. Not glaring, not throwing sarcastic barbs, just absentmindedly pushing a fry around his plate with a vaguely thoughtful expression.

You blink. “Oh God.”

Touya raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“You’re thinking.” You point at him with your fork. “That’s never a good sign.”

He scoffs, shoving the fry into his mouth. “Shut up.”

But he doesn’t immediately follow it with another insult, which is weird. He just leans back, arms crossed, staring at you like he’s weighing whether or not to say something.

You tilt your head. “What?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, like this this moment, this entire night is physically painful for him. Then, finally, he mutters, “You look tired.”

You blink again. “Wow. Thanks. That’s what every person wants to hear.”

Touya rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying. When’s the last time you actually slept?”

You shrug. “I sleep.”

He snorts. “Yeah? When? Between your constant babysitting and whatever dumbass hero shit you’re doing?”

You open your mouth, then close it. Because okay, maybe you don’t get as much sleep as you should. But it’s not like he’s one to talk.

Touya notices your hesitation and smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

“Yeah, well,” you huff, stabbing at your food, “not all of us have the luxury of napping through our responsibilities.”

“Luxury?” He scoffs. “I was in rehab.”

“You chose not to set the place on fire and escape. I call that a vacation.”

Touya stares at you for a second, then against all odds laughs. Not his usual sharp, mocking laugh, but something quieter. Real. It throws you off so badly that you just sit there, blinking at him.

“What?” he asks, still smirking.

“You laughed.”

He tilts his head, pretending to think. “Shit, did I?”

“Yes, and it wasn’t even a mean laugh.” You squint. “Are you dying?”

Touya rolls his eyes. “You’re so fucking dramatic.”

“Says the guy who fake-died for three years.”

“Touché.”

You shake your head, still thrown by the fact that he’s being… weirdly chill. Like he’s actually letting himself exist in this moment instead of treating it like some obligatory punishment. It’s suspicious.

Then, just as you’re about to call him out on it, he reaches across the table, plucks a fry off your plate, and pops it into his mouth.

You gape at him. “Did you just—”

“Yep.” He grabs another one. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

You slap his hand away, scandalized. “I fed you! I rescued you from microwave mush, and this is how you repay me?”

Touya grins, all teeth, the corners of his eyes crinkling just slightly. “Consider it a tax.”

You groan, dropping your head onto the table. “I should’ve left you in rehab.”

“Eh,” he says, stealing one more fry just to be an asshole, “but you didn’t.”

And for once, there’s no smugness behind it. Just quiet acknowledgement.

No thank you, no big emotional revelation just a stolen fry and the simple fact that, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he is, you still showed up.

—

The air was thick with smoke, the night split by the wail of sirens and the distant shouts of first responders. The whole block was bathed in flickering orange light, fire consuming what used to be a warehouse now it was just a giant cautionary tale about what happens when dumbasses with unstable quirks play with explosives.

You exhaled through your nose, mask pulled up high, and glanced at the six-foot wall of muscle and arrogance standing beside you. Fucking Endeavor.

“So,” you said, tilting your head toward the raging inferno, “A+ work on the whole ‘subtle infiltration’ plan.”

Endeavor didn’t even look at you. Not surprising. “This isn’t the time for sarcasm.”

You gestured broadly at the absolute catastrophe in front of you. “See, I disagree. Because if we’re not laughing, we’re crying, and I—” You clapped a hand to your chest. “—am emotionally fragile.”

“Focus.” His voice was clipped, sharp, like he was the only professional here.

You rolled your eyes. “Right, right. ‘No nonsense. Only mission.’ Because God forbid we acknowledge that this is a shitshow.”

He ignored you, which was basically the foundation of your entire working relationship.

“What’s the plan?” you asked, already scanning the building for signs of movement.

“Contain the fire and get the survivors out,” he said, striding forward. Flames licked up his arms, rolling off his shoulders like he wasn’t currently surrounded by highly flammable debris.

You sighed, flexing your fingers. “Cool. Love a good ‘rushing into a death trap’ moment.”

Still no reaction.

You followed him in, ducking through the collapsed doorway as heat immediately punched you in the face. Smoke curled through the halls, thick and suffocating, clinging to the walls like a living thing. You yanked your sleeve over your mouth, glaring at Endeavor’s broad back.

“You ever not act like you’re fireproof?” you muttered.

“I am fireproof,” he shot back.

You scoffed. “Okay, but I’m not, so let’s not turn this place into a crematorium before we’re done.”

Predictably, he didn’t dignify that with a response.

You both moved quickly, scanning the rooms, stepping over broken crates and unconscious bodies. Most of the smuggling ring had been handled either burned, unconscious, or very interested in getting arrested if it meant not being roasted alive.

The first survivors were on the second floor, huddled in what used to be an office but was now just another death trap.

You stepped over the threshold, crouching beside a barely conscious man. “Hey, buddy,” you murmured, hoisting him onto your shoulder. “Let’s get you the hell out of here before this place caves in, yeah?”

Endeavor hauled up another survivor with ease, barely even trying. God, so annoying.

“Get them out,” he ordered. “I’ll keep moving.”

You adjusted your grip, ignoring the sweat rolling down your temple. “Awesome. You run headfirst into hell, I’ll play babysitter.”

You turned on your heel, smoke curling at your feet as you hurried back out.

By the time you made it outside, paramedics were already rushing forward, taking the man from your arms. You exhaled sharply, rolling your shoulders, and turned back toward the warehouse.

Endeavor was still inside.

Not that you doubted him. He was the number one hero for a reason. But you’d seen enough missions go south to know that confidence didn’t mean shit when fire had a mind of its own.

Then—

An explosion rocked the building.

Your stomach lurched, heart pounding. For a split second, pure instinct screamed at you to move, to go back in but then, blue-orange flames burst from the second floor, and a moment later, Endeavor strode out of the smoke, dragging the last survivor behind him.

Because of course he did.

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, yeah. Congrats on being a one man army.”

He barely spared you a glance, brushing soot off his shoulder like he hadn’t just walked through an explosion. “Handled.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Oh, for sure. Totally casual. You ever not act like you just expect to survive every dumbass decision you make?”

His eyes cut to you, sharp and assessing. “You don’t take this seriously enough.”

You arched an eyebrow. “And you take it so seriously you forget to breathe. Maybe if you stopped treating every mission like a personal vendetta, people wouldn’t be so quick to call you an ass.”

His expression didn’t change. “I get results.”

You snorted. “And I get migraines every time we work together. Funny how that works.”

Endeavor let out a huff his version of done with this conversation and turned away, stalking toward the police.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you surveyed the mess around you. Another night, another catastrophic team up with Japan’s most emotionally constipated man.

You really needed a drink after this.

But before you could make a break for the nearest bar, a voice rumbled beside you.

“…You did well.”

You blinked. Slowly turned your head.

Endeavor didn’t look at you just kept his gaze on the wreckage, arms crossed, face unreadable.

You squinted. “I’m sorry. What?”

His jaw ticked, like saying it physically pained him. “…I said, you did well.”

A slow grin spread across your face. “Holy shit.”

Endeavor immediately looked regretful. “Forget it.”

“Oh no no no, you don’t get to take that back.” You clutched your chest, mock gasping. “Endeavor praised me? I think I might cry.”

He sighed through his nose, very pointedly not engaging.

But you weren’t done.

“Wow. This must be what being a favorite child feels like.” You nudged him with your elbow. “Does this mean I get a ‘World’s Okayest Sidekick’ mug? Maybe a ‘#1 Emotional Support Hero’ t-shirt?”

Endeavor turned his head slightly. “You want a mug?”

You blinked. “Wait. Are you serious?”

He shrugged, which, coming from him, was basically a yes.

You grinned.

Oh, you were never letting him live this down

Now your relationship with the number 2 hero was never your favourite team ups. Though you did feel a strange bit of validation and growth every time you had the chance.

—

You had fought villains, survived explosions, and worked with Endeavor without committing arson (yet), but nothing, nothing. had prepared you for sitting at the Todoroki family dinner table.

Yet here you were, trapped between Hawks, who looked way too entertained, and Shoto, who was sipping his drink like he was emotionally detached from this entire situation.

Endeavor sat at the head of the table, arms crossed like he also didn’t want to be here, and Fuyumi was the only one smiling like this wasn’t the most awkward hostage situation you’d ever been part of.

“So!” she said brightly, setting down a plate in front of you. “How has working with my dad been?”

You immediately froze, a piece of food halfway to your mouth. Slowly, slowly, you turned your head to glance at Endeavor.

He was already looking at you.

Judging.

Daring you to open your mouth and ruin your career.

Hawks, the absolute devil, nudged your side with his elbow. “Go on. Be honest.”

You took a sip of water to buy yourself some time. “Well…” You cleared your throat. “He’s, uh… very efficient.”

Shoto snorted. “That’s a polite way to put it.”

You pointed your fork at him. “See? He gets it.”

Endeavor exhaled through his nose, which, given the fact that his entire body was basically a walking furnace, made it look like he was barely restraining himself from setting the table on fire. “If you have something to say, say it.”

Hawks smirked, leaning closer. “Yeah, say it.”

You shot him a you are so dead after this look before sighing dramatically. “Fine. You want the truth?” You turned to Endeavor. “Working with you is like trying to have a conversation with a brick wall, if that brick wall was actively judging you and could also set things on fire.”

Fuyumi gasped. Shoto took another sip of his drink. Hawks nearly collapsed against the table, laughing.

Endeavor, completely unfazed, just grunted. “You still get the job done.”

“Wow,” you deadpanned. “I am so touched.”

Hawks wiped a fake tear from his eye. “Man, this is so much better than I imagined.”

You turned to Fuyumi. “Blink twice if you need rescuing.”

She actually laughed at that, waving a hand. “Oh, it’s not that bad!”

Shoto, still completely monotone: “It is that bad.”

Endeavor let out the longest suffering sigh of his life.

