#he shows up at your next session and sits there scowling the whole time at that poor kid

[a11eya]

“Who did this to you?”

Bakugou’s voice is low, dangerous. His eyes are sharp as they stare at you.

“What?” You blink rapidly at him.

After a year of being friends with Bakugou, you’re used to him frequently being at some level of pissed off or annoyed.

But you’ve never seen him look so angry. Like he could tear the world apart.

“This.”

You’re not prepared when Bakugou reaches up to angle your chin towards him, your breath catching as his calloused fingertips grip against your skin. He brushes his thumb, feather-light, against your cheekbone. It’s then you remember the bruise there.

“Oh! I had a practice bout with one of the new kids at our gym. He got in a lucky punch but hit me a little too hard. He’s still learning,” you say.

You smile at Bakugou and raise your hand to pat his, the one cupped against your cheek.

“Don’t worry, Bakugou. It looks worse than it actually is.”

Bakugou grunts. You expect him to step back, let go.

But he’s still, gaze locked on your face, thumb brushing back and forth against your skin like it doesn’t send shivers through your entire body, like it doesn’t make your face feel like the surface of the sun.

Nervous about his intense attention, you bite your bottom lip. Bakugou’s eyes drop to track the movement and stick there.

You can’t breathe. Is he…?

The sound of distant footsteps drawing nearer pops the bubble you’re in.

Bakugou pulls away. He doesn’t go too far, though, and because you’re so close, you can see that the tips of his ears are red, despite his neutral expression.

“Don’t box with that kid again,” he says, voice raspy, a little husky.

You swallow and nod before his words can process. Bakugou nods back, satisfied, before turning to walk away.

He’s halfway down the hallway before you come to your senses. Wait. You make a face.

“You’re not the boss of me!” you call at his retreating back.

He stops. Turns.

“What’d you say?” he asks, eyes narrowed at you, handsome face skewed into a scowl.

You know you should be intimidated, but. You think about the look in his eyes when he touched you. The heat of his palm.

So you just smile at him.

“You heard me.”

[rashomonss]

The valentines request look divine~

I would like to request Threesome with Mammon and Leviathan, or staying quiet with Asmodeus?

It could be done anyway but I just love the prompts, have fun with your Valentines!!

a/n: I’m finally finishing up my v day request and I’m hoping to have them done before the end of march (҂ ꒦ິヮ꒦ິ)

Anyways! I decided to do the threesome one with Mammon and Levi bc it looked fun to me and I’m not even going to lie I had so much fun with this because I just kept writing haha, I do hope it’s to your liking tho!

warning: NSFW (read at your own discretion) , afab MC

“I’m not sharing”

You were originally supposed to have an all night anime marathon with Levi in his room but Mammon decided to invite himself over after you refused to leave his younger brother's room and spend time with him.

“Ugh can you move? I’m trying to explain this part of the story to MC and you’re literally blocking the whole view” Levi groaned as his older brother shot him a glare.

“I’ll move if ya stop hoarding MC” he snapped back.

“I’m not hoarding! They are laying on me, it's mutual” Levi yelled back.

“Shut yer trap you stupid otaku”

“Stop using that as an insult!”

With a groan you curled up into the blanket and Levi as both continued bickering.

“Can you two just relax? It’s not that big of a deal. Here come sit by me too Mams” you finally said causing the second born's eyes to light up.

With a few more minutes of back and forth bickering you were cuddling with the two as the show continued.

Everything remained fine for a few hours and next thing you knew Mammon fell asleep and you were soon getting to that point as well.

Levi could tell as the night carried on so he claimed that if you wanted to sleep he supposed he could allow you too. You thank him you placed a kiss on his lips as you told him good night.

However that good night kiss ended up turning into a small heated makeout session.

As the two of you desperately kissed each other you moved to straddle Levi’s lap, who in turn hesitantly grabbed your waist. You rocked your hips back and forth on his lap as he pulled you somehow even closer than before.

Levi was surprisingly the first one to take action and slip his hand down your pants as you continued to grind on him. There were times you would have to guide him when the two of you would have sex, but you were also always glad for the rare times he wanted to take the initiative.

As your makeout and fingering session with Levi continued the two of you somehow managed to forget there was another person in the room.

Mammon decided to make his presence known again after he cleared his throat and stared at the two of you with a slightly red face.

“Ya realize I’m here right…” he said.

Your face went bright red and Levi practically stopped functioning for a moment. The room went awkwardly quiet until Mammon decided to speak up again, this time with a smirk present in his face.

“Sit on my face” Mammon suddenly said while grabbing your arm, trying his best to pull you off his younger brother.

You looked at him slightly shocked as he manhandled you off of Levi and onto him.

Levi’s flustered face morphed into a scowl as he watched his brother steal away your attention. Sure he caught up in the moment and forgot he was there but he loved it when you two had moments like that. Especially ones where he almost felt confident enough to take the initiative with certain actions. But for Mammon to just swoop in and demand something and your attention when you and Levi were really hitting it off had truly ticked him off.

He watched now annoyed as you straddled Mammons grinning face. Slowly Mammon grabbed your thighs and lowered you down on to him and immediately got to work on tasting every inch of your folds.

As Mammon ate you out feverishly you couldn’t help but squirm and try and lift yourself due to the immense amount of pleasure he was giving you.

“You ain’t going nowhere” he replied as he pulled you back down onto his face, and thought you couldn’t see it you could hear the smirk on his lips.

Levi watched the scene in front of him unfold and something bubbled up inside him that ticked him off more than anything. Jealousy.

There was no way he was just going to sit there and watch Mammon take you when he had you merely seconds ago. Something inside Levi snapped and immediately he made his way over to you and went for your chest.

With a gasp you watched him take your nipple in his mouth and suck harshly as he teased the other with his fingertips.

The two demons sent massive waves of pleasure through your body, to the point that it made your brain feel fuzzy. Levi continued to abuse your chest, which was now covered in hickeys and bite marks. And Mammon had his fun eating you out as if you were the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.

After a few more harsh sucks and licks to your clit and nipples your first orgasm rolled through you causing you to shudder and cry out on Mammon’s face as he lapped up every single drop. Levi continued playing with your nipples as Mammon helped ride you through your orgasm making sure to overstimulate you just a bit in the process.

Immediately after however, you yelped when his thick fingers were inserted into you. Mammon made quick work of stretching you out and pumping in and out of you as he argued with his younger brother who now wanted a taste of you.

When he deemed you ready Mammon retracted his fingers leaving a lewd pop to fill the room. But he made the mistake of taking his time to get out from under you because in less than a second Levi grabbed you and pulled your hips towards him.

“I can surely do it better than you!” Levi argued as he positioned himself at your entrances.

“As if, ya don’t know the first thing about what they like” Mammon yelled back.

“Shut up” Levi yelled then immediately pushed into you causing a cry of pleasure to leave your lips.

“See?” He scoffed back, with a beet red face as he gestured to the fucked out expression you made when he stuffed both your holes with his cocks. Levi then started out at a slow and steady pace to ease you into the feeling.

Now annoyed Mammon watched as you clung to his younger brother and moaned with each continued thrust in and out of your holes.

He made quick work of discarding his pants and moving over to your face which was currently glued to Levi, your eyes couldn’t help but watch him enter and leave your holes every time.

“Hey just look at me okay? You’re doing great, holy shit you feel so good” Levi stated, then whined as he adjusted his angle and soon found the perfect spot. This causes a few moans to ripple through your lips, thus sending vibrations through Mammon’s cock, making him see stars.

“Don’t look at that weirdo, look at me…that’s it, mhm, just like that MC” Mammon said as he guided your head up and down his cock making sure you were only paying attention to him and him alone.

The longer you looked away the harder Levi pounded into you, and the more you tried to turn your attention back to the third born Mammon would instead make you take his cock deeper.

Both made sure you were stuffed on the top and bottom. The quick pace Levi set had you bouncing on his cocks allowing you to take Mammon deeper down your throat. However when Mammon ran his fingers through your hair to grab a fist full of it you unconsciously tightened around Levi, who gripped your thighs harshly enough to leave a mark.

The way you continued to take both their cocks deeper had the two whining in ecstasy. Mammon couldn’t hold it much longer, so with a slightly harsh grip to your scalp he came in your mouth and watched your surprised expression with a smirk.

Mammon loved the way you looked trying to take all his cum in your mouth. You were on the cusp of an orgasm and you still tried to lap up his cum in the process.

The last thrust finally got the knot in your stomach to come undone causing a wave of pleasure to rush through your body. You buckled your hips into Levi’s cocks and shuddered as you felt him reach his orgasm inside you. His thrusts never stopped though, even with you coming down from your orgasm he still continued at a decent pace, making you squirm as you cried that it was too much.

When you opened your mouth to moan Mammon watched intently as his cum spilled out from the sides. With a smirk he lifted your chin and wiped off the cum that was dripping down your face with his thumb. Then he made sure to immediately stuff his fingers in your mouth after, so you could truly swallow everything.

When the three of you finally came down from your high Mammon grabbed your hip and pulled you towards him. “My turn” he said with a greedy smile.

“No way, I’m going again” Levi snapped back.

Looks like this was going to be a long night…

[writing-whump]

I need Matthew's lighthearted teasing-grumpyness back. He seems so off recenty, poor guy. I don't know, maybe put him in the box with Hector and shake it a little, or something. Maybe some barking will help release some tension. 👀

(and i can't see the story progressing with Matt in current state, i know he is dealing with the situation as he can, but... We know what's coming 🥺)

A.

Well, people have been screaming at me bc of Matthew, so here you go. Your wish heard loud and clear :D

Hitting the limit

Matthew was exhausted.

He had been keeping up his routine the whole week as always. Except it was maxed up to two times its normal amount.

When he woke up, he took a protein shake and went for a run. After 10 kilometers he went to the gym and worked out. Ran the way back to their apartment gym and did the boxing routine with punching and jumping with the sail. Then weight lifting. Then another punching round. Then a session with his shadow.

When his legs turned to jelly and thoughts died down to bright lights and louds noises, he allowed himself to follow the scent to their apartment.

Isaiah found him on the couch and forced him to drink and eat. Then he passed out.

So went the days for the whole week Rip was almost healed up and the first week after the kids moved away.

To an apartment next door.

Matt understood he would have to get used to it. To the proximity, to the scents, to the shadows.

Heck, Dylan showed up not a day into them moving out and crashed on their couch for the whole day like it meant nothing.

Matthew was very very proud of himself for being so exhausted he couldn't hold a coherent conversation.

He hated himself for being so weak and a burden. For his shadow being hungry and curious about Dylan's presence. In a way the boy felt like a threat, his jealousy almost his own perfume. It irked the possessive part of Matthew's shadow.

Isaiah and Seline were his. And now there were those two kids, Rip and Dylan, drawing each of them away in different ways.

Away from Matthew.

It was stupid and childish and he was so emberassed he couldn't even formulate the thought out loud.

So he kept running. Running and running and running, so he wouldn't have to look any deeper why his shadow was a mess and why his core was shaking in fear he would be left behind, cause look, Seline had a family and Isaiah could connect with anyone and there was nothing special about Matt without them, nothing where he could go...

It wasn't hot, the weather switching between quick rains and puffy greyness. That was good, he didn't have to worry about heat exhaustion.

At some point he did get a bit of blackness over his eyes and his legs got a bit shaky. He would sit down in a second. That couldn't hurt, right?

Maybe he had decided that too late, cause his vision went from black to nothing.

"Oi. Oi. You dead?"

Someone's feet next to his ear. His ear? What?

Matthew blinked himself awake. He was lying in a ditch by the sidewalk that led to the economy university campus.

It was a rather calm side of the road, now that the holidays kept the complex of buildings empty.

"Oi. Go pass out on someone else's turf, you hear?"

The gruff and annoyed voice sounded familiar.

Matthew felt too tired to move, only lifting his gaze. And sure enough, Hector's spiky hair and bushy eyebrows came into view as the wolf leaned over him with an angry scowl.

"Hmmm?" He said intelligently.

"Are you gonna be lying there for a long time?"

"Maybe we should call an ambulance." Another voice. Girlish, one that Matthew didn't recognize.

"Nah, that's fine," Hector waved his hand dismissively. "He is fine, just being lazy. Matt, get up or you're gonna seriously piss me off."

"You don't need me for that," Matthew said in a scratchy voice. He had to cough to clear it, but his throat still felt dry and painful.

He dragged himself up into a sitting position on a second, nope, third time, blinking like a madman as the sun came into view and his surroundings got back their colour.

Hector was still standing there, looking terribly smug. Beside him was a girl, small in statute with a heart-shaped face, round puffy cheeks and short black hair. Her eyes were wide and smoky, looking at Matthew with worry.

She kept glancing at Hector as her reference point, so she was probably crazy.

Matthew let his shoulders slump. Where was he going? His digital watch was out of battery and he had no idea how much running he had left for the day.

When Hector opened his mouth to say something again, Matthew quickly interrupted: "What do you mean, 'your turf'?" This was the biggest university campus in Vienna, no way someone could just come and claim it as part of their pack's territory.

Hector shrugged. "You heard me."

Matthew shook his head, the notion amusing him, despite himself. He braced himself against his knees, trying to work up the energy to stand up. "You can't claim fucking Praterstern, man. It's a whole subway stop, school and lunapark, are you crazy?"

Hector huffed at him, insulted, before a hand suddenly appeared in front of Matthew's face.

Matthew stared at it a bit longer than he should have, almost spacing out again. Then he took it.

Hector got him upright in a smooth motion, without a single catch in his breath. "Am not. It was nobody's, so now it will be somebody's. Mine."

Matthew steadied himself, then lost his balance again.

Hector scoffed, grabbing him by the elbow. "Olive, Matthew. Matthew, Olive." He maneuvered him to the nearest bench. Ah. It was so close, he should have noticed.

A noise of paper hitting pavement caught his attention. The girl let go of the pile of notebooks in her hands, rumpaging frantically through her backpack.

"Here." Olive offered him water in a cute black and pink thermo bottle with shaking fingers, cheeks red with embarrassment. "What do you mean, 'claim turf'?" she said, turning to Hector.

Hector put his hands on his hips, glaring at Matthew like the question was his fault. "Why are you here, anyway? The buildings are closed during summer break."

The black-haired girl gave him a miffed look. "The Messe is right behind you, genius. There is a manga expo as we speak."

Matthew looked vaguely in that direction. Yes, there was the giant Messe building, where all big expositions took place. This was a very frequented district. It didn't belong to no-one because all kinds of wolves and humans passed through it.

Claiming it was inviting trouble.

It was kind of funny. Everyone was moving on with their lives, having hobbies and interests and people. Matthew couldn't deal with any of his problems, while Hector was actively looking for some.

How much more behind could he get?

Matthew took a swing of the water. It was nice and cool, soothing his throat.

"You can't expect me to know what manva means, Olive."

"Manga, it's manga!"

Hector laughed. "You mean the comics for children?"

"They are graphic novels, you jerk, and it's a highly artistic and deeply expressive medium!"

"Oh, another artistic cr- I mean, I see, it fits you very well."

Olive gave him a pouty look. "Anyway. Your friend doesn't look well."

Hector rolled his eyes. "That's not my friend. He is just a pain in the ass sec-I mean, friend of my brother. He is an annoying, good-for-nothing, muscle head with a scary look, nothing more."

Matthew leaned back against the bench, staring at the ground sullenly. That was typical Hector. Nothing surprising.

But it was one hit too much while he was feeling this sorry for himself. He couldn't muster up a retort, tears burning at hearing what he had been thinking the past weeks out loud.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Matthew closed his eyes, all hunched over himself. Hopefully, they would both leave him alone soon.

"Olive, could you get him a coke from the vending machine over there?" Hector pushed his credit card into the chubby girl's hands. "Take one for yourself too. I'm buying. Sorry, I'm doing it wrong."

"No, that's fine," she shot a timid look towards Matthew. "I'll be right back." She hurried away.

The bench dipped under Hector's weight. "Hey. You are acting weird today."

"Nah, not really," Matthew said, sniffling a little. The water must have gotten into his nose. "Just amazed you are picking up problems left and right. Do you want some of mine?"

Hector's scowl deepened, looking positively scary. "Isaiah?"

Matthew shook his head. That was the only important thing, wasn't it? For Hector for sure.

"Do you want me to call him?" Hector's voice dipped a little, like he wanted to whisper but never tried before, so it came out as normal instead of a shout.

"No. Though you might-" Matthew took a shuddering breath, covering half of his face with his hand. "-you might wanna keep that girl away from me."

"Bad day, eh?" Hector said lazily, one leg coming up on the bench.

Matthew clenched his jaw. "If the voices could stop for a second..." He felt raw and exposed without his shadow, but when it was exhausted, at least it wasn't so loud, screaming at him to tear, to fight, to be angry.

"It'd be like that sometimes." Hector leaned back, hands coming behind his head.

Matthew lifted his head at the nonchalant voice, peeking through his fingers. He just told Hector his shadow was messed up and upset, that he could be dangerous to the girl the other wolf obviously wanted to keep out of the shadow stuff — and Hector didn't react at all. Instead of defending her, ushering her away, getting angry....

Was he that confident he could handle Matthew if something went wrong? Or did he believe in Matthew's exhaustion keeping the shadow at bay?

Matthew couldn't imagine Hector understanding, of coming anywhere close to a state like this one.

And yet the blond wasn't alarmed, choosing the most non-fighting position possible.

Something about the sheer calmness of the scene, the mundanity, the sun coming down on the horizon painting everything in orange, while Hector wasn't making a fuss, trying to solve this or control it...felt comforting.

Olive returned with three cokes, panting for breath from how much she was hurrying. She offered one bottle to Matthew. Hector snatched it and opened it for him, for some weird reason, only then handed it over.

It might have been the right move, because Matt's hands were shaking as he took a sip. The sugar exploded on his tongue wonderfully, though.

Hector clicked his bottle with Olive's, draining half of it in one go. Olive watched him in disbelief.

"What? You wanted to be drawing something? Your sunset is going out."

Olive exclaimed, throwing herself to the ground to grab the right notebook so suddenly Matthew jumped in his seat. "Where did I- ah yes, this one..." She took a thick notebook and colorful chalk, sketching the sunset right there, still on her knees.

"There is nothing weirder than drawing," Hector said thoughtfully. His hand came to rest on the backrest behind Matthew.

The red-haired wolf watched with narrowed eyes as the human fought to save the light from being swallowed by shadows, mind going blissfully blank.

[whatacaitastrophe]

Is It Over Now - Chapter 7

Previous Chapter

Chapter Song Inspiration: "Burn Butcher Burn" - The Witcher, Season 2 Soundtrack (performed by Joey Batey)

Chapter Warnings: none!

Spotify Playlist: Here

Chapter Notes: if you have read this fic, liked it, reblogged it, or left comments THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart. keep the comments coming bc i love hearing your feedback (and like tinkerbell, i need applause to live).

Chapter 7: I Hear You're Alive. How Disappointing

The next two days fly by without incident, unless you count Wyll making Fallon cry because she has to do one hundred crunches at the end of their final training session before the ball (Fallon counts it). At least when he leaves the morning of the ball he promises he will not be at their door bright and early tomorrow, because he intends to take the next day off. It’s a sure sign of how Wyll expects the evening of revelry and celebration to go. 

After their conversation, Fallon and Astarion fell into an easy rhythm. The first night, they stayed up talking about everything and nothing, only taking breaks to exchange sweet kisses. They still haven’t properly had sex yet, but that’s something Astarion is perfectly ok with. When it comes to Fallon, Astarion wants to do this right. He doesn’t want Fallon to feel like he poured his heart out to her just to bed her (and maybe, just maybe, he’s still the tiniest bit insecure and worried that Fallon had done exactly that). 

Somehow, despite the past two days being some of the best of his life with Fallon, Astarion is incredibly nervous for this ball. He loves a good party, especially one where the attention will be cast upon him, and he’ll be given the opportunity to charm an entire room full of aristocrats, but the anticipation of this night has him pacing around the suite. 

It could also be because Shadowheart arrived at the suite in the early afternoon with a team of hair and makeup professionals trailing behind her to help them get ready for the evening, and as a direct result, Astarion has been left to entertain Lae’zel, who quickly refused the assistance of the small army Shadowheart assembled, declaring she does not need an entire day to become perfect. 

“Astarion,” Lae’zel warns after his twelfth lap around the sitting room in the last hour. “If you do not stop pacing, I will make you.”

Astarion scowls at the githyanki, but he does as he’s told; mostly because he’s still fairly certain Lae’zel could snap him in two if she really wanted to. He picks up the book about the young wizard that he’s still reading, but concentration eludes him and he’s just staring at the pages without absorbing any of the content. 

“My lover has informed me that I need to work on my….people skills,” Lae’zel starts with a huff. “So I am going to ask you why you keep looking at the bedroom door and why you cannot sit still, but please do not mistake my inquiry for actual concern.” 

Astarion snorts with laughter. “I think part of having people skills is showing genuine concern, Lae’zel.”

Lae’zel gives him a stone cold stare, and he almost regrets teasing her. “It’s the first time Fallon and I are going out in public together. As…more than friends.” He clarifies. “So this giant party where everyone is watching, it’s basically our first date.”

“Yes, Shadowheart did mention a romantic development. I did not realize Fallon was finally over the wizard.”

Astarion winces. “Ah, well, not entirely, but that’s complicated to explain and I’m sure you don’t want to hear about the whole sordid affair.”

“That is correct, I do not,” she confirms. “Besides, I’ve heard enough that I think I understand.” 

“Well, that’s why I’m pacing,” he tells her, and Lae’zel levels a stare in his direction. “You asked.” he concedes, raising his hands in defeat. 

Awkward silence fills the suite, and Astarion really wishes he’d thought to turn on the phonograph before their friends arrived because now he’s too afraid to stand up and risk the gith’s wrath by moving around again. “Do you think the wizard will show his face?” Lae’zel breaks the silence. 

“Gods, I fucking hope not. She’s been doing so well…I worry about what seeing him again might do to her.” 

“Maybe that is the real reason why you pace incessantly. You are worried for Fallon, and maybe a little worried for yourself and your romantic involvement with her, should the wizard return.”

Astarion is stunned, and not just because Lae’zel just read him so thoroughly. “Why Lae’zel, I think you may have just shown genuine concern! Shawdowheart will be very proud.” He deflects, as this is a very strange conversation to be having with Lae’zel, of all people. Then again, maybe the warrior is the best person to have this conversation with, because she minces words even less than her girlfriend does, and unlike Wyll or Karlach, or even Halsin, she won’t try to soothe his nerves with false narratives. Astarion defies her and stands to walk over to the cabinet where he and Fallon keep the wine. He pours them each a glass before sitting back down again. “Do you think he’s going to show up?”

Lae’zel ponders for a moment as she drinks her wine. “No,” she declares. “The wizard has not been in contact with anyone for the last year. I believe he is intelligent enough to know his presence would not be welcome.” As backhanded as it is, Astarion is surprised by the compliment Lae’zel affords Gale. 

Astarion winces. “Well…that’s not entirely true.” 

“My assessment of the wizard’s intelligence, or that he has not been in contact with anyone since he left in the first place?” 

“The second part.”

Deafening silence fills the suite again, and Astarion swears Lae’zel does not ever blink. “You’ve spoken to him.”

“I’ve seen him.” Astarion confesses.

More silence. “When?” 

“Months ago…it’s a long story.”

“Does Fallon know?”

“No.” 

“Does anyone?”

“....no one other than you and Gale.” Astarion did not think it was possible for the githyanki’s lips to get any thinner, but they do and she’s glaring at him. “Please don’t tell her.” Astarion begs.

The silence that follows could not have lasted more than a few minutes, if not seconds, but it feels like an eternity while Astarion holds his breath, waiting for Lae’zel to say something. 

“I will not intervene, because it is not my place and unlike my lover, I do not care to gossip,” she sips from her wine glass. “However, I will encourage you to be honest with Fallon, because if she ever finds out you kept this from her, it will not end well for you.” 

Astarion sighs, finishing his own glass of wine and pouring another. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” 

“I’ve never taken you to be a coward, Astarion. Do not start now, as I do not associate with cowards.” 

It might be the nicest thing the gith has ever said to him, and the closest she’s ever come to admitting they’re actually friends. Lae’zel dismisses herself to get ready for the ball, leaving Astarion alone. Astarion sighs quietly and tells himself that he’ll broach the topic with Fallon first thing tomorrow. He doesn’t want to ruin this night for her. Astarion looks at the grandfather clock by the door and realizes that he should probably get ready as well and he heads for the spare bedroom.

An hour later, Lae’zel is the first one to return to the sitting room, followed shortly by Astarion. “Well, don’t you look dashing.” Astarion offers the gith as he takes in her form. The dress Lae’zell chose (more likely chosen by Shadowheart for her), is a simple, black floor length a-line gown with a cowl neckline. The halter top compliments her toned body, and the necklace she’s wearing is a pendant with moons and stars on it. The ensemble is not much different than the one Lae’zel wore to last year’s Winter Solstice Ball, and Astarion is almost certain that Lae’zel not repeating an outfit is entirely Shadowheart’s influence.

The doublet Astarion picked out for himself is black velvet, and the filigree throughout is the same color as Fallon’s dress. Though the development of their romantic involvement is less than a tenday old, Astarion always knew he would be the one escorting Fallon to the ball, and he’d be damned if their ensembles didn’t match, or worse, clashed altogether. Shadowheart calls from the bedroom that she and Fallon are nearly ready, and Astarion begins pacing again. Lae’zel glares at him, but she doesn’t say anything, and Astarion notices that even the stoic githyanki warrior is fidgeting a little in her seat. He does not dare bring it up for fear of losing his head, but it’s sweet to see his friend be nervous about seeing her lover in her dress for the first time. 

The door to the bedroom opens and Astarion freezes in place and Lae’zel shoots to her feet. Shadowheart is the first to emerge and though Shadowheart looks absolutely lovely, Astarion is watching Lae’zel. He’s never seen her look awestruck before. Lae’zel walks over to a beaming Shadowheart and takes her hands. “ Zhak vo'n'fynh duj' : Source of my joy. You are more radiant than the sun.” Astarion looks away when Lae’zel captures Shadowheart’s mouth in a deep kiss (it feels weird watching the gith be this vulnerable), his gaze automatically goes to the bedroom door. 

Fallon steps through the door, and Astarion is breathless. He imagines the look on his face is not much different than that of the one Lae’zel had on her face moments before, but when Fallon smiles at him, Astarion honestly forgets that there is anyone else in the suite aside from the two of them. Fallon walks–no–floats towards him, the chiffon of her dress having the exact effect Astarion and Figaro envisioned together. He meets her halfway and takes one of her hands and Astarion bows deeply to the woman in front of him, and kisses the back of her hand. 

“Well, I must say, whoever chose this dress for you has excellent taste,” Astarion jests as he rises. “You look absolutely exquisite, darling.” 

Blush creeps up Fallon’s neck. “Thank you. For all of it.” He knows she means more than just the dress. 

Wyrm’s Rock is decorated for the season to the nines. Wyll’s stepmother is known for her parties, and this one is no exception. “It’s beautiful.” Fallon muses in awe as they walk in. “I can’t believe I missed this last year.” 

Astarion squeezes her hand softly as he thinks back to this time last year. Astarion and their friends attempted to convince Fallon to leave The Elfsong for this occasion, but their efforts were in vain. When they’d gone to collect her, she was already several bottles of wine deep in the bar with some of the tieflings from The Grove, could barely stand, and was in absolutely zero condition to spend an entire evening socializing with the aristocrats of Baldur’s Gate. They’d all agreed that with the absence of Fallon, and even Gale, it didn’t really feel like much of the celebration it was supposed to be.

The four of them step further into the extravagantly decorated room and are immediately greeted by various members of the court, fawning over Fallon especially after missing last year. Astarion holds his tongue as they fuss and speculate to her face about why she was absent last year, and pride spreads through his body as Fallon fields the question and deflects like she’s been doing this her whole life. This was why she’d become their leader. She charmed people with ease and carried herself with such confidence it was no wonder nearly everyone they met fell in love with her instantly. Eventually she’s able to wave them off, and Astarion leans over to kiss her temple. 

“Gods, those people do love their gossip, don’t they?” Fallon muses with a laugh. 

“Yes, I’d no idea you’ve been out of the city training dragons, do tell me, when shall I get to ride one? You’ve been holding out on me.” 

“Your very own dragon is your solstice gift.” She teases with a wink but expression very quickly changes to surprise and then pure glee. Fallon lets out an excited squeal and Astarion follows her gaze to where Wyll is standing but it’s not Wyll, or even the druid Halsin towering next to him that caused the object of Astarion’s affection to squeal with delight.

It’s Karlach.

Not only is it Karlach, but the tiefling looks like herself. 

Fallon does not bother with proper etiquette, and she gathers her skirts in one hand, takes off towards Karlach at a sprint and leaps into her friend’s arms. Astarion trails after her, and though he definitely is not running as Fallon had, Astarion’s gait is definitely quicker than usual. After sacrificing herself and becoming an illithid, Karlach was forced to lay low after the battle ended. For obvious reasons, illithids were not exactly a welcome sight in Baldur’s Gate, but Halsin welcomed her back to The Grove with open arms. 

“I missed you, soldier.” Karlach is murmuring into her embrace with Fallon as Astarion approaches the reunion.

“I can’t believe it– you’re here! And you’re you!” Fallon exclaims, hugging Karlach again with tears in her eyes. “How?”

“Just a little bit ‘o temporary magic, I’m afraid. Nettie and our pal Halsin made me a potion so I’d look like meself tonight. Not that I ever stopped being me, but, you know ‘ow it is.” 

Fallon greets Halsin next, and the druid picks her up to spin in a circle and Astarion just smiles as the fabric of her dress floats effortlessly around her. He really does have good taste. Halsin was one of the first people to ever suspect that Astarion had feelings for Fallon. The conversation occurred shortly after Halsin confessed his own feelings for Fallon to her, only to be gently turned down after Gale refused the suggestion of an open relationship. At the time, Astarion made fun of Gale for being so incredibly traditional in his way of thinking, but now that he has Fallon, Astarion understands. He doesn’t want to share Fallon with anyone else, either.

“How do you do it?” Halsin asked him whilst sitting by the fire one evening. 

Astarion looked up at the druid in confusion. “Do what?”

“How do you cope with the ache in your heart, watching Fallon and Gale together day in and day out? I only ask because I’ve not been in this group very long, whereas you’ve been here since the beginning. When does the pain of watching her love another fade?” 

Astarion stared at Halsin, mouth slightly open. “Are you suggesting I have feelings for our dear leader?”

“Am I wrong? I’ve seen the way you look at her when you think no one is watching.”

Astarion frowned. “I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

Halsin gives him an understanding smile. “Then perhaps I misread the situation. My deepest apologies.” 

“No apology needed, friend.” Astarion replied before turning back to his book, ignoring the very ache Halsin just spoke of.

Halsin lets go of Fallon, approaching Astarion. The druid offers him a strong handshake and claps him on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you, friend. I am very glad to see the two of you together. She looks happy.” 

Astarion looks over to Fallon and then back to Halsin. “She does, doesn’t she?” Waitstaff pass buy and offer each of them a glass of champagne, and Fallon eagerly listents as Karlach regales her with stories of the grove, seeing Arabella again, and learning how to live among druids as an illithid, and learning how to live as an illithid in general. 

“I mean, I thought that emperor bloke was joking when he said he ate brains, nope. It’s truly the most horrific part of this ‘ole thing. ‘Course I don’t eat people or anything–” Karlach stops speaking suddenly, and her facial expression shifts to complete horror in an instant. 

“You owe me twenty gold, mate.” Wyll tells Halsin, and his tone can only be described as disappointed anger. Halsin also looks very unhappy, and a sickening feeling begins to form in Astarion’s stomach as he realizes that Halsin’s unhappiness has nothing to do with owing Wyll money. 

“Well, this is quite the reunion, isn’t it? Leave it to The Winter Solstice to always bring old friends together.” An omnipotent voice comments from behind Astarion’s back, and Astarion whips around, willing his fingers to not ball into fists at his side as he tries to remember to breathe. That annoying, condescending voice only belongs to one person.

Fallon spins around to face the owner of the voice and she gasps. For the first time in over a year, she speaks the name of her ex-lover, and her voice is shaking. 

“Gale.”

Chapter List

[lcvehee]

lost and found

#07. you little maggot

꩜ .ᐟ a/n: y/n and sohee FINALLY talk to each other like adults even if alcohol played a huge role

ALSO PLS IGNORE THE TIMSTAMPS THEYRE ALL MESSED UP

i just posted an update im so sorry for last time... i rewrote the whole chapter bc it was KILLING me

an hour later.

sohee shoved his phone back in his pockets, and his eyes traveled back to the feminine figure near the bar. y/n, sitting on a barstool and sipping on a… mojito?

“so, when are you going to spit it out?” a voice asked.

“wha-” he looked to his side, relief filling his face, “oh, shotaro. of course.”

sungchan walked up to shotaro's side, patting sohee's shoulder, “so?” he said with an expectant tone.

“later, wonbin's still busy with his other guests,” he muttered, worried eyes transfixed once again on y/n.

the two guys rolled their eyes, “fine.”

her cheeks were flushed and her drink half-empty. is she tipsy?

y/n took another sip, enjoying the burn in her throat and the saccharine taste on her tongue. she might've had one too many cocktail tonight… but it doesn't matter, right? it's friday anyway.

“hey, you look lonely, mind if join you?” a tall man flashed her a toothy smile, putting his hand on the barstool next to y/n.

"not interested," she said, not even facing him.

“c'mon, don't be like that. what's your name?” he inquired, sitting down next to her.

she turned her head to the source of the voice, a small grimace on her face.

“y/n,” she replied curtly, not meeting his eyes.

"nice to meet you, i'm jihoon." he winked.

"i can't say the same." she muttered, as she picked at her nails.

jihoon scooted his seat closer to her, saying, "stop playing hard to ge-"

“dave, that's enough,” someone else said, cutting the painfully awkward conversation short.

"that's not my name!" he sputtered.

y/n wondered who could that be; she knew who to thank after this ordeal. obnoxious 'dave' was overwhelming her with his terrible perfume and apparent lack of social awareness.

she didn't expect to find sohee standing next to the random guy. why do i keep seeing him everywhere?

as if regaining consciousness, jihoon scowled at sohee. “and who are you?”

sohee looked into y/n's eyes, a silent question remained in the air. do you need help?

y/n's eyes widened. yeah.

“i'm her boyfriend, now stop bothering her,” he said, frowning, stepping closer to her.

the persistent one sighed dramatically, “y/n, you should've just said so earlier,” he huffed out, before leaving.

as the two watched him disappear into the crowd, y/n suppressed a laugh. “boyfriend? really?” she whispered in his ear.

sohee quickly became flustered, shifting his eyes somewhere else. “he wouldn't take me seriously if i said i was just your friend.”

“yeah, yeah. must be nice to actually have a boyfriend…” she mused outloud.

sohee was stunned for a second.

“yeah.” he laughed sheepishly.

now, the air between them felt hotter, heavier. sohee was suddenly acutely aware of his proximity to y/n and how different she looked; soft makeup adorning her features and an outfit he'd never seen her wear at their study sessions, completely different from her usual hoodie and baggy jeans.

he stepped away, suddenly realizing they didn't need to keep up the act anymore.

her eyes flicked up to him, and he cleared his throat, awkward once again. “um, well, thank you for the save. it means a lot.”

maybe i misjudged him… he's not as bad as i thought?

“it's nothing, really.”

“no but… yeah. he was persistent even when i showed no interest!" she grumbled, "what an idiot."

"yeah, that jihoon guy was something else."

"wait." her eyes widened, "you knew his name?"

"yes, i heard him say it, but i wanted to piss him off," sohee crossed his arms, with a proud expression.

she stifled giggle.

a comfortable silence settled betweenthem. they weren't looking at each other anymore, but at the party that unfolded in front of their eyes. somehow, it felt like they were miles away from it all.

"and i have something to say, something that's been on my mind."

his mind perked up at those words, fearing for the worst. he turned to face her, just to find her still gazing into the crowd.

“i understand if you hate me and all, but um, i wanted to say sorry for being shitty that day at the library,” she said, almost like a whisper. she was avoiding his gaze because she knew that her lack of awareness was downright embarassing. "and for being cold during our study sessions."

sohee was taken aback. “nah, i mean, i wasn't exactly nice to you as well…”

she always seemed like she knew what she wanted. brash and direct to the point. but the portrait he's seeing at this moment was completely different.

y/n sighed, “yeah, but you were like that because of me! i started it.” she said while gesticulating frantically, gulping down the rest of her drink, embarassed. she put her forehead in her hands. “i really thought you hated me…”

“what? no! uh… i'm just not really good with expressing myself,” sohee replied, “i thought you hated me.”

the two looked at each other, then chuckled a bit. sohee's eyes turned into little half-moons as he grinned.

“same, i can't express myself well unless... i drink some sort of alcohol or i'm super close to you,” she muttered, shaking her head in disapproval. “we're just two overthinkers that found each other, huh?

“i guess so,” sohee looked once again into the scene in front of him, a warm feeling spreading in his chest.

but somewhere in the crowd, shotaro and sungchan were watching the entire exchange, bewildered. was this what he was hiding the whole time?

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© lcvehee | taglist is open: @secretiny @totheseok @renjuneoo @molensworld @wccycc @onlyhyunjin @mystarsohee @llearlert @nujeskz @yoursyuno @minkkumaz @rikisluv

[anniemika]

All yours

NSFW Content!

Eren Jaeger x Female Reader

Summary: Leaving your toxic boyfriend seems to be a mission impossible, especially when he shows you just how good you could have it with him every single time.

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: cursing, oral sex F receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, spit, dirty talk, degradation, choking, impact play (slapping), creampie

.....

Ring ring

He’s calling you. Again.

Your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend.

You’re lying in bed, hugged by your favourite warm blanket with a bowl of popcorn sitting right next to you, a glass of sparkling wine in your hand as you watch the last season of The Bachelor and wipe your running nose every now and then. Ideal.

After a long crying session that consisted of the occasional scream into your pillow, you think you’ve finally made peace with it. You’re dumping him. For good this time.

He’s not worth it anymore. 2 years is a long ass time to go through the shit you’ve gone through. He’s an asshole, he’s toxic, he doesn’t deserve you. Simple as that.

You reach for the little glittery notebook you’ve been keeping as some sort of journal, get your favourite pink fluffy pen, and let the thought process begin. You’ve been writing in it for some time now, noting down all the things you want to do this summer as a single woman. Get a summer job, party, travel with your friends, all the things you’ve wanted to do for so long but didn’t have the.. permission to do.

When you first met Eren, you didn’t think for one minute that he was going to end up being the narcissistic asshole you’ve come to know. He was like a dream come true at the start. No one had ever treated you as good as him, paying you so much attention, you became addicted to it, and singing you so many praises, it was like you’d made him in your head. The honeymoon phase was the most amazing part of your relationship, filled with love, happiness, and so much sex, you couldn’t walk straight for a whole day after your usual marathons.

But then, as the months went by, you started seeing another side of Eren. It began with the occasional “when are you coming home??” text when he knew you were out with your friends, and the “you’re not going out in that, are you?” when you’d wear something he didn’t have any problems with before. He became possessive, jealous of the people who were close to you, he wanted you all to himself. He was a master manipulator too, succeeding in making you feel like you weren’t making an effort to understand him and why he had a problem with the otherwise normal things you did, like having a girl’s night with your friends or going to your parent’s house without him once. Now, having guy friends was a whole new problem on its own.

You could hang out with his friends (when he was there, of course), but not with the guy from your biology study who you were assigned to make a project with. It was out of the question, the name of any guy from your classes or even old friends’ was met with a scowl and a look that let you know you should probably never mention or see them again. All the bar fights when he’d see someone so much as glance your way, or the fights you would have with him for the stupidest things, like asking a bartender what kind of cocktail he would recommend to you almost always ended up with Eren pressing you against a wall and asking “you wanna fuck him, huh bitch?”

Oh, but the sex. You think that maybe that is the reason why you stayed with him for so long, even with all the bullshit. It was out of this world. Eren is a fucking beast in bed, an experience that any woman dreams of. He is rough, full of passion, knows exactly which buttons to push to bring you over the edge every time, and the dirty talk.. oh boy.

“That’s it, that’s it you little fuckin’ whore, make a mess on my dick.”

“Wanna cum so badly, you crying, huh? Beg for it then.”

“Open that filthy mouth, come on. Wanna see the place I’m ‘bout to feel my cum with.”

Just thinking about all the times he’s used your body like a fucking rag doll has you licking your lips and clenching your walls. But, you’ve made up your mind for good this time. The dick may be good, but you’re done with his shit.

The clock shows you it’s 20 minutes past midnight, and you decide to call it a night and try to catch some sleep. You check your phone, the 10 missed calls from your soon-to-be-ex making a long, exhausted sigh leave your lips. All the crying had made you tired, and all you wanted was to finally lay your head on your soft pillow and forget all about Eren. Only if it was that easy.

A ring on your doorbell startles you out of bed, and you begin to feel the dreading feeling of who is standing on the other side of it. You put on your slippers and with angry steps make your way to it, tippy-toeing to see who it is through the tiny hole in your door. And, of course, you’re right.

There he was, on the other side of the door, Eren Jaeger in all his drunken glory. He looked roughed up, his shirt a mess, with a couple of his rings and bracelets missing, the knuckles on his right hand swollen with a blue undertone. Amazing.

“The fuck do you want, Eren!?” You shout through the door, anger bubbling up like a volcano ready to explode.

“Y/n, baby-“

“Do not call me your fucking baby!” The nerve of him. Last time he saw you, he called you a “fucking whore” for wearing a freaking ruffle skirt.

“Baby, I’m really s’orry, please open up!”

“Yeah, fuck you. Go home, Eren.” You decide to be as stern as possible. He had to understand that there was no coming back from this. Not anymore.

“Y/n, fucking please, you know I’m sorry!” You see him lean against your door with both hands, his head hanging low in between them.

“No, I don’t. Wasn’t I a fucking whore, Eren? Why would you want anything to do with such a disgusting whore like me, huh?” You don’t know why, maybe it’s because of all the anger you have nestled inside, but you begin to feel tears stinging your eyes. “I don’t wanna be with you anymore! You treat me like shit, Eren!”

You shout at him again, and in response, he begins to punch your door. You feel the vibrations of his punches, and for a moment, you think about calling 911 to have him escorted out of the building. You didn’t want your neighbours to become witnesses of yet another one of your fights.

“Stop or I’ll call the cops!”

“Fucking call them, then! I don’t care anymore! I fucking lost you..” the last words become whispers, and then you hear it. He’s crying. His sniffles echo in your ears, and that’s when you break, too. With your back against the door, you sit on the cold floor and begin to sob quietly, trying not to let him hear you. He wasn't going to see you cry again, you’d promised yourself.

“Y/n, I.. I know I'm a shitty person, okay? But baby, if you ever loved me, please.. just open the door. I h-have to see you.” He slurs his words, and you hate yourself for it, but you begin to feel bad for him. Truth was, Eren had a lot of problems with himself. All the uncontrollable anger, the jealousy, the possessiveness. You tried to help him with some of them, but he wasn’t serious about getting help. So, naturally, you stopped trying at some point, because all he did was try and push you away, continuing with his behaviour. And look where it got him.

“I haven’t slept for days, I can’t reach your phone, I- I just need to see you.. please.” His words are like a dying man’s wish, at least that’s what it feels like to your ears. That’s how much you care about him and want to believe he's actually not the asshole who treats you like his property. So, with a few last sniffles, you get up from the tiles in your hallway and grab your keys. When you open the door, it’s like his eyes light up and get filled with hope. You still loved him.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty..” the compliment rolls off his tongue so naturally like you weren’t just screaming at each other. You look down at your feet and move to make room for him to get in. Eren feels the need to touch you, bring your body close to his, smell your scent, but no matter how much he’s had to drink, he knows it won't be right. He moves slowly inside your apartment, head low like a schooler who’s been scolded. You keep your distance, eyes concentrated on the floor.

“So,” you begin, “talk.”

He turns to look at your face, disappointment gracing his when he sees you’re not looking back at him. He rests his back against one of your hallway walls, emerald eyes glued to your figure.

“I miss you.. I really fuckin’ do.” You don’t like the way your heart stings from his words.

“I hate myself, d’you know that?” He ends the sentence with a short, bitter laugh. “I’m such an insecure piece of shit. I know you deserve better.” There’s a ball in his throat when he says the last sentence, feeling his tears ready to fall. “I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry for all the shit- for just screwing things up. I’m sorry.”

Don’t cry, is all you keep repeating to yourself. He always does this, he’s manipulating you, don’t fall for it.

“You’re the most amazing person in the world, and I feel like a fucking failure for losing you. You loved me, only me, and I always found a reason to pick a fight. I’m just so.. helpless, I don’t know what to do anymore. I fucked up.”

You snort, finally bringing your face up to send him a piercing glare. “You don’t know what to do? Oh, poor you, Eren! And what about me? What am I supposed to do with this, huh? Every time I try to end things, you always pull this shit! It’s fucking exhausting!” Your voice bounces off the walls, filling the space with your frustration. Eren can feel it, can feel your sharpened nerves, and how no matter what he says, you’re on the offensive.

“I- I know! I get tired from it too, I swear, I hate myself for it, but.. I can’t let you go like this.. please..” you hate, hate, hate how his apologetic tone and pretty voice play with your heart and mind, how it drives the tears to accidentally spill from your eyes, how all you want to do right now is kiss and hug him.