By the time dinner ended, you were slumped against the doorway, utterly drained. Hawks, of course, was thriving, stretching his arms over his head. “Well, that was fun! Same time next week?”

You whipped around. “Do not manifest that.”

Fuyumi clapped her hands together. “Oh! That would be wonderful—”

“NO.” You pointed a warning finger at Hawks. “This is your fault.”

He grinned. “Worth it.”

As you stepped outside, you exhaled deeply, rubbing your temples. “I need a drink.”

Hawks slung an arm over your shoulders. “Told you it’d be fun.”

You shoved him off. “Keigo, I swear to god—”

—

Fighting Dabi was always a pain in the ass. Not just because of the fire which, yeah, was a huge problem but because he never shut up.

Tonight was no different. Flames roared around you, painting the alleyway in flickering blue as you dodged another wave of heat. The bastard was laughing, like this was some kind of game.

“What’s the matter, hero?” Dabi taunted, taking a lazy step forward. “Too hot for you?”

You huffed, rolling your shoulders as you steadied yourself. “Wow, never heard that one before. You come up with that yourself?”

His smirk widened. “Nah. I save my best material for special occasions.”

Before you could throw back another quip, Dabi’s eyes flickered to your uniform specifically, to the slight burn mark on your sleeve, barely visible but unmistakable.

And then, his entire demeanor changed.

His smirk faltered, replaced by something sharper. More calculating. His gaze darkened.

“Huh.” He tilted his head, stepping closer. “That’s interesting.”

You kept your stance firm, watching him carefully. “What?”

Dabi’s eyes flicked back to yours, his grin returning, but this time it was more… sinister. “That burn mark.”

You frowned, glancing at your sleeve. “Yeah? What about it?”

He let out a low chuckle, but there was something off about it something almost too amused. “Been spending time with other guys? I thought we were exclusive”

Your stomach twisted, but you kept your expression neutral. “oh? and what makes you say that?”

Dabi crossed his arms, the flames around his hands flickering dangerously. “So… you’ve been working with him, huh?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb.” His voice dripped with something between mockery and genuine intrigue. “You’ve been on missions with Endeavor.”

You still weren’t sure why that mattered to him, but something in his tone made your skin crawl. You scoffed, keeping your voice even. “Yeah, so? He’s the number two hero. I work with a lot of pros.”

Dabi let out a slow whistle, shaking his head. “Man, that’s hilarious.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What the hell is so funny?”

His smirk widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You, hero. Running around, playing sidekick to that bastard.” He let out a low chuckle, stepping even closer. “I wonder… did he finally get what he wanted?”

Your jaw clenched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dabi’s smirk twitched, like he was enjoying some inside joke at your expense. “Nothing. Just seems like you don’t know your mentor as well as you think.”

Something about the way he said it sent a chill down your spine. But you weren’t about to let him rattle you. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

Dabi just grinned, stepping back. “Nah. I think I’ll let you figure it out yourself.”

And before you could stop him, he vanished into the night, leaving behind nothing but embers and more questions than you wanted to deal with.

—

You had somehow let Fuyumi trick you into another dinner. You weren’t sure how it happened one second, you were wrapping up a mission with Endeavor, and the next, you and Hawks were walking up to the Todoroki house like it was some weekly scheduled event.

“You manifested this,” you muttered, glaring at Hawks as you knocked on the door.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, smirking. “I think this is great for you.”

“I hope you get hit by a rogue Nomu.”

The door opened before Hawks could come up with a comeback, and Fuyumi greeted you with her usual bright smile. “You came!”

“Yeah, yeah, against my better judgment,” you muttered as she ushered you inside.

This time, the vibe was slightly less tense than before. Natsuo still wasn’t here (no surprise), but the rest of the family was present Endeavor looked like he would rather be anywhere else, Shoto was neutral as always, and Hawks was making himself way too comfortable again.

As Fuyumi moved to set the table, you noticed something different this time a photo album was open on the coffee table, pages slightly worn at the edges.

You nudged Hawks and motioned toward it. “Look at this. Actual proof that Endeavor has been outside of a crime scene.”

Hawks chuckled, leaning in. “Wow. I can’t even picture him smiling.”

You flipped a few pages, finding old photos of Fuyumi, Shoto, and Natsuo when they were kids. The pictures looked almost normal—almost like any other family.

Then you saw a photo that made you pause.

It was a boy, older than Shoto but still young, with white hair and striking blue eyes. He was grinning, arms crossed with a cocky smirk, like he knew he was the coolest person in the room.

You frowned, tapping the picture. “Who’s this?”

Fuyumi turned from the kitchen and followed your gaze. Her expression softened just slightly. “Oh… that’s Touya.”

You glanced at Hawks, who also looked mildly surprised. “Huh. Never heard of him.”

Fuyumi’s smile dimmed just a little. “He was our oldest brother.”

Was.

You weren’t dumb. That single word told you enough.

Endeavor’s entire posture tensed, but he didn’t say anything, just kept staring at the table like the conversation wasn’t happening.

Shoto was unreadable as ever. “He passed away a long time ago.”

You blinked, looking between them. You hadn’t even known Endeavor had another kid, and now you were learning he was dead?

Hawks, who was usually one to crack a joke, was silent beside you, his sharp eyes studying the photo with an unusual seriousness. “How?”

Fuyumi hesitated, shooting a glance at her father. “An accident,” she said carefully. “A fire.”

You didn’t need a full explanation to understand there was a lot more to the story than she was letting on. The entire atmosphere in the room had shifted like an invisible weight had settled over the conversation, suffocating and heavy.

You looked at the boy in the picture again. Touya. Something about his expression, his posture, felt oddly familiar, but you couldn’t place why.

Hawks leaned back, whistling lowly. “Damn. Didn’t know you had another sibling, Shoto.”

Shoto’s eyes flickered to his father before looking away. “Most people don’t.”

You glanced at Endeavor, who was completely silent, jaw clenched. If the man was already emotionally constipated on a good day, now he looked like someone had shoved a grenade down his throat and pulled the pin.

Yeah. You were not asking follow-up questions.

Fuyumi gave you a sad smile before quickly trying to shift the mood. “Anyway! Dinner’s ready.”

You exchanged a glance with Hawks, silently agreeing to drop it for now.

But as you ate, your eyes kept drifting back to that photo. There was something about it, something that made your stomach twist.

Something that told you this wasn’t the whole story.

—

You’re barely five minutes into the drive when Touya starts fidgeting. One leg bouncing, fingers tapping, sighing dramatically every few minutes like he’s about to say something and then deciding against it.

You ignore him for as long as humanly possible.

Then another heavy sigh.

“For fuck’s sake,” you say, glancing at him. “What?”

Touya smirks. “Nothing. Just love a good awkward silence.”

You roll your eyes and turn down a side street, heading toward an old parking lot on the edge of the city. It’s the kind of place that’s either a sketchy drug deal spot or just an abandoned lot that no one’s cared about for years. Either way, it’s empty, which is exactly what you need.

When you park, Touya squints at you. “Oh, nice. Super ominous.” He leans back, crossing his arms. “So, what, this is where you tell me you’ve secretly been hired to kill me? ‘Cause, honestly? Should’ve done it before you wasted money on my food.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, digging around in the glove compartment. “I’m playing the long con.”

Touya watches as you pull out a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes. He blinks. “The hell? Since when do you smoke?”

“I don’t.” You tap the pack against your palm, knocking one loose. “Except when I do.”

He huffs a laugh and pulls out his own pack. “Terrible influence. Hope you know that.”

“You’re literally the last person who gets to say that to me.”

Touya just shrugs, flicking his lighter open. He takes a slow drag, then leans over the console, offering you the lighter with a lazy smirk. “Go on, then. Join me in my terrible life choices.”

You roll your eyes but lean in, lighting your cigarette. The first inhale burns your lungs in a way that’s almost nostalgic, and when you exhale, the smoke curls into the night air.

For a while, neither of you speak. Just sit there, smoking in companionable silence, staring out at the city lights in the distance.

Then Touya, ever the shit-stirrer, side-eyes you. “Soooo… you’re in love with me, right?”

You cough on your cigarette, nearly choking. “What the fuck—”

He grins, leaning back against the seat. “I mean, think about it. You picked me up, bought me food, brought me to this super romantic abandoned parking lot—” He gestures vaguely. “Like, if you’re gonna confess, at least do it with some dramatic flair.”

You take a slow, pointed drag. Exhale. Stare him dead in the eyes.

“Touya,” you say dryly, “if I were in love with you, I’d have worse problems than this cigarette.”

He snorts, tipping his head back. “Fair point.”

Another silence stretches between you, this one lighter. Less heavy, more like… a pause between bullshit conversations.

Eventually, Touya flicks his cigarette out the window, watching the ember fizzle out. “…Y’know,” he mutters, “you didn’t have to pick me up.”

You shrug. “Yeah. But I did.”

He side-eyes you again, expression unreadable. Then he exhales sharply and shakes his head. “Idiot.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, smirking.

He groans, slouching further into his seat, but he doesn’t argue.

And that’s how you know he actually means thank you.

—

The smell of smoke still clung to the air, thick and acrid, curling in the space between you and Dabi… Touya. You didn’t even realize you were gripping your fists until your nails bit into your palms, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t breathe.

It made sense now. The way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he never really tried to kill you even when he had the chance. The pieces had been there all along, but now they were clicking together too fast, too loud.

And Dabi- no, Touya- was watching you like a cornered animal, all teeth and venom, muscles tight like he was ready to bolt or attack, whichever came first.

“Say something,” he muttered, voice rough. “You’re staring like a fucking idiot.”

Your throat was dry, words sticking to your tongue like glue. But then, finally—

“You’re Touya.”

His jaw twitched, fingers curling at his sides. “No shit.”

The sheer casualness of it nearly sent you over the edge. “No shit?” You took a step forward, shoving a hand through your hair. “That’s all you have to say? You.. You let me think you were just some guy this whole time”

“I am just some guy.”