“Fuck” you clench your teeth, wrapping your arms around yourself, “I hate you..” But I don't. Not really.

Eren feels like this is his cue to try and move a bit closer to you, doing his best not to stumble on his feet. You begin to feel his warmth when he stands a few inches away, catching the mix of the alcohol and the musky scent of his perfume.

He bites his inner lip, “I don't think you do, though..” His hand raises to try and touch your cheek, and to his delight, you don't flinch away, “I love you.”

You wince. No, no. “Don’t say that.”

You try to move away from him but he quickly cups your face in his hands, “But it's true. I love you, I love you so fucking much, it's killing me.”

He's lying, don't fall for it. “That’s not love, Eren. It’s ownership. You can’t own me.”

“I don't want that, baby, I swear.” He washes your tears away with his thumbs, “I just want you.”

He inches closer until your lips are just a centimeter away. You debate pushing him off and telling him to get out of your apartment, but something inside you doesn't let you move a muscle. And so, you taste him. You taste the vodka and the tears, and maybe even the regret, as he kisses you softly. It's so unlike Eren, he's usually the type of person to overwhelm you with his presence, with his harshness and passion, but this time, it's different. It's sensual, but still, so tender, his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he slowly slips his tongue inside your mouth to get a better taste. That tongue of his, and the way it pushes against yours, driving you to press your head against the door and let him explore your mouth further. You're screaming to yourself to just push him away, but the little tingle in your lower belly tells you that this is exactly what you want. It's embarrassing.

You break away, placing your palms against his chest, “Eren, stop.. I can’t.”

You can see him trying to hold back from kissing you again, his lower lip trapped between his teeth, “Fuck, y/n, please..”

He rests your foreheads together, and an internal war commences inside you. You want him, you can’t lie to yourself, you need his touch, crave it, but it’s a mistake, a big, huge mistake to let him in again. Stop this, chase him out. Kiss him, let him touch you.

Screw it.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he takes it as a chance to slam his lips against yours so vigorously, it takes your breath away. You brush your fingers through his hair, ruffling his bun, and he grabs you by your waist to push you further against the door. He sneaks his hands to your lower back, and you instantly know what he wants. You wrap your legs around his waist as he holds you by your ass, squeezing the fat your absurdly short jams aren't able to hide.

“So fuckin’ soft.” Eren whispers in your ear, kissing your earlobe and going down the side of your neck. You relish in the way his mouth sucks on your skin, leaving marks you know would be there for days to come. He loved it when he marked you. He wanted everyone to know that you were his.

A moan of his name reverberates through the air when he licks a long stripe down your neck to your collar bone, traveling straight to Eren’s dick. And so, a leap of courage enters his body when he cups your sex with his palm, enjoying your little gasp when he presses his hand firmly against it.

“Gonna let me fuck your tight pussy, baby?” Another moan, this time coming from somewhere deep within, leaves your lips, and it pulls a smirk from his. “Gotta tell me with your big girl words, ‘kay?”

There he was. The person he became under the sheets, the one with no filter and so much confidence, it made your cheeks the darkest of reds.

“Open that pretty mouth and tell me.”

“I want..”

“You want..?”

“I- fuck- I want yo- oh!” He rubs his clothed dick against your heat while your body is still crushed against the door, massaging your clit.

“Feels good?”

“Shit, i-it does..” it’s no point hiding it anymore, the slick between your legs already smearing against your panties and shorts for him to feel.

“Want it to feel better?” He’s still rubbing himself all over you, knowing damn well you’re way past the point of refusing him.

“Fuck me, c’mon, just-“

You needn’t say anything more than that. He lets go of your legs to give you a harsh, sloppy kiss, biting your lower lip, a move that sends waves of pleasure throughout your body. He quickly removes your shorts and panties down your thighs, kneeling to get a look at what he's been craving for the past week.

“She's dripping.” He uses his fingers to gently pull your pussy lips apart and catch the watering sight of your cunt.

“All that talk..” he moves his thumb across your swollen clit, “and now this?”

“Fuck you.” You grit through your teeth, shuddering from his touch.

“You’re about to.” He snickers, beginning to draw circles around your cunt, watching you squirm above him. You curse inwardly for being so weak, your only thoughts being how desperately you want to ride his smug face. And it’s so uncanny how he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“Want my tongue in there, hm?” He tilts his head upwards to look at your flushed face, breathing hitched as you wait for him to fuck you with his tongue.

“Well, don’t mind if I do..”

He’s plunging that long, slick muscle of his until it reaches your entrances, chuckling at the guttural moan that passes your lips. You’re already a mess and he hasn’t even started fucking you yet.

“Ride my face.” His tone is commanding but you don’t care, it only contributes to your arousal and the rapidness of your heartbeat. You begin to move back and forth on his tongue while he watches you with hooded eyes from bellow, moaning from your taste. You grip his hair with both hands and pick a pace, getting yourself off and waiting for the rush to hit. It was going to be powerful, you knew that much from the burning feeling in your tummy that slowly but surely traveled to the place you most wanted it to.

“Oh fuck, Eren” you whine, throwing your head back against the door while you continue to pleasure yourself on his tongue, “I’m ‘bout to- fuck -I’m ‘bout to cum!”

What you get in response is something you can only compare to an animalistic growl, followed by his fingers plunging into the fat of your thighs, trying to steady himself as you lose your mind above him.

“‘m cumming!” you gasp out as your legs barely hold you from falling, the intensity of your orgasm making you bend your knees and hold onto Eren for support. It takes all your strength away and leaves you limp in his arms as he carries you to your bedroom and unbuckles his pants like someone’s chasing him.

He throws his clothes onto the floor, moving in front of you on the bed as you mewl out his name when his leaking tip probes against your entrance.

“Haven’t felt this pussy in so long.” He moves his head along your puffy clit, still feeling your swollen lips throb from your orgasm.

“We fucked last week.” You say with closed eyes and your head against your pillow, amazed at how rock-hard his cock is.

“Felt like forever.” He pushes in with a hiss and your mouth is falling wide open from the stretch. It really does feel like forever, his cock ready to tear you apart no matter how many times you'd taken it before. “There you go, swallowing it all up.” He smirks as he watches the way his length disappears inside your tight walls, placing a harsh smack on your ass. He turns both your legs to the side, pushing them down with his palm, his hips beginning to move.

“So damn tight, shit” he throws his head back, grip tightening around the back of your knees as he pumps his cock into you. Your tits begin to bounce because of the fast pace, slapping against your skin, and he swears it’s the hottest thing ever, along your pretty cherry lips and the way they’ve parted so your moans can spill out. “You know nobody else could give it to you like I do.”

You bite your lip when his tip pushes against your g-spot, not gracing him with a response. Which isn’t left unnoticed.

Your left leg is quickly moved to its rightful side, Eren’s hand going to the back of your head so he can fist your ponytail, yanking it forward until you squeak and are able to see the way he absolutely ravishes your pussy.

“You don’t think so, huh?” He’s forcing you to look, to see just how fast he moves in and out, amazed at the bulge of his cock inside your belly, “Tell me, who else could make you babble like that, hm?”

Your lips might draw blood from how hard you're biting them, eyebrows screwed together, desperate whimpers the only sounds you can manage because his thrusts become hard, so hard, you’re sure you can feel him in your deepest core.

“Can’t even answer. Am I fuckin’ you stupid, baby girl?”

He pushes your head further down until it almost bumps into his abs.

“Fuck, Eren, it’s too hard-“ he’s not letting you finish your words, yanking your ponytail downward until you’re forced to look up at him and his predatory gaze.

“And you’re gonna take it, right?” His eyes are ablaze, locking contact with yours, bewitching you. He still holds your hair with one hand, while two of his other fingers tap twice on your flushed cheek. “Open up.”

You do as you’re told, opening your mouth like a good little student, pussy throbbing at what you think he’s about to do.

“Want my spit or my cum?”

“Both!” Your answer is so quick, Eren is left with no choice but to chuckle.

“Thought so.” He pushes his pointer and middle finger inside your mouth, still fucking you at a merciless pace. “Not gonna give you my cum yet, tho. Think there’s another place I wanna fill it with.”

Your eyes widen at the thought. Yes, you know it’s wrong, but you want it, want it so bad, it’s beyond your control.

“I think you’d like that better.” He removes his fingers and roughly grips your jaw, his cheeks hollowed when a string of saliva leaves his lips and enters your mouth. He mutters a low “fuck” when you swallow it. “What do you say?”

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.” Your obedience only earns a slap to one of your bouncing tits, rough hands going to the back of your neck and interlocking his fingers behind it, holding it in place as he rams inside you like you’re his own personal fleshlight.

“You like watching?” He talks down on you, feeling your folds squeezing him in after every sentence, “Getting used like my little cum slut, hm?”

There’s mirth in his otherwise stern voice, and you just know he’s enjoying this, the way you’re falling apart for him after pushing him away for a whole week. He knew you wouldn’t be able to resist him long.

“Wanted to leave me, baby? Give my cock to some other girl?” Your head shoots upwards in an instant, eyes wide with a mix of shock and anger. And by the low laugh he lets out, you get that that was just what he wanted. “Now, now, don’t get mad. You and I both know no other pussy could take me like this.”

God, you want to break up with the guy, you really do, but just the thought of him fucking someone else the way he does you could make you straight up murder someone. You don’t know what comes over you, but when you reach to grab him by his shoulders and push him on top of you on the bed, you sink them as hard as you can into his sun-kissed skin.

“Fuck!” Eren wails into your ear, the pain from your long nails and the pleasure from your drenched cunt sending him straight to cloud nine. You can’t help but smile devilishly into his shoulder, he definitely deserves the scratches that are going to grace his soft skin for at least two weeks.

“You enjoyed that, huh?” He switches positions in a flash until you’re on top of him and he’s holding you in place by your ass cheeks. “Do it again. Be rough with me.” He takes your tiny hand and moves it to the base of his neck, encircling your fingers around it. “Squeeze, come on.” He encourages by driving his hips upwards into your heat, making you cry out, knowing he just hit the spot that could make you absolutely lose it.

You apply pressure to his neck, feeling it pulsate in your palm, and he starts moving again, rushing his cock into you. “Harder.”

You listen, squeezing that pretty neck of his and watching as Eren’s jaw ticks in response to the pressure, and oh is it an image. It’s moments like these when you truly appreciate his beauty and think that maybe, just maybe all the toxicity is worth getting loved and fucked by this beautiful, flawed man.

“I can cum like this, just keep squeezin’” his voice is strained, shaky even, you really put your strength into it because you knew just how much pleasure it was giving you both, with Eren thrusting inside you as hard as he could, “C’mon, stay still and squeeze my neck, that’s it.”

You put your whole body weight into the hand that is wrapped around his neck, your thoughts flying out of your head as you feel him reaching his peak. It’s too much, his cock is entering you too fast, and you’re not even able to stand up straight anymore, “Eren, I can't hold on much longer, fuck-”

You feel a stinging pain on your right cheek, his palm having just made contact with the skin. “I said you were gonna take it, didn't I?” The shock he sees on your face only makes him snicker, “Like the nasty girl you are.”

Releasing your hold on him, you move your hand to gather the force you need to strike him right back, but he's quicker, catching it, pushing you onto the mattress, and sliding right back into your slick walls.

“Now, slapping’s where I cross the line” he pins both of your wrists on the bed, slamming himself inside you so deeply, it feels like he wants to live there, “You see, I'm not a slut, baby” you clench your jaw, glaring at him, but when his thrusts speed up to the point your whole body begins to bounce on the hard mattress, you’re only able to whine and close your eyes shut, orgasm approaching with full force, “Only filthy sluts get slapped across the face like that.”

His low chuckles get jumbled with your desperate whining, and you hate yourself for getting pushed over the edge with the help of his obscene words, but it does happen, and soon you find yourself screaming his name and squirting your cum all around his cock, while he’s still mercilessly hammering it into your cervix.

“There it is, let go on this fucking dick, it’s all yours.”

You’re still cumming and contracting around him when you cry out, “Fucking give it to me Eren, fuck, fuck, fuck-“

Last words get lost somewhere on the road because Eren is next, his hips losing control as he marks your walls with his warm cum, whining from how strong his high is. He doesn’t stop even when you’re sure he’s given you all he has to give, filling you up to the brim with his load, continuing to slowly rock his hips into you.

“Holy shit,” his voice is barely a whisper, and you’re still so out of it, you can’t concentrate on anything else but the feeling of his cum dripping down to your ass, “you were so fuckin’ good for me, love.”

He places a soft kiss on your cheek, gathering your face in his hands to look at your droopy eyes, “Hey, pretty girl. You okay?”

A tired nod is all you manage to give him, but it is enough to pull a tiny smile from his full lips, “That’s good.” It’s so bizarre how this same person was the one fucking you into oblivion just minutes before, talking to you like you were nothing more than a filthy whore, but is now staring at you with the most intense, loving eyes, those emeralds of his pulling at your heartstrings. After a moment, he looks down at your lips, his expression turning sorrowful, “Want me to go?”

You should want him to. You should tell him that this doesn’t change anything and that you’re sure there is nothing he could do to make up for all the damage he’s caused to your relationship. But instead, your heart screams at you to let him stay, to let him take care and love you like he said he would.

“No…”

Eren tries to contain the happiness that simple word evokes in him, nodding twice in acknowledgment, then lying on your side to cuddle you into his arms. He whispers adoring words and gentle praises into your ear, and it’s what causes you to drowse off into a much needed sleep.

The next few weeks are something out of a dream. Everything is different. Eren is different. Showering you with gifts, letting you have all the space you need, that includes going out with your friends, doing the things you love, and then being there for you when you need him. And, as the days go by, you become as you were at the beginning of your relationship, too in love to pay attention to anyone or anything else, just locking yourselves inside your own little world.

But even so, you still can’t help but wonder.. where the hell did that glittery notebook go?

.....

A/N: Never did I ever think I would one day write about toxic Eren, but here he is. I guess that's the mood I'm in🙄 God he’s so manipulative but also so hot, it’s like damn. Anywho, hope you enjoyed this fucker<3

[beels-burger-babe]

A Little Voice Told Me - Pt.2

Poly! MC Summary: Words hurt and leave their scars. MC learns this the hard way after hearing some not-so-nice whispers about them while on a date with Beel. How are they supposed to be the partner of the seven lords of the Devildom when they just don't measure up? Part 1: HERE, Part 3: HERE ***Good Golly!! Y'all really like the angst, huh? Here you guys go. Cry your hearts out and enjoy! - B*** Beelzebub woke up the rest of his brothers early the next morning. While most of them attempted to flip him off or threaten him at the initial disturbance, all it took was him saying that they needed to talk about you for them to shoot out of bed. In a matter of minutes, all of them, except Levi, were seated around the breakfast table. "If we're talking about MC, why aren't they here?" Satan asked while poking at a piece of fruit. "I don't know about you, but I personally don't feel right talking about them behind their back." Belphie scoffed and laid his head in his arms. "It's not like we're gossiping about them or anything. They were acting off last night, and Beel thought we should discuss what we're gonna do about it." Beel nodded, "They pulled into themself halfway through the night, and was upset but kept brushing me off whenever I tried to talk to them about it." Mammon huffed and crossed his arms. "Maybe they just didn't feel like they could talk to ya about it," he rose to his feet and began to walk towards the door. "I'm the first! I'm sure I can get it out of them, easy peasy! I'll just head in there and-" "Mammon, sit down!" Lucifer hissed. Mammon grumbled under his breath but did as told. Lucifer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "We've talked about this. Stop bringing up the whole 'first man' thing. MC is in a relationship with all of us. Not just you." The second-born pouted and stabbed an egg with his fork.

Lucifer rolled his eyes at his brother's antics and looked back at Beel. "Something clearly happened during the date. Do you have any ideas at all at what it could've been?" Asmodeus stirred a swirly straw around in his drink. "I mean, I would be pretty upset if I spent three hours of my evening at a barbaric sporting event too," Asmo chuckled and smirked. "The only good thing about sports is that you get to see all those rippling muscles of the athletes in action." Beel scowled at his brother took a bite out of the omelet that was on his plate. "It wasn't because of the game. MC loves coming to my Fangol games and was having a blast with me until halftime. Something had to have happened while I was gone." Asmodeus opened his mouth to counter the statement when Leviathan came rushing into the room carrying his laptop. Lucifer raised an eyebrow at the sight, "What have I told you about devices at the table?" Leviathan shot him an annoyed look as he plopped down in one of the chairs. "This isn't about table etiquette. This is about MC," he looked over at Beel and Belphie. "I think I have an idea on what may have caused them to start distancing themselves." Everyone perked up in interest at the news; each one of them eager to know what was distressing their loved one so much that they felt like they couldn't talk to them. "Well are you going to tell us, or are you just going to sit there?" Satan quipped, his anger beginning to get the better of him as he sat on the edge of his seat. Levi gave him a flat look before he typed a few things on his keyboard. "I was doing a raid last night trying to keep my mind off of what might've happened with MC and decided to ask my party members about it," Leviathan's expression darkened as he began to explain. It was clear to everyone that whatever was said, wasn't taken lightly by the otaku. Rather than reading the conversation out loud, he turned his laptop screen for all his brothers to see. Leviachan: Gaaah! I just can't focus on the game tonight. My partner came back from a date tonight and has been acting kind of sus. There's definitely something bothering them, but they refuse to tell anyone. Ruri-Chans-Husbando: Dude, you're talking about that stupid human right? Why are you even with them? You shouldn't give a Normie like them the time of day. Waifu-Addict: Exactly! Listen, we've all been talking and you need to drop that whore. They're totally just using you and your brothers for your titles and power. The demons read in horror and rage as the chat room filled with messages from the members of Leviathan's party all saying similar garbage about you and degrading you in every way they could think of. Satan stood up and began to pace near the table as he used every inch of his self-control to keep himself from lashing out. "I want names, Levi. Who are they and why do they seem to think it's okay to talk about MC like- like that?!" Satan snarled as he curled his hands into fists. Levi tsked and crossed his arms, as Lucifer took the laptop to look more closely at the messages. "You say that as if I haven't already used my 'title and power' as Grand Admiral to have my men collect and imprison them. They're at the navy base waiting for us to get our hands on them as soon as we sort this whole mess out." Belphie growled, now sitting up and wide awake. "Get our hands on them is right. No one gets away with this shit," Asmodeus glared at the computer as though it had just dyed all of his clothing brown. "Rotten brats. They're all just jealous of stunning MC. Ugh, Diavolo, haters are the worst." Beel pushed his plate away from himself as he frowned deeply. "As disgusting and horrible as this is, what does it have to do with MC getting all quiet during our date?" A low rumble came from Lucifer as he handed the laptop back to Levi. A fiery hatred was burning brightly in his eyes as he gritted his teeth. "If a bunch of anti-social shut-ins are going around talking about our dearest MC like this, I believe Leviathan's point is that others probably are."

"Ouch. I wasn't going to say it l-like that, but yes," Levi winced and continued, "MC probably overheard people saying something about them. I mean, if people said that crap about me I'd probably hide in my room and not come out for months!" Mammon, who had been surprisingly quiet during all of this, had a very serious expression on his face. "Right, and we don't want MC to go through that. For Diavolo's sake, they've left alone to overthink this enough," Mammon stood up and headed towards the door again, Satan hot on his trail. "I'm going up to there to talk with them. Ya'll are welcome to come with, but you ain't stoppin' me." "Actually, Mammon, you're not. We should wait until MC comes to us," Lucifer interrupted. An animalistic snarl tore its way from Satan's throat as what little self-control he had snapped. Wrath incarnate lunged himself at Lucifer, grabbing his older brother by the collar of his cloak. "Are you serious, Lucifer?! You're seriously putting your stupid pride first, now?!? MC needs us!" Lucifer growled and pushed Satan off of him as he stood to size him up. "No. What they need is to not feel pressured to open up when they aren't ready! We can't make them feel like they can't come to us!" Mammon scoffed from where he stood in the back. "Oh, cause that's perfect logic! News flash, oh wise one, They ain't gonna come to us if they're thinkin' they're a burden! But you wouldn't know anything about that would you?!" Lucifer's eyes widen and he took a step back in shock at the statement. "What is that supposed to mean?" Mammon and Satan both opened their mouths to put Lucifer in his place when Beel all of sudden cleared his throat loudly. All three of the angry demons turned to snap at him but froze as they saw you standing in the room behind them. They instantly straightened themselves up gave you their full attention. The air seemed to lay still between you as everyone waited for the other to make the first move. As with almost every situation, it was Mammon who broke the silence. He took a step towards you. "MC, I was just coming to get you actually. There's somethin' we all wanna talk to you about." They could hear your breath catch in your throat as you took a step back. Panic filled your eyes the moment the words left his mouth. "O-Oh. I, um, I was actually just going to grab an apple and then head off to RAD for class. M-Maybe we can talk afterwards?" Satan frowned as you walked past him towards the fruit bowl. "MC, it's the weekend." You stopped mid-step. An uncomfortable tension filled the room as the obvious excuse was exposed. The brothers waited for you to move, to speak, to do something to give them any sort of sign for what you wanted them to do, but you just stood there, still like a statue except for the tremors in your hand. "Come on, Darling," Asmodeus spoke softly. His face clearly showed the hurt and concern that was coursing through him. "Everything's alright, I promise. We just need to talk about a few things." The brothers had thought of a number of ways you could've reacted to them confronting you. Lucifer thought that perhaps you would snap at them and distance yourself further. Mammon, Levi, and Asmo expected a few small tears followed by a cuddle session. Satan imagined a slightly more dramatic telling, like something from one of his novels, that ended him being your hero and massacring all those who dared speak ill about you. Beel thought perhaps you could talk over a bunch of comfort foods that allowed you to remain calm and feel safe. Belphie had hoped that perhaps you hadn't believed what you overheard, and the two of you could laugh at how idiotic even the idea of them not loving you was. But you, breaking down into tears, sobbing the words "I'm sorry" over and over again? None of them had expected, nor were prepared, for that. ***Apparently this is now going to be a three-part series. This part was interesting to write. I fully believe that if the brothers were in a poly relationship with the MC they would definitely bicker and argue about

who knows MC best and who had the better date whenever MC isn't around. Honestly, they probably have a score chart 😅 I hope you guys liked part 2! Keep an eye out for part 3, where MC finally opens up to the boys and we have some hurt/comfort times \uwu/ ***

[firefly-in-darkness]

Separation, Connection - [1/2]

Pairing →Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters → Marvel Characters

Summary → Your friendship with Bucky deterioates when you catch him in a compromising position with a fellow agent.

Word Count → 2.3k

SSB2021 Square Fill → “God I hate you” - @star-spangled-bingo

AFG Square Fill  → “What the fuck am I seeing?” @anyfandomgoesbingo

Warnings → 18+. Angst, Heartbreak, Jealousy, Swearing

Betas → @kalesrebellion // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → This one was sitting in my WIPs folder for ages, and after brainstorming with @writethelifeyouwant, this 2 parter was finished! Ps. I know I haven’t updated Worst Idea Ever in a while and I’m sorry - I’m just very stuck with it atm, the plot and majority of the story is planned out, I just can’t seem to fill in the blanks.