“Don’t fucking do that,” you snapped. “You lied to me.”

Dabi let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Lied? Oh, that’s rich.” He took a step toward you, voice dropping into something low and mean. “You think I owe you the truth? That I was just gonna sit you down like, ‘Hey, by the way, I’m a walking family tragedy with daddy issues bigger than this whole fucking city’?” He sneered. “Be for fucking real.”

Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze. “I thought we—”

“What? Had something?” His grin was all sharp edges, nothing warm behind it. “Hate to break it to you, but that was your mistake.”

You felt something crack in your ribs, but you ignored it. “I trusted you.”

Dabi’s expression twisted into something ugly, something raw, but it was gone in an instant, swallowed up by that same defensive, sharp-toothed smirk. “Then you’re even dumber than I thought.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, hands trembling. “Why are you doing this?”

He scoffed. “Doing what? Telling you the truth?” He stepped closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, warning you to back off but you didn’t. “You wanna play hero so fucking bad, then act like one. Arrest me. Fight me. Do whatever the fuck your little code tells you to do.”

You clenched your jaw. “You’re pushing me away.”

“Good.”

That hit harder than it should have.

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Dabi wasn’t looking at you anymore he was staring past you, at nothing, jaw tight like he was trying to hold back words that could shatter his teeth.

But you’d had enough.

You exhaled sharply and took a step back. “Fine.”

His head tilted slightly, but he didn’t move, didn’t react.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Guess I was wrong about you.”

Dabi let out a short, hollow laugh, shaking his head. “Guess you were.”

The city felt too loud. Even with the distant hum of sirens fading into the night, even with the crackling embers of the smoldering wreck behind you, the weight in your chest made it hard to hear anything else.

Touya—Dabi—was still standing there, arms crossed, head tilted just slightly like he was waiting for you to walk away. Like he expected you to.

And maybe you should.

Maybe you should turn on your heel, pretend like this conversation never happened, pretend like his words didn’t bruise, pretend like your chest wasn’t burning with something ugly and disappointed.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you took a breath. Steadier this time. Then another.

“Okay,” you said, voice quiet but firm. “I’m leaving.”

His shoulders barely shifted. “Yeah. Got that part.”

You ignored him. “But I’m not letting you do this.”

His jaw tensed. “Do what?”

“This.” You gestured at the space between you, at the sharp, jagged edges of this conversation, at the way he was standing like a kicked dog trying to pretend it didn’t hurt. “Pushing me away like it’ll fix anything.”

He scoffed, but it didn’t have the same bite. “And what, you think not pushing you away is a better idea? Think about it, genius. What do you actually want from me here?”

Your fingers curled at your sides. “I want the truth.”

Touya laughed. It wasn’t sharp this time wasn’t even mean. Just quiet. Exhausted.

“The truth?” He shook his head, looking past you again, somewhere far, far away. “I gave you the truth, and you didn’t like it.”

“You gave me a version of it,” you shot back. “The one that hurts the least for you.”

His expression flickered for half a second something too fast to catch, something that almost looked guilty. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

“And?” he said, like he was daring you to argue. “That’s what people do.”

“No, it’s what you do.”

Silence.

For the first time since this started, Touya actually looked at you. Fully. His eyes were hard, unreadable, but you could feel the tension underneath it all.

He thought this was the last time you’d talk. Thought this was the final thread snapping between you, the moment where you’d finally decide he wasn’t worth the effort.

And maybe you should.

But instead, you exhaled, rubbing a hand down your face.

“Y’know what?” you muttered, stepping past him. “Forget it. Just forget it.”

And for a second, you thought that was it.

But then, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it—

“…I didn’t want you to know.”

You froze.

Turned back.

Touya was still standing in the same spot, still holding himself like his own body was a battlefield—but his fists were clenched, his head dipped just slightly, like this admission was something he hadn’t meant to say out loud.

He let out a breath, shaking his head. “You-” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. “You were never supposed to know.”

Your heart twisted.

“Why?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he took a slow step back, eyes flicking somewhere over your shoulder—like he was making sure you weren’t blocking his escape route.

You stared at him for a moment longer, waiting.

He didn’t say anything else.

Didn’t take it back. Didn’t try to fix it.

So you nodded, lips pressing into a tight line. “Okay.”

The city air was still thick with the scent of smoke, but the fire wasn’t the problem anymore. Not really.

You should leave. You should let this be what he wanted it to be—one clean break, one final cut before you could crawl too deep under his skin.

But then he said it.

“I didn’t want you to know.”

Barely above a whisper. A confession that sounded like it had been ripped from his throat against his will.

You froze. Turned back.

Touya’s gaze flickered to you, but only for a second before he looked away, jaw locking.

You swallowed against the tightness in your chest. “Why?”

Nothing.

Not right away, at least. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fingers twitching at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. Like he wanted to reach for something, maybe even you, but wouldn’t let himself.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Because you look at me like I’m—” He stopped himself, mouth pressing into a thin line.

You tilted your head, stepping closer. “Like you’re what?”

Touya scoffed, rubbing a hand down his face before running it through his hair, shoulders tensing. “Like I’m fixable.”

That knocked the air out of you.

“Touya…”

His fingers curled into fists, a sharp breath escaping through his teeth. “Don’t.”

But you couldn’t not. Not when he was standing there like this, when the usual cocky bravado had cracked just enough for you to see what was underneath.

“You think I’m trying to fix you?” you asked, voice softer now. “That’s not—” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “That’s not what this is.”

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Isn’t it?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I just—I care about you.”

His head snapped up at that, eyes narrowing like the words had physically hurt him.

You took another step closer, slow, careful, hands open at your sides like you were approaching something fragile. “You don’t have to push me away.”

His throat bobbed.

For a moment, just one, you thought he might actually let you close the distance. Thought he might let his shoulders drop, let you see him without all the fire and sharp edges.

But then he stepped back.

Not far. Just enough. Just enough to tell you what he couldn’t say out loud.

His head tilted slightly, like he was trying to keep his expression blank, but his voice betrayed him.

“I do have to.”

Your chest tightened. “Why?”

Touya’s jaw clenched, eyes darting away. “Because if I don’t—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It’ll hurt more when you finally realize I’m not worth it.”

Something in you cracked.

You wanted to scream. Shake him. Make him understand.

Instead, you just let out a slow breath. “That’s not gonna happen.”

He huffed, a small, tired smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, well. We’ll see.”

The worst part was he truly believed that. He thought it was only a matter of time. That you’d come to your senses, see him for what he thought he was, and leave him behind before he could stop you.

And you could tell, deep down, that he was already bracing for it.

You hesitated for half a second before reaching out slowly, carefully and letting your fingers brush against his wrist. Just enough to feel the warmth of his skin, the faint, uneven texture of his scars.

His breath hitched.

Not a flinch. Not quite.

But he didn’t pull away.

Didn’t look at you either, though. Just stared at the ground, breathing unsteady, like he was trying to decide whether or not to bolt.

You squeezed, just slightly. “I’m still here.”

A pause.

Then, softer than anything you’d ever heard from him—

“…For now.”

And that? That was the closest he’d come to asking you to stay.

—

Dabi never liked to stick around after fights. He was a hit-and-run kind of guy burn what he wanted, say something snarky, and disappear before anyone could pin him down. But for some reason, he had been lingering more and more after your encounters. especially after how tense the last encounter everything had been weird. Yes you had found out he was Touya but he had also found out his current chase has been cozy with the thing he missed the most.

You weren’t sure why. You weren’t working together, you weren’t allies, but somehow, you kept running into each other. And somehow, neither of you had killed the other yet.

Tonight was another one of those nights.

You had spent the last half hour chasing him through an abandoned district, dodging fire and insults in equal measure. Eventually, it turned into a weird kind of truce he had gotten bored, you had gotten tired, and now you were sitting on a crumbling rooftop, catching your breath while he lit a cigarette.

He exhaled, watching the smoke curl into the night air. “You’re getting slower.”

You shot him a glare, still panting. “Or you’re getting faster.”

He snorted. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

You leaned back on your hands, staring up at the stars. “Y’know, for a guy who’s so dedicated to burning society to the ground, you sure do waste a lot of time chatting with me.”

Dabi hummed, tapping ash off the side of the building. “Maybe I like watching you get pissed off.”

“Oh, yeah, that definitely tracks.” You rolled your eyes, glancing at him. “So? What’s the next step in your grand villain plan?”

He smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You shrugged. “Eh. If it’s anything like your usual, I’m guessing ‘fire, explosions, and traumatizing civilians.’”

Dabi let out a low chuckle. “Not a bad guess.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, casually, you spoke.

“Had dinner with your sister again.”

You hadn’t looked at him when you said it, but you felt the way he tensed beside you.

It was subtle. So subtle that most people wouldn���t have noticed. But you had been around him enough now to catch the small things. The way his fingers twitched slightly against the cigarette, the brief pause in his breathing.

His voice was even when he responded, but there was an edge to it. “Oh yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah. She made this crazy good teriyaki chicken. Even got Hawks to shut up for a full five minutes.”

Dabi scoffed, taking another drag. “Miracle worker.”

“Right?” You smirked. “Shoto was there too. And Endeavor.”

Dabi’s expression immediately darkened at the name, his grip on the cigarette tightening. “Sounds like a real fun time.”

You ignored the bitterness in his tone. “It was something, that’s for sure.” You leaned forward slightly, resting your arms on your knees. “Y’know… she still talks about you.”

Dabi went completely still.

You kept your gaze ahead, pretending not to notice. “Not all the time. Just little things. The way you used to joke around when you were kids. How you’d always eat the last piece of tempura when nobody was looking.”

Dabi let out a short, humorless laugh. “She remembers that?”

“She remembers a lot,” you said, softer this time.

Another silence. Dabi stared at the horizon, jaw clenched. His cigarette burned between his fingers, the embers crackling in the quiet.