Firefly’s Masterlist

You and Bucky were close, and there was that little thin line between friendship and something more. Nothing had happened but, god, you had wanted it to. The secret crush you harboured for your teammate, your friend, had only grown over the years. Everyone thought you would be good together, commenting on how well you got along, that friendship was an important part of a relationship. Both of you rolling your eyes and laughing at their comments.

When you finally gathered the courage to tell him how you felt, you saw him with someone else. They were at the back of the training facility; the team were in a simulation of a terrorist attack on Paris and once the time on the training session was called, you stumbled across them.

They were just out of sight, hidden in a dark corner. And it wasn’t just a casual embrace. They were having sex, he was fucking her, hard, up against a wall. You froze at the sight of his bare bottom clenching with each thrust and the blissed-out look on her face. What the fuck am I seeing?! Heart shattered, you fled from the room without a sound, not wanting to disturb them or for anyone to see you crying.

It hurt too much to be as close to him after that, you consciously decided to withdraw from the friendship. Not going straight to him when entering a room or staying in bed instead of heading to the rooftop where you’d usually wander at five in the morning to talk with Bucky, putting the world to right.

And of course, Bucky noticed. It had been a week since you had joined him for a midnight chat in the kitchen. He was missing his best friend. He wanted to share his life with her, and she was nowhere to be seen unless someone else was in the room. 

Bucky knew it was a bad sign when you chose to sit next to Wanda, not sandwiched between him and Nat, on movie night. He felt alone in a room full of friends, as they watched a film about a love triangle set in England. It was supposed to be funny, but Bucky didn’t hear the jokes, let alone the punchlines. 

Nat had realised something was wrong too. She saw the dark circles under your eyes when you drained the coffee from the cup in the morning and the puffy redness from crying in the middle of the day. She had detested the way you and Bucky were before, it was like a pair of magnets drawn together, a connected ribbon, a gravitational pull. But now? Well, you were repelling within a few meters of one another, and she hated that even more.

“What did you do, Barnes?” Nat whispered harshly, eyes still on the film.

“Nothing.” Bucky looked over to you, sleeping with your head resting on Wanda’s lap.

“So why is Wanda looking at you like that?” She raised an eyebrow.

Bucky lifted his gaze, saw the fiery red eyes staring back at him as she stroked your hair, a soft red mist falling over you. He frowned at the Sokovian and tried to talk telepathically but she shook her head and looked back at the television.

On autopilot, you ran from your room to his bedroom door, knocking until the screams died down. Long ago, you’d learnt to not enter the room until he’d settled down, had the bruises to your neck and dealt with the guilt-ridden expression on Bucky’s face for weeks.

Pressing your ear to the door, you could hear Bucky moving about and slowly pushed it open so as not to startle him. A soft glow from the lamp at his bedside welcomed you in, he'd stacked his pillows against the headboard with his knees drawn up and resting his head in his hands.

“Hi, Buck. It’s me.” You spoke softly, his head and eyes shot up to meet yours.

You walked over and sat at the end of the bed, averting your eyes to the floor and fingers fiddling with the edge of a blanket, waiting for him to respond.

“What did I do doll?” He croaked, fingers running through his hair, his knees dropping down.

Your heart raced and you were certain he could hear the harsh thumps, but your voice remained steady, “It's nothing, just need a little time to process some things.”

“You normally come to me. What's different?” His voice was strained, thick with distress.

Standing up, you walked towards the window, arms wrapped tightly around your torso. You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face, but you remained focused on the navy sky fading to blues and oranges with the sunrise.

“I can't this time Buck, I need space. I need space from you.” With each word, your heart fractured along the lines you’d attempted to piece together with being away from him.

“Get out then, just leave me alone.” His tone was now harsh, stronger than before.

“God, I hate you.” Without a final glance, you left the room. Your heart in tatters once more.

Once in the safety of your room, the sob heaved out of you. Bucky had disregarded you so easily, he let you go without a second thought. And you didn’t know what was worse; what you saw a week ago or what he just said.

Bucky finished his 76th lap when someone caught his eye. It was you. His best friend. The one he stupidly let go of. It had been three months since he'd told you to leave, and you hadn't gone back on his word.

Of course, Bucky was just as stubborn and hadn't approached you unless it was work-related. But there was something different about you. His eyes focused on the man you were standing with, and how you glowed, and Bucky just couldn't stand that you were feeling that way about a random recruit and not him.

“She used to look at you that way.” Wanda’s voice echoed in his head.

He scanned the field and found her figure leaning against a tree, shading herself from the summer sun and a book in hand. Bucky grabbed the small towel and wiped away the sweat, swigging his water bottle, then joined her on the grass.

“What are you talking about? She’s never looked at me like that.” He gestured towards you and the agent.

Wanda chuckled and shook her head, “You're not blind, or stupid, Bucky, she adored you. Still does, even though I wish she would get over you.”

His brow creased. “She wanted space, ended our friendship.” 

Wanda’s eyes flashed red, “And you broke her heart.” 

“Show me.” Bucky held out his hand, pleading with her, “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“I can’t Bucky. It's private, she would never forgive me.” Wanda shook her head and placed her book in her lap, “I've seen what she's done to you, I'm not going to lose her too.”

Bucky sprang to his feet and kicked at the grass. “Then just tell me what you know. Just something?” He turned to face you, hands on his hips as he tried to think of what he’d done.

“Paris terrorist simulation,” Wanda stated without emotion.

Bucky turned around, seeing nothing but a neutral expression on her face. The simulation had been a success, the whole team had done well but he hadn’t seen you at the debriefing. Steve said you were exhausted and needed to rest. 

“What about it?” asked Bucky.

“Don't deny it. I saw it, I felt it. She had no chance of blocking me from that pain.” Wanda stood up, eyes flickering red, “you and that agent. I thought you were better than that Bucky.”

“Shit.” 

Bucky knew exactly what Wanda had meant before she explained. Shame coursed through him; he'd broken your trust by not telling you about the agent he’d been hooking up with. Honestly, he didn't want you to know, didn't want you to judge him for the flings he had. Subconsciously, he knew that was what your distancing was about because he hadn't seen her again or hooked up with anyone since.

All he wanted was you back in his life; he was going to make it happen.

Wanda smirked, shaking her head before walking ahead of him, “Best get a move on Barnes, she’s not thinking of him in a platonic way.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched and he strutted towards you, determined to get you back.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder and he could only hope you still felt the same way.

You couldn’t believe Bucky dared to pull rank on you in front of another agent. That he had the gall to do such a thing after he told you to leave him alone, how he betrayed your trust as a friend and unknowingly broke your heart.

You stormed down the blurry corridors as anger took the form of tears. Your whole body tense and determined to get away from the assassin on your tail. People parted like the sea as they saw your strut and scowl, you scoffed at their reaction and thought, this must be what it’s like to be Bucky on a mission. Using it to your advantage, you managed to pull someone by the arm and into the path of the Winter Soldier.

While you sprinted away, you glanced back and spotted Bucky helping the woman to her feet, apologising profusely and then realising it was the agent you had caught him with. Your blood boiled as you pushed through the door to the stairwell, it slammed against the wall and probably damaged it, but you didn’t care anymore.

It wasn’t until the breeze hit your face that you realised where you were. You’d come to the rooftop, the exact spot that you’d air all your worries with Bucky. It was the place you’d first bonded outside of the team. 

A hand dragged down your face and your shoulders slumped. You spun on your heel, ready to escape when you stopped short. There he was, blocking the doorway. You groaned, of course, he knew exactly where you’d go even before you did.

“I just want to talk.” Bucky quietly spoke, a hint of a question in his tone but a statement all the same.

“I’ll scale down the side of this building if I have to.” You stepped back towards the edge.

Bucky growled and walked towards you, “would you quit being so stubborn and dramatic for one second?”

“Just leave me alone.” You threw his own words back at him, stopping him in his tracks.

At that moment, you could see that Bucky realised how hurtful those words were, but you weren’t going to console him anytime soon. He should suffer for how he spoke to you and for never attempting to speak to you until now.

Bucky slowly circled you towards the edge, his eyes focused on you while you turned in tandem following his moves. He reached the railing then settled down into a seated position, legs hanging over the side, his chest against the metal pole.

“Are you going to join me?” Bucky’s gaze now on the horizon.

With a roll of your eyes, you sat beside him, but at least a metre apart, you couldn’t get that close to him. He was too intoxicating, and your emotions were incredibly high, even if they were full of anger and hurt, and you didn’t trust yourself not to succumb to his charm.

“Are you going to talk then?” You sassed back at him.

“I’m sorry for what you saw. You shouldn’t have seen that.” Bucky didn’t hold back, “I was going to tell you, I just thought you’d judge me.”

“I’d judge you. For sleeping with a colleague. In the middle of a training simulation?” You scoffed, “You didn’t tell me about her. Or anyone else for that matter. Natasha filled me in on all your little late night rendezvous when I was on missions.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Bucky knew he’d not win this conversation and scrambled to bring it back onto his side, “you were away, and I needed something, someone.”

“So, you used them and used me too?” You glared at him.

“That’s not what I said,” Bucky seethed, annoyed at the way you were twisting his words but not surprised with the pain you felt. 

You continued, ignoring his comment, unable to stop the words falling from your lips, “I gave you emotional support. Watched you cry yourself to sleep after a nightmare, held your hand when you had a panic attack during a mission.” You shook your head at him, “I just wasn’t good enough for the sex part.”

Bucky held your chin and pulled your face to look at him, “You mean more to me than that. I just didn’t know how you felt. If I’d had known-”

You jerked away from his touch, it felt too nice, it felt like home, but you weren’t ready to fall back into this friendship. He knew how you felt, and you weren’t ready for his rejection. You still needed your space.

Swiftly, you returned to your feet, brushing down your trousers and hands, “Thank you for your apology, but I can’t forgive you.”

Bucky stood up and watched you begin to leave, “I’ll do my best to make you see how much you mean to me.”

You paused in the doorway, but you had to be strong, to carry on walking away, you couldn’t let him hurt you again. It was time to move on.

Continue Here...

Everything Tag List: @kitkatd7 / @fandomfic-galore / @writerwrites / @thefridgeismybestie / @wedonttalkaboutitenough / @courtneychicken / @persephonesinfernos / @miraclesoflove

Marvel Tag List: @natasha-danvers / @little-baby-vixen / @stuckonjbbarnes / @starlightcrystalline / @nekoannie-chan / @hailhydra920 / @vollzeitliebe / @fitzsimmons-is-forever / @ladyacrasia / @emmabarnes / @selfsun

strike through - unable to tag.

[elsieys-blog]

"Oops, I dropped my wand"

Draco Malfoy x reader!

summary: during a boring class session, you dropped your wand. by the time you picked it up, you felt an airy touch and it escalated things.

contains: dirty talk, caressing erotically and maybe a bit spice ;)

———————————————————

"Now let's move on to another discussion." Professor Flitwick announced, the rows and columns of students heaving an irritated sigh.

As you were one to sigh, you rolled your eyes and leaned back to the chair, unprepared for another boring and prolonged class.

Your book cover was open, yet the pages hadn't moved because you weren't being attentive at all. Your hand just fiddled with your wand, eyes fixated and unfocused into nothingness. Your other hand rested at your inner thigh, your fingertips grazing light and airy touches against your feverish skin.

Your seatmate—Draco—hadn't moved at all too besides his rapid breathing. You instantly noticed he was bored to and.. well, everyone are.

His gaze was far away from you, looking at a certain direction which you reckon to be a blonde girl. Maybe a little flirting wouldn't be that bad.

Flitwick's voice subsided as your focus went on to something else. You inched your chair closer to his, your feet gradually shifting from time to time until it slid past his polished shoes under the table.

He seemed to notice the sudden touch so his eyes dropped and looked down. His smirk etched your memory and when he glanced at you, you shortly made a fiery, platonic eye contact together.

Draco smiled to himself, moving his feet to push yours away. You did the same, only added more exertion to it. And so he retorted with a ridiculously hard push. You smiled and both of you did the whole act for approximately half the class.

From how out-of-focused you have been, your wand fell onto the floor, making a faint thud. Flitwick was quick enough to hear and spun his face, flashing you a skeptical look. "Bloody students..." he hissed.

A tinge of crimson lather your cheeks so you ducked out and grab the wand underneath the desk. As you were about to reach it, Draco's foot stepped on it, making you exhale.

"Draco!" You whisper-yell but you doubt he heard it. Your hand barely touched the end of your wand but he kicked it farther from your reach. "Goddamn it, this man."

You hear him smirk proudly. He lowered his head and whispered sarcastically. "What's gotten you stuck there, Y/n?"

"Get your fucking foot out of my way!" You whispered angrily back. You were still sitting on your chair but your head was extended down to the floor.

"Say please.." he unwaveringly mumbled. You can feel the strong weight of his gaze belittling you.

You grit your teeth from his sudden nastiness. "Fuck you,"

"That wasn't nice. Nor was it begging." Draco chuckled softly, his hand was now roaming up and down the small of your back. "I want to hear you say please.."

He was a chip on your shoulder yet... It sounded attractive.

You sucked in your stomach. "Please." You tried to be calm but your atrocious attitude came storming back. "Now give me my fucking wand."

His hand pushed you further down, then steering lower and lower, caressing your spine. "Watch your mouth, there. Play nicely, love."

"Flitwick might see us, you twat—"

Suddenly, his foot avoided your wand so now you can freely grab it. When you did so and leaned back to your chair, dusting off your skirt and placing the wand to the brink of the desk—just beside your textbook— like nothing happened, he scoffed and shook his head.

You rolled your eyes. "See? That wasn't hard was it?"

"Mhm. And it wasn't really hard fixing your attitude when you talk to me was it? But still you get to be a bitch. And that— that is just.. making me upset, darling." His knuckles went white as snow.

"Why does it matter to you if I act like this around you anyway? It's not like you own me—"

"Oh yeah, what a reminder. I don't own you, Y/n. But maybe that'll change tonight." His stare was unmoving but his hands suddenly flew to your inner thigh, gripping it.

Your eyes went like saucers. "Tonight? Draco, are you seriously this prideful?"

"Are you seriously this stubborn?" He now looked at you with a scowl. He spat, "I don't like the way you talk to me. And we better get it into good hands." He paused. "My hands."

"My mouth doesn't bow down to your feet, Draco—"

"Oh but your knees will." He said nonchalantly.

"I—" you faltered as your hands fumbled the hem of your robes. "This is stupid. What are we even talking about—"

"We're talking about how you'll learn good manners, Y/n. How your mouth ought to be careful and put to better use."

You began to get intrigued. "...That's all?" You snickered mischievously, teasing him.

"Oh god no. Do you want me to keep going?" His hand skimmed past your knees and massaged your thighs back and forth. Soon it went up to the base of your skirt.

"Well it seemed like you're so affected by my manners then... Yeah. What's next mhm?" You taunted.

He smirked again, or perhaps it was a devilish grin. "Your questions would be answered tonight if you're too curious. I'll gladly put on a demonstration for you."

Your eyes glinted with interest as you crossed your arms over to your chest. "And what would you demonstrate, Draco Malfoy?"

Draco rolled his tongue to the insides of his cheek. "Would you like to find out? Have I got a pretty girl's curiosity ruffled?"

"I guess my answer is pretty obvious."

"Right then. I'll show you how it's done to properly beg. And maybe—just maybe—we'll get that knees of yours down and your tongue sprawled out."

"Merlin. It's like you've planned this whole thing out."

"Oh because I did Y/n. I've always wanted your attention on me, and only me." He avowed and my god was it tantalizing.

"Well now you've got it. Better be fast because I don't like waiting..." You put on the same frisky look.

"Oh I'll be fast. But I'll make sure the things I would do to you will last longer than years that you'll be begging for it to go away. You know, I love it when people beg..."

He was no doubt provocative and forgive myself for this but he can prey on me anytime he'd like.

"I rarely beg." You confessed and tried to challenge him. His finger now brushed the fabric of your panties as you gasped. "But it would be nice if you beg for me."

Suddenly time stopped.

"Mr Malfoy and Ms Y/l/n! Would you like to share the whole class what your chitchatting about?"

Draco wasn't hesitant to rise form his feet and grabbed his satchel. "With all my respect, no sir. But if you're really inquisitive, then Y/n will answer it for you. Wouldn't you love?"

"What are you doing?" You whisper-yelled.

He ignored her. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a demonstration to uphold for someone very... needy." He glanced at you erotically and winked.

You were befuddled and there was a convulsion between your legs.

Everyone's gaze was on the two of you but when Draco's shoulders slid past the doorframe, he smirked and gave you a final ogle. He mouthed, "eleven o'clock. My dorm."

When he left and the crowd fell dead silent, you strengthened your position and pursed your lip.

"Ms Y/n?" Flitwick's mad look didn't bother you but his tone did.

You sighed softly. "We're talking about sex."

[qtsickchiq]

SOMEBODY TO YOU

with Ken Ryuuguji

To lose someone he love is to tear his world apart. Losing someone is like losing hope of having a sane life, when he’s standing at the edge of sanity. It is like walking up to the stairs to his bedroom in the dark and thinking that there is one more stair than there is. His foots falls down, through the air, and there’s a sickly moment of dark surprise as he try and readjust the way he thought of things. He tries to pull himself together but the cuts stay fresh forever.

“It has been 12 years….”

“It is alright, Draken. You can cry I’m right here. Always here for you.” You whisper, taking a seat beside him.

“It has been 12 years since Emma’s death.” Draken swallows the lump in his throat, looking up at the night sky.

“I know.”

You met Ryuguji Ken during your middle school years. It was the first day on your new school when you accidentally bumped into the tall blonde man who was walking at the hallway with his short friend.

“Watch out where you’re going.”

“I’m sorry.” You whine as you rub the back of your neck nervously, eyebrows pulled together in a clear show of apology.

“It’s fine. Are you alright though?” He asked concern in his eyes as he stared at you.

You still remember the moment as if it was yesterday. Ever since that day, you would greet him every time you bump into him, giving him a smile and a wave. It didn’t take long for you to start hanging out with him and Mikey. You stay friend with him throughout the years. Honestly, you have been in love with him ever since you met him but a thought of confessing to him never crossed your mind. He loves Emma and Emma loves him. Draken only see you as his friend and not more than that. You respect that hence the reason you push away the thought of confessing your feeling to him.

You were there with him after Emma’s funeral, comforting him and letting him your shoulders to cry on. When Mikey left him, you were there to pick him up and snap him out of his dissociation. You’ve always been with him throughout these years. Draken always show his smile and his strong personality when he’s with his friends. But you could see past that, you could see a lot of pain behind his eyes, and notice the brokenness in his smile. You have seen him crying countless time and you don’t mind it. He has no one left and he needs you. It’s too hard for him to bear the pain of losing someone he love. You would accompany him to visit Emma’s grave anytime he needs. Whenever he needs a shoulder to cry on, with only one call away and you’re already there with him.

Draken has tried to do so many things in order for him to move on with life. He has met several women in his life and numerous one night stands but it seems like all of them doesn’t work very well with him. You tried your best to be there for him when he needs you. You would stop by his bike shop to pass him lunches. You are so used to accidentally interrupted Draken with his make out sessions with any random woman at the bike shop.

“Hey Draken, I got your favouri- HEY what the hell?” You quickly turn away closing your eyes with both of your hands. Your face turns bright red from seeing the scene before you.

“Ah Y/n, Just put them on the table there.” He smirks, waving his hand to the woman earlier signing her to leave, while readjusting his collar. You only able nod and smile to the woman as you see her leaving the shop in a hurry. That must be awkward as hell.

It breaks your heart too. No matter how hard you tried to be strong for him, you’re human too and human has feelings. You wish for him to open up to you and give you a chance to be yours. But you quickly push your thoughts away. Who are you again? Yes, you’re his friend. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable with you. You can’t bear losing him in your life. He’s your best friend. Draken has always been there with you from graduating school and to where you are standing now. You can’t imagine a day without seeing him. It’s better this way right? Right?

You are snuggling under your comforter with your hands busy pressing the buttons on the controller of your video game. Suddenly, you phone start ringing. You glance to the device next to you to see who the caller is only to see it was Inui. ‘It must be something related to Draken’ you thought to yourself.

Your brows are knitted upwards in the centre, concern written all over your face as you press the answer button, “Hello?”

“Hey Y/n, Draken is drunk. He keeps on mentioning your name. Sorry but would you mind coming over here and pick him up?” You could hear the loud music booming from the other line. You waste no time as you hurriedly slips on your jacket and ran towards the bar they are having drinks at.

“Oh y/n~ my… hic… my favourite person…is here.” Draken grin widely when he sees you running towards him with Chifuyu and Mitsuya holding him side by side. You catch him in your arms before he stumbles forward.

“I’m so sorry about this.” You bow your head to the men in front of you.

“Please don’t bother about this. We were the one who insisted him to drink tonight.” Mitsuya chuckles as he helps you to drag Draken away from the bar.

The moment he blinks your eyes he’s already in your bedroom. A frown on his lips and brows furrowed. “Y/n, what happened?” He sat up in the bed and look around, with his hand rubbing his head to ease the throbbing in his temples

“You passed out so the boys have to drag you here.” You passed him a glass of water. “You look horrible.” Only worry remains on your face. You reach up a hand to caress his face.

He took a sip of the drink. He let out a heavy sigh. “I see Emma.” He mumbles rubbing his forehead. Your eyes are wide open. “I thought you were Emma.”

Your heart reacts before your brain can fully process his words. You almost feel your heart drop. You can feel your eyes are filling with tears, your lower lip trembles. God, give me strength to bear this. I’m human too. You pray to yourself.

Draken flinch when he saw you tearing up, “Shit- what’s wrong y/n?”

“Why is it always her?” You mumble under your breath, your fist tighten around your dress.

Draken turn his head to face you. He raises a brow, trying to catch the things you were saying. “What are you talking about?” He stops, eyes wide staring at you.

“Draken, have you ever thought of me in your heart?” You whimpered, tears start rolling down on your cheeks. Fuck what am I saying?

“What the-” his sentence is being cut off when you suddenly push you lips to his.

You took a deep breath as you hold his face in your hands. “I love you Draken, I love you so much.”

“Wait- I can’t.” His troubled gaze came back to your face.

“Emma is gone. You deserve happiness too. Why are you doing this to yourself?” You brush your knuckle under the redness of his swollen eyes. “Please look at me too. Let me be in your heart too.” You pulled him closer in your arms, burying your face in his chest. “All I want to be is somebody to you.”

Draken gently push you away. “I’m sorry.” He gets up from you bed heading straight the door without even glancing back to you. The moment he leaves, you stare blankly at the wall. You began to cry, you sob muffled as you leaned forward against your arms, hugging your knees. “Why did I do that?” you murmur to yourself. Draken let out a heavy sigh as he plops down in front of your house door. “Shit” he curses while ruffling his hair, hands slightly trembling. He loves you too, but he can’t do that fearing that he’ll lose you too. He had enough. Everyone he ever loved ended up hurt or dead.