You watched him carefully. For all his arrogance, all his cruelty, there were cracks in the walls he had built. Moments like this, when you could almost see past the fire and spite when the boy he used to be bled through, just for a second.

But just as quickly, he shoved it down.

He flicked his cigarette away, standing up. “This was fun, hero. Let’s do it again sometime.”

You frowned, watching him. “That’s it? No snarky remark?”

Dabi gave you a grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll make up for it next time.”

And before you could say anything else, he disappeared into the night.

But as you sat there, watching the last of the smoke fade into the sky, you couldn’t shake the feeling that for just a moment. he had hesitated.

—

You both sit there in the car, letting the last wisps of cigarette smoke curl out the windows. It’s quiet, save for the occasional rustling in the nearby bushes, which based on the location could either be a raccoon or someone plotting a murder. Either way, not your problem.

Touya exhales sharply, flicking his cigarette out the window. “So, what now?”

You glance at him. “What do you mean ‘what now’?”

“I mean, what the hell are we doing? You kidnapped me from rehab, bought me food, let me pollute my lungs in peace feels like there should be a next step in this weird-ass bonding experience.”

“You want a scrapbook?” You lean back against the seat, stretching. “Maybe a trophy? ‘Congratulations, you survived rehab and only complained about it 47 times!’”

Touya scoffs, side-eyeing you. “That’s lowballing it. I complained at least 93 times.”

“Yeah, I stopped listening after the first 50.”

He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath before running a hand through his already messy hair. “Whatever. This whole thing is pointless.”

“Oh, my bad, I didn’t realize I was supposed to plan a grand Welcome Back to Society party,” you say, deadpan. “Should I have rented a clown? Gotten one of those shitty banners that say ‘You Did It!’ in Comic Sans?”

Touya huffs a laugh but quickly wipes it off his face, like he refuses to let you win even a little. “Yeah, I’d rather set myself on fire again than be subjected to that.”

You smirk. “Damn, next time I’ll actually do it, then.”

Another silence stretches between you, but it’s not comfortable. You can tell he’s restless, fidgety, like he’s trying to swallow down some actual feelings and it’s making him physically ill.

And sure enough—

“…I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do now.”

There it is. The actual problem.

You tap your fingers against the steering wheel. “What do you want to do?”

He gives you an exhausted look. “If I knew that, don’t you think I’d be doing it?”

“Hey, some people like being miserable. You’re one of them.”

“Fuck you.”

You grin. “There it is.”

He rolls his eyes and slouches further into his seat. “I’m serious, dumbass. Like… what now? What the hell am I supposed to do? Get some boring-ass job? Become a ‘functioning member of society’ or whatever bullshit they kept telling me in rehab? What if I just don’t?”

You shrug. “Then don’t.”

Touya blinks. “That’s it?”

“Yeah.” You throw him a look. “Did you want me to give you a whole therapy monologue? ‘You got this, king! Chase your dreams! Live, laugh, love!’”

He gags. “Absolutely fucking not.”

“There you go, then.”

He mutters something about you being insufferable under his breath before rubbing his face with both hands. “Ugh. Whatever. This whole thing sucks.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to being alive.” You stretch again, popping your back. “Anyway. Let’s go.”

Touya frowns. “Where?”

“I dunno. But if you’re gonna sit there having a melodramatic crisis about your future, we might as well do it while driving.”

He stares at you. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“You’re so fucking mean,” you shoot back, starting the car. “Buckle up, jackass.”

He groans but does it anyway, muttering complaints the entire time.

And with that, you pull out of the parking lot, heading absolutely nowhere by just you, a moody ex-arsonist, and a whole lot of sarcastic insults to get you through the night.

[skz-haikyuu-epic-girl]

Black Cats Can Be Lucky

❤️~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~❤️

So Minho won the poll and as promise here is the first soulmate fic.

Chan, Minho, Changbin, Han, Felix, Seungmin,

Jeongin.

Contains: Fluff, worried cat dad Minho, mentions of other members (mostly Han), talk of catnapper.

Minho let out a tired sigh as he walked down the busy street, dodging people as they rush past him. He was glad when he finally saw his apartment building come into view, he couldn't wait to get inside and out of the cold. He had a very busy day helping his members practice new dances for their new songs, for their new upcoming album. He was planning on going home with Han as they shared the same apartment, but Han stayed behind with the other two of 3racha to work on some songs. Minho was fine with that and told Han to let him know when he was on his way home so he could start cooking dinner for them.

Minho greeted the security guards and front reception people as he made his way to the elevator, pressing the button for his floor. He was still getting use to the fact everyone had split into different apartments, the decision for this was made when Chan finally asked his soulmate to move in with one another. Minho was glad that Chan finally found someone who would look after him and made sure he rested properly. Minho wondered if he would find his soulmate soon.

You see everyone in the world had a soulmate, someone the universe decided that your compatible with, your other half. Once you turn 18 you would get a soulmark, some soulmarks were obverse like names on wrist or red strings, but others weren't so obverse like take Chan for example he didn't even know he has a soulmate until him and his soulmates laptops end up with one another. Minho remembers being excited when he turned 18 as he was finally ready to get his soulmark, but in the end got a soulmark that wasn't obverse. He still was trying to work out what his soulmark was to this day.

The elevator doors opening jolted Minho from his thoughts, he exited the elevator and walked the short distance down the hall to his door. Once he reached his door, he could already hear the faint muffle sounds of meows on the other side causing him to smile softly. He opened the door carefully, then shut it quickly so that the other occupants of the apartment couldn't rush out of it. The meowing was now loud and clear, Minho turned around from the door to greet his children the ones making all the noise.

"Hi Soonie and Doongie" Minho said as he stroked both of them gently and gave them some kisses in-between their ears. When it was decided that Skz was going to move into separate apartments, Minho wasted no time asking Han if it was okay for his cats to come and live with them. Han was more than happy to allow the cats to move in, knowing that Minho missed them dearly as him being very busy couldn't visit them as often as he wanted. Now that the cats were living with Minho, everyone could see that he looked more happier and also finished working a bit earlier. Soonie, Doongie and Dori also loved their new domain and the new attention they got from Han.

Speaking of Dori, Minho notice that he hadn't come to greet him with the other two like he normally does. "Where's Dori?" he asked his other two children, who just stared at him like they were saying as if we could tell you. Minho gently shouted Dori's name again, but still no Dori showed up. Then Minho heard the sound of paws pitter pattering from the kitchen, which he assumed that Dori must be getting up to mischief in there. He stood up and made his way toward the kitchen followed closely by the other two cats close on his heels.

As Minho entered the kitchen, he was for sure he would find Dori doing something mischievous like knocking stuff off the counters. But no, he didn't find that instead when he entered the kitchen, he saw a black void with yellow eyes staring up at him. Minho was stunned in shock, which then turned into confusion as Soonie and Doongie walked up and greeted the void with no problem like it was an old friend. After a moment of standing there stunned in shock and confusion, Minho finally snapped out of it. He approached the void calmly and slowly. Once reaching the void, Minho crouched down then slowly and gently held out his hand for the void...

No, the black cat to sniff. After a moment of the black cat sniffing Minho's hand, it butted its head against it asking for pets, which Minho was happily to oblige with. A few minutes later Minho was sat on the floor still petting the black cat, who had made itself comfy in Minho's lap, whilst Soonie and Doongie went off to do their own thing. Minho and the black cat stayed like that for a moment, before Minho decided to try and figure out what was going on. "Well, hello there new cat who is very friendly and definitely isn't mine. How on earth did you get in my apartment and where is Dori?" said Minho with confusion, but with a soft smile on his face.

Suddenly Minho's phone rang, luckily it didn't startle the cat who was just a content ball of fur on his lap enjoying the attention. Minho managed to get the phone from his pockets without disturbing the ball of fur on his lap, he answered it without looking at the caller id, due to still being a bit confused about this situation and thinking it was Han calling to let him know he was on his way. But the voice that came through the phone wasn't Han, nor was it male it was a soft sweet female voice that said, "Hello I believe I have your cat Dori with me". Minho couldn't help but feel in awe of the voice, until his cats name was mentioned.

"How the hell do you have my cat? Are you a catnapper who broke into my apartment to steal my cat and replace it with a different one?" asked Minho. The female voice let out a little chuckle before saying "Firstly, your cat was here in my apartment when I came home, second of all is this other cat you have black with yellow eyes? Lastly that last statement made no sense, because what sort of catnapper would steal a cat just to replace it with a different one? I'm pretty sure that would make it more difficult and more work for the catnapper".

Minho let out a chuckle 'I guess it doesn't make sense", before adding "Yes the cat is black with yellow eyes, how did you know?". "Because that my cat I believe you have, she should have on a red collar with a tag that says Blackie" she replied. Minho checked the cat and indeed it did have a red collar with the tag saying Blackie, it also had a phone number and the owner's name. "I'm guessing your name is Y/N then?" asked Minho, which the female voice replied with "Yes that's me. I guess your Minho then soulmate?". Minho made a noise of conformation, before realizing what Y/N said at the end. "Soulmate" asked Minho confused.

"Yeah soulmate" Y/N responded to which Minho asked, "How do you know we're soulmates?". Minho's heart started to race as Y/N replied with "We're soulmates because our pets swapped place with each other. It's a soulmark called pet swap and I know about it and how I know it's our soulmark is because my parents have that soulmark". Minho sat in silent and shock for a moment as his heart started to race faster at what felt like a million miles an hour. He couldn't believe it he had a soulmate. A soulmate who loved cats. In his head Minho thanked the universe for paring him up with Y/N. "So, when can we meet to swap our cats back" asked Y/N, breaking Minho from his thoughts. "Well, there's a cat cafe we could meet up at?" Minho said to which Y/N replied with "That sounds puurfect".

A few years later...