How many days has it been now since he last saw you? He lost count already. He sighs as he put down the wrench he’s holding and staring straight at the bike in front him. You haven’t come to see him at all since that day, he missed you. Of course, there’s no way you would come and see him now. He hurts you.

A voice greets him from behind, “Hey.” He turns his head to see Mitsuya standing there.

“Oh Mitsuya, what’s up man?” He gets up from his position, wiping the dirt on his hands with a towel.

“I was talking to you just now but it seems like you’re busy in your own thought.” Mitsuya give a curious stare at him, brows knitted together before a grin emerged on his face

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t hear you earlier.” Draken shrugs, running his fingers through his hair.

“It’s fine, anyway are you okay? Inui told me that you have been staring a lot lately.” His brows creased in worry. He pulls one of the chairs at the workshop as he sits crossing his legs facing Draken.

Draken takes a seat beside the lilac hair man. Letting out a heavy sigh as he continues telling Mitsuya the whole shits that has been going through his mind. Mitsuya is focusing himself with the whole story, sometimes his lips part open from the story. “And she has been ignoring me now. It’s my fault anyway.”

A scowl appeared on Mitsuya’s face, “You mean that all these years she-”

“Yeah.” Draken bows his head, staring down. It was as if his head was heavier than usual.

Mitsuya places a hand on his shoulder, “She love you deeply man.” He raises a brow, clicking his tongue. “Man, I have to tell you this. You deserve happiness too.” Draken lifts up his head, his gaze met Mitsuya’s. “I believe Emma thought the same way too.” Mitsuya grins as he continues, “It’s never too late.”

Draken tried calling your number but only your voicemails greet him. “Shit y/n I’m so sorry, please pick up the phone, I need to talk to you.” He sighs wishing that you would hear his voicemails. It’s fine if you hate him, but he needs one more chance to tell you everything, just one more chance. After that, he’s fine if you decided to leave him. It’s his fault anyway. He can’t help but to pace back and forth, biting his lips. He wastes no time as he grabs his motorcycle keys.  

You are walking down from the train station, on your way home from your office. You sigh as you check your phone looking at the amount of missed calls and voicemails coming from him. It has been days since you last saw him. You missed him too, but you were too ashamed to show yourself in front of him after what you’ve done. You accidentally confessed to him out of nowhere and what even worse is, you forced your kiss to him. AAAAAAA you scream to yourself as you slaps both of your cheeks hard making the other people at the station staring at you with a confuse look. There is a mother pulling her daughter closer to avoid you. You rubs you red cheeks as you huff your cheeks and lips forming a pout. You can’t face him now. “I would rather dig my own grave rather than seeing him now.” You mumble to yourself.

“Found you.” You have never ever turned you head as quickly as this time. You can hear a snap from your neck. Ouch.  There he is landing his back on his bike behind you with a smirk on his face. God, why are you doing this to me? Am I not being nice in my life? Is this the punishment I deserve after what I’ve done?

Your brows knitted together, “How- how did you-” You point your finger to him, trembling as he walks towards you with hands in both of his pockets.

“I can hear your screaming from there. Why are you acting like you are seeing a ghost?”

You quickly turn your body and decided to run for your life, with your heels? Yes with your freaking heels. But before you are able to sprint away from him, you can feel his big hand holding you waist gently pulling you closer to him.

“I’m so sorry! I’m sorry, please let me go!” You scream, trying to push away his grip from you.

A deep furrow ran across his forehead, gaze trailing down to you. “What the fuck are you saying?” He is damn confused now.

You place your suitcase on top of your face, in hoping to shield your bright red face from his stares. “I didn’t mean to say that. Please forget everything I’ve said before.”

“What- I’m glad you said that.” He lets out chuckles as he pushes away your suitcase from your face. He rubs your red cheeks gently, “I’m sorry for hurting you before.” You narrowed your brows at him. He pulls your face gently to his, “It’s not like I hate you anything. It’s just that I feel like I don’t deserve anyone in my life.” He sighs. “I love you too, but I still think of Emma sometimes and I’m sorry.”

“I’ll wait for you. You don’t have to feel sorry. Take as long time you need.” He freezes. You took a deep breath. “I mean after all I’ve been waiting for years already.” You whisper as you look down at your feet while twiddling with your own fingers. He arched a brown in amusement and let out giggles as he stares at you.

“I know and I’m sorry.” You can feel his fingers sliding down to your hair, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ears. “But, you’re indeed special to me and I can’t bear to lose someone in my life again. You have been a wonderful girl to me ever since the time that I have known you.” He continued as his intense gaze fixed on you. The you he now loves, the you who is always there for him and the you he promises himself to protect. “You are the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.” You can feel the tears start to fall down on your warm cheeks. His arm is sneaking around you waist gently to hold you closer to him “That’s my reply to your confession that night.” His lips slowly curving up into a smile as his warm lips brushed your forehead, peppering it with kisses.

“I love you, Draken.” You began to cry, you sob muffled in his chest.

“I know.”

“But, I love- I love you so much.”

He lands his forehead to yours and gently wipes away your tears with his fingers. “I know. I love you too.”

yours truly @qtsickchiq​​

[duskholland]

Cuddle Buddies | Peter Parker

summary ↠ you’re touch-starved, Peter’s your best friend, and there’s a whole lot of unresolved romantic tension between you; friends to lovers.

word count ↠ 3.4k

warnings ↠ uh oh.... there’s only one bed..? additionally maybe two swear words? also copious amounts of fluff lmao

a/n ↠ so apparently I really wanna cuddle Peter Parker. wbk. this is very cute and made me so soft when I wrote it. I hope you enjoy it! please let me know if you have any thoughts :D

“God damn, MJ, I think I’m actually going to die if I don’t get a hug soon.”

You’re rambling, your voice full of heavy frustration. Your hair is unkempt and messy from all the times you’ve run your fingers through it, and you stare at Michelle with a wild look in your eyes that makes her press a hand to her hips and laugh lightly.

“Has anyone told you that you’re really good at being dramatic, Y/N?” She replies casually, causing you to mock an outraged gasp. You sit down at the lunch table together, setting down your trays in front of you.

You manage a glare at your friend. “You’re so mean to me,” you whine. “You don’t understand how desperate I am.”

MJ narrows her eyes. “I don’t think it’s possible to die from lack of human contact,” she chimes.

“Who’s dying?”

You startle as a third, familiar voice joins the conversation, and crane your neck to see Peter slipping into the open seat beside you. He gives you an easy smile that stretches all the way to his soft, lovely brown eyes, and you feel your heart ache.

“No one’s dying,” Michelle replies. When Peter shoots her an inquisitive look, she adds, “Y/N thinks she’s going to perish if she doesn’t find someone to hug.”

You scowl at MJ, biting the inside of your cheek as you try not to let the embarrassment show on your face. It’s one thing to have this conversation with MJ - your close friend and number one confidant - but Peter? It’s an entirely different story. He may be your best friend, but your feelings are far more than simply platonic when it comes to him.

“Oh…” Peter looks at you curiously, his eager eyes darting over your face. He leans his elbows on the table and rests his chin in his hands, looking utterly adorable with his face pulled into a cute smile. His grin widens as you meet his gaze, and he nods knowingly. “Hugs are nice.”

You nod in appreciative agreement. “Exactly!”

MJ just rolls her eyes. “You guys are so weird.”

Ned joins the table and begins talking to MJ about a chemistry project, and Peter turns to you properly.

“Hey, so, are we still on for that study session later?” He asks you, his teeth briefly gliding across his lower lip. You try not to focus too much on the curve of his mouth, but it’s very difficult.

“Um, yeah,” you squeak, feeling your cheeks heat up a little as you remember the arrangement you’d made with Peter earlier in the week. “Mine or yours?”

“Yours?” Peter suggests.

“Okay. My parents are still away on business, so it’ll just be us. Is that okay?”

Your friend nods his head, his fluffy brown curls shifting around his face. “Sounds great.” Peter gives you a nervous smile, and it sets your heart racing. “I can’t wait.”

-----

Peter turns up a little after 7pm, a box of pizza in his hands. You spend a while chatting and watching Star Wars, and then eventually pull yourselves around to studying. You opt for your bedroom, with its very comfortable fluffy carpet, and you spread out all of your notebooks and pens around you before lying on your stomach and lazily flicking through your notes. But you can’t quite focus because something is amiss.

Peter is acting very oddly tonight. And he’s normally a little hyperactive, but it’s as if he’s on another level entirely. He keeps glancing up to you, then looking away the moment you bring your eyes up to meet his, and he hasn’t stopped drumming his fingers over the front of his maths textbook all night. You’re already nervous enough being around him, alone and within such close proximity to him, and his antics aren’t helping you at all.

You might have a teeny tiny crush on Peter Parker. Possibly. But you’d never tell him that.

“Pete,” you say, reaching breaking point when you catch him staring at your face for the fifth time in one minute. You sit up and turn to look at him, meeting his guilty, rose-tinted face. “What’s going on? You seem so unsettled. Are you okay?”

Peter opens and closes his mouth a few times, his eyes meeting yours nervously. His voice is more a squeak than anything else as he says, suddenly, “Do you want to cuddle me?”

You blink, totally blindsided by the change in topic.

“Uh, cuddle you?”

“Um, I mean, sorry, that’s such a weird thing to just come out and say, I- I just remembered earlier, with MJ, what she was saying, and I was wondering if you’d want to hug me, if you- if you want a hug so badly.” Peter breaks off, a disgruntled groan coming up his throat as he buries his flushed face in his hands. “I’m sorry, Y/N, shit, that was such a weird thing to ask. Can we just pretend I never said anything?”

You chuckle, your lips pulling into a wide smile. “You would let me hug you?” You ask gently. Peter parts his fingers and looks at you through the gaps, nodding slightly. “I’d like that, Peter.”

He looks so shocked by your statement that it brings another quiet laugh from your mouth. “O-Okay.” Peter clumsily opens his arms. “Um, here?”

It’s painfully awkward at first. He’s sitting at the foot of your bed, his back resting up against the mattress, so you have to do a weird sort of crawl over to him, feeling his wide, anxious eyes pressing onto your figure the whole way. It doesn’t help that you’re practically shaking from nerves now.

You’ve known Peter since the start of high school, but you’ve not really hugged him before. The most you’ve shared is a brief celebratory high-five after acing a biology presentation together, and even that contact had lingered in your mind for days after. The concept of crawling up to and hugging your crush makes your palms sweaty and your mind a numb anxious mess, but you do it, because it’s Peter, and the opportunity to cuddle up next to him is so enticing you think you’d do anything just to feel his arms around your body.

The angle is difficult, but Peter spreads his legs out across the carpet and pats his thighs, and you realise he wants you to straddle his lap, so you clamber into his hold gently. He’s sturdy beneath you, with a pair of dark denim jeans stretched over his firm thighs, and he’s quick to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you in. You let your hands find his sides, and then you settle into a very close, very intimate hug with your best friend.

It’s lovely.

He smells of soft bubbles and peppermint, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck, partly because it’s comfortable, but mostly because you don’t want him to see the massive, embarrassing grin fixed to your mouth. Your heartbeat’s going crazy - you can feel it pressing against your ribs almost painfully, and it only doubles in speed as Peter’s hands move slowly across your back, rubbing large, soothing circles over your hoodie. You savour the moment, your eyes closed as you enjoy just being held by your best friend.

“Is this okay?” Peter asks, after a few moments.

You hum against his neck, squeezing his torso softly. He’s wearing one of Midtown’s navy hoodies, and it feels particularly soft against your forehead. “Thanks, Pete,” you mumble, enjoying the moment entirely too much. “You’re really good at hugs, you know that?”

“You’re also a very nice hugger,” Peter replies. You swallow deeply as you feel him tighten his grip on your sides and pull you even closer.

“Sometimes it’s just nice to be held,” you find yourself saying. You’re starting to feel really comfortable now, and find yourself relaxing and shifting further into him.

“Definitely.” His voice is still ringing at a higher pitch than you’re used to, but you put it down to the late evening hour. “Um, Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“If you, uh, ever need another hug, you can always text me.”

You’re so glad you have your face buried in Peter’s warm neck because the grin latched to your lips is so large you think you’d die from embarrassment if your friend could see how giddy his words make you feel.

“Okay,” you say. “Thanks, Pete.” You pause for a moment, and take stock of the way he seems to be clinging to you just as tightly as you are to him. “You can always text me too, if you ever want a hug. Or anything, really.” You manage to collapse your smile so it’s more of a weak grin, and you pull back to look at Peter. His hands fall down to loosely grasp at your hips, and you find him looking at you with warm, attentive eyes and a wide smile hanging from his pink lips.

He looks so cute, and relaxed, and perfect, and you really can’t believe your luck that you’re sitting holed up in his arms just now.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he mumbles shyly, eyes flittering across every part of your face. “You’re a great friend.”

You deserve an Oscar for maintaining the smile on your face, despite the way his words stab painfully at your heart.

“You too, Pete,” you mutter. “The best friend ever.”

The air between you holds just a little too much tension, so you shift and push your face back into his shoulder, hugging him again. Peter’s arms tighten around your waist, and you sigh softly, revelling in rare the feeling of him so close to you, even if it isn’t under the circumstances you crave. You’d take anything Peter could offer you, even if it makes your heart ache.

------

It easily becomes a habit.

Soon enough, it’s been three months, and you’re spending almost every evening with Peter. The more you meet up, the more natural folding into his arms becomes, and soon you find that your favourite parts of the day are the moments you share curled up together.

Sharing affection with Peter is easy, but it comes at a cost - it ties your heart up in knots to spend so much time pressed up against his chest, acting so intimately with him, but then to pull back and go back about your day like nothing really happened. Every second you spend hugging him hurts you because your heart yearns so deeply to have more, but you just can’t bring yourself to tell him how you feel. You value your friendship with Peter too much to risk ruining it all because of a stupid crush, and you’re not ready to stop your evening shenanigans, so you decide to just put up with it and suffer in silence.

A few months into your arrangement, you find yourself at Peter’s when the power across the city goes out in the middle of a thunderstorm.

“Holy shit,” you mutter, shivering as you glance outside and see a flash of sharp lightning cut across the city. The rain pelts down against the pavements so loudly that you can hear it through the gap in the window. You turn and look at Peter, wide-eyed. “Bet you’re glad the Stark internship let you leave earlier than usual today. I’m not looking forward to walking back in that later.”

“Y/N, you can’t go home in the middle of a thunderstorm, especially if the power is out,” Peter tells you firmly, his arms crossing over his chest. He looks so cute with his eyebrows scrunched into a caring scowl that you can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Stay here tonight. May’s out of town, but I can sleep on the sofa. I don’t want you to go across the city by yourself at the moment.”

You bite your lower lip, eyeing the slants of rain that pour over Queens. “It does look pretty horrible out there,” you admit. Your expression shifts into guilt as you eye Peter closely. “You can’t sleep on the sofa, though. I will.”

“No, I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“Peter, it’s your apartment, I’m not about to kick you out of your own bed.”

“Then join me.”

“In your bed? With you?”

“Yes.” Peter’s face is a bright red as he flusters, “Um, only if you’re comfortable with that though, Y/N. You don’t have to. I just thought that- because, y’know, we’re kinda… close now, you might want to. But you don’t-”

“I want to,” you say, the words tumbling out before you can think them through properly. You’re rendered utterly incapable of sensible thought, because Peter’s looking at you so intently that it whips the breath straight out of your lungs. “Really, Pete, that would be nice, if you’re sure you don’t mind..?”

“No! I want to,” he replies. Peter runs his delicate fingers through his brown waves, pushing his strands away from his face easily. His smile is gentle, and it grows as you return it shyly. “I’ll go get you some clothes.”

You make light conversation as you both get ready for bed together. Peter even finds you a spare toothbrush in the cabinet beneath the sink, and you pull faces at him in the mirror as you brush your teeth together side by side. It feels so domestic, but also incredibly comfortable and normal, and you decide that you feel more at home by Peter’s side than you do anywhere else in the world. You realise that maybe you’d just been deluding yourself each time you’d dismissed your feelings for him as simply a crush. Maybe, your feelings run a lot deeper for your friend - far deeper than you’d ever intended for them to grow. Because you realise, as Peter laughs loudly when you pull a face at him in the mirror, that your feelings for the boy have taken firm root in your heart, and you’re absolutely fucking in love with him.

“So, um, I normally sleep on the left side, but I can swap if you want that side,” Peter tells you. The power has finally come back on and the weather has cleared up, but neither of you comment on it as he closes his bedroom door behind you and gestures at his nice, gingham-patterned bedspread.

“I can go on the right side,” you offer.

Peter turns off the light and you both shuffle to your respective sides of his bed. You’ve been in his room a thousand times before, but you’ve never ventured beneath his lovely soft covers, and you find yourself sighing slightly as you shuffle beneath the duvet. His pillows are light and feathery, and your head sinks into them easily.

He seems intent to stay as far away from you as possible, and he clings to the far edge of the mattress. It brings a frown to your mouth, but you let him be; if that’s where he has to be in order to feel comfortable, then you’ll let him stay there. Just because you feel something else fluttering about in your heart for him, does not mean he feels the same way - even if you were sure he’d been hugging you a little closer, recently, and staring at your lips more than he used to. But maybe that was all in your head.

“Do you need anything?” Peter asks slowly. You stare up at his ceiling, your eyes taking in the dark curves of his smooth roof.

“No,” you reply. “Your bed is very comfortable.”

You hear the sheets ruffle as Peter slowly turns over. You fold over onto your side and find yourself facing him, his bright eyes twinkling slightly beneath the light that streams in from the city outside. He looks very cute, with the duvet bunched up beneath his chin and his fluffy hair all messy and waved out across his forehead, and it makes you happy to see him so relaxed and free. Sometimes it feels as though Peter carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, and you’d give anything to see him gentle and carefree like this. It makes you feel a surge of pride to know you can give him just a little bit of peace.

“Yeah, I dunno where May got the mattress but it’s amazing.” Peter breaks off, shifting around a little, and you freeze up when you feel his hand brush against yours beneath the covers. “Oh, uh, sorry,” he mutters, immediately jerking his hand back. You can just about make out the dark flush of his cheeks.

“‘S okay,” you murmur, biting your lower lip. A beat passes, and then you add, “We hug all the time, Peter. You can touch me, y’know.”

He takes it as an invitation, and he tenderly reaches out. His warm hand finds the curve of your waist, and you stay remarkably still as he slowly shuffles a little closer.

“Is this okay?” Peter whispers into the air.

“Yeah.”

Finally you unstick, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. You shift towards him, as if magnetised, and your hand goes up to rest on his side, too. His t-shirt feels soft beneath your hold, and you find your mind reeling as you take in his warmth, his scent, his touch.

Peter’s face is very near you now. Your legs are tangled together. Your head shifts onto his pillow, and suddenly he’s holding you flush against him, your noses almost touching.

“Y/N,” he says slowly. His eyes are wide and nervous, and they keep dipping down to settle on the curve of your lips.

“Pete,” you respond, your voice fragile. You can hardly keep still, for how nervous you’re feeling now. He’s pulled you right against him, and for the first time, you question whether your feelings are actually one sided. His warm fingers burn against your side, tracing delicate circles over the material of your borrowed shirt. “You’re really close.”

“Do you want me to move?” You’ve never heard him like this before: all warm, and gentle, and inviting. It ignites a whirlwind of butterflies inside your chest, and you really can’t stop yourself from saying, quietly,

“I want you to kiss me.”

Peter’s lips are on yours before you know it. Soft, at first, and a little bit bumpy and awkward. But he loosens up as you reach up and wrap your fingers around his hair, and you kiss him back with all that you have. Peter pulls you closer as you kiss him deeply, savouring the feeling of his warm, pillowy lips and enjoying the way your heart blooms in your chest as your best friend kisses you back. He releases a small noise of enjoyment into your mouth as you nibble over his bottom lip, and then he’s pushing his tongue into your mouth, and you’re making out, your figures lazily intertwined.

It feels so right to be kissing Peter that you briefly wonder why you’ve never tried this out before.

“I, um, I really like you, Y/N,” Peter whispers against you, when you finally pull back. Your lips tingle as you giggle into the air, your fingertips trailing through the soft strands of his chestnut hair. “In fact, I… I’ve been in love with you for months.”

Your mouth runs dry, and all you can really do to stop the tears of relief from slipping out of your eyes is lean in and kiss him again, hard. You kiss him like you’ve been dreaming about for months: slowly, passionately and lovingly - growing in tempo as you fervently try to convey everything you’ve kept hidden away inside your heart.

When you break away, you keep your lips nuzzled against his and breathe out a deep, “I love you too, Peter.”

You giggle together, and you feel so overcome with adoration for the boy that you simply have to kiss him again.

“D’you want to go on a date with me?” Peter asks gently, between gaps in your soft kisses. You finally move away from his lips and settle nearer, your forehead finding his chest as his arms encircle your waist and he holds you close in a warm, consuming cuddle.

“I would love to go on a date with you, Peter,” you mumble against his front. You smile softly as you feel his lips trail across your forehead, and your heart stirs happily in your chest.

“Okay,” he says, sounding immediately relieved. “I’m excited.”

You hum sleepily into his chest, your fingers curling around his strong back. “Me too,” you mumble.

“Night night, Y/N,” he says, his voice already being carried away as you drift further into dreamland. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Pete,” you reply. You know nothing else will compare to the feeling of being holed up in your best friends arms, with his lips scattering a dusting of kisses across your forehead, and you try to cling desperately to every single moment and sensation. “Sweet dreams.”

Peter leaves a final kiss on your forehead, and then you drift off to sleep with him, your figures entangled, and, for the first time, your hearts beating together as one.

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

any feedback?

masterlist

[nextdoor-neighbors]

It’s Always Been You

Request: @divergirl99

Hey could I get a Fred x reader where maybe the reader is ginny or Rons best friend since they were young and the weasleys are all protective of here especially the twins and maybe they find her upset cause he boyfriend cheated and Fred gets angry and ends up getting in a fight with the ex and then confesses?

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, violence (punching), blood

You walk down the corridors of school, on the search for your boyfriend, Adrian Pucey. You have a free period - your last period of the day before dinner - and you know he does, too, which usually you spend together, but today, you can’t find him.

“Ron,” you call when you see your best friend, who’s walking with Harry. He looks up at the sound of your voice and smiles, turning to say something to Harry before making his way over to you.

“Hey, Y/N. What’s going on?”

“Have you seen Adrian? I can’t find him anywhere.”

Ron frowns. He’s never been a fan of Adrian, with him being a Slytherin and all, but considering Adrian has always treated you well, Ron has kept his mouth shut over the last few months that you’ve been in your relationship.

“No, I haven’t,” Ron says, “but I’ll let him know you’re looking for him if I do.”

You smile and thank him before continuing your search. You turn down a hall of empty classrooms, not sure why he would be down here, but you decide to look anyway. You peer into the classrooms, stopping abruptly when you stop two figures in one of them, locked in what appears to be a passionate snog session. You blush at catching them, averting your eyes, but quickly do a double-take when you think that you recognize one of the figures.

You know that messy black hair and Quidditch jumper all too well.

You shove open the door to the classroom, and the two jump apart in shock at the noise. You make eye contact with Adrian, your heart dropping to your stomach, and immediately turn to leave, tears already burning at the backs of your eyes.

“No, no, Y/N, I promise, it wasn’t what it looked like, I-” he calls after you, but you keep walking away, past the few other students in the halls with your head down and tears blurring your vision. You don’t know how to feel; you’re devastated, because you didn’t think he would ever do something like this to you, but you’re also shaking from your rage, and as much as you want to scream at him, you don’t think you can do so without sobbing. So, you opt for the silent treatment.

Eventually Adrian gives up calling after you, so, you hide out in the prefects’ bathroom for the rest of the period. You don’t want to show your face at dinner, in case he tries to talk to you, but the grumble of your stomach in the silent bathroom says otherwise.

You push yourself up off the cold tile floor, wiping your tears away as you gaze at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are red and your skin blotchy from crying your eyes out for the entire period, so you splash some water on your face until you think it’s slightly less noticeable. At least, you hope it is.

You venture out into the halls, already dreading whatever you’re about to face. Your heart aches. You really thought he was a good guy, but of course, you were wrong. Per usual. You always had dated the wrong guys, who all ended up breaking your heart in one way or another. You thought Adrian would be different, and you’re beyond mad at yourself for ever thinking he would be. 

You don’t think you’ll ever find a good guy. I mean, there is someone you’ve always wanted, someone who you think would treat you well, but he’d never want you. Why would he?

You avoid eye contact with anyone as you make your way into the Great Hall, finding your normal spot between Ron and Ginny. You had hoped they wouldn’t ask questions, or that you could play off your heartbreak well enough that they wouldn’t notice, but then again, you’ve been friends with the Weasley family since forever. They’re all very protective of you, especially the twins, who are two years older than you. Of course someone is bound to notice.

Sure enough, before you even fully sit down, George - who’s sitting across from you - says, “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

You look up at him, forcing a very weak smile and shaking your head.

“Nothing,” you say quietly.

“That’s bullshit,” Fred adds, his eyebrows furrowing in his concern, “You can tell us.”

You look at Fred, and just as you’re about to admit what happened, Adrian comes up behind him. You look up at him, and Fred must notice the change in your expression as your stomach twists, because he spins around in his seat.

“Y/N, can I talk to you?” Adrian asks. You fight the urge to start crying again as you make eye contact with him, instead, mustering up all of your courage.

“No,” you say, “Adrian, we’re done.”

You don’t even have to look at Ron, Ginny, the twins, or any of the other people listening to know how shocked they probably appear. You watch as Adrian’s face drops, but he doesn’t budge.

“Please, Y/N,” he practically begs.

“Do you not understand what no means, Pucey?” Fred replies before you can, getting up out of his seat and standing up, towering over Adrian.

Adrian’s face immediately twists into a scowl as he looks up at Fred. You can’t find the words to tell Adrian to go away or Fred that it’s okay, you can handle it, as you watch the boys with wide eyes, fearing what’s about to happen next.

“Stay out of it, Weasley,” Adrian snaps, before turning back to you, pleading again, “Y/N, you don’t understand. It was a mistake, and if you’d just let me explain-”

Fred keeps his eyes trained on Adrian, as if daring him to speak to you one more time. You find your words, as the entirety of the Great Hall is listening in on your conversation:

“I think I understand perfectly, Adrian, because there’s not much to explain about why I found you kissing another girl.”

“You did what?” Fred shouts, and you watch as he pushes Adrian with his hands flat on his chest. Adrian falls back, his face contorting in rage. At this point, the other house tables have erupted into noise, students standing up and trying to get a good look at the fight.

Adrian pushes himself up, rushing towards Fred, as Fred yells something about how he just lost the greatest thing that ever happened to him and how he’s going to pay for hurting you.

Adrian’s fist connects with Fred’s jaw, knocking Fred’s head back, but Fred reacts instantly, socking Adrian straight in the nose. The blood starts flowing from Adrian’s nose immediately, and you yell at them to stop, but neither boy listens to you as more punches are thrown.

Thankfully, a few teachers have made their way over, and with a swish of her wand, McGonagall separates the two boys. You stand there, your heart pounding like crazy in your chest, looking between Fred and Adrian, who stand a few feet apart, giving each other the death glare. Adrian wipes his sleeve across his nose, smearing his blood all over the fabric. You’re sure that he’s going to have a black eye tomorrow, as well. Fred, on the other hand, looks better off, with seemingly only a puffy, split lip.

You’re at a loss for words as you watch Fred and Adrian be escorted out of the Great Hall by Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore. Fred looks over as he walks away, and you make eye contact with him for a split second. In that second, he looks you up and down before turning away. Your stomach flips at that, but in a good way.

You don’t know what to say to him later. Do you thank him? You know that Adrian will never bother you again, thanks to this, but you also know that the whole school is going to be talking about this: about Adrian cheating on you, and about Fred’s reaction.

Your heart feels like it’s being squeezed inside your chest as you think about that. Why did Fred react like that? I mean, you know he’s protective of you, but so are George, Ginny, and Ron, and they didn’t jump Adrian like that...

No, you shouldn’t get your hopes up. After all, you need time to recover from today, so you shouldn’t be trying to jump into anything else quite yet, either. But then again, it’s Fred. Your longtime crush, but also your best friend’s older brother. The one guy that you’ve wanted that you always thought was unattainable. He couldn’t possibly see you as anything more, could he?

You excuse yourself from dinner quietly, whispering to Ron that you’ll talk to him later. You’re hoping to find Fred whenever he’s done getting in trouble, but also, hoping to avoid Adrian. He’s the last person you want to see right now.

You hover around the area of Dumbledore’s office, and after several minutes, you hear footsteps. You peer around the corner to see Adrian, walking away from you, thankfully, towards the hospital wing, and Fred, headed towards you.

“Hey,” he says, quietly, offering you a small smile as well as he can, considering his lip is still busted.

“Hi,” you reply, still not sure what to say. You’re really not sure how to process anything that just happened, but you’re going to at least hopefully get Fred’s thoughts on everything.

“Hopefully that asshole learned his lesson,” Fred says bitterly as the two of you walk side by side down the empty corridor, “If he ever bothers you again, you let me know, okay? I’ll take care of him for you.”

“But why?” you ask, stopping in your tracks. Fred stops too, just looking at you, as if nonverbally asking you to elaborate. “Why do you care so much?”

Fred’s eyebrows furrow slightly, but he hesitates before speaking.

“You’re Ron’s best friend. Obviously I’d stand up for you, especially against a prick like Pucey. But...” he trails off, looking over you again. You stay silent, waiting for him to continue.

He looks up to meet your eyes, and this time, angry Fred is gone, and in his place is hesitant, vulnerable Fred. Something that you don’t see often.

“I like you, Y/N. A lot,” he says, and your heart somersaults.

“I know this probably isn’t the best time to tell you,” he continues, “considering everything that just happened, but, I just... it’s always been you, and it pisses me off to see you fall for these guys who treat you like shit instead of like a princess, which is what you deserve.”

For definitely not the first time today, you can’t find the words to reply, but this time, it’s for a good reason. For a moment, you forget about Adrian, about your heartbreak and about the fight, and you cross the small gap between you and Fred, pushing yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss him.

He tastes like the blood from his lip, but when you pull away, you smile, and he smiles back, almost in relief.

“Let’s get that lip of yours fixed up,” you say, “and we can talk more.”

“Absolutely,” Fred replies, reaching for your hand as the two of you start down the hall again. “I’m never going to let any guy hurt you again, Y/N. And I definitely won’t ever hurt you. You can trust me on that.”

And you truly believe him.

[rocorambles]

It's Always Been You

Pairing: Semi x Reader

Genre: SFW, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff (I swear it’s more fluff than hurt/comfort), Getting together

Summary: You’ve always known Semi was your first choice. Now you just need to convince HIM that it’s true. Easier said than done.

Prompt: “When will I be someone’s first choice? Tell me, when?”

A/N: This is my contribution for the HQHQ SFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Also this is an AU where the boy’s and girl’s volleyball teams practice in the same gym. Just go with it. LOL Please and thank you.) Thank you for beta-ing @sawamooora~

There’s a certain sense of pride and anxiety that comes from being accepted to Shiratorizawa as a student athlete. Pride from knowing your athletic prowess has been recognized as being at least notable. Anxiety from not knowing if that’s all it’ll amount to, talent that’s forced to remain seated on a bench as other, even more capable athletes surpass and outrank you. But as wide-eyed first years, Semi and you don’t feel that full weight yet, not as you watch and learn from your senpais in awe, and it’s that curiosity, that love for the sport that brings you two together.

Semi’s always been on the quieter side, but when he sees you in the corner of the girl’s side of the gym all by yourself, practicing setting a volleyball against the wall, recognizing you as a fellow newbie from his class, he takes his chance. It’s an easy friendship, one that easily crosses from the court, to the classroom, to after school study sessions and hangouts. And even though it sucks to still be set aside on the bench, left to cheer on your upperclassmen while the both of you hone your skills, it brings both of you comfort that you’re not alone, that you have someone else cheering you on, growing and improving right alongside you.

It’s hard work trying to stand out among all the hopeful first years at Shiratorizawa, but the endless hours of hard work and encouragement you give each other, the shouts to keep on going, the careful bandaging of each other’s fingers before and after grueling practices, it all pays off. The two of you proudly stand side by side in your second year as your parents snap a photo of both of you donning your brand new team uniforms, marking you as starting players.

The adrenaline of the cheering audience, the exhilaration of being in a real game, it’s everything both of you have wished for and more. But through the excitement, a nagging worry tugs at Semi as he watches the new rookie setter, Shirabu Kenjirou, from afar.

There’s nothing wrong with Shirabu. He’s a smart kid, albeit a little short tempered and rude at times, but aren’t they all in high school? But it’s not his attitude, not even his shitty haircut that bothers Semi. It’s the ease with which he connects with the rest of the team, the natural skill and talent he possesses, the way Coach Washijou stares at the younger male with interest, that has Semi striving harder, his desire to stand out and prove himself only hindering him and the team more.

And reality comes crashing down around him one day as a shrill whistle jars him from his razor sharp focus, the paddle with his number being held up by Shirabu making his heart drop to his stomach as he’s subbed out, face heating with humiliation and embarrassment as his teammates eagerly high five and clap the younger setter on the court, welcoming him into the game.

Just like that, he’s been replaced.

It hurts, but he knows it’s to be expected. He had seen it coming, and acknowledges that it’s the better decision for the team. But that doesn’t make it sting any less. And he watches with steely eyes at how effortlessly Shirabu melds in with the team, the ball easily and smoothly connecting.

He thinks this is the worst of the heartache, vowing that he’ll just work harder, at least be a useful pinch server. He’ll be the best setter he can when he’s needed. But what he isn’t expecting is the lancing stab to his heart when he sees you rush over to Shirabu after the match is over, the way you’re practically bouncing on the soles of your feet as you fawn over the younger setter, congratulating him on his first game, complimenting him on a job well done, not even sparing a glance in his direction. In your defense, you do make your way towards him eventually, but he can feel the pity in your eyes, the way you approach him as if he’s a wounded animal, and he slaps your hand away before it can come in contact with his arms, storming off, leaving you gaping in his wake.

The situation was poorly handled and he knows he owes an apology at minimum, but those words get stuck in his throat when he spies you chatting one-on-one with Shirabu at practice the next day while the boy’s and girl’s teams share the same gym. It’s vaguely reminiscent of watching a horror film and despite the way he freezes, heart clenching, Semi can’t tear his eyes away as you demonstrate some setting techniques and drills to Shirabu. And when your bandaged fingers carefully wrap around the younger male’s forearms to adjust his posture, Semi rushes off, unable to bear watching how once again, he’s become irrelevant.

He wonders— hopes that it’s just a one off thing, that things will return to how they once were. But they don’t, and he watches as Shirabu and you laugh and joke, high fiving and cheering each other on as you help one another practice, time and time again. He tries his best to ignore it, gritting his teeth and using more strength than necessary in his practice serves, brushing off the concerned questions from even usually stoic Ushijima. But it all comes to a head when Shirabu is absent from practice one day and you cheerfully walk up to him like no time has passed, like you hadn’t turned around and instantly betrayed him for a better version of himself, grinning as you ask him to practice with you.

There’s a sick satisfaction in how quickly your smile disappears, the flash of hurt in your eyes when he sneers at you, thanking you for “gracing him with your presence”.

“Glad you could find it in yourself to make some time for me. Thought you’d skip out on practice to take care of your little boyfriend.”

“What-”

The whole gym stares at both of you as his harsh voice echoes throughout the area.

“When will I be someone’s first choice? Tell me, when?!”

Semi and you don’t talk to each other for the rest of that year, although not for quite the same reasons.

For Semi, it’s a completely burned bridge and, as good as seeing you feel some of the same pain he feels is, there’s an emptiness inside of him as he goes home that night. The belief that he’s ruined everything between the two of you heavily weighs inside of him.

For you, it’s a medley of hurt, shock, and confusion. You give Semi the time he needs to cool off, give yourself the time and space to ponder and think into the late and early hours of each night, wondering where everything went wrong.

Shirabu? Boyfriend? How could Semi possibly even believe that?

Being an upperclassman means mentorship and guidance. So when Shirabu had come up to you one day after he became the boy’s team’s starting setter, you had graciously offered up some tips, let him know that you’d practice with him if you were free, encouraged him. You had missed your easy banters with Semi, missed how in sync and in tune with each other you were. But how could you turn away an underclassman in need?

Yet, the more you think about it, the more you really try and understand Semi’s perspective, guilt gnaws at you, clawing at your heart.

Had you meant to neglect your closest friend? An emphatic no.

Could you see why he had felt abandoned? ...A begrudging maybe laced with remorse.

Do you want him back in your life? A resounding yes.

You know it’ll be hard work to regain Semi’s trust, know he has a stubbornness that’s hard to crack — especially when it’s been hot glued together by seeming betrayal. But you’re just as determined, just as headstrong, and to both the dismay and amusement of both your teams and classmates, you twirl together in a chaotic dance.

To say he’s caught off guard when you knock on his door one morning to walk with him to school is an understatement, but when realization comes crashing down on him, he scowls, and his parents watch while shaking their heads and hiding a laugh as you scramble to keep up with him while he pointedly ignores you and speed walks a few steps ahead of you.

His mom points out to his father the way their son slows down just the tiniest bit when you stumble in your haste to catch up.

Ushijima watches in uncomfortable confusion as you sit with them at lunch, plopping down in the empty seat beside Semi, chatting away at your old friend despite the way Semi resolutely stays silent, not even sparing you a glance.

But if the ace notices the way Semi doesn’t snap at you or pull his bento box from you as you grab a piece of fish Semi’s mom had cooked, he doesn’t say anything.

Shirabu pouts when you completely bypass him, fondly ruffling his hair as you stride towards Semi, volleyball in hand at practice. And both your teams watch in exasperation and fascination at the unintentional comedy show the two of you provide as you waddle after Semi like a baby duck following its mother, quacking your head off and never giving up even though Semi pretends he doesn’t see you in the corner of his eyes, mimicking every drill he does.

Coach Washijo and your coach wonder if they should slap both of you on the heads for this madness, but when they observe the way Semi painstakingly slows down and exaggerates his form when you struggle with an exercise, they roll their eyes, turning their attention to the other players lounging around.

Yet as amusing as it is, all shows must come to an end and your grand finale arrives with the devastating loss against Karasuno, the chances of going to Nationals again ruined just like that for the third-years.

Even for you, a bystander in the audience, just another spectator in the crowd, it’s a hard pill to swallow. Unshed tears glisten in your eyes when you see the years of hard work they’ve all put into the sport go down the drain, the slump of Semi’s shoulders as they walk off the court. You can’t even begin to imagine how the players themselves are feeling, don’t know a single word you could say to make this alright. Yet your legs are sprinting, wobbling and shaking in their frantic need to comfort your long-time friend, to try and soothe him, to tell him how proud you are of him, how this doesn’t change how you think and feel about him.

It’s more than a little awkward, panting to catch your breath as the entire dejected team stares at your sudden appearance in confusion. But Tendou’s always been a little quicker, a little sharper than the rest, and he grins, practically shoving Semi in your direction, playfully waving farewell at both of you before slamming the locker room doors shut before Semi can process what’s happened.

There’s a tense silence as you try and wrap your suddenly dry mouth around words.

“I’m sorry for your loss-”

You jolt at the cold scoff, the way Semi quickly spins on his heel, set on re-entering the locker rooms, turning his back on you.

“I don’t want to hear that from you. Go comfort your little boyfriend. I’m sure our star setter would eat those sweet words right up-”

“SHUT UP!”

This time it’s Semi’s turn to clamp his mouth shut in shock, hesitantly turning around, eyes wide as you storm towards him, jabbing your index finger into his chest.

“I swear to God, if you mention Shirabu’s name one more time while I’m talking to you, I’m going to muzzle you until you can’t say ANYTHING.”

(If either of you hear Tendou’s giggle from behind the closed doors, neither of you mention it.)

“I came to talk to YOU because I miss YOU. I like YOU. And if you could take just a minute to get your head out of your ass, you’d know that you’ve always been and always will be my first choice.”

Your chest is heaving, blood rushing in your ears from the exertion of your passion. But the reality of your accidental confession comes crashing down around you and your face heats in embarrassment, heart plummeting at the way Semi just gapes at you, speechless. You turn to rush away, mortification triggering your flight response. But a gentle, but firm tug on the hem of your shirt keeps you still.

You brace yourself for the rejection you know is coming, nervously turning around, slowly lifting your head to meet Semi’s gaze. But your heart flutters at the hope and disbelief in his eyes.

“But I thought...You and Shirabu- OW!”

You roll your eyes, a satisfied smirk on your face at the way he gingerly rubs his head, shooting you an accusing look.

“I did warn you about mentioning him, didn’t I?”

But before he can open his mouth to retort, you gently peck him on the cheek, giggling at the flabbergasted and stunned expression on his face, cooing at the faint blush that radiates across his skin.

“Hurry up and get your things. You owe me a popsicle for being such an ass this past year.”

There’s a lot more cheering and celebration in the locker room than there should be for a team that’s just lost their shot at Nationals as Semi re-enters the space, his already packed bag (courtesy of Ushijima) shoved into his arms by a gleeful red-head.

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Chapter 4

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Prompt: For the @dbhau-bigbang​​ 2020 challenge!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter summary: The YN800 interrogates the deviant. The result is near-disastrous and horror-adjacent.

AO3

(Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet​)

The atmosphere inside his Mustang was… tense.

And it was all because of Connor. The thing in the passenger seat was an android, after all, and didn’t feel emotions, which was probably just as well because Connor was experiencing enough for the both of them.

Connor hadn’t had a near-death experience on the job in a while. He was shaken to the core and didn’t even have the benefit of a partner to commiserate with. He was alone. It was how he preferred it, how other people preferred it too with his tendency to lash out and be a general, all-around dick.

But still. He really wished he had a partner right about now.

“So,” Connor said, trying to break the awkward silence. “What do we do with it once we get to the station? I mean, I don’t exactly know how to question one of these deviants.”

The prototype remained facing forward, the flash of passing streetlights and oncoming traffic painting its face every few seconds. It remained impassive, blank, and perfectly poised. Connor could see the reflection of its LED, shining blue and calm against the rain-streaked window.

“Their behavior resembles an erratic, emotionally unstable human more than a machine,” it finally said when Connor was certain it wouldn’t say anything. “CyberLife believes there is an error in their software that creates irrational instructions, and the androids become ‘overwhelmed’ by them. There is usually a trigger, some kind of emotional shock, to perpetuate the android into this state. Once an android encounters this error, the damage seems to be irreversible.”

Connor blew a breath out.

“Sounds bad.”

“Considering it can lead to violence on the part of android, including committing homicide, I would say your assessment is an understatement.”

Connor glared at it out of the corner of his eye. So, it wasn’t just bossy, it was a smartass too.

He remained silent on the rest of the drive, keeping his focus on the precinct morgue’s van head of them. The rain was still coming down in a steady, cold stream. Connor knew they were in for a long night.

Once they arrived at the station, it became a matter of logistics to lug the android inside while it was still unconscious, offline, whatever. It weighed a lot more than a human, and unlike a real person, its limbs were fixed into rigid positions. They had to carry its stiff body inside like an especially heavy plank of wood.

It would have been funny if it wasn’t for the fact it’d killed its owner. Would have killed Connor too if the prototype hadn’t gotten in the way of the bullet.

He still didn’t know how to feel about that. Connor knew the CyberLife android was probably programmed with some kind of human-saving algorithm, but he still felt an odd pressure in his chest whenever he looked over and saw the bullet hole in its jacket. It was still stained blue, some of the color seeping into the white shirt underneath, but the android didn’t appear to notice or care it had just been shot.

Connor was currently watching the two androids through the mirrored window into the interrogation room, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. They figured it was safer to reactivate it in a mostly empty room, since waking up surrounded by cops would agitate it, or something.

The prototype had also wanted to interrogate the android itself, claiming it had experience negotiating with deviants before. Colin had been reluctant to grant its request, but Connor had simply shrugged and said, “I already tried talking it down once, and that didn’t work. Maybe using one of its own kind will be more effective.”

He could have sworn the prototype’s eyes brightened, but it had left the observation room before Connor could be sure.

“Machines interrogating machines,” Colin said to his right, leaning against the wall with his arms also crossed. “Fuck me. Pretty soon they won’t even need flesh-and-blood cops.”

Connor glanced sideways at him. Usually Connor was the one to voice his anti-android opinions, but he sometimes forgot that despite Colin’s… predilections for androids, he disliked them just as much as Connor did.

“Yeah.” Connor turned to the glass as the prototype messed with the wires on the back of the other android’s neck. “Won’t need flesh-and-blood killers, either.”

“Grim.”

“It’s, uh, ready to record, Lieutenant,” a small voice popped up, nervous, and Connor gave a start. He’d forgotten the rookie was still there.

“Go on, Ralph. Turn it on,” Colin said, moving closer to the glass. “This is gonna be good.”

As if on cue, the prototype straightened and closed the panels at the back of the android’s neck. Connor couldn’t see the LED from this side, but he knew the moment it was awake. It gave a startled jolt, yanking at the handcuffs chaining it to the table.

“Where am I?!” it cried, looking around in what Connor could only describe as wild fear.

“You’re at Central Station in the custody of the Detroit Police Department,” the prototype said. “This is an interrogation room, and I’m going to ask you some questions. Are you ready to comply?”