"So, dad thought mum was a catnapper, who broke into your shared apartment, stole Dori just to replace him with a different cat" Leo asked his uncle Han, who was telling Leo the story of how his parents got together. "Yep, that's right, when your dad told me I laughed so hard I fell off the couch" said Han, whilst Minho who was cuddling up to Y/N and their four fur children on the other couch listened in. "You know a lot of people at my school say black cats are bad luck, but I tell them that's not true" Leo said to which Han replied with "Yeah I don't think so, tell that to my poor scar I got and had to get a shot for after a black cat bit me". To which Y/N replied with "Well, you should have watched where you were going, and you wouldn't have trodden on its poor tail", to which Han looked to Minho for help. Only for Minho to say "Well, some black cats can be lucky" whilst petting Blackie.

[mrkeatingsblazer]

The Prophecy [Oh, Was It Punishment] Part Three

Apollo x Child of Hermes! Reader

Part One Part two Part Three Part Four

The camp was still as they looked on in shock at the unconscious boy on the ground. The Asian girl plopped herself beside him, lifting his lip arm and dropping it with a sigh before looking towards them. 

“Are you guys going to help us or are you just gonna stand there looking stupid?”

Will pushed through you and Clarisse with a sudden sense of urgency, “Dad?!” he proclaimed, dropping to his knees. His hands instantly began to glow as he pressed them down on his fathers body while humming a hymn to activate his abilities. Chiron drew back the attention of the camp to himself, ordering the heads of cabins to direct their younger siblings away. When Austin and Kayla tried to join Will by their fathers side, the centaur blocked their passage and sent them back to cabin 7. With a nod both Travis and Connor took over your role as cabin head, guiding your siblings away while allowing you to linger at the scene.

“[reader]! Nico! Return to your cabins and ensure the younger children are safely put away.” Chiron pleaded with you, seeing as neither of you have left.

“Not a chance, big guy,” Nico snarked as he went to help Will lift up his father, leaving the centaur aghast. You went to the girls' side. Even with her confident introduction, you saw the creeping fear invading her eyes. She looked no older than 12. How did she even find him? You think, looking towards Apollo. If he even was Apollo. For all you know he could be making it up or just had brain damage and was imaging it all. Probably the latter with the way he collapsed. That worries you more. This little girl was traveling with either a powerless monster attracting god or a loony weirdo who is way too delusional. Seriously if you are gonna claim yourself as a God you might wanna have a look at yourself before picking the literal god of beauty.

“Hey kiddo,” you say crouching down in front of the girl. She looks up at you with tired eyes. “I’m [reader] and i’m the head of the Hermes cabin and as the God of travelers, Hermes takes in all unclaimed Demi-Gods, so until your Godly parent claims you, you’ll be staying with me and my siblings over there!” You smile while pointing towards your cabin before backtracking , “you do know what Demi-Gods are right?”

“I am one dummy,” she rolls her while pushing herself up, “and don’t call me kiddo.” she stomps in the direction of your cabin leaving you standing alone as the previous trio had already left towards the infirmary. Maybe you were looking too deeply into this kid. With a sigh you drag your hands over your face before following the child.

“This brat better not be one of yours,” you mutter to your father, “because I am not taking care of her.”

The next morning you found yourself heading towards the infirmary when you should have been leading canoeing. With a little bit of bribery and not so little  bit of lying, Travis accepted taking over. He was gonna be insanely pissed later when Katie Gardier isn’t co-leading but you’ll make up for it. Right now what was important was behind the door in front of you. Chiron and Mr. D were whispering to themselves in a corner. Chiron, as always, was taking the situation serious while Mr. D could hold back his shit eating grin as he looked to and from the centaur to his so called brother; you still hold on to your doubts on if this guy was Apollo. You’ve seen Apollo. The guy’s a Greek God literally and figuratively and the boy in front of you wasn’t even ugly but Lord Apollo made supermodels look average. 

The cabin 7 kids were sitting around him in the visitors chairs as he was still unconscious. You notice Kaylas hand on his leg, glowing ever so slightly. Austin drums his fingers on the bedside. He doesn’t allow his eyes to linger away from the sleeping figure for even a second. 

“Well?” you ask, walking up to the trio. 

“It’s my dad.” Will said as he stared past his father in the bed and out the window, circling bandages between his two hands.The kid looked totally defeated. You would feel the same too if Hermes came down to camp seemingly mortal, looking only a couple years older than you. The thought sends shivers down your spine.

“That's Apollo.”

“He is, “ Chiron says from behind, “and he has come to us broken.” the centaur looks saddened by the God. You suddenly remember that Apollo taught Chiron everything he knows, almost like his father. The orientation film was ever campers worst nightmares, the Apollo kids especially, but one scene always made you smile. It was Apollo [in that short tunic that accidentally mooned us during his orientation  poetry reciting] and Chiron outside the big house explaining why Camp Half Blood was built. Finding out Apollo founded the camp had you putting aside extra food for burning for months. The soft smile on Chirons face while he allowed the God beside him to explain was something you hadn’t seen since the film. 

“This is the funniest thing to happen since Athena blew that flute,” Dionysus grinned down at us. He raised his hands in surrender as both Chiron and Will sent him death glares.

“Mhm urgh…” We all snapped towards the sound. The kids stiffen as their father groggily sits up. He rubs his eyes before squinting around the room. Suddenly he yelps, flinging the blanket from his body. He flails about before falling off the hospital bed in a heap on the floor.

“Dad!” His kids yell as they scramble towards him but Apollo begins to crawl, his blanket covering his vision. You feel him grab your leg as he reaches out. Without thinking you kick him away.

“OW!,” he yells, ripping the sheet from his head to glare up at you. “Do you know who I am? I should smite you for your imprudence.” 

“Like you could right now Brother,” Dionysus laughs. You see the well of tears invade the Gods [former god? How can a god no longer be a god?] deep brown eyes. They looked so different to the power blue ones his former body had. The puppy-like look made something twist in your gut and feel bad for him, even though he did just threaten your life. Without thinking you bent down to help him stand up. He wobbled slightly, still fatigued from his rest. He leaned into you and looked into your eyes for a beat before pushing away.

“Where is Meg?” he asks the room.

“The little brat?” you question.

“Yes, that one.” he looked anxiously around. 

“Don’t tell me,” Mr. Ds eyes light up. Apollo glares at him as if knowing what he is thinking.

“Oh my gods,” he laughs.

“Shut your mouth brother!”

“The child is your master!” he bursts out laughing.

“I'll destroy you!” Apollo raged as he rushed towards Mr.D. Before anyone could blink, Apollo disappears and in his wake a cawing crow flaps its wings.

next part--

*hey guys! its been so long since I updated this fic but as a college student and working writer its hard to get inspiration when all my creativity goes into my own poetry and novel. I will try and update when i can! I also wanted to see if people would be okay if i opened this post to becoming an Apollo x Reader x Percy fic! I may add other perspectives in the future to show Apollo coming to Percys apartment and flashbacks with reader and Percy during the giants war. As its been a minute i would also like to remind people that this, while based off the concept of ToA, will only be following the plot loosely and will have its own end game for the characters. Thank you for all the kind messages and questions and for also enjoying this fic*

[ilium-ilia]

In Limbo

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | mafia!au | masterlist

Chapter Seven: another deal. another oath

tw: grief

Marco got you sick. 

Building pressure throbs between your eyes, ravaging your sinuses with tightly packed snot. It moves to your throat until you’re constantly hacking up phlegm and the pressure in your ears swells so viciously that you can hardly hear anyone over the idle chatter in the restaurant. Of course, there is no evidence to prove that it was Marco himself who got you sick. There are countless people who flood through the doors of Sapori with empty stomachs and noses running from the bitter, humid cold of London. Anyone could have gotten you sick. 

Yet, over the last week, no one has gotten as close to you as he did. Fingers digging into your arm. Legs pinning yours to the bench. Gentle hand—the hand of a killer, his hand, that brutal fucking hand—caressing the side of your face, holding you hostage. Taking, and taking, and taking—tongue shoving past your teeth—

Blurry eyes glance away from the assaulting brightness of your phone screen. Sapori is quiet; it always is this early. Early for late night dining, anyway. Half past ten, you’ve spent most of the morning cleaning every single corner of that building. It’s how you rationalize spending more hours at work even without customers—you have to keep your hands busy and cash flowing. Except, after a while, you got too dizzy to continue, so you’ve taken refuge at a lonely table. The dust and carcinogens you’ve inhaled haven’t done anything to ease your symptoms, but you can’t afford to stay idle. There are numbers to be crunched, cash to be earned, and debts to be paid. 

Which brings you back to your phone. 

Having only graduated school without any sort of higher education, your options for jobs are limited, but working one job isn’t cutting it anymore. You can either pick up more hours like you have been doing this past work, or attempt to find a job that will pay slightly more to help cover the difference in what you now owe Marco every month. You’ve been staring at hourly wages for so long you feel your eyes begin to cross, and you don’t exactly like what you’re seeing. An early morning librarian job for £10.44, coffee shop barista for £9… nothing salary. Nothing that will save you. 

“Job hunting?” 

The ache and throbbing in your ears suffocates your senses so viciously that you didn’t hear Bruce’s footsteps approach. Jumping, you stare up at him like a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar. Nothing like looking at other job postings with your boss staring over your shoulder. The embarrassment is enough to open up a black hole in your stomach where it consumes your organs bit by bit until you’re liquified. Your phone screen goes black, and you choke out a sheepish smile through the snot leaking into the back of your throat. 

“Just for a second job. Part-time,” you explain. Your voice sounds louder than his—ears too clogged to properly receive soundwaves. “Don’t worry, I’m not leaving any time soon.” 

Bruce’s mellifluous laugh is the first thing that’s warmed your soul all week. It’s contagious. He’s always been a jovial man—you’ve heard a few of the cooks call him The Italian Santa Claus because of his rosy cheeks and round stomach. The smallest of smiles flitters across your lips as he carefully takes the seat across from you with a large bowl in his hands. 