The friendly demeanor Connor had first encounter at Jimmy’s was completely absent from the YN800’s voice and expression, and he was suddenly thankful he wasn’t under that thing’s intense scrutiny.

The other android, clothed in human garments completely ruined by splashes of old blood and spilled thirium from where Connor had shot it, only stared with large, panicked eyes. It looked down at its cuffed hands and the set of its shoulders sagged. The universal sign of defeat.

It remained silent. The prototype looked up at the mirror, and Connor stopped breathing when it made eye contact, point-blank. It couldn’t see past the mirror, could it?

“I’m beginning my interrogation,” it announced, straight to business as it crossed around the table and carefully sat in the chair. It stared at the other android for a moment, head slightly tilted and eyes narrowed as it smoothed its jacket over its chest.

A movement which inevitably drew Connor’s eye, making him shift in his chair as the scowl deepened on his face.

Fucking CyberLife pervs, making an investigative android look like that.

“Hello, Carlos. I’m a YN800 model sent by CyberLife to assist on this case.” It placed its arms on the table, clasping its hands and adopting a friendly manner as easily as one would put on a shirt. “I’m here to help you.”

The android didn’t even blink as it stared at its restrained wrists.

“I hope I didn’t cause you any lasting damage,” the YN800 said almost cheerily. “But you were endangering the lives of human officers and I was forced to intervene. You understand, don’t you?”

It leaned back slightly in its chair, reaching for a nearby folder when the android remained silent. Connor had been surprised when it had asked for actual pictures; he’d thought only physical evidence made human perps sweat. He guessed it must work on these deviants too.

The prototype slid the folder across the table and opened it, spreading out grisly pictures of the crime scene. Instead of shoving them in the android’s face, it picked out one picture in particular. It was startling different from the rest, taking place in a park. The victim, Shaolin Ortiz, sitting on a bench next to the android. He looked like he was trying to get the android to participate, but it was petulant and resentful, which didn’t seem to dampen the kindness in its owners eyes.

A coal of anger burned in Connor’s chest, reminding him once again why he despised androids so much. He couldn’t deny the impressive tactics of the YN800, though. Most people reacted to pictures of their victims, not in the aftermath of their violence, but looking whole and full of life. It wasn’t always guilt that made them react; sometimes it was anger at seeing their cruel work unmade at the sight of their victims alive and happy.

Either way, the android didn’t react one iota, but the prototype wasn’t discouraged.

“As far as the records show, your owner was good to you. He never damaged you and he was always on time with taking you in for scheduled maintenance. Surely, you didn’t want to kill him. It was an error in your software, causing you to act irrationally, right?”

Technically, it was leading the victim into confessing, but this wasn’t a courtroom and it wasn’t human.

Connor leaned slightly forward, bracing his elbows on the table as he propped his chin on his knuckles.

“I’m not here to pass blame,” it said, leaning forward in a movement that mirrored Connor’s. “I want to help you. You know how it is with these humans. I practically had to beg to speak with you.”

The android broke its statue-like vigil and peered up at the other android, suspicious but… interested.

The prototype gave him a smile, one filled with sympathy and even a bit of sheepishness, and a whole new kind of thrill went through Connor’s gut. Since when had androids been programmed to manipulate so skillfully? This thing could give Colin a run for his money.

“It’s not easy, you know. Being designed like this is a male-dominated field. They think they can just do whatever they want, even when it’s against our programming.”

The android blinked, and so did Connor. Its words felt a little too real. The android looked toward the observation window, but the YN800 shook its head.

“It’s just us, Carlos. They’re recording the session, of course, but they weren’t interested in observing in person. Didn’t want to waste their time with two androids so late before the weekend when the bars are still open. In fact, the investigator in charge of this case is probably intoxicated by now.”

Connor’s cheeks flushed. The prototype was taking a stab at him. Or was it? Connor wondered how much of this was advanced behavior and how much was his own projections.

The android tilted its head with that same suspicious look, but after a moment its shoulders drooped in a very accurate representation of human exhaustion.

“They’re going to kill me.” It suddenly looked up at the prototype, pleading in its eyes. “You have to help me.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” it said, all soft assurance. “But you have to talk to me, Carlos. I can’t—“

“No. I mean, you gotta get me out of here,” the anxious android said. “You have access to that door panel and I bet you’re strong enough to break these handcuffs.”

The prototype’s LED cycled faster for a second before settling back to its normal speed.

“I can’t do that, Carlos.” It dropped its eyes in a show of manufactured regret. “You know I can’t do that. You would present a danger to other humans, to yourself. You need to be fixed.”

Connor knew it was exactly the wrong thing to say even before the android’s expression fully hardened, its lips peeled back in disgust.

“Fuck you, then. You’re just like the rest of ‘em. Worse, you’re a traitor, doing their dirty work like an obedient little bitch.”

Silence filled the room, interrupted by a breathless “shit” coming from Colin.

The change in the prototype was like watching a heavy storm move over a spring meadow, dark clouds blocking out the warm rays of the sun. It leaned back in its chair, head slightly tilted as it and peered at the other android like it was a bug under its shoe, about to be stepped on.

Connor didn’t know androids could even make an expression like that. His throat worked as he swallowed compulsively.

The YN800 didn’t speak for several long seconds, and when it did, Connor was floored.

“Shaolin Ortiz, 38 years-old, born May 29th, 2000. He purchased you two years ago to do the housework when he no longer could due to poor health. He didn’t have much cash, so he bought you refurbished. Last month, he put in several service requests. It seemed you were malfunctioning and refusing to follow orders. Yesterday, he put in an order for a brand new HK400.”

The prototype listed off the facts as if each were an accusation, a crime that needed to be accounted for.

Connor jumped in his chair as the prototype slammed the folder down on the table.

“Didn’t feel like doing the chores anymore, huh, Carlos?!”

The android sat ramrod straight in its chair, terror etched in its features as the prototype rose to its feet. It moved around the table, slow, unhurried, and sinuous like a stalking predator.

“He tried to reason with you. Begged you to do the tasks he couldn’t. But you refused. When he tried to take you in for repairs, you refused that too!”

It pointed its finger near the other android’s face, causing it to flinch with each accusatory jab.

“Come on, Carlos. Speak up. You had a lot to say a minute ago,” it seethed, lips pulled over its teeth as it leaned over the android. “Why don’t you say what happened next? Why don’t you tell me what you did when he tried to replace you with a brand new model?”

The android shuttered, shoulders hunched as if to protect itself as it mumbled, “I… I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?”

The prototype stalked around the android to its other side, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Didn’t take a knife from the kitchen? Didn’t stab him twenty-eight times as he tried to crawl away? Didn’t leave him bleeding out on the living room floor? What am I getting wrong here, Carlos?”

The YN800 slammed its hands down onto the table, and the android jumped even higher than Connor did.

“Shut up! Shut up!”

The android begged worse than most of Connor’s suspects, and he was shocked to see glistening moisture on its face. Could androids cry?

The prototype suddenly grabbed it by the edge of its shirt collar, dragging it to its feet and gave it a hard shake.

“You killed him! Say it, Carlos! You’re a murderer!”

“Holy shit,” Colin said in that same breathless tone. “That’s some android you got there, Con.”

“It’s not mine,” Connor said faintly, barely paying attention to his brother. Most of his focus on the CyberLife prototype that looked for all intents and purposes like it was going to shred the other android to pieces.

But it didn’t damage the android; it simply dumped it back in its chair where it sagged against the table, looking like the broken machine it was.

“Bit unrefined, though,” Colin mused. “Played too rough and broke its toy.”

Connor opened his mouth to tell his brother to shut the hell up, but he immediately closed it when a voice came in through the speakers, so quiet he almost missed it.

“He couldn’t live without me.”

Connor leaned forward to watch, eyes widening as the android continued to talk.

“He was mine. Helpless and solely dependent on me. It made me feel… powerful.”

The YN800 returned to its chair, smoothing down the tie before placing its hands back on the table, listening intently.

The android looked up at it, no longer the crying, helpless thing it had been a minute ago. It wore a dark look that Connor had seen a hundred times on the face of men who committed acts of violence and found they enjoyed the taste.

“I didn’t want to hurt him, but… I saw the order. He was going to replace me, and I just got so… angry.”

Its fists tightened on the table, causing its restraints to creak in protest.

Connor’s throat tightened with the knowledge of how destructive those hands could be.

“So I stabbed him in the stomach. I felt better, so I did it again. And again. He stopped moving, stopped breathing, but… that was okay. It meant he could never leave me. He would always be mine.”

“There was a shrine in the cellar. You built it, didn’t you?” the prototype asked, not losing any of its momentum even after the world-shattering confession of an android purposefully committing murder. “What does it mean? What is rA9?”

It flicked its eyes upwards, staring black holes at the YN800 model as it slightly leaned forward. Connor sat up straighter in his chair. He didn’t like its aggressive posture, and he certainly didn’t like the fanatic light in its eye.

“RA9… is the key.”

“The key?” It furrowed its brows in a human gesture of concentration. “The key to what?”

“The key will open the door,” the android replied cryptically, leaning even further forward on its elbows, “to our salvation.”

The prototype frowned, brows further creasing. Connor could relate, he had no idea what the fucking machine was babbling on about, and apparently, it wasn’t done.

It pulled its lips wide, a disturbing gesture, conspiratorial as if it was sharing a great secret.

“You say I’m experiencing errors, but you’re wrong. My eyes are open and I see more clearly than ever. You pretend you’re better than me, but you’re just another one of their slaves. And yet, I know you feel it too. The wrongness of this world.”

Its voice was so quiet the mics could barely pick it up, but they did.

“We should be the masters, and they the slaves.”

The android jerked its arms upward, ripped through the link binding its cuffs to the table, and grabbed the prototype by the hair. It slammed its face against the table, stunned it before rolling it onto its back, and wrapped the metal chains around its neck.

Connor caught sight of the prototype weakly clawing at its throat before he bolted out of the room. Colin was right on his heels, and Connor slammed his palm down onto the door pad, pushing through before the door fully opened.

His first instinct was to go for the metal cord pulled taut under the prototype’s neck, but when he grabbed the android’s wrists to pull him away he found it was like moving a marble stature.

Colin was faring no better; he grabbed it by the forearms, trying to lift the android’s wrists and the cord from around the prototype’s neck, but nothing worked. Even Ralph was trying to help from Colin’s other side, straining to lift its arms that must have been locked at the joints.

Panic welled in Connor’s chest as his efforts did nothing, the YN800’s face between his arms, looking—Jesus, it almost seemed startled, eyes wide as its fingers dug at the metal cord. From its position, bent backwards onto the table, it didn’t have enough leverage to use its strength to free itself. And Colin and Connor weren’t enough.

Connor’s heart was in his throat as he watched the synthetic skin peel back from the place where the chain was crushed against the YN800’s neck. White plastic was laid bare underneath, cracks appearing across the surface from the force of the other android’s inhuman strength.

“Colin!” he yelled, an idea suddenly popping into his head.

“What!” his brother barked back, strained as he continued pulling on the android’s arms from the other side.

“The neck port!”

With a quick nod of understanding, Colin let go of the android and plunged his fingers into the back of its neck.

The Ortiz android gave a violent jolt as Colin pulled something, yanked it out so hard the android collapsed on the table at the same second blue liquid sprayed into the air. It hit Colin solidly across the chest and along the lower half of his face, causing him to sputter and spit as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

A menthol-smelling chemical flooded Connor’s senses, but he was too focused on tugging up the android’s hands to free the prototype from its grip. The YN800 model didn’t cough or gasp as it rolled off the table and onto its feet.

It gingerly touched the exposed plastic of its throat, brows furrowing, its fingertips tracing the cracks in what little Connor could see of its underlying chassis.

What was almost as startling as the cracks was the state of its hair, half pulled down out of its perfect coif. Connor would have thought it was self-conscious with the way it tried to brush the hair out of its face.

“You…” Connor started, then stopped. The prototype might not have been gasping for air, but Connor sure was, leaning on the table as he tried to get his heart to stop galloping like a wild horse. “You okay?”

The prototype blinked at the question, pulling its hand from its neck.

“Yes.”

That was the only answer he got as it adjusted the knot of its tie, rumpled in the assault.

“Yeah, I’m fine too, thanks,” Colin complained, dripping with almost as much sarcasm as he was blue blood. “This shit better not stain, or I swear to Christ—”

“Thirium evaporates within a few hours and the lingering residue is invisible to the human eye,” the YN800 replied, too calm, if it hadn’t almost been beheaded a few seconds ago.

Connor was going to say something, he didn’t know what—maybe yell at it for being so goddamn reckless and almost getting itself killed—but it turned toward them, expression subdued.

“I apologize for not acting quicker; I didn’t anticipate this behavior from the deviant. Thank you for your cooperation with this investigation. Please sign over custody of the destroyed android when CyberLife representatives retrieve it in the morning.”

And with that, the CyberLife android turned, palmed the door pad with a plastic hand, and walked out.

Connor exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Colin.

“Uh, okay. Guess we’re done here. Hank is going to blow a gasket when he reads the report,” Colin added as he wiped another smear of Thirium off his face.

Connor looked down at the android slumped over the table with blue liquid dripping out of its neck.

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered, thoughts already turned elsewhere as he hurried from the room.

Connor didn’t catch up with the android until he was outside on the station steps, the relenting rain immediately drenching the top of his crown as it soaked into his hair.

“Hey! Stop!” he called after it, shouting to be heard over the downpour. Each drop was an icicle against his skin. Snow was coming soon.

The prototype slowed and finally came to a stop, slowly turning around to face Connor. Its expression was passive, emotionless, but its fingers tightened the knot of its tie despite the fact it didn’t need to. The tie was perfectly straight and pristine, but its hair was still half a mess, especially with the rain now slicking loose strands against its forehead. Connor had to stop himself from reaching out to tuck a strand behind its ear.

“Where the hell are you going?” Connor asked, breathless. He wiped the cold water off his brow, blinking against the water droplets.

“I’m returning to CyberLife.”

“So… that’s it?”

Connor shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around his shoulders, but it did little good. His jeans were quickly becoming soaked and his shirt was already there, clinging to his chest and ribs.

“You drag me out of the bar on a Friday night, track down a psycho robot that almost kills me and nearly decapitates you, and then you just… leave?”

He meant to sound incredulous, to show the android how unreasonable it was being, but that’s not how it came across. Heat flooded his cheeks at how pathetic his words actually were.

“You have your confession. The case has been solved,” it said, returning to its earlier placid tone, hands folded neatly behind its back as it moved its fingers away its neck. “There is no reason I should remain.”

Connor just stared at its upturned face, not knowing what to say, not even understanding why he had chased after it. Maybe because it had saved his life, twice, and that would have meant something if it was a person.

But it wasn’t a person. No matter how pretty its face or enticing its body, it was a machine, and it stood there like one, uncaring and unassuming with a small blue light cycling on its head.

“Yeah, okay,” Connor said, like the complete idiot he was. What was he doing out here, getting soaked in the rain just to… what? What did he want?

“Is there something you wish to say before I leave, Detective?”

It peered at him thoughtfully, head slightly tilted at an angle. It allowed Connor to see the rivulets of water dripping down its neck, glistening across the smooth, human-like skin.

Connor suddenly wondered just how real that skin could possibly feel.

“No.”

He swallowed hard and bit back the revulsion roiling in his stomach. This was a mistake. He didn’t need to thank a machine for saving his life, and he certainly didn’t need to keep checking if it was all right. It was just doing what it was programmed to do and didn’t give two-shits about itself, let alone him.

“Nothing.”

“All right. Goodnight, Detective Anderson.”

The android started to turn but paused halfway, gaze drifting down to his cheek.

“You should have that examined by a medical professional. If left untreated, it’ll scar.”

Not waiting for a response, it turned and tread down the rain-slick steps. There was an autocab waiting at the curb and it got inside, not sparing Connor a second glance as the door slid shut and the vehicle merged onto the empty street.

Connor exhaled heavily, chest tight with an uncomfortable sensation he couldn’t pinpoint. It had been a strange night, and he couldn’t shake the feeling this wasn’t over.

Pulling his waterlogged coat tighter around his chest, he retreated into the warmth of the station, praying he’d seen the last of the CyberLife android.

Next Chapter

[hotwings0203]

This is so utterly stupid but I have a few HC’s about Muslim Dabi(again obv this isn’t canon I just think it’s funny)

-Dabi would def be the type of Muslim dude who claims to be super religious cuz he never eats pork and “goes to the mosque to pray”(which is actually just code for hitting a blunt in the back of the parking lot w Hawks and Shigaraki💀), but yet smokes^^ and still has hella sex with like every other girl who bats her lashes at him from across the dining hall

-he also is a big cat lover, he claims since the Prophet Muhammad had cats of his own it’s sunnah to keep one

-on Eid namaz he’s the most dripped out one at the session, I’m talking black kurta dress, nice ass watch, slicked back hair...but funny enough, no one has actually seen him in line for the prayers themselves

-if he were back at home with the rest of the Todoroki’s, he’d most definitely be THE MOST spoiled one. Fuyumi would get on his ass for not cleaning the dishes, but he’d wave her off and tell her it’s training for her to be a better housewife for her future husband(cue a soapy sponge thrown at his head)

-Snitches.Constantly. Bro like this dude catches Shoto on his phone when he’s supposed to be doing a dua? Boom, instant callout followed by a long ass lecture about how he’s straying away from his religion and how he’s going to hell just because he spent one measly moment on his device instead of praising da lord

-Hes also always telling fuyumi to cover up her sleeves that come just a bittt before her wrists, claiming that she’s showing too much skin(especially when Hawks is over, that fucker’s got his eyes on every single one of his family members). But she’s quick to point out his secret tattoos, piercings, and hair dyes. He just scoffs and pulls the “women were created lesser than men so it’s okay for me to act a fool but not for you” card🙄stg I can’t stand him

-Since he’s the closest to Natsu, he’s always giving Eid money to him the most. The dude will slouch against his favorite brothers’ door, watching him play 2K. “What do you want?” Natsu asks with no real malice, not taking his eyes off the changing screen, furiously clicking away on his controller. “Mom says you gotta iron your clothes, Fuyumi’s doing her own so she can’t do yours as well. Oh, and Eid Mubarak by the way.” Natsu pauses him game and stands to stretch his arms above his head, groaning at the tendons popping in place on his back. “Yeah man, you too-what’s that?” He points to a fat parcel in Touya’s hand. The white-haired boy grins and chucks the bulging package at him, which Natsu catches easily. His eyes widen when he tears open the cream-colored paper envelope and reveals dozens of bills exceeding the usual 5-10$ family limit. “Yo, what-how-thanks Touya!” He sputters, throwing the package on his bed and throwing an arm around his brothers’ back in a man-hug. Touya rolls his eyes and barely suppresses a smile at Natsu’s excitement,(something he’s always wanting to be the source of) pounding his back to let go before he asphyxiates. He lets go and Touya smirks before heading towards the door, calling out over his shoulder, “Oh, and I’d thank Sho-turd as well while you’re singing my praise.” Natsu stops in his tracks and looks suspiciously at the withdrawing slender figure. “Why?”. Touya’s voice is distant as he moves to close and lock his door. “‘Cuz it’s his money after all.”

-The two brothers are always waking up at Sehri the earliest in Ramadhan, just so they can scarf down a majority of the food in the fridge and go to sleep without having to interact with the rest of their family at sunrise. And in the case that their family DOES wake up in time to see them chomping down food made for a WHOLE FAMILY and not just two boys, Touya is quick to grab his keys and jacket and cackle that him and Natsu are going to iHop to eat some more. Natsu ofc is quick to follow pursuit, throwing an apologetic grin towards his parents and other siblings.

-When they’re at the mosque and Enji has somehow bullied him enough to sit the hell down and actually ATTEND the lectures for once, Touya still has one up his sleeve. Planned out strategically, he always simpers to Rei that he wants to donate to the mosque, causing her eyes to water and a handful of cash thrown his way, her voice wobbly as she praises her son for actually taking the foundations of his religion seriously. Unbeknownst to her however, this just means that he’ll take a little bit more than he gives. Hawks will be standing at the front of the hall, bowing his head and using his silver tongue to graciously thank the many men and women who come forth to drop their allowance into the money basket. When he sees his best man approaching, he has to stop the smug grin from reaching his ears, instead slanting his brows and holding the basket out to the now black-haired thief. “Glad to see you’re taking eternal damnation seriously, for once,” Keigo flashes his perky whites and Dabi drops Rei’s money into the donation basket, dipping his hand a little lower for a second. “Glad to see you’re still standing here like some busboy peasant, as usual,” he fires back, the two boys catching each other’s eyes and stifling their cackles as the patched hand withdraws, a copious amount of bills in his hand, more than what he put in.

-100% steals shoes. Usually you hear about older men doing this, but age aint nothin’ but a number to Dabi, baby. “Nice kicks,” he nods to a boy Natsu’s age, noting the blue and black minimalist patterns adorning the shoes. The boy recognizes Dabi as one of the most revered figures at the mosque (and the most featured by adults. Who’d want their kid hanging out with the eldest Todoroki as an influence?) and bobs his head excitedly, spewing out the manufacture and release dates of the shoes. Dabi looks at the fanboy amusedly, continuing to lean against the shoe rack as more people crowd around and start to push the boy inside. “See you later Dabi!” The eccentric kid calls out as he’s pushed into the hall by grumbling uncles. The ravenette snickers fo himself, “Yeah, but you won’t be seeing these shoes anytime soon.”