“Ah, I wouldn’t be upset if you left. Sad, yes, but everyone finds their way out of here eventually,” Bruce assures. His accent is odd. Immigrating from Italy at a young age, his vernacular is a mash of proper English, Italian, and what you’re guessing is Italian-American slang. Or, at least, that’s what you’ve been able to gather from the movies, anyway. “You’re a hard worker. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” 

A wave of tears build up behind your eyes at his words, and they’re held back by a flimsy, half formed dam. Your emotions have been strewn about in your brain all week—cluttered, sticking halfway out of folders and filing cabinets. It’s hard to shove them back when you can hardly shut the drawers. 

“Here,” he continues as he pushes the bowl toward you. The hard lines of his face soften as he watches you curiously peer at the contents. Tiny bits of pasta shaped like stars swirl around in some sort of thickened broth. “Pastina. Good for your health. You sound sick. Eat up and go home.” 

Your hand is hardly gripping the spoon when he says that, and it nearly slips out of your grasp to clatter back into the bowl. Mouth half open, you stare at Bruce with wide eyes. There’s not a single hint of maliciousness on his face—his eyes twinkle bright as he runs a hand over his balding head. Though he appears happy—proud of himself, even—you feel nothing of the sort. 

“I can’t go home,” you try to argue, but he quickly cuts you off with a wave of his hand. 

“You’re sick, and you’ve been working too much. You’ve worked more hours than I can legally give you this week, and though I don’t mind paying you under the table, it’s not exactly good for either of us. Rest, before you really make yourself sick,” he dismisses. 

Swallowing thickly, you attempt to fruitlessly hide the tremor in your voice. “But I… I really need the money.” 

It’s all you can think about. Money. Numbers This vicious counting game. How you’re going to cough up the extra cash for Marco and still have enough to feed yourself. To do anything. To live. Or worse—what happens to you if you can’t make enough? How many more times is he going to change your payments based on stupid mistakes that aren’t your fault?

Waving your words off again, Bruce stands to his feet, hands pressing flat against the swell of his stomach as he does so. “I’ll give you a raise, then.” 

Jarred, the side of your spoon taps against the edge of the bowl as you follow him with your eyes. “A raise?” 

“Sixteen,” he replies. “Should be enough. I’m tired of you working so many hours. You need to go out and be a kid before you get old and useless like me, yeah? Pick up a hobby. Hang out with that guy Bianca won’t stop talking about. He seems nice, hm? I just want you to be happy, kid. Now, eat up. You’ll feel better.” 

Bruce vanishes just as quickly as he appeared, leaving you alone with a bowl of pastina and your thoughts. It’s good that he did, because if you tried to thank him for such a gracious gesture, you’d certainly crumble. Perhaps he knew that, too. 

In a poor attempt to save yourself from crying in public, you quickly turn your attention to the food Bruce lovingly whipped up for you. Steam wafts and twirls upwards, hitting your face in a fine mist. Its flavor is difficult to discern with how congested you are, but the rich texture is enough to satiate the hole in your stomach. It always seems ever growing these days. A barren cavern; a void that wants to swallow you from the inside out. Not ravenous, just gutting. 

Maybe one day it will fill itself up again. 

For now, it grows. Slowly. Insidiously. Taking bits of you and shredding them into ribbons. They trail behind you, fluttering in the wind as you walk up the steps to your flat where they then roll down the stairs. It would look beautiful if it wasn’t for the fact that it was you. You, with quiescent feet trudging through the door. You, with the fatigued body that can hardly dress herself into pajamas. You, who curls into bed, a motherless child—a creature waiting to vanish. 

Too broke to afford cold medicine to aid you with your congestion, it takes time before you can finally fall asleep. When you do, it grips you like a vice, pinning you down, spoon feeding you dreams you haven’t been able to see with the hours you’ve been pulling at work. They’re heavy, holding your head under water, threatening to suffocate you; you can do nothing but watch. 

You dream of your mother. 

She’s folding your school uniform in the laundromat—the very same one you use as common ground to meet up with Marco. Washers swish water in their drums as dryer alarms chime the end of their cycle in terrible cacophony. Pristine white blouses become ruined with burgundy—her hands are soiled. Covered with blood. She folds, and you sit and watch her, hands tangled in string, fingers unable to move. Each fold is done with purpose. Crisp. Effortless. Blouses, skirts, and ties stack up taller than her on the table, threatening to scrape the ceiling above. 

“Throw them away,” you say, voice weak. 

She does not look at you. 

“They’re ruined. Throw them away,” you say. 

She does not look at you. 

“Did I ruin them?” she asks. 

You blink. The string around your fingers tightens. You feel them turn cold as ice. Lack of blood. Festering wounds. Irritated nail beds. An extension of the sins trapped inside of you. 

“It wasn’t you,” you murmur. 

Finally, she looks at you and you flinch. 

“Who was it?” 

Fibers snap, and the string falls free from your hands. Fluttering and dainty; it lays on the floor in generous spirals. There’s so much blood on her shirt. An artistic splatter of violence. You can’t look away. 

“You already know,” you choke out. 

She smiles. A toothy grin. Teeth perfect and whole, lips curling, but it’s not real. Her eyes are cloudy—her eyes are dead. Her smile is dead. Your mother is dead. Cold skin, colder gaze, coagulated blood on linoleum. Rotting. You still smell it: stale blood, cologne, and mint. It follows you everywhere. 

He follows you everywhere. 

Your phone is under your pillow, and someone is calling you. Vibrations rattle through the cotton filling, yanking you out of your dream like you’re being pulled out from under water. For a moment, you think you’re home. Really home. Yet, the room is too cold, and you are too alone. Blinking the sand from your eyes, you shove your hand between the comforter and mattress to yank your phone from underneath your head. The screen flashes. 

Incoming Call from Captain Jack Sparrow

You hit accept and bring the speaker up to your right ear. “Hello?”

“Chip!” Aelin’s voice purrs on the other end. “What are you up to?” 

“Uh…” You pause as you turn to lay on your back, eyes blankly glued to the ceiling. You forgot to turn the heat back on when you got home, and you swear you can almost see your breath. “...relaxing.” 

“That’s a first. Hey, I’m stuck at Terminus, and I’m bored. John wanted to have a quiet evening together but got caught up with some work stuff. Wanna get dinner or something?” she asks. 

You sniff, and the pressure behind your eyes and ears nearly doubles. “I… don’t think I’m feeling up to that tonight. Sorry.” 

“Oh wow,” Aelin gawks. Her voice drips with concern, and you hear shuffling on her end. “Are you sick? You sound very… congested.” 

“Yeah, I got sent home from work. Must’ve caught a bug from… somewhere.” 

Aelin says something in response, but you can’t hear it. There’s nothing but ringing as you force yourself to sit up and hack up snotty phlegm, trying not to choke on it as it comes up. Acidulous liquid coats your tongue, and you wince. Vile. Why can’t you ever have anything that tastes sweet? Something easier to stomach than an unwanted tongue or blood? 

“Chip?”

Her voice brings you back to the present—back to your cold apartment with frigid sheets and your pounding headache. There’s no reason for your tears, yet they plague you anyway. Maybe it’s from your cold. Maybe it’s because you dreamed of your mom. Or maybe it’s just because you’re sad, and you have been for a while. You’re just not able to hold it back anymore. 

“Do you wanna spend the night with John and I?’ Aelin finishes. 

Lips curling inward, you try your best to hold back a sob. “Yeah… Yeah, that sounds nice.” 

“Lovely. Riley’s driving. We’ll be there soon, okay?”

An attempt is made at making yourself look somewhat presentable, but it’s hard to make art when the canvas is crumbling. Nothing can cure you of the red irritation plaguing your scleras, nor the constant sniffing from congestion. You make do with fresh clothes and a washed face before shoving a few necessities in an overnight bag. Simple. Small. Something that won’t take up much space. 

When Aelin arrives, it’s a very unceremonious occasion. There’s gentle greetings. A pitiful look. There is no mention of how cold it is, or how the place looks sparsely lived in. She’s beautiful in her peacoat with pristine curled hair and flawless makeup. Perfect for a quaint dinner with a friend. Her viridian eyes look at you with a pity that’s nearly palpable. You feel bad for being sick—she seemed so thrilled to eat with you. 

Simon waits for both of you in front of the building in a sleek, black car that you’re surprised he can fit into. It’s terribly appropriate for him; something that would look perfect hidden in Terminus’s car park. Yet now it’s being used to transport you—a pathetic, ill woman—to her friend’s house as if you’re nothing more than a child. 

It isn’t until you find your seat in the back that you realize just how long you slept for. Dusk pulls its cimmerian shadow over the sky, obscuring the streets in the pale yellow glow of streetlights as Simon pulls into traffic. You got home around noon. Nearly a whole day wasted with sleep. 

Little is said between the three of you as you struggle to stay conscious. The consistent gentle hum of the car’s engine is better than any lullaby that you can recall. A siren’s song. A loving hand on your back. Head bobbing and swaying with the turns of the road, you listen to whatever Simon has droning on the radio; some sort of rock station that plays so quietly you almost can’t hear it at all. Every now and then, you catch his eyes in the rearview mirror, glancing at you like you’ll vanish if he doesn’t keep watch over you. 

It seems he’s still taking Aelin’s request to heart. 

As the car approaches the house, Aelin digs into her purse where she quickly shuffles through a small, periwinkle wallet. She fishes out some cash before handing it to Simon as he parks. 

“Here,” she whispers, quiet enough that your poor hearing can’t catch. “Get her some medicine, please.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he mutters in reply. 

Before you know it, you’re tucked into a quiet guest room on the second floor of the house. Heat radiates from the baseboards, yet your muscles tense and ache in a shiver. To combat this, Aelin has found every spare blanket and duvet she can find and has tossed them on top of you until you are nothing more than a heaping pile of laundry. At first, she had recommended throwing them in the dryer to help warm them up further, but you rejected it. 

You hate making her go through so much unnecessary effort on your behalf. 

Still, she refuses to leave you as you curl into a ball, face pressed against her side as she sits on top of the covers next to you. Aelin always smells lovely. Fresh rosewater and lavender. You’re enveloped by her scent like it’s a warm hug as she rubs a hand along your back, but it’s muted. The considerable amount of blankets only allows you to feel the ghost of her touch. 

“How long has this been going on?” she asks tenderly. 

You shrug. “Day before yesterday, I think.” 

She pouts with a huff, hand ceasing its movement as she silently chastises you. “And you were still trying to work?”

“I have to,” you mumble against her. 

A terrible quiescence soaks the room. Everything hurts, and you want to rest, but you know that won’t come soon. Not when Aelin’s concern is eating her alive—a vicious plague ripping through her heart. You can hear the beasts feasting on her marrow even now. 

“Well, I brought an old friend to come visit,” Aelin grins. Before you can gather the strength to ask her what she’s talking about, she pulls something out from underneath the covers to set it in front of you. “Tada!” 

An old, well loved stuffed animal sits before you with lopsided eyes and a faded smile. Once vibrant, crimson fur has now faded into an off-tone auburn, but the resemblance of a fox is still unmistakable. 

“I thought I told you to get rid of that,” you mutter. 

“I can’t get rid of her! You used to love Pumpkin,” Aelin says as if offended. 

For a long moment, you stare at your old stuffed animal and relive the memories that soak it. It was a gift from your father when you were a child—something you used to hold close with you every night, even after his death. Even after you went to live with John and Aelin after graduation. You don’t know why, but one day you decided that you couldn’t stand to look at it anymore. You’re not sure if it’s because it was gifted to you by your father—the man you’ve tried so hard to continue loving despite his flaws—or because sweet Pumpkin had become so tainted with you that you figured you should take pity on the poor thing. 

When you don’t respond, Aelin sighs and sets the stuffed fox on the nightstand. “Alright, fine. She’ll sit right here for when you’re ready.” There’s a short pause that stretches between the two of you, but it doesn’t last long before Aelin decides that the silence is driving her mad. “I’ve heard you and Riley have been getting close,” she prompts like she’s about to spill the daily gossip. A change in subject. A way to ease you into what she really wants to talk about. “Visiting him at the club, then?”

The club. Andrei. Spilled pasta in an alleyway. Your unfortunate run in with Marco made you forget all about how you ended up in this mess in the first place. The blade of Andrei’s knife glints just as brightly in your mind now as it did that night, and you cover your urge to puke with a well timed cough. You wish she wouldn’t bring it up, but it’s a good sign. 

It means Simon was true to his word. 

“Just to deliver food. He kept fixing stuff at my apartment. Had to pay him back,” you explain like a broken record. 

Lips stretch over ivory teeth as Aelin shifts next to you. “Is that so? Sounds like he fancies you.” 

“Or maybe he’s just doing the job that you assigned him to do,” you reply bluntly. 

Aelin doesn’t tense at your insinuation, but she does sigh as she settles back against the headboard. “Thought he was better at keeping secrets than that.” 

“He didn’t tell me, I figured it out on my own,” you claim, stuffy voice unable to land the plosives of your consonants. 

She chuckles amicably as she looks down at you. Eyes closed, you’re nearly asleep, and you would have been if it weren’t for her conversation. 

“Well, you were always the smart one. Still, I won’t retract my statement. Riley’s had a lot of… partners, but he never lingers around anyone like he does with you,” she insists. “He’s a good man, really. I’m sure you’ve seen that for yourself.” 

“Can’t entertain that,” you say. There’s a sour stoicness to your tone; too tired to be annoyed yet yearning for silence. “I’ve got work.” 

Another stillness—a suffocating one. Aelin’s smile has long since vanished as her lips press together tartly. There you go, talking about work again. Like you can’t stand to do anything else. Like you’ll die without the money. 

“Chip… you know that if you need help, you can always ask, right?” she prods carefully. “Anything. I mean it. John and I… we’re here for you.” 

Help. you think of that word, and a sour cordolium rips through your chest. Asking for such a thing from someone is out of the question. You made that deal with yourself ages ago. 

“I don’t… I don’t need help. I just… miss my mum.” 

You feel the moment when the room freezes. It’s when Aelin looks down at you, doleness unleashed in her gaze. Bringing up your late mother was a mistake, but she’s all you can think about after that dream. You wonder if you’ll ever have a normal dream of her again—fresh, normal, and void of all blood. A dream where she smiles and it’s not dead. 

“I’m sorry,” is all she can say. 

“Me too.” 

When Simon returns, you’re fast asleep. Aelin can hear the sound of his boots on the floor from a mile away; purposefully making his existence known as he opens the door to the only room with the light on. His eyes are drawn to you, body curling into Aelin like you’ll fall through the bed without her. He approaches the bed and holds out the bag for her to take, and the very first thing she finds is every bit of cash she had given him to buy the items in the first place. 

Instead of chastising him, she rummages through the rest of the items. NyQuil, Sudafed, Vicks, various soups and electrolyte drinks. It’s a variable feast to fight off your cold. Aelin looks up to poke fun at the man—at this raging chink in his armor—but she loses all words when she sees the way his hand presses against your forehead. Careful fingers gently brush against a faint scar by your temple as he feels the heat radiating from your body. He watches you with gentle devotion as your shoulders rise and fall with your breaths, congestion causing you to quietly snore. You do not stir awake, but she witnesses the way your brows furrow when he pulls away. 

“She’s got a bad fever,” he concludes quietly. “She looks exhausted. Dehydrated.” 

“Yeah. She’s been overworking herself too much. Hasn’t been resting or healing like she should,” Aelin concurs. 

Fragile silence breaks as you breathe, airways too clogged for you to sleep peacefully. Simon and Aelin stare down at you for a moment, each of them considering the circumstance. Her lips press tightly together in thought before she carefully slides away from you, leaving your coiled form. She sets the bag of medicine and supplies on the foot of the bed before facing Simon with crossed arms. 

“Can I talk to you before you leave?” she requests. 

Simon answers her with a curt nod before they exit the room with the lights off and the door shutting tight behind them. Aelin’s heart pounds away in her chest as it fights against the tightness of her ribs. It’s an ever constricting cage. Relentless. Vile. She ensures that she’s not facing Simon as they traverse down the stairs. 

“Chip is… really scaring me,” Aelin breathes, and she feels her voice crack nearly as bad as her heart as her feet hit the landing. “I’m more than a little concerned or worried now she… she’s always been something of a workaholic, but this is different. It feels like she’s trying to run away from something and she’s just—I don’t know—keeping something buried inside of her. Pushing away any help anyone tries to offer her. I’m… scared she might hurt herself.” 

“Hurt herself?” Simon repeats in disbelief. “Has she done anythin’ like that before?” 

“No. Not that I know of. It’s just…” 

The words die as Aelin’s lips press tightly together once again, and she finally forces herself to look at Simon. He’s nothing but a stone—this immoveable being who won’t be swayed by anything physically or emotionally. She steadies her breath as she wills away the tears welling in her eyes. 

“I’m going to tell you this because I trust you,” she says, gaze attempting to harden. It’s a silent vow. A demand that he not repeat any of the words she’s about to speak. 

“Of course,” Simon nods. 

Aelin swallows the guilt in the back of her throat. 

“Chip’s parents are dead. They have been for a while. First it was her dad, and then her mum. My dad was the Chief Inspector working the cases of their deaths. It wasn’t… from natural causes. She holds a lot of guilt and she gets in a bad headspace over it, and I think that’s a bit of what’s happening and… it’s worse than I’ve ever seen it before. This time of year is always hard for her considering the anniversaries of their deaths, and I don’t know if it just seems worse because she’s sick right now but… fuck, Simon. The way she talked about her mum just earlier, I swear I nearly broke.” 

Crisp eyeliner marks the edges of her eyes, yet it smudges as Aelin banishes the tears from her vision with the tips of her fingers. Still as ever, Simon watches carefully and without judgement as she gathers herself in order to finish. 

“She needs to talk to someone about it, but I don’t think she wants it to be me. There are many things I think she would share, but there’s no way she’d give me the whole story,” she concludes. 

Confusion clouds Simon’s stern gaze, and he shifts on his feet. “What, you’re thinkin’ she’ll tell me and not you?” 

“Yes.” Her reply is speedy and sharp; a warning. No one knows you better than her. “She carries guilt for a lot of stuff. For… There’s just some things I know she won’t want to tell me. Things she can’t tell me because it’s… well, me.” 

Something is off—Simon can smell the stench of it from a mile away. He knows better than to question Aelin, and she seems very convinced that this is the true issue at hand, but there’s an uncomfortable trepidation that hangs somewhere in the balance of it all. A picture half developed. The brittle edge of a cliff. It’s the same feeling that afflicted him the night he fought Andrei in the alleyway—a deja vu that screams trouble if he even attempts to entertain it. 

“Please,” Aelin begs. “You don’t have to do anything crazy, I just don’t want her to be alone. Swear to me you won’t let her be alone through this. Simon, I’m not strong enough to cut through her walls but the thought of… the thought of her like this kills me.” 

Another deal. Another oath. Simon has always been a protector, in some way. A tool which one uses to bludgeon. He doesn’t know if he can be gentle. He knows he’s certainly not palatable. But he thinks of your sleeping form in the VIP room after the tussle with Andrei, and the heat of your fever against his hand, and he thinks he’d at least like to try. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” he assures her. 

Nodding, Aelin attempts to strengthen her resolve with a deep breath. Frayed nerves still poke out of her skin, completely wired with worry. It sparks and fizzles, yet she still glances back up the stairs, as if she can feel the aura of exhaustion seeping out of the bedroom. 

“Thank you,” she says, voice hardly above a whisper as she looks back at him. “Truly, I appreciate it.” 