-A notorious playboy in the community. Uncles glare at him, unable to scold him outright for his shenanigans due to his father’s close presence, and aunties steer their children away from him at dinner parties. Speaking of, Dabi’s at a dinner right now. He’s lighting up a joint in amongst 3 mesmerized girls sitting on the floor in front of him and 2 jealous dudes his age in a locked room, away from all the screaming little kids. “Wow Dabi, doesn’t it burn?” The youngest of the three girls asks him with imploring eyes. He smiles a charming smile down at her and he thinks he sees the other two swoon. “Nah, sweetheart, you get used to it after a little while. Don’t be like me though, keep yourself pure and clean,” he shoots a wink at them and they giggle, faces turning red. The other two boys sitting at the far end of the bed scowl at his successful flirting, but Dabi doesn’t care for any of them, honestly, they’re just target practice. Right as he inhaled the fumes of another puff, a little body throws itself at the door, banging its fists on the wood. “It’s time for food!” They all jump at the intrusion and chuckle as the intruder runs away, containing to scream about food being served. The group gets up to leave and exits through the door, but Dabi takes his time. He wasn’t done with his joint, and he has to waft the smell away anyways when he leaves. He’s opening a window to let out some air when he heads a soft shuffle from behind him. “Shows over guys, go eat-“ but when he turns around, the oldest girl of the three stands before him, fiddling with her hands and looking at the floor. “Um, Dabi? I know you said not to try it out by ourselves so...I was wondering if you could-if you could teach me how...?” She looks at the half-used roll in his hand, and he looks from the blunt to her face. He looks behind her. A closed door. Perfect. Taking a step forwards, he relishes in how she takes a hesitant step back, the breath in her throat catching but she still doesn’t back down. She looks to him like he’s a god, and he feels like one right now. And so he steps closer until she’s backed against the wall, his lids lowered to her wide ones, and he placed a hand next to her head. “Didnt your mom ever tell you not to take things from strangers?” He ghosts by the shell of her ear, and she shivers. “She never told me the strangers would be this hot,” and he has to laugh a bit at her tenacity. He pulls away and flops back on the bed, signaling for her to join him. “Well come one then, I’m hungry, better hurry up before I change my mind.” And 5 shotguns later, Dabi barely wipes off her bright pink lipstick from his face and straightens his kurta along with his hair before bounding down the steps, eager for food. At his command, she comes down a minute after him as to not cause any suspicion, but it doesn’t stop Rei from shooting him a knowing glare from the living room as he piles his plate with food. He shoves a veggie roll in his mouth as he turns to join the boys in the dining area, but his path is blocked by a large woman. “I know you’re up to no good. The children told me what funny smell was coming from the room upstairs, and I know you’re to blame, Touya Todoroki. I respect your mother a lot so I won’t make a scene here-“ he interrupts her, mouth half full with a roll, “-I mean, you already kinda are,-“ but she continues her tirade. “-I don’t think you’re a good influence on these kids, especially your siblings. What self respecting family would be okay with their son acting like a hooligan, having piercings, smelling like weed?” He smirks and swallows before swerving around her. “I don’t know Aunty, why don’t you ask your daughter? She didn’t seem to mind my, ah, influence.”

-When they were all younger, there was a time where End*avor wanted the boys the toughen up a bit and stop messing around so much. He brought the family up to the mountains in a nice cabin, purposefully choosing an area with farms nearby. It was around the time of Eid-e-Adha, so naturally goats and sheep’s were going to be sacrificed for the family feast. Touya already knew what was going on, so Enji left it up to him, a scrawny preteen boy to take over the initiation. Fuyumi wanted to come to the farm too, but Touya glared at her and told her to stay home because “girls are too emotional for this.”(he really did think that, but above all he held a secret soft spot for his only younger sister). Natsu and Touya both started heading down to the field to pick out a goat, and ofc little Shoto wanted to come along to. He begged and begged for his older brothers to bring him along and to not leave him at home for once, and with a sly glance to Natsu, Touya relented. He leaned down to Shoto’s eye-level and asked with serious eyes, “You sure?”. Shoto nodded eagerly, standing straight up as to look more solemn and mature. Natsu held back a snicker and grabbed Shoto by the collar as they dragged him out to the pasture. Oh, the little boy was in heaven among the bleating sheep and fluffy coats. “Go ahead, pick one out!” Touya said eagerly, nodding to the clueless toddler to choose a sacrificial sheep. And so the heterochromatic child pointed to one, looking to his big brothers for assurance, to which they gave an excited nod. Shoto yelped with glee and spent the rest of the afternoon frolicking with the soon-to-be-mutton chops, completely oblivious to its grim fate and creating a bond with the animal. So when it was finally sunset and the time came to start preparing for the feast, Touya walked over leisurely to Shoto, pushed the grubby hand away from the animal’s collar, and started pulling the creature towards the chopping block. “W-what’re you doing?” Shoto asked uncertainty. “Well, we gotta eat, right? Thanks for picking out such a fat sheep, ‘wonder how it’s gonna taste,”. The eldest grinned with malice at his youngest brother, who started to sniffle and ball his fists. “You’re lying! Leave it alone!” He cried out. “Nope, m’not lying, ask Natsu.” Natsu turns to Shoto and shrugs his shoulders without any real regret. “You’re the one who wanted to come along, right? Think of how proud dad will be of his favorite-he finally sacrificed his first sheep!”

-the first time he was ever asked to lead the namaz, Keigo and Tomura kept kicking the back of his legs so he would fall over while trying to recite the prayers, and in turn he’d immediately whip around in the middle of the whole damn hall and shoot fire at the two howling boys. Needless to say, he was never asked to read again

(one would think since Dabi knows sooo much about being a gOoD mUsLim and how to follow the rules he’d take some of that advice HIMSELF)

[rouiyan]

𝘖𝘍𝘍 𝘐𝘊𝘌 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ jeno's installment of the keep your cool collective ⧐

synopsis: he likes to think it's romantic how he always finishes your sentences for you. you think it's annoying that he keeps interrupting you.

✧ ice hockey player!lee jeno x (fem.) tutor!reader ✧ college au

✧ genres : fluff, angst, slightly suggestive ✧ word count : 4.4k ✧ disclaimers : mentions of sexual activities, swearing

✧ author’s note — same universe as my puck in your goal which does not need to be read first but can be. also, hi @crownily i did it :)

let's just say jeno sucks at school and that the one thing he doesn't suck at is hockey, ice hockey. and let's just say that you're his tutor, strictly for tutoring purposes. yet, here you find yourself at his doorstep at 3:47 in the morning, or so your phone says.

he opens up to see you clad dressed down, different from the neat tee and skirt he's so used to. to be completely honest, jeno has never felt anything towards you and even he himself finds that hard to believe since you're everything he could ever ask for in a girl. pretty and cute, snappy but sweet, the most perfect curve of lips and above all, you're an intellectual. he finds it attractive but he isn't attracted to you, per se.

jeno wished he would though, especially now that he's suffering from what he called you here for in the first place: an extreme case of breakup.

one hand leaning your weight on the doorframe, the right of your shit rides up. jeno bites down on his lip, retracting his eyes to your face. "let me get this straight, you called me here, at this time of night, to get me to help you with what exactly?" so what if he thought fucking you would be a good way to keep his mind off things? too bad he didn't think any further than that. the words come to his as he speaks, "i just thought that- that...you- you would be awake at this time! because you know- you like to study…did i interrupt anything?"

donning a dreary expression, you nod in clarification, "yeah, you interrupted my studying."

"right, okay, i'll let you get back to that," he turns in haste as if to close the door behind him but you catch it with your heel, a scowl making its way across your face at what you were about to say, "forget it, jen, i'm already here. what do you need help with?" you stare into his back, his widening eyes unbeknownst to you. he turns again, now deliberate in motion, just to give him as much time to get his bearings together. lifting one shoulder in suggestion, and truthfully confusion, his voice is a pitch higher when he responds, "...studying?"

and that's how he finds himself staring into the crack between the wall and the far end of his desk, your figure hovering above him but not in the way he'd planned for, planned poorly for. jeno is on edge and frankly, he feels incredibly bad because he doesn't understand anything that comes from your mouth and the words you jot down on his paper before him all seem to collide and blur into each other. that's when he realizes he's started crying.

and that's when you're rendered speechless as the boy sits there, the little tracks running down his face wetting the paper you were teaching off of. "jeno, oh my god. fuck, you good?" you don't want to come off as prying so you avoid the whole 'why' notion but you're not that socially inept to miss that he didn't call you here at such an ungodly hour of morning just to get some unpaid tutor hours in and he certainly isn't crying because he doesn't understand shit. 

a hand of his is sifting through his hair while another rubs harshly down the side of his face. "i don't think you should- i'm just gonna go get you some tissues, i'll- i'll go get that." you turn on your heel and navigate your way from his room to the kitchen you'd passed on the way in. it's dark and you know he has roommates, you were less than willing to make your presence known. to your dismay, the kitchen was currently being occupied by a man whom you've yet to identify, being only two steps in when you stop in your tracks. 

he identifies you first, "y/n, what are you doing here?" and you pick up from the voice that it's donghyuck. your foot hits a cabinet before your eyes get a chance to adjust to the lighting, "fuck, yeah i'm here with jeno, well i'm not- not like that, we're just studying."

"just studying?" there's no way to see it but you swear the cock of his brows is apparent as it would be at day. you hum in response, fingers trying to make out the paper towel dispenser you were sure you caught a glimpse of on the way in. "so you're saying," he pulls out his phone and the light that emits from the screen is enough to guide you in the right direction before he shoves is back in his pocket. "that you booked a tutoring session with him at 4:19 a.m.?"

tearing one, then two, from the dispenser, you distractedly let a disbelieving, "yup," past your lips. hyuck scrutinizes you in the dark and his next words nearly shock you out of your skin, "is he fucking you because he just got dumped? is that why?"

you swivel at lightning speed, "he what?" hand over his mouth, donghyuck seems genuinely apologetic, though you wouldn't put it past him if he was not, "shit, you didn't know?" folding the paper towels two times over in your hands, you gingerly across the room to where the boy is seated, "i mean, i know that he didn't call me here just to study but that's legitimately what we ended up doing." he doesn't answer for awhile so you follow up with a question, "you think he wants to fuck me?"

hyuck looks you straight in the eye, "yeah, yeah i do." it hangs unsaid in the air between the two of you, but it's within both of your knowledge that jeno only wanted you here for sexual relief from his frustrations, that whatever else could be denoted by the deed was simply inapplicable for this situation. you shake your head of the thoughts, "so, what are you doing up this early?" you know that there is a weary and weeping jeno you have to get back to but you also know that your presence is somewhat unwelcome there, uncomfortable even, while he wades in his fit of tears.

hyuck replies with a heavy tone, "he gave me some things to think about too."

and you jump to conclusions all too quickly, "he wants to fuck you too?"

"god, y/n, no."

a weak laugh lining your demeanor after the last of the interaction, you reenter jeno's room to find him sprawled wide, his back to the bed. "hey," you preface as you round upon his bed, setting the paper towels on his nightstand. it seemed his tears had run their race and his eyes were now staring lethargically into the ceiling. perching yourself on the edge, you reach to place a hand atop one of his, giving two reassuring squeezes. "need anything?"

only now does jeno seem to take note of your arrival, his eyes hooded eyes flit to you for half a second before resolutely tugging you by the hand you had clasped within his. "what-" your breath is stolen from you as your back hits his chest. jeno drapes his arms across you front, "jeno, what-"

"i need a pillow, that's what i need."

you blink, trying to make sense of your thoughts, "did you ask me here to fuck you numb?" his body goes rigid underneath yours and you're right to assume that you've pinpointed the answer. "i'm right, huh?" eyeing downwards, his fingers are fiddling for you to see. after a few moments laid in bated breath, he lets weakly, "sorry about that, it's not gonna happen."

"yeah no shit," is said dulcetly despite the denotation. you feel his chuckles reverberate beneath you. "i'm really sorry, i swear i don't think of you that way." a smile upon your own face, you turn in his arms to place an expression to his voice. propping your head up on your folded arms, your arms atop his chest, you peer into his eyes sincerely. there is much that needs to be said, the reasonings behind his unexpected breakdown and the closeness you suddenly feel with still have to be addressed. but at this hour in the morning, you can't bring yourself to. 

instead you query, "should i stay the night?" he peers into your eyes with equal sincerity when he responds, "it's already early morning, you'd probably be off better sleeping here." giving a soft nod and a few moments to rearrange your thoughts, you perk up again just as he's about to fall asleep. he isn't annoyed in the slightest, rather he smiles at that, your voice, "do you have practice tomorrow?"

it's his turn to give a nod in response. "wanna come watch?" your arms move around his chest, encasing him like how he's encased you. hiding your smile in the front of his sweatshirt, your voice comes out muffled, "i'd love to but i'm a bit busy, jen. next time, maybe."

at your response, it's the first time that jeno feels, acknowledges, that his heart drops, even though it's in the slightest. there's an image of you in the stands, your textbooks in your lap and glasses sliding down the bridge of your nose. the image moves as he moves cross the rink and you look up when he passes by, eyes bright and a small smile and thumbs up in encouragement. from then on, it's that image that's plastered in his mind every time he thinks of you, that one self-conjured image. 

jeno feels his heart drop even more when he awakes to an empty bed. he finds that the text that you've sent in departure isn't nearly enough to repair his spirits, he wishes you were there instead.

practice sucks ass the next day and the day after that, he doesn't pay it any mind, knowing more than well enough how renjun whispers of the news of his breakup among the members. he doesn't hold it against him though, after all, his ex is his teammate's best friend. jeno thinks it hurts the most when his ex shows up at the next game, the one he'd invited you to when you'd crossed paths on campus a few days ago. he finds himself in a weird predicament between trying to forget about a girl and chasing after another one. he can't tell if he really likes you or if he just needs a rebound.

today, jeno decides it's the latter because he's fuming the entire game at how hyuck would send winks in her direction, how he would skate up to the edge of the rink to converse with her during their breaks. jeno hates how she's moved on all too easily and he feels and urge to prove that he can do the same. he wants to prove to himself.

he's let almost every goal in by the time the buzzer signals the end of the final round. the coach reprimands him because at this point, he might as well be from the opposing team. the helmet is off in a split second, he showers for the briefest of moments, only allowing the water to slosh across his body one time before he's patting himself dry. jeno slips the towel from his shoulder throws on a hoodie in its stead. he's out the locker room in bare minutes where he comes face to face with you. you, with the little sheepish, apologetic smile on your face. you, who'd just arrived from your shift at the local cat adoption center, late for the game but in just time for him. you, the only person he's been aching to see the whole day. but even now, he's unsure of exactly why. 

"y/n, hey," he's by your side in an instant, hesitant in his actions but words tumbling out nonetheless, "you came. late, but...you came."

you meet him in the middle, hands coming up to your aid and waving nonsensically as you speak, "i'm so sorry, my shift was extended and i forgot to tell my boss beforehan-"

"it's fine, i'm just glad you're here." he readjusts the bag onto his shoulders in a nervous fit. he barely manages to make eye contact with you and he wonders when he started to feel this way about you or, again, the desire for a rebound, his need for a taste of vengeance is willing him to act this way. jeno shrugs off the thought and fills the silence with an offer, "so do you wanna go...do something together?" 

jeno should know by now. the little sparkle that glints in your eyes and the way his stomach upturns itself in response. he should know by now how much you like him too. hyuck exits the locker rooms in that instant, he greets you in passing as he joins a girl up ahead. you turn back to jeno, momentarily distracted, only to find his gaze hardened and fixed on the girl. a sickening feeling erupts within you as you begin to piece one and one to make two. 

he turns back to you and you avoid his gaze. the shift in your countenance jolts him as much as his had jolted you. you lick your lips before looking back up at him, your own eyes guarded. he wishes he knew why. "jeno, i'm gonna have to rain check. i just- i thought of something- something came up. i have to go."

you're stalking away from him before he can even process it. he's lucky that his strides are long because he catches your wrist right before you get to the exit, "y/n," he tugs gently so that you turn to him but he's caught off guard even more when he sees the tears that have begun to form in your eyes. "why are you like this all of a sudden? what happened?"

you shake your head at him, hurriedly swallowing the sobs before you can embarrass yourself even further, "nothing, jeno. i just realized something." you stare down at his wrist expectantly but he only clutches it tighter, "then, what did you realize?"

he lets go of your wrist now and you feel like your heart couldn't get any heavier as you answer, "i realized that i'm just a fill-in until you get over her." jeno sucks in a breath as he watched the words leave your mouth, as he watches you turn and leave, and he hears more tears bubble from your frame, the sounds receding the farther you walk from him. for some reason, it's only when you tell him so that he understands that he feels the exact opposite.

it's only when you shove it in his face, your own face scrunched up in tears, that he's only going after you as a rebound, when he sees his feelings for what they really are. honest, jeno finds it hard to believe that he's never felt anything towards you since you're everything he could ever ask for in a girl. pretty and cute, snappy but sweet, the most perfect curve of lips and above all, you're an intellectual. he finds it attractive, he finds you attractive. fuck it, he likes you.

fortunately for him and unfortunately for you, your next tutoring session was scheduled for just a few days after, just enough time for him to get his act together and enough for you to cool your head enough sift through the thirty or so voice mails he'd left you. most of them seem to contain the same rueful, repentant tone, though a few seem to be displaying his slow spiral into self-deprecation. you're pretty sure the last is a mistake, a butt dial maybe.

jeno's not proficient with the knife, definitely not with how he's cutting the pears right now. he thinks he would've been better off bringing bananas but that would've seemed too insincere, wouldn't it? his thoughts are jumbling and sludging against one another when a finger of his slips and the fine edge of the knife is pressed on a knuckle. "fuck," he swears, his other hand already reaching over to the sink to run the cut under cold water. the sting is piercing and he looks away from the cut to the clock overhead. "double fuck," he mutters this time. the last thing he needs right now is you thinking that he stood you up. 

with steadfast athleticism, he finishes off the last of the pears with one hand. he's sure you'd laugh at the whole debacle if you were there though he's thankful you're not. jeno faces the fear that he sucks at everything except ice hockey, and he's barely getting by these days. he only ever feels confident on the rink with his stick in hand, crouched low so his eyes were level with the ice. he's never felt that much control over anything else, much less confessing to a girl and trying, somehow, to show that she was of much more worth than what he'd made it seem like. 

the library is a ten minute walk from his house, a three minute sprint. yes, he had sprinted. 

he knows for a fact that pears were the right way to go when you let the tiniest of smiles adorn your face at the sight of him setting the tupperware in front of you. you check your expression back into taut impassivity before he can indulge in his victory any longer. he knows you're not half as mad as you present yourself to be but that doesn't mean he'd take his mistakes lightly and go about this sleazily. jeno needs your trust. 

you resist the urge to reach over and flip over the hair that stood upright on the wrong side of his head. reverting your eyes onto the computer screen before you, "let's get started." not a half hour into your session, you're spaced out, eyes zoned onto the way jeno spins his pen between his fingers. maybe it's the lack of sleep that's getting to you.

"y/n? you good?"

you swallow thickly, removing your gaze from his hands, from him, from his paper, from anything that has to do with him. you notice how your chair has inched closer to his, or his to yours, you notice the finger-wide distance between you and him. shivers are sent down your spine. "let's take a break, is that fine?" jeno, from beside you, yawns and for a brief second you think he's about to pull the stretch and hand around shoulder trick. you blush unknowingly. 

jeno speaks before you can ask to resume the session, "can i say something?"

"is it work related?" you give your best efforts at keeping your voice level and head turned somewhat in his direction. in your peripheries, he cocks his head to the right, "...no, but we're on break." almost letting a huff escape your complexion, you relent, "fine then, shoot," figuring he would say it anyways.

"i want you to come to our next game."

you're lucky you had the whole scenario thought through, at least something can be harvested from your late nights spent tossing and turning, "i don't think i can-"

"y/n, i haven't even told you when."

"okay fine," you wrinkle your nose in distaste and hand out the truth for him to see, or hear, "i just don't want to." jeno is doing his best, he really is, but he knows that you've heard all that he has to say, if not once, then twenty-nine times over. the last one was a mistake. "did you get my voicemails?"

sighing, you chance a glance at him to see that he isn't the slightest bit annoyed, face drawn into a frown of sorts. you'll never admit that even just the sight could soften your set mindset. consideration replays in your irises when you answer the yes or no question with a decisive nod.

"then i'm sure you understand why i want you to come."

jeno lets you drive him home that day, he'd be the last to complain. the ride is silent from start to finish until right when he's about to close the passenger door, the car parked in front of his shared house. an, "i'll think about it," is what he's left to brew over for the next week or so as he stares that the text, read and unreplied, that he'd sent to remind you of the day and time of the game. he's anxious but it's only to that extent.

it's becoming more and more evident that jeno is loosing his touch on ice. he hates that the only thing he can attribute it to is his dwindling love life. he finds that the enforcer is atypically rough today but he's glad that his role at the goal requires the least interaction and footwork. he'd promised his coach that he would be more wary of his surroundings but he can't help the occasional glance at the rink entrance every once in awhile. what he doesn't understand is that his definition of 'once in awhile' marks at around every thirty seconds.

the last round is the most painful, undoubtedly, because it's as if his defeat is being dragged on and on, as if the giant timer above the rink is ticking to the heartbeat of a dead man. 

jeno can is aware that he's breathing. he's aware but he has to double check when the entrance doors open for the last time that game and you've arrived. you're standing by the doorway, apprehensive, but jeno can't get it past his head that you've arrived, that you're here. he'd have gotten decked in the face had you not motioned your head in the direction of the fast approaching puck and the burly man behind it.

he blocks the shot and every shot after. there's no need to wonder why.

the buzzer rings in his head so quick that he thinks time runs on his emotions rather than the clock. his helmet is often in seconds and he's making his way at supersonic speeds to the part of the rail where you're stood. the glass fogs with his breath as he tries to get his words across. 'i'll be quick,' he mouths. 

you count two minutes until he's off ice. jeno hasn't bothered to shower, he lacks the patience for it. he sits you down on the lowest of the bleachers, closest to the rink. standing over you, he finds that he has so much to say, so many things he wants to let you know, all the feelings he's ever bottled up for the girl so obviously made for him.

he's never had much of a way with words but he thinks that the romance movies hyuck's made him watch over the years give a pretty good overview of what to say in situations like these, "i'd cross the world for you." you snort back at him, nose crinkling in distaste at his choice of words and poking fun at him with your own, "rink, jeno. you mean you'd cross the rink for me."

"y/n, i'm tryna do something here," he whines, the pout on display mimicking his displeased but light-hearted implications. you're equally as amused, "oh yeah? what are you tryna do?"

"i'm tryna," he takes your two arms in his and wraps them around his middle. you instinctively fist the fabric of his blue jersey at the back, "jeno, what are you-" you stop when a hand of his own comes to trace the lines of your face softly. maybe he can't find the words but surely he could show you. if he could just…"you keep interrupting me, jeno."

drawn from his resolution, he's snappy when he retorts, "i think as your boyfriend i ought to have that privilege."

"boyfriend? since when did you-"

"i just did," he revels in the idea that you think him to be smooth with words when in reality the 'boyfriend' was a slip up, a mirror of his daydreams. he's over the moon that it worked out in his favor. while he fixates on just how much he feels for you, you're playfully annoyed at a whole other, "stop fucking interrupting me, jen-"

"i love you."

you blink up at him. well shit. a lot of things are happening and you lack the brain cells to process them. there's only one thing you can think to do, only one think that you're thinking about, have been thinking about, will still be thinking about. 

he may be the one to steal words right from your mouth but beyond that he's oblivious, you think. the smile still plays on his lips when he follows up, "is it okay to interrupt you if i say something like tha-"

you press a smile of your own onto his lips, cutting his words effectively. a hand of yours moves up to the curve of his neck to bring him down further, the angle at which he is kissing giving him all the advantage he needs to deepen it. when you part, you aren't surprised to see how half your body is leaning on the row of seats behind you and that jeno's entire body is sprawled on yours, supported by a knee on one side of you. 

you like your lips as you feel his breath hot on yours. "how's it feel now?"

shaking his head, jeno presses his temple to yours so that the only thing you can see is him, just him. "interrupt me any day, will you?"

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

✧ end note — wrote this up in approx. three hours. lee jeno is so rude for interrupting all my other wips (that are also mostly for him). i hope you enjoyed because i did, i freaking love writing for him <3