“Can’t do everythin’ on your own,” he says. 

She scoffs playfully. “Tell that to Chip.” 

Once the front door locks shut behind Simon and the house is still and quiet, Aelin sneaks back upstairs. You’re hardly conscious when she gently urges you awake to press cough syrup to your lips, but you don’t complain. You never complain—not when there’s bitter liquid on your tongue; never when you should. Silent. Pliable. Once you’ve swallowed every last drop, you collapse back into bed, body weak and overheated; slick with sweat. 

She knows she should leave once your snoring starts back up again, but she can’t. There’s something to relish in how peaceful you are in this moment. Not working yourself to death. Not running from the grief that’s been strangling you since you were a child. For a moment, as you lay there in bed, Aelin gets to see you as you were when you were a kid. 

As she stands at the foot of the bed, she recalls the first time she ever met you—both clad in black and unable to look at one another without timid smiles and tear filled eyes. Aelin was the one who had to break the silence. To introduce herself as the daughter of Sean Gilroy; the man who sat in that coffin so adorned with flowers and love. You’ve grown so much since then. A fine woman who should be proud of herself. She wants to shake you awake. Yank you out of your sleep and scream at you that there’s nothing to be forgiven—nothing to punish yourself over. 

She doesn’t. 

Instead, she turns around and leaves, ensuring that the electrolyte drink Simon bought is on the pillow next to your for when you wake up in the morning.

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[hees-mine]

THE HANDY MAN - L. HS

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, anal fingering, cursing, flirting.

WC: 2,750k

-

A ring on your doorbell prompts you to set the cup of tea you were drinking down on your living room coffee table.

For a moment, you squint your brows together, wondering who is at your door.

But it quickly came to you you had made an appointment last week for the leaky pipe under your sink to be fixed. It’s been bugging you for a while now, and you finally made time to get it repaired.

You turn down the volume of the TV series you are watching and hop off the couch.

Walking over to the door, you comb your fingers through your messy hair and straighten out your shorts and tank top to make yourself look presentable.

You unlocked the door and twisted the knob pulling it back and revealing a repair man in a navy blue jumpsuit and a toolbox in his left hand. “Hi!” You chirp, greeting him with a warm smile.

He nods, offering you a smile as well. “Hello, so I hear you have a pipe that needs fixing.”

“You heard right,” you laugh softly and unintentionally bite down on your bottom lip as you eye him up and down. You weren’t expecting him to be so young and look so good. Even in the unflattering work uniform, he was still extremely handsome.

“Well then, mam, you called the right place. I’ll do everything in my power to get that taken care of for you today,” he says while lifting his toolbox slightly.

You open the door wide enough to let him enter, and you close it shut behind him while he stands by, waiting for you to lead the way. “This way,” you mutter while walking to the kitchen and stopping at your sink.

You bent over, opening the cabinet doors, and moving around some pots and pans you had stored under there. “Sorry about the mess,” you grunt softly, shuffling everything to the side so he has ample space to work in.

“No worries, take your time,” he speaks up behind you, shamelessly staring at your ass that’s poked out right for his eyes to feast on. Maybe his mind was in the gutter, but if he’s not mistaken, you stayed down there just a little bit longer than you needed to allow him to stare even longer, but he’s definitely not complaining.

“There,” you huff, standing up and blowing a strand of hair out of your face. “It’s that one right there.” You turn on the faucet, pointing to the pipe, and he sees it immediately.

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely leaking, alright.” he laughs softly and crouches down, looking at the pipe. It looked to be old and probably cracked, from what he could tell, but for the most part, this would be an easy fix. The only real inconvenience would be that your water had to be shut off for a while. “But nothing I can’t take care of.” he reaches into his toolbox, grabbing his flashlight and tools, ready to get started.

“Great!” You say brightly. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

He nods as you walk back to the kitchen and resume your show.

He does his work fast and efficiently. It took him twenty minutes max, but what can he say? He’s been in the business five years, and not to brag, but he was the best in the company, serving more than hundreds of customers with top-tier service, and his reviews could confirm that. “So, what do you do for work?” He asks, making small talk as he wraps up the last bit.

“Lawyer,” you answer from across the room.

Your voice sounds muffled due to his head being under your cabinets, but he can still make out your response.

He stands up, careful not to hit his head on the way up, as he grabs a rag from his toolbox and wipes off his hands. “Nice, I like a girl with ambition” Before you could respond to the comment, he twisted the knob on the faucet running the water to check for any leaks, but obviously, there were none. “Good as new,” he smiles, completely glazing over his previous comment.

Upon hearing his words, you stood up, looking at his work. Even though you didn’t really know what to look for, all you cared about was that it was no longer leaking and you could use your sink like normal. “Very nice, thank you, handyman,” you say, your tone light and flirtatious. “Would you like a glass of water lemonade?”

“Lemonade sounds nice, thank you,” he smiles, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead.

And yeah, he definitely wasn’t mistaken earlier, judging by the way you literally were bent over in your fridge, ass in the air, and the arch in your back far too exaggerated to be just innocently grabbing your lemonade pitcher.

He tosses his towel aside with a smirk, leaning against your counter and biting on his lower lip as he waits for you to pour him a glass of lemonade.

Setting the pitcher on the countertop, you grab two glasses from your cupboard, filling both cups equally.

“Thanks.” he clicks his tongue, giving you a quick wink. He takes the cup in his hand, his fingers purposely brushing against yours. He gulps down the whole cup in one go, and you’re left with your mouth slightly agape as you watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “Well, everything should be good. If you have any questions or concerns about anything, here’s my card. Feel free to call whenever.”

“Will do -oh, your payment. I almost forgot.” You quickly sat up, went to a small drawer in your living room, and pulled out a box where some cash was stored. “How much was it?” You ask over your shoulder.

He leaned over the counter, tapping his chin in thought. “Hmm, let’s just say 50$”

“Only?” You ask, and he hums.

“Suit yourself.” You grab the fifty while he gathers his tools, heading over toward you.

“Here you go, thank you, heeseung.” You eye him seductively.

“My pleasure.” he reaches for the money, intentionally grabbing your hand, and your breath hitches softly.

He bites his lip, fingers brushing against yours. You both make eye contact silently, giving each other a knowing look, and there’s undeniable tension between the two of you.

Simultaneously, you both let go of the dollar bill, letting it fall onto the floor along with his toolbox and immediately, his hands grab at your waist, pulling you into his body, his lips barely an inch away from yours.

-

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[supernaturallyedsheeran]

Can't Lose you

Summary: After a close call leaves you hurt, Sam tends to your wounds, his worry growing as he realizes how much danger you’ve been in with him. In a moment of frustration, he confesses his feelings, and you promise him you’re not going anywhere. cw : fem!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, typical injury and blood, no use of y/n, characters: Sam Winchester, f!reader wc: 621 famdom: Supernatural

✧∘* ✧･ﾟ✨Masterlist ✨✧∘* ✧･ﾟ

The Impala's tires screeched as it pulled into the motel parking lot. You stumbled to open the door, your legs shaky, blood trickling from the gash on your forehead.

Sam was already out of the car around to your side and opening the door, bending down your level; his eyes immediately locking onto the blood. “Hey, easy. You okay?” he asked, his voice low, full of concern.

You didn’t have the strength to explain the pounding searing hot pain that ate at your skin. “I’ll be fine,” you mumbled, swaying slightly.

Sam’s jaw clenched. He didn’t buy it. “Sit. I’ll get the first aid kit.” His tone was sharper than usual.

You nodded, sinking onto the passenger seat. Your head felt light, but you fought to stay awake. Sam was back in a minute, kneeling in front of you, his eyes softening as he saw the extent of your injuries.

"Don’t move," he ordered, voice tight as he pulled out antiseptic and gauze.

You winced when he dabbed alcohol on your wound. “Sorry,” he murmured, glancing at you. “Just a sec.”

You swallowed your discomfort. “It’s fine, Sam. Just a scratch.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, his voice a little too sharp. He gripped your chin gently, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’re not fine. You’re hurt.”

You frowned, brushing his hand away. “Sam, I said I’m fine.”

He let out a frustrated sigh and stood up staring down at you, pathetically perched at the edge of the seat still inside the car. “You’re not fine,” he repeated, running a hand through his hair. "You’re human, and I can’t keep watching you put yourself in danger like this. I can’t do it anymore.”

You blinked, trying to process his words. “Sam…”

“You’re reckless,” he bit out, turning back to you. “Every damn time we go on a hunt, you throw yourself into the fire like it doesn’t matter. I can’t—I can’t do this anymore. Not if I’m going to keep losing you.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. “Sam… What are you—”

“I don’t care what happens to me. I don’t care if I die tomorrow. But you? You…” He took a breath, his voice shaking now. “I can’t lose you, you hear me?”

Your stomach dropped. “Sam…?”

“I love you,” he said quickly, like the words were forced out of him. “I love you, and I can’t stand seeing you hurt. I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t matter. I need you to be safe. I need you here. I—" His voice cracked, and he stopped, looking down.

The weight of it hit you. You felt everything, all at once. “Sam…” you whispered.

He shook his head. “I didn’t want to say it like this. But I can't keep watching you put yourself at risk. I can’t lose you.”

You grabbed his hands, pulling them to your thighs. “Sam, I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, your voice muffled as you fought against the lump in your throat.

He pulled you in, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you up and out of the car, his face buried in your hair. "I can't lose you," he repeated, his voice softer this time, but no less desperate.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised again, holding him just as tightly, your fingers curling into his shirt, the blood from your forehead staining the front of his shirt.

You both stood there for a time, the impala door open, the dim interior light flickering against your silhouette, Sam's chin resting on your head, your wound drying on his shirt. In that moment, you knew Sam would never let you fall into trouble again, but he would also never let you leave his sight.

[twistedappletree]

no thoughts head empty, only ✨ t h e m ✨